Walkabout Wife

by Dorothy Cork

  `I'm glad I do,' she retorted. 'I'd have looked a fool if I'd brought everything with me, wouldn't I?—just for a few weeks.'

  They arrived at Dhoora Dhoora before sunset. A wide gate gave on to the gravel road, and above the gate, in metal letters, was the name Dhoora Dhoora. Edie felt a strange little thrill go through her as they drove through. Walkabout, Drew had said it meant. Somehow she liked that. Not that it mattered to her in the least, she amended her thoughts hastily.

  There was a cylindrical mail box, a cattle grid, a narrow red road that ran beside a post and wire fence and passed, she soon discovered, through several gates that had to be opened and then shut. At either side, vast paddocks stretched out to eternity—gently heaving paddocks, covered with Mitchell grass. Going on for

  ever and ever, Edie thought—rolling over the horizon, on and on, dotted with cattle and with a feathery sort of scrub that looked light enough to blow away if the slightest wind arose—an illusion, of course, because it was very tough and very solid and had to be, to survive out here. On the edge of the world, trees floatedtrunkless, ephemeral, wavering like balloons on strings.

  `It's a big property, isn't it?' she commented as she climbed back into the car after closing the third gate.

  `Not so big as it once was,' said Drew. `Dhoora Dhoora was twice the size it is now in my great-grandfather's time, but his two sons weren't equally interested, and one half of the place was sold. That's' why my grandfather left it solely to his eldest son—my uncle—and incidentally, why he wanted to leave it solely to either me or my cousin Greg.'

  `I see,' she said uncomfortably, remembering how she had at least by implication cast doubt on his reasons for wanting to gain possession.

  `I told you I was engaged to Deborah Webster,' he remarked presently. 'The reason my uncle was so delighted about that was because it was the Webster family who'd bought the other half of Dhoora Dhoora, and since Debbie was the only child, my uncle saw the property being restored to its previous size. But it was not to be,' he finished sombrely.

  suppose—' she began, and then stopped. `You suppose what?'

  `Nothing,' she murmured, and Drew didn't pursue it. She'd been going to suggest that the reason he hadn't married was because he had never got over Deborah's death, but it wasn't her business and it could be that he still hadn't got over it.

  After the fourth gate, a cluster of silvery roofs appeared across a yellow plain, their colour merging into

  the silver of cloud in a vast sky as yet not flooded by the red of sunset. Edie wondered how it would feel if this was—coming home. He must be proud of Dhoora Dhoora, she thought, and she could fully understand his not wanting to lose it. Though the country looked harsh and the trees were wild and scrubby-looking, it had always been home to him. She felt the first real twinge of sympathy with Drew Sutton. He would be really cut up if his cousin inherited and sold the place.

  `What would you do if your cousin—if Dhoora Dhoora went to your cousin and he put it up for sale?' she asked musingly. 'Would you—buy it?'

  `My dear girl, I couldn't afford it,' he said with asperity. 'No, some pastoral company would buy it up —the same impersonal company, perhaps, that now owns Quabin Downs, since the Websters have gone. They'd put a manager in and the boss would come out for a week or so every year to look through the books with an accountant.'

  She digested that, then asked, 'What would you do, then? Wouldn't you stand a good chance of being appointed manager?'

  He turned his brilliant grey eyes on her, narrowed and blackly lashed, and one eyebrow peaked sardonically. `D'you think that would make me happy, Alfreda?'

  `I—I guess it wouldn't.'

  `You're damned right.'

  `Then what would—'

  `Look,' he interrupted savagely, 'it might amuse you to play this guessing game, but I'm not interested in speculation. I'll get myself a wife before the eighteenth of next month no matter how ruthless I have to be. And if you're still considering slipping the noose from around your neck, then you'd better tell me right away and I'll turn this vehicle round and take you back to

  Narrunga.' His foot went down violently on the brake as he spoke and the car pulled up with a neck-breaking jerk that left Edie shaken. Drew swung round in the seat to confront her. 'Well? Make up your mind. And if you're going to think up any more hypothetical questions such as what I'll do if you walk out on me, then get this quite straight in your mind—you aren't the only fish in the sea and you don't hold my future in the palm of your hand. No woman on this earth does that. I hazarded a guess that you'd be a decent sort of a girl to deal with, but if you opt out now, I'll take a chance on another of the several ladies who were apparently eager and willing to marry a cattleman. But this time I'll have learned my lesson and I won't play it so straight down the middle. In fact, I'll save the honesty until after the wedding's over.' He paused and looked at her hard. `Well? Do you want me to take you back to Narrunga?'

