It was blastingly hot and the flies bombarded them as they walked back up the street towards the hotel. Kalgoorlie was right out in the desert, a rough, tough place that had been thrown up at the turn of the century when gold was discovered. There was still a working gold mine here, and almost all the old vices still flourished too – prostitution, gambling and hard drinking.
It reminded Dulcie of cowboy towns in the Wild West, with huge old hotels, saloons on street level, wide verandas upstairs and wooden sidewalks beneath. All that was missing was a few horses tied to hitching posts. It did have a great deal of character, she almost expected to see a couple of cowboys burst out of one of the saloon doors and begin shooting at each other. But she knew now she shouldn’t have listened to all those well-intentioned people who insisted this was the place to get married.
It would have been far more romantic by the sea, she and Ross could have walked out on the jetty in the moonlight tonight, there would have been no ‘blowies’, and tomorrow they could have swum and laid around on the beach. But she wasn’t going to breathe a word of that as Bruce had generously paid for it all. Neither was she going to look enviously at May’s outfit and wish hers was as stunning.
Dulcie had made hers herself, a pale blue shantung sleeveless dress with a matching bolero jacket. Her hat was a blue pill-box with a veil, and she wore a spray of white gardenias. Both Bruce and Ross had said she looked gorgeous – perhaps she did, and it was only the heat which was making her wilt.
Two hours later as the sun was going down, Dulcie was laughing fit to bust. She was a little tiddly after two glasses of champagne and a couple more of wine, and cool at last because the upstairs dining-room at the hotel opened out on to a wide, shady veranda. Sadie Wells, the landlady, had lent them her son’s record-player and his record collection, and May was teaching John to jive.
John was an enthusiastic dancer rather than a good one, and although he quickly got the idea of the steps, he kept breaking off to do impersonations of Elvis Presley to ‘Jail House Rock’. He had got the gyrating pelvic movements perfectly, and with a beer bottle in his hand as a microphone and a lock of his hair pulled down on his forehead, he really looked like Elvis. Bob was quite drunk and between records kept telling jokes – Dulcie had never heard him say so much in one day. Both Bruce and Ross seemed supremely happy too.
Dulcie felt she had to acknowledge that much of this merriment was May’s doing. She had charmed them all, made a fuss of Bruce, warmly welcomed Ross as her new brother-in-law, clowned with John and drawn Bob out of his customary silence. It was she who dared approach Sadie and ask if there was a record-player. Considering she’d come such a long way for a wedding where she knew no one but her sister, to find that Kalgoorlie was a dusty, hot town set in the middle of a desert and that for the next two days she’d be stuck out in a farm in the middle of nowhere without even her sister for company, Dulcie had expected sulks. But there had been none, in fact she appeared overjoyed by everything.
Some of the other guests staying at the hotel had come out on the far end of the veranda, and when May saw their interest and amusement she danced down that way and urged them to join in. There was a tall, dark-haired man in a cream suit among them, and before long May was jiving with him.
‘Are you happy?’ Ross asked Dulcie, coming to sit beside her on an old couch.
‘Extraordinarily happy,’ she said, kissing his cheek.
He took her hand in his, and squeezed it. ‘I can’t believe you’re really my wife now,’ he said, his tawny eyes looking tenderly into hers. ‘It’s like a dream come true.’
‘The best is yet to come,’ she said, running one finger around his lips. There had been many more kissing and petting sessions since that first one after she’d come back from Perth, though rarely in the house, and they always ended as abruptly as that one had. It had become very frustrating for her, but when she finally plucked up the courage to speak of it, Ross said he was afraid of going too far. She couldn’t wait now until they could go to their bedroom, even on the drive up here this morning she’d thought of little else.
‘Your sister is lovely,’ Ross said suddenly, looking down the veranda to where May was dancing with the dark-haired man. She was looking up into the man’s eyes and flirting madly. John was also along there, dancing with a very fat lady. ‘She isn’t like I expected at all.’
