After Sundown

by Anne Hampson

  Opening the door, she was surprised to see Charles there, standing by the landing window, right opposite to his father’s room. With a swift glance she felt her heart jerk as she realized that, as the door had not been properly closed, Charles could have overheard her conversation with his father—if he had been standing there for some time, that was. He turned on hearing the latch click as Tina closed the door behind her ... and she had no need to be in any further doubt as to his having overheard. She went red, naturally, as she saw the glint in his eye and the contemptuous curve of his mouth.

  Her arm was taken in a hurtful grasp and she was propelled along the corridor and thrust into the bathroom.

  ‘What—?’

  ‘You deceitful little wretch!’ he said between his teeth. ‘Get under that tap!’ At his kick the door slammed to.

  ‘Tap?’ But that was all she was allowed to say before Charles had her over the washbowl and, turning on the tap and wetting his fingers, he drew them roughly across the black ‘shadows’ under her eyes. ‘I knew it! Look at yourself—look, I say!’ He gave her no option, for with his fingers digging into her shoulders she was forced to the mirror and put in front of it. Squirming at what she saw—with the eye shadow rubbed all over her face practically—she twisted away, picking up a towel from the rail and wiping her face with it.

  ‘You hateful—hateful creature!’ she stormed, more frightened than angry really, because she now saw all her hopes fading, as undoubtedly Charles would expose her to his father. ‘If—if I want to use a little make-up, then what has it to do with you?’ His eyes glinted like polished steel.

  ‘Just what’s your little game? What are you expecting to gain by trying to hoodwink my father? Well, don’t stand there looking innocent with me. I’m not your father. Answer me!’ A vicious shake accompanied his words.

  ‘I—I don’t know what you mean—’

  She was shaken again, and tears started to her eyes.

  ‘I’ve a good mind to drag you back in there, and let Father see you now!’

  ‘No! Please don’t. He’ll be hurt beyond measure.’

  ‘And enlightened,’ he responded, contempt taking the place of his anger. He put his dark face close to hers. ‘Get this black thing off! And find something bright, like you usually wear. And get your hands scrubbed.’

  Rasped-out orders like this could have only one effect on Tina. Forgetting for a moment that Charles could with one blow demolish all her hopes of escape from here, she lifted her chin and said, her brown eyes glinting with fury,

  ‘I shall not take this sweater off! I like it, and I shall wear it all the time—even at dinner, if I feel like it!’

  ‘You will?’ He was standing with his back to the bathroom door, one hand in his belt, in that careless mannerism that was so familiar. His jaw was out-thrust, his expression taut and threatening. ‘I think not, Tina—’ So soft the drawling voice now, but something in its warning depths sent a little shiver running along Tina’s spine. ‘Unless you want me to take that sweater off, then do it yourself—and at once!’ and with that smooth threat he turned and left her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE found herself trembling, even while she washed her face to remove the remains of the eye-shadow from under her eyes and on her cheeks. Yet, although her all-consuming emotion appeared to be anger against Charles, she could not ignore the hurt that dragged at her senses. So many times lately she had been hurt by him; but there had also been times when she had been happy in his company, had even experienced excitement on one occasion—when as he emerged from his study they almost bumped into one another. Excitement ...? It didn’t make sense that she should be excited by this man whom she disliked so intensely—and who certainly disliked her.

  Slowly she took up the towel and dabbed at her face. Thoughtfully she went over certain episodes in her relationship with Charles, her memory bringing pictures into focus ... and suddenly she could see only one picture. It blotted out everything else; and it had nothing at all to do with her relationship with Charles.

  It was the picture of Moira in his arms, out there in the silent moonlit garden. Moira, and that kiss...

  Swallowing a little prick of pain in her throat, she turned and left the bathroom, making her way to her bedroom, where, taking off the black sweater, she put on a bright green one, more loose-fitting than the other, so that her thinness was not so accentuated as before.