  Edie stared at him, completely taken aback. She hadn't thought of opting out—not now—but when he spoke to her like that, she longed to do so. He wasn't the slightest bit diplomatic or tactful, and as far as she could see, he didn't even like her.

  `Well?' he snapped out impatiently. 'Can't you make up your mind one way or the other? What's bugging you now, anyway? Are you afraid I have plans to take advantage of you—attack your virtue?'

  She turned away from him abruptly. The colour had left her face and she clasped her trembling hands in her lap and said with an attempt to keep her voice even, 'Mr Sutton, if I walked out on you now, it would —it would just serve you right. You're—you're positively unpleasant! I've already told you I'd carry out my obligations. I didn't breathe one single word just now about not going through with this pretence of a marriage. You're the one who put your foot on the

  brake. I was—I was simply asking a few questions out of interest. But if you don't trust me or can't stand the sight of me, then do as you please. I don't care. Take me back to Narrunga—catch yourself another fish—' Her voice had begun to shake and she stopped speaking and bit hard on her lip.

  After a second she heard him sigh. Then he reached out and took hold of her arm and pulled her round to face him.

  `Okay, I'll say it—I'm sorry. I'm on edge over this whole business, I guess, and you're just not the slightly wacky rather nice little nurse I'd imagined I was getting hold of, a sensible girl who'd be satisfied with a nest egg. There's something about you that unsettles me. As from now, I'll watch it.'

  `I—I wish you would,' she said, hating the fact that her lower lip was quivering, and hating even more the fact that he had obviously noticed it. 'Who'll be at the homestead when we get there?' she asked, determinedly changing the subject.

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a sudden smile. `Don't worry, you won't have to put on a show tonight. My housekeeper doesn't live in. She's the boreman's wife and they have their own bungalow. She keeps my house tidy with the help of a couple of aboriginal girls, and she cooks my dinner, but otherwise she leaves me alone.'

  Edie swallowed. 'You mean—there'll just be you and—me?'

  `Yes. But don't let that upset you. It will be the same way after we're married—I'll want you to live at Dhoora Dhoora, of course.' He let go of her arm as if suddenly aware he was holding it. 'We'd better get moving again,' he said. 'You're looking tired.'

  She was tired. Tired enough to want to have a good

  cry, but of course that wouldn't be allowed. Not till tonight when she'd gone to bed and could cry privately into her pillow—alone in the house with him .. .

  A few minutes later the homestead came into sight. Grouped around it were various smaller buildings which Drew pointed out as the store, the workshop, the shed for the plant. As well there were several bungalows—for the boreman, the stockmen, the cook and so on. It was almost a little village and the hub of it all, though set apart in its sheltering trees, was the big ranch-like homestead, with deep, creeper-shaded verandahs, a rose g
arden and a tennis court.

  As they left the car, Edie had a feeling of nervousness. She wondered how she would have felt if the marriage ahead of her was to have been a real one instead of a mere formality designed to serve a very practical purpose. For sure she'd have felt even more trepidation than she did now. Imagine living with this dynamic, maddening man as his wife—sharing his bed—

  The housekeeper, Mrs Wilson, came into the hall and Drew introduced her to Edie so casually that Edie had the distinct impression she had been told about her. Though exactly what she had been told it was impossible to guess.

  `Carry on with dinner,' Drew said presently, and added humorously, 'It smells good enough to eat!'

  Mrs Wilson smiled and vanished in the direction of the kitchen, and Edie, her cheeks slightly flushed, asked him, 'What have you told her about me?'

