by Dorothy Cork
`No,' Edie thought wretchedly, 'I can't cook dinner for them as though everything were fine and dandy. I can't smile and talk and pretend. I love him—I want him—I wish I were dead ! '
But wishing yourself dead was a defeatist attitude, and Edie simply wasn't a defeatist. She decided to take a shower, wash her hair, dress herself in something cool and pretty and cheerful. She'd make herself a salad and an icy cold fruit drink, and she'd take off her wedding ring and be plain Edie Asher again in every way. She reminded herself with a rather desperate optimism that it could have been worse—much, much worse. She and Drew could have been lovers by now—she could have told him yes last night. Thank heavens she hadn't! Now she could pretend that her answer was going to be no. It would make her feel better—and him too, she hoped.
She told herself this over and over again later, as she picked at her salad on the verandah. It was after two o'clock, but she wasn't hungry, she was too uptight at the thought of the evening ahead of her—of seeing Drew again. With Laurel, the girl he loved. It was going to be plain hell, and though she knew she should be happy for him, she just wasn't that noble. She hated Laurel. The best she could hope for was that Drew would be merciful enough to arrange for her to leave
tomorrow, somehow or other. It was a pity she couldn't disappear this minute, by some magic means or other. But unfortunately she didn't have a fairy godmother to grant her wishes.
Edie abandoned her salad, finished her orange drink, and carried her plate and glass inside. She had almost reached the kitchen when she heard the sound of a car and her heart gave a leap. Laurel—or Drew—or both of them already! Oh God! Well, at least she was dressed and in her right mind, and at least she'd decided what line she'd take. But she knew very well it was going to be an ordeal, and rather than hasten its beginning, she continued on her way to the kitchen.
Someone knocked on the front door as she rinsed her glass and plate at the sink. What on earth was that in aid of? she wondered, frowning. To let her know they were there? More knocking—louder this time—and an aggressive male voice called out, 'Is anyone at home?'
The colour fled from Edie's face. That voice! It was Joe!
A moment later she discovered him standing on the verandah looking down the hallway. It was so unexpected, she hardly knew what to think, and even while her heart sank at this new complication an inner voice told her mockingly, 'Maybe you have a fairy godmother after all! Maybe this is your chance to escape the trauma of an evening alone with Laurel and Drew.'
`Joe ! ' she heard herself greeting him, her voice falsely bright. 'Where on earth did you come from? Come along inside—' She looked at him curiously as he accepted her invitation. He looked so slim, so much smaller than she remembered him. But that was because Drew was 'How did you get here?' she asked vivaciously.
`I flew up to Narrunga and hired a car,' he said. He
went ahead of her into the sitting room, and before he sat down he looked about him, narrow-eyed, in the same suspicious way Laurel had looked around the kitchen earlier, Edie thought, wryly amused.
`You came all this way to see me !' she exclaimed, knowing she sounded affected. 'Sit down, Joe ! Would you like a drink?—a beer—some tea—'
`I'll have a beer, thanks, if you've got it,' he said, sounding slightly puzzled. 'Isn't there anyone else around here?'
`Not at the moment,' she admitted. 'Just make yourself comfortable and I'll get some beer from the fridge. I'll be right back.'
A number of thoughts jostled around in her mind as she left him and went hack to the kitchen. Obviously, Barb had told him where she was, and obviously she could make some use of him. Couldn't she—couldn't she have her wish and simply have disappeared before Drew and Laurel came back? Wouldn't that be better —far better—than asking Joe to stay the night? Of course it would, yet she baulked at it. However painful it was, she knew she longed to see Drew again, under any circumstances. She knew too that if she could avoid it then she wasn't going to allow herself to see him. She must persuade Joe to drive her to Narrunga this afternoon. Once a thing is over, it's over, she told herself, as she took a couple of cans of beer from the refrigerator. It was something she'd learned in hospital when a patient died. You could make yourself into a mental case if you wept and worried and churned it over and over in your mind. She was going to have to learn to forget Drew, and the time to start was now.
When she went back into the sitting room, Joe asked her abruptly, 'What's going on here, Edie?'