  Austin would notice the difference in her face as well, she thought, hoping he would not comment on it. Perhaps he would assume she had taken a rest, and that was why she looked a little better. And in fact she did rest. There was no one on the patio when she went downstairs, and as she sat there alone in the drowsy heat of the afternoon she eventually fell asleep, and it was Charles who wakened her.

  ‘So you decided it would be prudent to obey me, eh?’

  She sat up with a jerk. He was behind her, having come from the house, and she saw by the faint hint of surprise in his eyes that he had not known she was sleeping.

  ‘I hope you’re satisfied with my appearance now,’ she murmured, merely because she could not think of anything else to say.

  ‘You look better, certainly.’ Stooping, he took hold of one of her hands. ‘How did you manage to get them into this state?’ he inquired softly.

  She would have snatched her hand away but, anticipating her intention, Charles closed his fingers tightly on hers, so tightly that she winced.

  ‘It was the work,’ she returned sulkily.

  ‘They’ve got like this very quickly—in less than a week, in fact,’ he added with emphasis.

  ‘Can I help it?’

  He lifted her hand and looked at it, hard and long.

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I told you to work in the garden,’ he commented, still in the same soft tones. ‘No, don’t deny it, Tina, because I have this afternoon made it my business to discover whether or not my suspicions were correct. You began working in the garden—without any protective gloves—just about the time I told you that Father would be coming over on a visit. Oily saw you, and so did Horace.’ Releasing her hand, he took a chair opposite to her, leaning back and regarding her intently through half-closed eyes. ‘You’re peevish, spoiled and truculent,’ he told her, watching with evident satisfaction the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘I’d enjoy nothing so much as to lay a stick about your legs.’

  ‘Indeed...?’

  Both Tina and Charles turned swiftly as the one sharp, frigidly-spoken word came from the open window at the back of them.

  ‘Father!—’ Tina spoke, strangely distressed that he should have heard his son’s words. By rights she should have been exultant, since these words must help in furthering her hopes. ‘Father ... Charles didn’t mean what he said—’

  ‘Certainly I meant what I said,’ cut in Charles, but Tina suspected that he would never have uttered the words had he known he might be overheard. Charles rose as he spoke, and gave his chair up to his father. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he began when his father interrupted him.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said in the same frigid tones, ‘you would give me a reason for your desire to lay a stick about your sister’s legs?’

  Charles looked down at Tina, a challenging gleam in his dark eyes.

  ‘Would you like to explain to Father?’ he invited gently.

  ‘Explain?’ she faltered, and Charles gave an impatient sigh.

  ‘Never mind,’ and to his father, ‘I expect I felt like beating her simply because I’m callous and unfeeling. And now, I have some work to do before dinner, so I’ll leave you to chat together and catch up with one another’s news.’

  ‘Why did he say it?’ Austin spoke as soon as his son was out of earshot. He sounded deeply distressed and instead of satisfaction, it was a mixture of regret and remorse that took possession of Tina. The last thing she desired was that a rift should occur between father and son, but if it did then she alone would be to blame. Horrified at this idea, she again asserted that Charle
s had not meant what he said.

  ‘You heard him say he did mean it.’ Austin looked hard at her. ‘Had you done anything to anger him?’ Tina bit her lip. Here was an awkward position indeed.

  ‘I’m afraid I do annoy him sometimes, Father,’ she prevaricated. ‘Charles is so different from you, in many ways. He’s not indulgent, or understanding. But I do expect I deserved that he should be a little cross with me.’

  ‘Why?’ inquired Austin briefly.

  ‘Well ... he thought I should have protected my hands—and of course he was right.’ If only someone would come, she thought desperately. Where on earth could Moira be?

  ‘So he was upset about them?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Because he knew that I should be upset about them?’

  ‘Not altogether.’ She paused, at a loss as to how she could handle this situation. On the one hand she wished fervently to prevent a real rift between the two men, but on the other hand she did want to leave here, to go home with her father. Only now did she own that she had gone a little bit too far, up there in Austin’s room; she had been anxious to bring her plight to Austin’s notice, but she had never wanted to blacken Charles in his eyes. All she hoped was that Austin would consider Charles had not treated Tina fairly and therefore he would insist on taking her home. ‘Don’t let’s talk about it any more,’ she begged. ‘I want to know what you’ve been doing at home. You talk first, and then I’ll tell you everything about the Outback.’