‘She isn’t really like I expected either,’ Dulcie said fondly. She was delighted May had fitted in so well, she felt proud of her, and hoped that from now on they could be closer. ‘It’s lovely to find your sister can be a friend too.’
‘I wish I knew where my brothers are,’ Ross said.
‘If we go to Perth one day we could go to the orphanage where you were all sent first and ask to see their records,’ she suggested.
‘I couldn’t do that,’ he said, looking shocked.
‘Why not?’ she laughed lightly. ‘I’d be with you, they couldn’t hurt you in any way now.’
‘I think I’d be sick just walking through the gates,’ he said. ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about that. Let me get you another drink.’
*
It was nearly ten when Bruce said they really ought to go home, he’d got someone in to milk the cows this evening, but they’d have to be up early tomorrow morning and it was a long drive on a bad road. He looked over to where May was talking animatedly to the dark man and smiled. ‘Besides, I’d better get May back to the farm before she gets into any mischief.’
Bruce rounded them all up and Ross went into the bedroom and collected May’s suitcase and hat. ‘We’ll see you all in two days,’ he said, shaking Bruce’s hand. ‘Thank you for everything, Bruce. It’s been a beaut day.’
‘It has that.’ Bruce beamed and kissed Dulcie. ‘I’ll be at the station to pick you up. Don’t worry about May, we’ll look after her.’
It was suddenly quiet after they’d all gone. No traffic in the wide streets, just a murmur of music from the pub across the way. The man who had been dancing with May and his friends had disappeared. Sadie had removed all the food and drink from the dining-room and laid the tables up for breakfast, but she’d left some soft drinks and a bottle of wine in a tub of ice in their room; which was a few doors along on the veranda.
‘I’ll go and get us a drink,’ Ross said. Now they were alone he seemed jittery.
‘I’ll just have lemonade,’ Dulcie said, aware now that she was drunk.
When he came back with a bottle of whisky in his hand and her lemonade, she was a bit shocked because he’d already drunk far more than anyone else today. But he only poured himself a small glass, so she said nothing.
They sat side by side for some little time without speaking. It was still very warm, without even a hint of a breeze. ‘It’s been a beaut day,’ Ross said after a while, his words slightly slurred.
‘The best ever,’ she said, turning towards him and kissing him lightly on the lips. ‘But let’s go to bed now?’
He looked at her for a brief second, then turned his head away. ‘I reckon the room will start spinning if I lie down. Maybe I’d better stay out here tonight, I might get sick.’
She laughed, imagining Sadie’s shock to find a young bridegroom sleeping on a couch outside his room. She took the glass of whisky from his hand. ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ she said, and took hold of his arm to pull him up. ‘Only dogs sleep outside.’
He shook off her hand. ‘You go on in, I’ll just sit here for a bit and sober up.’
Dulcie thought that meant he wanted to give her time to get undressed, and as this was something she was nervous about doing in front of him, she slipped away reminding him he wasn’t to drink any more whisky. She undressed, washed, brushed her hair and climbed into bed to wait for him, turning off the light so the mosquitoes and moths wouldn’t come in through the open door.
She must have fallen asleep, but she woke partially as he crept in beside her later, enough to be aware he’d shut the door on to the ver
anda and pulled the curtains across, but not enough to speak. Sleepily she turned to him, sliding one arm across his chest, but sleep overtook her again and the next thing she knew daylight was coming through cracks in the curtains.
It was some minutes before she realized Ross wasn’t still in bed with her. She could feel a warm patch where his body had been, and imagining he’d just gone down the corridor to the bathroom, she drifted off again.
The sound of traffic woke her, but Ross wasn’t in bed beside her. The door to the veranda was open, and she could smell cigarette smoke, so he had to be out there. Pulling on her housecoat, she went outside. He was sitting on the couch fully dressed, he’d even shaved as if he was ready to go out somewhere.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, imagining it was very late.
‘Nearly eight,’ he said. ‘Time for breakfast. Are you going to get dressed now?’