Stupidly, she was caught unaware. She'd been too
busy with her immediate problems to wonder what she was going to tell Joe. The fact was, she wasn't greatly concerned what he thought. He meant nothing to her—nothing at all, though possibly he didn't realise that yet.
She sat down and told him blandly, Nothing's been going on here. I don't know what you're talking about.'
His eyes were blue and friendly, but just now there was mistrust in them as they moved thoughtfully over Edie—her shining dark hair, her pale face and shadowed eyes, her pretty tomato red dress, her bare brown legs and high-heeled sandals.
`Don't give us that stuff, Edie,' he said after a moment. 'Barb finally opened up and told me exactly what you'd been up to—coming up here to marry some bushie you'd never set eyes on. I suppose that was my fault in a way. Will you believe me when I tell you I'm sorry I made myself so objectionable that night—the last time we met? I haven't been able to get you off my mind, you know. In fact I—'
Edie interrupted quickly, afraid he was going to say he loved her or wanted her to marry him or something. `It wasn't your fault at all, Joe—forget it.'
He frowned slightly and she thought in an impersonal way, 'He's quite nice really—I can see why I thought I was in love with him.'
`Anyhow,' he went on, 'I had to come and find you. Barb really had the wind up. All she'd heard from you was that you weren't being rushed to the altar and you were going to spend a few days on a cattle station—she showed me your letter. After that, absolutely nothing. What were we to think? You might have been dead!'
`Oh dear,' Edie said inadequately. 'I knew she was a little bit worried—I had a letter the other day. But I had no idea it was as bad as that.'
`Well, it was,' Joe said grimly. 'And since she hadn't a clue what to do about it, I offered to come and investigate. For all we knew, you could have been in the clutches of a sadist, or something—unable to get away. Instead of which, what do I find? You come floating to the door—come on in, Joe, have a beer, all that stuff.' He gave her a straight look, drank down the rest of his beer and as he reached for another can he asked her flatly, 'So what has been happening?'
Edie smiled uneasily. She didn't feel like telling Joe the whole story. It really wasn't any business of his that she'd made a marriage contract with a stranger, fallen in love with him, and now wanted to get out because his ex-fiancée had come back into his life.
`I'm sorry I worried you by not writing,' she said after a second. 'But as you can see, I haven't been locked up by a sadist or anything like that. All the same, I'm glad you've come, Joe. I'd rather like to go home. Today,' she added, and finished with an appealing smile, 'As soon as you've finished your beer, in fact.'
He stared at her, forgetting the can in his hands. `What? Leave now—straight away? Just like that? You mean you haven't been able to get away—you've been a kind of prisoner here ! What's this bloke been doing to you? By God, I'd like to push his face in!'
Edie bit her lip. The thought of Joe pushing Drew's face in was quite ludicrous. It was far more likely to happen the other way around if Joe insisted on a fight. She said hastily, 'Please don't get worked up about nothing, Joe. Of course I haven't been kept a prisoner. It's just that I've—I've been here long enough now, and it would be convenient to go with you instead of having to mess around making other arrangements. Drew won't mind.'
`Won't he? Why not?' Joe asked aggressively. 'Barb
said he wanted a wife. So what's wrong with
you?' As if struck by a sudden thought he glanced at her left hand, and she was thankful she'd discarded her ring.
She shrugged slightly, though she'd paled. 'Nothing. He does want a wife, but it's—it's not going to be me, it's going to be someone else.'
`Good God! You mean he's had other girls here? What kind of a man is he?'
`Oh, leave it alone,' Edie said shortly. 'Don't let your imagination run away with you. I told you nothing's been going on and I mean it. Now if you'll excuse me,
`You're going to see this guy—tell him you're leaving? I'll come with you,' said Joe, jumping to his feet. `If he tries to throw his weight around, stop you from leaving, I'll knock him flat!'
`Oh, sit down, Joe,' Edie sighed. 'I'm not going to see him—I'll leave a note. He's miles and miles away at the muster camp, I don't even know which direction. I was merely going to say I'll pack my things.' She got up from her chair. 'It won't take me long. If you want the bathroom there's one at the end of the side verandah. And if you want another beer you can find the kitchen and get what you what from the fridge.'
