by Anne Hampson
‘Charles said I mustn’t do any work in there today. You see, I’ve lost weight, and I’m going to be ill if I’m not careful.’
Moira slanted her an amused glance.
‘Sorry for yourself, are you?’
‘I’m doing all the work, and you’re just taking it easy.’ She glanced disparagingly at the flowers. ‘This isn’t work, not the sort Father expected us to do.’
‘Charles doesn’t want me to do work that will make me tired, or spoil my hands.’
Automatically Tina glanced at her own hands. Red and rough, and there was a burn on her wrist. Not quite rough enough, she decided ... and glanced at the wide border. It was immaculate, but one could always find weeds, if one looked for them. A few hours there, without gloves as a protection, would give the result Tina desired for the furthering of her plan. She must choose her time, though; neither Moira nor Charles must see her or they’d know, later when her plea had touched her father to action, what she had been about.
Moira was snipping away at the roses and Tina edged away, along the border, looking with pleasure at the variety of exotic flowers growing there. Moira went into the house and Tina strolled towards the home paddock. Charles was there, idly watching Roper breaking a horse. Glancing round as Tina approached, he allowed his eyes to run over her figure. He frowned and Tina knew a surge of satisfaction at the knowledge of his being troubled about his father’s reaction on learning what the work had done to her.
‘You say I mustn’t go into the kitchen,’ she began on reaching him. ‘What must I do today?’
‘You can have a rest.’ His gaze returned to Roper, and the brumbie. ‘That’ll do,’ he said. ‘Turn him loose and leave him until tomorrow.’
‘Very good, Boss.’ The brumbie was freed and allowed the run of a small paddock into which he was turned.
‘It’s your day off,’ reflected Charles abstractedly as this fact occurred to him. ‘You shouldn’t be working.’
‘Nothing else to do, Boss.’ His glance strayed to Tina and he smiled at her. ‘I don’t want a day off,’ he added, leaping a white fence so that he was brought on to the same side as Charles and Tina. ‘There’s plenty to be done, if we’re to bring in all the clearskins by the end of the month, as you want them to be.’
‘We’ll manage to do that.’ His horse, Merlin, was nibbling by the fence and, taking the bridle, Charles swung himself into the saddle. From this height he looked down at Tina, his bronzed features austere and masked, his piercing blue eyes narrowed against the slanting rays of the sun. ‘Don’t forget to rest,’ he said in a warning undertone, and rode away, leaving a cloud of ochre-coloured dust behind him.
‘You’re having a day off too, it would appear?’ Roper moved closer to her and she smiled.
‘I think I’ll ride,’ she said.
‘Can I ride with you?’ he requested without hesitation.
A pause followed; Tina’s eyes wandering along the trail of dust and to the rider at its head. She nodded presently and after Sonny had come out and saddled Tristram up for her she was riding slowly towards the bush path which ran alongside the creek, Roper beside her on Carados, a chestnut similar to that which Charles always rode. Half an hour later, having chatted pleasantly during the ride, they were sitting on the bank of the creek, under the shade of the casuarinas—or she-oaks—which followed the river course. These lovely trees spread some distance from it on both sides, and so the landscape was given an aspect reminiscent of the Canadian Rockies.
‘I love it here,’ commented Tina softly, her brown eyes wandering all around and then settling on the mountains visible between the trees. ‘It’s so silent!’ Roper nodded, and leant his back against a tree. She looked at him, noting the bronzed skin and handsome features, the light brown hair and hazel eyes. He would appear inordinately attractive to many women, thought Tina, deciding it was a pity that he had so little opportunity of meeting the opposite sex, especially as he had expressed the desire to be married.
‘It gets you, the bush.' His own dreamy gaze followed hers as she allowed it to travel from the mountains, crimson-gold in the morning sunshine, to the mob of cattle grazing on the plain, with the stockmen riding among them, about half of whom were Aborigines, sitting their mounts in that unmistakable posture of stateliness and pride. ‘You might not want to leave by the time your year is up.’