As Dulcie had never stayed in a hotel before, she assumed they had to get up and have breakfast. Although disappointed that he was showing no inclination to come back into the room with her, or even give her a good-morning kiss, she put this down to embarrassment.
It seemed a very long day. They spent the morning exploring the town, but it was too hot to get much enjoyment from looking in the shops, and Ross admitted he wished they were down at the beach in Esperance. In the afternoon they went to see The King and I at the cinema, but Ross had a couple of beers before they went in and he fell asleep and missed most of it. They had a meal in a restaurant, huge steaks nearly as big as the plates, and feeling bloated they went back to the hotel.
‘Let’s go and have a lie-down,’ Dulcie suggested after a pot of tea out on the veranda.
‘We can’t,’ Ross said, inclining his head to a couple sitting about eight feet away from them. ‘What will they think?’
Dulcie didn’t care much what they thought, and said so, but Ross said if she wanted to lie down he’d stay outside. So she stayed outside with him and tried not to sulk. Later they went for a walk, stopping at a couple of pubs for a drink, and finally it was eleven o’clock.
Once again he insisted on staying outside their room with a glass of whisky and a cigarette, and Dulcie lay in bed alone wondering why he was being so strange. It was over an hour later that he eventually came creeping in, peeling off his clothes in the dark, perhaps thinking she was asleep. She said nothing and waited for him to get into bed.
He got in but made no attempt to cuddle up to her. She could smell the whisky on his breath and wondered if he was drunk again. After several minutes of lying there tense and hurt, she moved closer. ‘Give me a cuddle,’ she whispered.
His arms went round her quickly enough, and he drew her on to his shoulder, yet his body was as stiff and uncomforting as a corpse and he didn’t utter a word.
Finally it was too much for her for it felt as if there was an invisible barrier between them. She turned over, moved back to her side of the bed and began to cry silently. She felt abandoned, the way she had on her first night at the Sacred Heart.
‘Don’t cry, Dulcie,’ Ross whispered in the dark. She felt him turn on to his side and his arm stole round her middle. ‘I can’t bear it when you cry.’
‘What have I done?’ she asked through her tears. ‘It’s our honeymoon, why are you being so peculiar with me? Don’t you want me?’
‘You haven’t done anything,’ he said. ‘It’s just so hot and kind of strange here. I’m not used to hotels.’
‘Neither am I,’ she retorted. ‘But I could get used to it, it’s nice being in a place where someone else does everything for you. It’s not that hot now either, so kiss me properly and stop being silly.’
He did give her a kiss, but a perfunctory, dutiful one. That was the final straw for Dulcie and she began crying again. ‘What have I done wrong? Tell me, for goodness sake, and get it over with.’
‘You haven’t done anything wrong,’ he said. ‘It’s all me.’
She sensed anguish in his voice now and she turned towards him, deeply puzzled. ‘Tell me what it is, Ross,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t care how bad it is, just tell me.’
‘I shouldn’t have married you,’ he said in a small voice.
She just lay there for a moment, too stunned to speak.
‘Why?’ she asked at length. ‘Why shouldn’t you have married me?’
‘Because I can’t be a real husband to you.’
His words seemed to hang in the darkness, flapping like a huge bat under the fan on the ceiling. ‘I don’t understand,’ she gasped out. ‘You said you loved me!’
‘I do love you,’ he whispered. ‘I’d do anything in the whole world for you. I’d die for you. But I’m not like other blokes.’
The first thing that popped into her head was that he meant he was a poofter.
John used that word all the time. She didn’t know what it meant exactly, John used it scornfully, sometimes to describe a man who was a bit timid or soft, but mostly when he was talking of men who didn’t like women. Ross wasn’t soft or timid, not by even the toughest men’s reckoning, so it had to be the latter. But why would he want to marry her if that was the case?
‘But you’ve wanted me before,’ she retorted. ‘You did, you know you did. How can you say you’re not like other blokes? I know you are.’
‘You don’t know,’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion in the darkness. ‘I can’t do it, let it be at that. I made a mistake thinking I’d be all right once we were married, but it just isn’t there. I’ll push off tomorrow morning.’