But Joe didn't want the bathroom and he didn't want another beer. He followed Edie to her room, looked suspiciously at the double bed, then leaned against the wall and watched her as she packed her clothes. She wanted to weep a little by now, and she wished he'd go away, but as he didn't, she could only try to hide the fact that her mouth was trembling and her eyes were full of tears.
`It's the weirdest thing I've heard,' he commented, as she took an armful of clothes from the wardrobe and began folding them carelessly and laying them in her
suitcase any old how. 'Advertising for a wife and then— How many girls have there been here, for God's sake? And where are they all now?'
Edie laughed a little shrilly and brushed a tear away. Tor goodness' sake, Joe, what are you trying to make out of this? There's just me and this girl he's going to marry. Laurel,' she said, and her voice broke. She bundled a pile of underthings from the drawer, stuffed them in her suitcase and snapped the lid shut.
`You're not telling me the truth, are you?' demanded Joe. 'There's more in this than you're admitting to. I'd like to know
Edie's nerves gave way. 'I've told you all you need to know,' she snapped. 'And none of it's any of your business anyhow. Isn't it enough you've found me safe and sound and I'm coming back to Sydney? Now please go away and let me write my—my thank-you note so we can get to Narrunga before dark.'
Joe gave her a hostile look, and for a moment she wondered if he'd refuse to take her. But he wasn't as mean as that. 'All right,' he shrugged, 'if you're in such a hurry. But in my opinion something should be done about people like this kinky cattleman.' He picked up her suitcase. 'I'll take this out to the car. You scribble off your note—though I don't know what you're thanking him for.'
Edie was quivering. She could have flung herself down on the bed and howled. Instead she reached for her writing pad and ballpoint. Maybe it was as well she had to write her farewell note to Drew in such a hurry. This way, the agony wouldn't be so long-drawn-out.
`Dear Drew,' she wrote, and continued with barely a pause. 'I know you'll be surprised, but this is to say goodbye and thanks. Joe turned up this afternoon by a
stroke of good luck, and he's taking me to Narrunga to catch the plane home. I didn't plan to stay much longer anyhow. I'm so glad for you that Laurel's come back. Let's hope it won't take too long to have our marriage annulled. I wish you every happiness. Alfreda Asher.'
She read it through quickly and decided she'd done well. It was innocuous enough for even Laurel to read, but all the same she had to dash the tears from her eyes before she wrote Drew's name on an envelope and put the folded sheet inside. She left it in his bedroom—propped up against the pillow so he would be sure not to miss it when he came home. And so he would get it before Laurel saw it—she hoped.
Then she hurried out to the car.
CHAPTER TEN
ONCE they'd left the main gate of Dhoora Dhoora behind them Joe wanted to talk. Edie didn't. She felt exhausted—as though she'd been put through an emotional mangle. Coming away with Joe like this without seeing Drew, knowing she'd never see him again, not ever—it reminded her of when, as a child, she'd got on to one of those long and terrifying slippery dips at a fun-fair. The moment she'd taken off she'd wished herself back at the top—but there was no going back, just as there seemed to be no going back now. She had to ride it out to the end.
But Joe's incessant questioning, his determination to
find something sensational, nasty, unsavoury, about Drew and the set-up at Dhoora Dhoora—about what she'd been through—annoyed her beyond endurance.
`You can tell me, Edie—I won't be shocked—nothing shocks me. And it will do you good to get it out of your system. You look like you've had more than enough of whatever it is, anyhow.'
`I've had more than enough of you needling me, Joe,' Edie said edgily. 'All I want is for you to be quiet.' She sounded disagreeable and she felt disagreeable, and she knew Joe's feelings were hurt, but after, that he did keep quiet. For a short while she felt guilty and she even considered telling him the truth. But it was all so complicated, and she Was quite likely to break down in the middle of it.