  ‘Everything?’ he repeated, faintly amused despite the frown still resting between his eyes. She was glad of the diversion and said laughingly that she didn’t know much about the Outback, not really, but she did know about Farne River Downs Station, and all the people who worked for his son. And as he seemed ready to listen she carried on talking until they were joined by Moira, who had already changed for the evening meal.

  ‘Fair as ever,’ murmured Austin with a quick look at Tina. ‘Work hasn’t affected you as it has your sister, apparently. Tell me, Moira, what things do you do?’

  Startled by the question, Moira shot a glance at Tina, questioningly, as if she would ascertain whether or not she had been telling tales out of school.

  ‘I do the carpets—vacuum them. And I dust and polish.’

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Austin quietly.

  ‘You mean—what else?’

  ‘That’s what I mean, my dear.’ His grey eyes were on her, piercingly. ‘Do you take a turn in the kitchen at all?’

  A glance for Tina again as Moira said, eyes narrowing,

  ‘So Tina’s been getting in a word or two first?’

  ‘Tina has no need to say anything at all, Moira. I have eyes in my head. She looked positively ill earlier. I expect you rested after leaving me?’ he said, turning to her.

  Tina nodded, saying she had been able to have a doze on the patio.

  ‘Well, Father,’ said Moira defensively, ‘I do my share. I see to the table and do the flowers. It all takes time, you know.’

  ‘Takes time, but doesn’t take anything out of you, I see. You look no different from what you did at home.’

  Moira reddened with anger.

  ‘Tina won’t take any trouble with herself these days. She says there’s nothing to dress up for.’

  ‘It seems to me,’ returned Austin a little coldly, ‘that she’s always too tired to think of dressing up. I won’t have her working like a slave while you do practically nothing—’

  ‘Moira does work,’ protested Tina, again distressed. She was in fact wondering if she were causing trouble all round, because of her obsession to leave Farne River Downs. ‘I chose the kitchen, so it’s all my own fault that I'm there.’

  ‘You should take it in turns.’

  Neither girl had anything to say to this, and in any case, Mac and Flo came strolling over the lawn and soon they were being introduced to Austin and asking him to tell them all about England. Charles came to the window during this conversation and, unseen by the others, beckoned to Tina. Excusing herself, she left and went to Charles.

  ‘Upstairs and change,’ he ordered. ‘Get into something that Father will recognize.’ His voice was taut and grim, his expression dictatorial. Her chin lifted, but before she had time to speak he added, ‘And no defiance! Come down in any rubbish and I’ll drag you up again and make you take it off!’ He would too, she decided, and prudently went from him, aware of his glowering eyes following her as she went upstairs to her bedroom.

  He gave a sharp knock and entered about half an hour later. Dressed in a short cotton dress with a full skirt and nipped-in waist, Tina was just giving a last flick of the brush to her hair. She turned, angry at his action in entering, but something about him stayed her tongue and she once again experienced that feeling of excitement which had been so puzzling at the time. Her heartbeats had quickened; she felt her pulses quiver with some delicious sort of emotion. What on earth was happening to her?

  She looked up into those piercing blue eyes—so deep they were, and unfathomable. His mouth was set, the fine lines at the side of it were taut, and frown lines creased his brow. He wore an immaculately-cut grey tropical suit, with a snowy-white shirt contrasting sharply with his bronzed throat. So very handsome he looked—superlative in every way. Lithe and tall in build, athletic in appearance; finely-chiselled features and thick brown hair that in spite of the dust of the outdoors in which he worked, always appeared to be newly washed. It waved naturally but was now combed back—although Tina saw that the wave at the front looked ready to fall out of place at any minute. It always was unruly, she recalled, and quite unconsciously she smiled, as if at some happy thought.