Indignation took over from feeling abandoned or even shocked. Dulcie sat up and switched the light on. He was lying on his side, and tears were coursing down his cheeks. In his striped pyjamas he looked closer to twelve than twenty-four.
‘What do you mean, you’ll push off?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Are you saying you’ll run out on me, two days after our wedding? You can’t be serious.’
‘I can’t come back to Frenches’ with you, that’s for certain,’ he said, covering his face with his hands. ‘I’d be a laughing stock and everyone would feel sorry for you. It’s best I just go. You can tell them what you like.’
Dulcie just sat there for a moment, unable to believe this was really happening. She had read in magazines about some women who were too frightened to consummate their marriage, but she’d never heard of a man being that way. She looked down at him, he was crying, curled up like a little boy expecting a good hiding, so it certainly wasn’t a joke in poor taste. Did he mean that part of him didn’t work? But how could he know that without trying?
‘You aren’t running out on me,’ she said firmly. ‘You should have told me if there was something wrong with you, but we’re married now, for better or worse, so you’d better explain yourself.’
‘I can be a good husband in every other way,’ he said, peeping at her from behind his hands. ‘I can build a house, feed you, clothe you, all that. But I can’t –’ He stopped in mid-sentence.
‘Make love to me?’ she prompted. ‘Is that what you mean?’
A faint nod and a sniff confirmed this.
‘But you haven’t even tried,’ she said in bewilderment. ‘You haven’t even given me a real kiss since we got married.’
There was a long silence. ‘I can’t bring myself to,’ he said eventually.
Dulcie slumped back on the pillow, utterly perplexed. Looking back, she could now see for herself that he’d never really ever wanted to indulge in anything physical, kissing and cuddling was always prompted by her. Betty had said that passion should be there from the first kiss, and it hadn’t been, she’d just been too dumb or innocent not to recognize it wasn’t. But he had been passionate that night she came back from Perth, and on other occasions since. She thought about that and remembered how he always stopped suddenly. Was that what he meant by he couldn’t bring himself to?
‘Are you a poofter?’ she asked.
He sprang up in bed at that, his face purple with anger. ‘You what!
Strewth, Dulcie, what a thing to say!’
‘Then what are you, Ross?’ she said scornfully. ‘I’ll tell you what I think you are! A bloody liar. You made me believe this was going to be happy ever after. You begged me to marry you when I got back from Perth. You said you needed me and wanted me. Why did you say those things if you didn’t mean them?’
‘I do need you, Dulcie,’ he said, his voice quivering. ‘You don’t know how much.’
Dulcie felt as if her whole world was falling apart. She’d known this man for over four years, she thought she really knew him. Was this what Betty had been afraid of when she spoke of his coldness?
She switched off the light, got out of bed, pulled on a housecoat over her nightdress and went outside on to the veranda. Ross’s cigarettes and whisky were on the table. She pulled the stopper and took a long swig, she hated the taste and it made her throat burn, but she wanted to be anaesthetized. She took another, then another, and was just on the point of throwing the bottle back into the room at him when she stopped herself.
‘You can’t even do that,’ she thought scornfully. ‘Afraid of upsetting the landlady and even him. God, you are so bloody pathetic!’
She slumped back on the couch and defiantly lit one of his cigarettes. Images of Ross kept sweeping through her mind, on his motorbike, milking the cows, driving the combine harvester, heaving the sacks of grain on to the back of the truck. Everything about him was so masculine, he could build walls, dig dams, cut down trees, mend motors. She’d believed he could do anything, she thought he was just like Bruce, a kind, decent and hard-working man with whom she could be happy for ever.
What was she going to do now? If she left him here and went home on the train alone she would be forced to explain. But it wouldn’t just be to Bruce, May was there too. She couldn’t bear the thought of that. Besides, how would Bruce manage without Ross? He did the work of two other men, everyone had always said that. There really was no choice but to go home tomorrow as if everything was fine.
Trust Me Page 45