Slowly Tina turned her head. She would have liked to confide in him, tell him of her hopes for a quick return to England when her father left, but naturally she refrained, fearing the news might just reach Charles’s ears, and in consequence he would be warned. Tina’s plan did not allow for a contingency like that. Secrecy was essential; Austin must be convinced so fully that no argument on the part of his son could weaken that conviction.
‘England is my home,’ she said presently, aware that her companion waited for some comment from her. ‘I want to be with my father.’
From his comfortable position against the tree he looked at her, his eyes roving over her lovely face and figure, then back to her hair, loose and shining under the shade of the wide-brimmed hat which was pushed right back and held on to her head only by the string under her chin.
‘He’s your stepfather,’ he murmured automatically. ‘The Boss’s father. We’d all heard of you, of course, but never expected you to come out for a year. Strange that the Boss is making you both work.’ Half statement, half question. Tina smiled faintly as she moved, finding herself a back rest similar to his.
‘Charles felt we ought to know what it was to work for our living,’ she told him, deciding there was no need for reticence; and in any case she could not very well have avoided the question without pointedly snubbing him. ‘You see, Father’s very rich and I’m afraid he spoiled Moira and me.’
He looked at her with a new interest.
‘You’re not resentful?’
‘Not in the least. I’m glad I’ve seen something of Australia.’
‘Something?’ with raised brows. ‘You’ve seen nothing, really. Never mind, though,’ he went on to add, ‘you’ll probably go places before your twelve months is up.’
She glanced away, to where water shone in the sunlight—the billabong had retained its infill from the rain they had had, while the creek was already dry again, or almost so. Just a muddy sediment remained. Her lips curved at a story she had heard from one of the stockmen while he ate his breakfast one morning. Noticing the half-smile, Roper asked what was amusing her.
‘Do bunyips really live at the bottom of billabongs?’
His face became grave, although she sensed he was repressing laughter.
‘Of course. We scare naughty children with them. We say the bunyip will get them if they don’t behave.’
Tina’s eyes twinkled.
‘What does a bunyip look like?’ she challenged.
‘He’s a weird creature—ugly and terrifying!’
‘You’ve seen one, then?’ still on that challenging note, and now he burst out laughing.
‘No, nor has anyone else.’
‘Mythical—How strange. You’d not expect intelligent people to tell stories about them.’
‘People tell stories about mythical gods.’
‘You mean the Greek gods, and the Egyptian ones, of course.’
He spread his hands, saying that all countries had their mythology.
They chatted on, sitting in this leafy place by the creek; relaxed, and enjoying the sunshine and the delicious scent of wattles and of herbs newly sprung to life during the recent rains. A caressing breeze touched Tina’s hair and cheeks; her eyes sparkled as thoughts and hopes drove everything from her consciousness except the excitement of seeing her father again—and of the probability of his taking her back to England with him.
‘I expect we should be getting back.’ His gaze wandered to the cattle in the distance. ‘Do you want to join the men for smoke-oh?’
Tina shook her head.
‘I think I’ll have a lie-down instead.�
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He seemed disappointed; plainly he wished to keep her with him, just as she had wanted to keep Charles with her on a previous occasion when she was out riding in the bush. She felt sorry for him and said gently,
‘Don’t you ever go to town? I mean, they have dances there, don’t they?’
Perceptively his lips curved.
‘Want to see me married off, do you?’
‘You said you’d like to be married,’ she reminded him. ‘You’ll never meet anyone out here.’
‘I met you, Tina.’ Getting to his feet, he extended an assisting hand to her as she also began to rise. ‘Have you been out with many boys?’ he wanted to know, looking deeply into her eyes with a sort of melancholy gaze.
‘Quite a few,’ she owned at once. ‘Moira and I used to go about with a crowd, and of course there were as many boys as girls.’
‘Tell me about it—your life, I mean?’