  ‘What,’ inquired her companion in dispassionate tones, ‘is so funny?’ His eyes ran over her as he spoke; she saw that he approved of what she wore.

  ‘Funny?’ she echoed. ‘I don’t know what you mean?’

  ‘You were smiling at something.’

  ‘Was I?’ Yes, she had smiled. What would Charles say were she to tell him that her smile was the reflection of her thoughts about his hair? ‘Does my dress meet with your approval?’ she queried, anxious to divert him.

  He looked at her with the old familiar sardonic expression.

  ‘You already know it does.’

  ‘Why should I?’ she frowned.

  ‘Because you were watching as I looked you over; you gave a little inner sigh of relief that I registered no displeasure.’

  ‘I did not!’ To her surprise he laughed and she added on a scathing note, ‘You have such an inflated opinion of yourself, Charles. I’m not afraid of your displeasure.’

  ‘Had I not approved of your dress,’ he said, still amused by her indignant expression, ‘I should have seen that you changed it. That’s why I’m here.’

  ‘I thought that was why you came into my bedroom uninvited. But I might as well tell you that I wouldn’t change my dress for you or anyone else!’

  He eyed her oddly.

  ‘Not even for Father?’ he queried softly.

  ‘Father is different. Yes, I would change it for him.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ he murmured almost to himself. And then, startling her and bringing the colour to her face, ‘I can see now what your little game is. You’re clever, Tina, but one of these days my father is going to see through you.’

  ‘I don’t kn-know what you mean,’ she stammered, and his brow lifted contemptuously.

  ‘Go home with him if you want; you won’t be missed here.’

  She stood staring at the door for a long while after he had gone, and to her surprise she suddenly realized that tears were very close. Once again he had been able to hurt her, this time more deeply than ever before. She would not be missed—Swallowing a little lump in her throat, she went down to join the others again, admitting—although not without some considerable reluctance—that she had earned Charles’s dislike, at least, recently. Naturally, after overhearing her conversation with his father he would regard her as deceitful. And
at the thought of his action in washing off that eye-shadow she went hot all over. If only he hadn’t known about that it might not have been so bad, but no really nice girl would stoop to such methods in order to deceive her father.

  ‘No wonder he called me a deceitful wretch,’ she whispered to herself as she sat down beside Austin. ‘He was right, but it’s too late now to try and undo the damage. Charles hates me, and I deserve it.’ Conscience continued to prick, taking the pleasure out of everything, and even the thought of the dance could not relieve her weighty spirits. And the fact that Moira had her new dress to wear did not improve matters either.

  ‘I don’t feel like going,’ she told her sister sulkily on the afternoon of the dance. ‘I haven’t anything to wear.’

  ‘Nonsense! You’ve loads of things. You brought dozens of dresses with you.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. Anyway, I wanted a new one!’

  ‘You’ve become so peevish lately,’ Moira complained, frowning in puzzlement. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  Tina did not know; all she did know was that Charles was ever on her mind, and each time he gave her one of his disdainful looks she felt as if a knife had twisted in her heart. She would recall then how she had wanted him to like her, to be concerned about her. She would recall over and over again how happy she had been in his company that day when they met in the bush and when, later, he had invited her to ride with him over to the bore trough where the stockmen were making their tea. Something had happened to her on that day; it was the first time, she reflected, that she had felt a part of the life she lived, here in the Outback, on Charles’s vast cattle station. Up till then she had felt utterly alone, a being quite separated from the people and the way of life. She could have fitted in, she knew, if only Charles had not discriminated so markedly between Moira and herself.

  Despite her earlier lack of enthusiasm for the dance Tina found enjoyment in dancing with Austin and with Bernie Roper and others who were more than eager to claim her. The food was set out on long tables at the extreme end of the barn; it was a cold buffet and everybody helped themselves to a snack whenever they felt like it. Tina and Austin went over together and were handed hot drinks by one of the gins who always assisted at these functions.