After a while, she closed her eyes. She felt a couple of weak tears run down her cheeks and she wished the time would pass—weeks and weeks of it, months and months and years of it, just so that this bad moment and all the unbearable moments ahead would be behind her and lost forever. Once she heard a car whizz past scattering gravel and Joe muttered something about women drivers.
Perhaps another ten minutes went by, and then Edie's eyes flew open as she felt the car swerve violently across the gravel road and bump along over the stiff clumps of grasses on the verge.
`What's happened?' she gasped out.
Joe pulled on the wheel, braked, and stopped with a final jerk that jarred her spine, his side of the car narrowly missing the post and wire fence.
`Some lunatic's trying to run me off the road !' he snapped furiously, turning his head towards a Land Rover that had pulled up at an angle to his car. 'Get out of the way, Edie—let me out!' he exclaimed.
Edie scarcely heard him. She had seen that the driver of the Land Rover was Drew Sutton and her heart began to beat double fast. For a moment she thought she was going to faint. Unaware of her pale face Joe, who couldn't get out by his own door, jammed as it was against the fence, leaned across and opened the door on her side and in a moment the two of them were out of the car.
Drew too had left his vehicle and came round the bonnet towards them. He looked purposeful, his face was streaked with red dust, he wore a black handkerchief at the neck of his checked shirt. His sleeves were rolled up above the elbows and his boots and his narrow-legged black pants were dusty. He looked rough and tough and his silver-grey eyes glinted like ice against the darkness of his skin as they went from Edie to Joe and back again—slowly, assessingly.
`What the hell were you doing?' demanded Joe, his voice hoarse and croaky as Drew came nearer—almost as if he were scared. Edie had a weak desire to giggle. Perhaps he thought this was some kind of outback bandit come to kill him or to take his money—or his girl. He was possibly thinking it would have been more strategic to stay in the car now, and he actually grabbed hold of Edie and thrust her behind.
`You're Joe, I take it,' Drew said with an odd kind of formality. 'I'm Drew Sutton from Dhoora Dhoora.'
Edie saw Joe's shoulders move in a breath of relief and then he stiffened. She remembered him saying he'd like to smash Drew's face in, but he didn't attempt that. He said aggressively, 'So what? Does that give you the right to run my car off the road? If you think you're going to stop me taking Edie back to Sydney, then you can damn well think again. She's not going back to Dhoora Dhoora—she doesn't want to.'
`Relax,' Drew drawled. 'I don't want to do anything Edie doesn't want.' He sounded polite, but the smile that showed the whiteness of his teeth looked somehow cru
el in his dust-stained face. Edie found she couldn't keep her eyes off him. I want is to ask Edie a question. Nothing more than that.'
He was looking at her now—straight and hard and searchingly, right into her eyes, and she felt herself quivering, melting, dying of her need for him.
What was the question he wanted to ask her? The top of her mind told her it was going to be something about the annulment of their marriage, but the expression in his eyes told her it was nothing so remote, nothing so cold.
`Edie's not interested in your questions,' Joe blustered. 'She's finished with involving herself in your crackpot schemes ... Get your car out of my way. We want to go.'
Drew's nostrils whitened slightly, but otherwise he showed no sign of emotion. 'I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to wait. And I'll make it two questions now. You can listen if you must, though it's a very personal matter ... Edie, tell me this. Did you, at some time or other, ask this—friend of yours to come and fetch you?'
Edie shook her head, wishing she didn't feel so weak at the knees. It was just—just seeing him again. It did something drastic to her.
`No? I didn't think so. And the other question—the important one. Did Laurel's arrival make you change your mind about what you were going to tell me tonight?'
`I—I don't know what you mean,' she lied, her cheeks flushing scarlet, then paling. 'Didn't you get my letter? I explained '
`Of course I got your letter. That's how I knew where to find you.' His eyes searched her own. It was a ridiculous situation, looking at each other, talking to each other as if Joe were simply not there, while he stayed doggedly in front of Edie as though protecting her from something. 'Edie, for God's sake, don't pretend you don't know what I mean. I've waited patiently for your answer for three days—my God, I've been patient ! Then you just write me a letter and walk out. I don't know what Laurel told you, but I can guess. I only hope you didn't believe it.'
