by L E Pembroke
I quickly opened the small package. Rose had bought me a tie pin. It was a silver colour and had some sort of glittering stone fixed to it – not quite to my taste. I thanked her, commented on her kind thought and said she shouldn’t waste money on me.
‘I wanted to. Andrew, I would really appreciate a cup of tea.’
I thought quickly. ‘Sorry, Rose. I’m running a bit late; I promised to do a job for Tom first thing. Wait here a moment while I pick up a couple of things, and I’ll drive you over.’
Within five minutes we were in my car. Rose was very quiet. I could feel her disappointment. I’m afraid she had been looking forward to a romantic interlude. I drove down the slope towards the grid and main gate.
A car turned in from the road and pulled up on the other side of the gate at the same time. I stopped immediately, got out of the car. It was Jen. ‘Bugger,’ I said softly, and began walking towards the gate.
‘I’ve come to say goodbye,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll miss you, Andrew, but I can’t put it off any longer. I have to sort out my life in Sydney.’
I hoped she couldn’t see into the car. ‘I’ll miss you very much. Come back soon.’
‘Ye – es.’ She was looking at my car. ‘Is that Rose?’
‘Yes. She just dropped in.’
‘Really? Strange time to visit, isn’t it?’ I was speechless for a moment.
In a very brusque and cold tone, she said, ‘I’ll say goodbye, Andrew – not sure when I’ll be getting up this way again.’ She turned away quickly and practically ran towards her car.
I called after her, ‘Jen, it’s not what you think.’ She ignored me, flung open the car door, shoved the gears into reverse and was backing out of the drive with the driver door still swinging open. I unlocked and opened the gate and raced back to my car.
Rose said (disingenuously, I thought), ‘That was Genevieve. Why didn’t she say hello?’
I didn’t bother to reply; sped east along the road to Bellara, dropped Rose off and turned around. I had to catch up with my girl. ‘Tell Tom something’s come up. I’ll be late.’
Into town and through it, not a sign; she had to be driving like a maniac. There was very little traffic on the road; merely one or two horses and carts. Thank God for that. She’ll be thinking I’ve two-timed her. As if I would! She should trust me; she must know I love her. She’ll be going over in her mind the moments of intimacy we shared, probably crying, won’t even see the road, could easily hit a tree, overturn, be killed.
I saw her car in the distance a few miles out of town on the Bathurst road; we were passing the abandoned mining area. I accelerated; came within yards of her. I pressed the horn. She glanced in the mirror – stony-faced. Were her thoughts so far away that she didn’t recognise me, or was she ignoring me because she couldn’t face talking to me? She accelerated.
Only one thing to do. I pulled out, put my foot down hard and passed her narrowly. I swerved over in front of her. Her brakes squealed as she jammed her foot down to avoid a collision.
She pushed open the driver’s door and stormed up to my car. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She was yelling.
I got out. ‘Trying to stop you. You’re driving like a lunatic.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I want to clear up this misunderstanding.’
We stood on the road facing one another. She laughed mirthlessly. ‘That’s a good word – “misunderstanding”. Forget it, Andrew. Let’s just put the whole episode behind us. I have nothing to say. Please move your car.’
‘Jen, for God’s sake, listen to me. I expect you think I am having an affair with Rose?’
‘I don’t usually doubt convincing evidence when I’m blatantly confronted with it.’
‘I assure you, there’s a simple explanation.’
‘Don’t bother, Andrew. There was a time, years ago, when I didn’t believe what was obvious to everyone else. But I’m no longer a naive fool.’
‘Listen to me, Jen.’ (I raised my voice in my frustration.) ‘You are being irrational.’
She also raised her voice. ‘Move your damn car, Andrew. I am going to Sydney.’
I ignored her request; I was nowhere near finished. ‘I’m really disappointed in you, Genevieve, that you jumped to that conclusion and didn’t trust me.’