‘We lived in a huge house, with Father—’
Dreamily she tailed off, seeing the lovely mansion set amid its well-kept grounds, and her eyes turned towards the long low homestead standing on its hillock, with the distant Macdonnell Ranges forming a lovely backcloth of colour—a colour between the crimson seen at sunrise and the deep bronze which coated the mountains at noon. At sunset they would tone down to a soft and restful burnt-sienna and, later when the sun had sunk behind their jagged, clear-cut edges, a quivering violet would settle on the mountains, to be reflected across the silent, awe-inspiring bush.
‘You’re miles away.’ The voice interrupted her dreamy visions and she gave a light laugh.
‘I was supposed to be telling you about us, at home, wasn’t I? Well, we had a pretty good life, being denied nothing by our stepfather. Charles said we took it all for granted, and we did,’ she confessed frankly. ‘It was fun, though, having all our own way, and always getting what we asked for.’
‘You liked that kind of life?’
‘At the time, yes. We’d never known any other, you see.’
‘And now, Tina?’ His voice was rather flat; she knew at once that he was accepting the fact that she was out of his reach. ‘You miss all the luxury?’
‘We have luxury here, but of a different kind.’ She spread her hands. ‘All this ... the beauty and the peace, the vastness and the space.’
‘I see,’ he murmured, smiling at her, but wanly, as he untethered Tristram and handed her the reins. ‘Your values have changed, obviously.’
She nodded in a mechanical sort of way, aware of a pang of guilt because of her hopes that she would soon be returning to her former life. She felt a hypocrite, but at the same time mentally defended herself as the vision of Charles and Moira kissing in the garden rose up before her. The next moment, aware that this vision as an excuse was totally inept, she was asking herself why she should care whether or not her sister and Charles kissed in the dark.
Frowning as she took the reins from Roper—who had asked her to call him Bernie—she gave a tiny sigh of impatience.
‘Are you cross about something, Tina?’ The question took her aback, as she had not realized the sigh had escaped her.
‘Cross?’ she began, then added as perception dawned, ‘Only with myself.’
He merely shrugged, for which she was thankful, and they rode in silence back to the paddock, Tina dwelling on her impatience. The cause, she knew without any doubt whatsoever, resulted from the rather dejected conviction that although convinced she wanted to leave here, she was not at all sure of being satisfied with the old life of idleness and luxury.
Bernie rode with her, back to where Mac was standing by the rail of the paddock, watching a brumbie being broken. Sonny came along and took Tristram and, with a smile for Bernie and Mac, Tina strolled towards the homestead, where, to her surprise, she came face to face with Charles as she was going up to her bedroom. He came from his study and without preamble inquired sternly where she had been.
‘Out riding, with Roper,’ she answered, unaware of her pallor or the black smudges lying under her eyes.
‘I told you to rest!’ His jaw and mouth were taut, his eyes narrowed and dark.
She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
‘Are you angry?’ she questioned, the words tumbling out before she thought to check them.
‘I told you to rest,’ he repeated, and she tilted her head, as if listening, for it did seem that he actually gritted his teeth. Was he scared now?—scared of his father’s horror at seeing how she, Tina, had been treated? Serve him right if he was scared—She had to smile at these thoughts, since it was quite impossible for the Boss of Farne River Downs to be scared by anything. He was worried, though, and this fact afforded Tina some considerable amount of satisfaction.
‘I thought you meant that I take a rest from work, Charles, and this I did. It was a very pleasant change to ride instead of—er—sweating over a hot stove, or a huge sink, in the kitchen.’
This time there was no mistake about that gritting of his teeth. She glanced down at the carpet, apparently lost in concentration. But not for long; her head was jerked unceremoniously up as he put a hand under her chin.
‘Self-pity has no effect whatsoever on me,’ he told her darkly. ‘It might have served you well with my father, but if you’ve learned anything at all about me since coming here, then you should know that you’re wasting your time in trying to touch any chords of sympathy in me.’
She twisted away, having to brush a swift hand across her eyes because although she was loath to admit it, his unkindness smote her, as it had done before—smote her in a way she failed utterly to comprehend. All she wanted was to get away from him and his country, so it did seem absurd for her to be affected in this way by his unfriendliness.