  `What do you think?' He raised his straight thick eyebrows and looked at her quizzically. 'That you're my fiancée, of course. But don't worry, she doesn't know how I got hold of you. She has no part in my personal life.'

  `I thought—in the outback—everyone was on equal terms,' Edie said tentatively as she followed him along the hallway.

  `You mean you imagined she'd be calling me by my christian name and warning me that no good would come of getting a missus this way? Well, perhaps fortunately, Mrs Wilson is more or less a newcomer here. However, I haven't confided in anyone what I've been doing, if it's of any comfort to you. So don't worry that the housekeeper will be bringing a pile of socks to darn while you and I are having coffee in the sitting room after dinner. As soon as she's fixed whatever it is she's cooking in the kitchen, she'll vamoose and get Frank's tucker on the go ... This is your room,' he concluded, pushing open a door and standing aside.

  Edie's nerves tingled. Very soon she and Drew Sutton would be quite alone, and the thought was a distinctly disquieting one. What would they talk about over dinner—afterwards? The less they talked, the better, she thought. They seemed to have acquired very quickly a habit of misunderstanding each other. Or at least, he misunderstood her. She had already misunderstood him, of course, thanks to his apparently unambiguous advertisement that had, after all, meant something entirely different from what it had stated. She was of two minds as to whether she should be thankful about that or not ...

  He said into her thoughts, 'Unpack all your things if you want to—you've plenty of time. I'll give you a call when dinner's ready.'

  `Thank you,' she said, and added desperately, 'Won't there be anyone else with us? I mean, the—the jackeroos, the—'

  `Nobody,' he said emphatically. 'Definitely not. They're out at the muster camp in any case. But even

  when they're here, this is my private home. It's a big cattle station, Alfreda, big enough still to have an outstation, as I think I told you earlier—forty or fifty kilometres from here ... You'll find a bathroom at the end of the hall. It's been renovated lately—that and the kitchen, so it's one up on the little bathroom at the end of the verandah. I'll be taking my shower there.'

  `Great,' she thought frantically. 'At least we shan't be sharing a bathroom.'

  With a smile he left her, and she drew a deep breath and for the first time really looked about her. It was a big room, a handsome room. The carpet, grey with a pattern of roses, was slightly faded but obviously of first-rate quality. The curtains were faded too, and so was the bedspread on a double bed that had an elegantly carved bedhead and two matching bedside tables. A door opened on to the verandah and two wide low-silled windows looked across to the rose garden.

  Edie started her unpacking, uncertain as to how much she should take out of her suitcases. But after all, she was going to marry him, wasn't she? She was going to live here for the next few weeks. Abruptly she switched off her thoughts. It was madness to think about the situation too much. Mindlessly, she began to hang her dresses in the big carved wardrobe that looked as if it weighed about a ton, and to put her neatly folded underthings away in the chest of drawers. She tried not to look at the double bed, though certainly she would be sleeping there alone, even after they were married. Or so Drew said.

  Presently she went along to the bathroom to wash and after she came back to her room she slipped outside on an impulse to cut a couple of dark red roses with her nail scissors. When she was dressed, she pinned one of them to the shoulder of the cream blouse

  she was wearing with a long flowered skirt. She was fixing the second rose in her hair when Drew tapped on the door and came in, and Edie flushed deeply as his reflection joined hers in the mirror. Her arms were raised as she clipped the rose in position with a tortoiseshell clasp that had belonged to her grandmother, and the stuff of her blouse, pulled tight, revealed the points of her breasts. Through the mirror, Drew was looking at her body in a curiously proprietorial way, and she fastened the clip clumsily and swung away from the glass.

  `I like the scent you use,' he said as she straightened the belt that encircled her narrow waist. 'It matches your personality.'

  She looked at him warily through her lashes. 'It's not scent. It's these roses—from your garden. I—I picked two. Is that all right?'

  `Of course. Go for your life—cut all you want ... I came to tell you dinner's ready, and in case you're feeling shy of Mrs Wilson, she's gone.'