‘If you have nothing more to say,’ she managed at last in a tight little voice, yet with dignity for all that, ‘then I’ll go.’ Her face was pale, and a sort of emptiness settling in the pit of her stomach made her feel spent and ineffably weak and lacking in concentration. ‘Please excuse me.’ She slid past him, so austere and incalculable as he stood there, a slight frown creasing his sun-bitten face, his lingering stare following her as she mounted the stairs to her room. On the landing she glanced down; he was walking away, slowly, his manner denoting a mood of reflection ... or was it anxiety? She hoped it was the latter.
Once in her room she lay down on the bed, head resting on her clasped hands, staring at the ceiling. What was this hurt, inflicted by the unkindness of a man she did not like, whom she had never liked?—a man who had described her as a parasite, an idle doll in continuous pursuit of pleasure. As she had stood down there, with Charles towering above her, looking angry and stern, and speaking so harshly to her, she had become conscious of the hurt, but also, in that first swift moment when they had come upon one another as he emerged from his study, she had felt her pulses bound inexplicably, and her heart leap as if alarmed by the encounter of its owner with this formidable-looking man. She had known a sudden excitement that was a counterpart of trepidation, but on Charles’s swift and stern inquiry the full observation of this was lost, only to recur now... and to set her emotions darting into strange unfathomable channels. She recalled that first occasion when she had known a hurt because of his words and manner, the occasion that had resulted in her walking alone in the bush, and getting lost. Yes, she now had no doubts whatever that Charles had been indirectly responsible for the act which, ironically, had brought down his wrath upon her head, and increased his dislike of her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the light footsteps heard in the corridor; they stopped outside her door and with a swift knock Moira entered the room.
‘So here you are! I’ve been searching the whole place for you.’
Tina sat up and looked inquiringly at her.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, her gaze on Moira’s lovely hair. She had just washed it—and dried it in the sun, probably. It shone like pale gold, framing her face enchantingly. It was no wonder that C
harles had fallen for her, Tina grudgingly admitted. The men at home had always gone for her in a big way.
‘Charles has agreed to take me to Yarraboola tomorrow and I wondered if you’d lend me some money.’
‘You’re flying with him?’ Tina frowned a little, recalling the pleasure she herself had derived from having his company for that brief space when he had come upon her out riding—come upon her instead of Moira, whom he had fully expected to see.
‘Of course. Didn’t I say I wanted to go with him?’
Tina nodded, dejectedly. She too would have enjoyed a trip to town ... but she had not been invited.
‘Why do you want to borrow money? You haven’t spent your wages.’ It was a statement, but to her surprise Moira was shaking her head. She had bought all sorts of things at the shop on the station, she admitted.
‘I had to spend the money on something,’ she went on to add defensively on noting Tina’s surprised lift of her brow.
‘I couldn’t find anything much to buy. What did you find?’ Tina’s voice was edged with puzzlement, her brown eyes wide and inquiring.
‘Oh ... sweets and chocolates. And a few undies—’
‘You brought loads of undies out with you.’
‘Granted,’ irritably as Moira frowned at her sister. ‘But as I’ve said, I had to spend the money on something.’
Tina paused a moment, her eyes drawn to the window, with its dainty gossamer curtains fluttering in the scented zephyr drifting over the spinifex plains from the region of the mountains. Jackos chuckled on the lawn down below where food had been put out for them by Horace, who collected it from the kitchen each morning. They became silent for a brief space before bursting into hilarious laughter. Both Tina and Moira were affected by it and their eyes twinkled as, after listening a moment, the two girls joined in, though much more quietly than the birds outside.
‘It’s a waste to spend your money on things you don’t need,’ said Tina at last, but she slid off the bed and went to a drawer in the dressing-table. Opening it, she took out her handbag.
‘It might be a waste,’ agreed Moira carelessly, her eyes on the bag which Tina was carrying to the bed. ‘But spending made a break from the monotony.’