  In other words they were alone. And he had felt himself quite at liberty to come into her room. She could feel herself bristling as she went ahead of him through the doorway and she tossed over her shoulder, `By the way, I'd rather you didn't come into my bedroom like that.'

  Not before we're married?' he said mockingly from behind her.

  Nor afterwards,' she said tightly. His hand was under her elbow as he directed her into the dining room where the table was laid for two. It was dark now, and candles burned in silver candlesticks. It looked romantic and Edie supposed that Mrs Wilson had meant it that way. But there was certainly no romance between Edie Asher and Drew Sutton.

  As she slid into the chair he pulled out for her she looked up at him and said coolly, 'I'm doing you a favour, you know. I do expect to be able to dictate some of the terms.'

  `Dictate?' he repeated. 'That's a word I don't like.' He sat down opposite her and his grey eyes looked at her unreadably across the candlelight. 'I don't want to have everything my way, but all the same don't assume I'm ready to fall over myself to please or placate you, for fear you might walk out on me. I'm just not the grovelling type.'

  `I've noticed that,' she retorted. But neither am I. I'll honour my promise, but I expect you to honour yours as well.'

  `I'll do my best,' he said with an odd half smile. But you might need to remind me of it now and again ... Help yourself to the casserole. It's beef olives, something Mrs Wilson appears to do rather well, and rather often.' He lifted the lid of the blue patterned dish as he spoke and a tempting smell drifted across the table. Edie helped herself, and from another covered dish took a serving of vegetables. The table was a long one, and their places were laid intimately close at one end. Long curtains had been drawn across the windows so that the two of them were closed in, in a world that was very intimate and very private. Edie worried inwardly over what Drew had said about reminding him of his promise, but instead of following it up she asked with a sigh as she started her dinner, 'What does the boreman do, Drew?'

  `He looks after the bores,' he said with a comical lift of his brows. 'We depend largely on bore water for our stock on Dhoora Dhoora. It's pumped up from underground into storage tanks, then channelled out for the cattle. The boreman's job is to check that the pumps

  are operating and that there's always water when the cattle come to drink. Frank Wilson is the station mechanic as well—he looks after all the vehicles and the electricity generator. He's only been employed here a few weeks, but I'm very satisfied with him.'

  `Who did your housekeeping before Mrs Wilson came?' Edie asked curiously.

  `The last mechanic's wife. They left because she wasn't too happy here. Mrs Wilson's u
sed to the outback and she looks like being a real winner, so I'm in luck. It's not always easy to get good staff—or to keep it. In fact, a wife—of the right kind—can be a definite asset,' he concluded, his eyes surveying her enigmatically across the table.

  `It's a wonder you haven't found yourself one long ago,' she said involuntarily, and his look darkened.

  `I'll be remedying that very shortly, shan't I?'

  Not at all!' she exclaimed. 'I shan't be your wife—and you said it would be for only a few weeks—'

  `That was the original idea,' he agreed, and added irritatingly, 'Though it appeared to take you a while to reconcile yourself to it.'

  `Don't worry, I'm quite reconciled since—since making your acquaintance,' she said swiftly, then determinedly returned her attention to her meal.

  `It's very good steak, isn't it?' she commented, after a long silence.

  'Very good,' he agreed dryly.

  She didn't stay up for long after dinner but excused herself and went to her room—though once there she felt more nervous than in his presence. Why, she couldn't really imagine. If he merely wanted to marry her in order to gain possession of Dhoora Dhoora, then she should be perfectly safe. But he looked so virile, she was so intensely aware of the fact that he was a

  male, she couldn't escape from the fact that she was alone in the house with him. Terribly alone.

  Once during the night she woke with a start to the uneasy feeling that he was there in the room, but when she sat up and reached for the switch on the bedside lamp, the room was empty.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT was with a mixture of relief and resentment that Edie discovered she was to see very little of Drew during the two days they were to spend at Dhoora Dhoora before the wedding. He spent both of those days out at the muster camp, and since he left the homestead before she woke in the morning, and didn't come home till close on sundown, for Edie the day was lonely and long.