She was so angry. ‘Trust you! When I see you driving a woman away from your house at eight in the morning! Trust! Don’t make me laugh.’
Again, I told her to calm down. I admitted it looked bad, and suggested she keep quiet for a moment and let me explain. She shut up, for a change.
A passing driver stopped and called out: ‘You OK, lady?’
‘Thank you, yes, nothing I can’t handle.’ The driver waved and went on.
‘Obviously we can’t stand here on the road arguing. I’ll straighten up my car and we can talk in there, if you don’t mind.’
She said that she did mind, that she was in a hurry and could only spare five minutes. I didn’t reply but reparked the car in front of hers and parallel to it. She sat in the passenger seat. I began aggressively. ‘I can’t believe you were so insensitive as to not be aware I loved you.’
‘A pity you didn’t bother to mention it. Get to the point, Andrew, and explain about you and Rose – if you can.’
It was so bloody unfair that I damn nearly lost my temper. ‘Rose and me! Grow up, Genevieve! Rose paid me a visit just before eight this morning. She came out with Jack and brought me a birthday gift.’
‘Funny thing to do.’
‘Not so funny; more like tragic, I’d say.’ I reminded her that we’d already discussed the problem of lonely widows. ‘Rose is desperately lonely. I’m a single man. She fancies me because there’s nobody else about. Because I am a private sort of person, it was often bloody annoying having Rose turn up every day with frivolous excuses or items of food. Of course I’d never say anything because I understand something about loneliness. I had a year in solitary confinement. Every day I yearned for company. At times I would have done anything to have a companion; someone to whom I could reveal some of the despair I was feeling. Anyway, I don’t want to discuss that. I love you, Genevieve. I trust you. The two things go together.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I probably would have done if I’d had the slightest idea that you were so lacking in confidence.’ I reminded her that words are only one way of getting a message across, and surely she was aware that some men will say anything to get a girl into bed. I probably sounded like a preacher. Actions, I said, are far more reliable, and what about thoughtfulness – sensitivity to another’s needs? I was fighting for our future with all the conviction I felt. ‘Sure, there has to be admiration and sexual attraction. There couldn’t be a successful marriage without them. But what about shared ideals, beliefs, interests? We both know we have those in common. That’s one reason I never doubted we’d have a future together.’
She was defensive. ‘I’ve had some experience of callous and untrustworthy men, and you know it looked bad this morning. You said it looked bad.’
I admitted again, it looked bad. I wondered whether she had been referring to her experience in Calais – should I mention it? I did. I said I understood that sort of experience could have a terrible effect on a woman, make her fearful, colour her perspective and destroy her trust in men.
‘I’m not referring to Calais. Anyway, how do you know about that? Did Madeleine tell you?’
‘No, she wouldn’t. I was there. I was on my way to meet you. In fact I took you to hospital, left you in casualty and then had to take the train back to my unit.’
‘You saw me like that!’ The look of horror on her face disturbed me, but it was understandable enough.
‘I saw you in a desperate situation. And for the following years I often wondered and worried about you.’
‘While we all thought you were dead.’
‘Sometimes we get lucky. How I survived that machine-gun fire I’ll never know.’
She was silent for minutes on end, then said, ‘I imagine the Calais experience had something to do with what I am as a person now. Yet it wasn’t simply those creatures that made me distrust men. There was someone else early in the war. He promised to marry me, but he left me. It’s quite a complicated story, and I don’t want to go into details.’
The last thing I wanted to know about was some rotter in Jen’s past. The past was over, finished and done with, and should be forgotten.
She sighed deeply. I thought it was a sign of release of pent-up emotion. I suspected that she was letting go of her former bitter memories. I began to be optimistic about our future.
Jen then said that she was sorry for her tirade, and that she rarely raised her voice. She had this fear of being like her mother. She explained that she didn’t really doubt me; she in fact doubted her own ability to be loved by me because she was an indecisive fool and had no idea why on earth I would love her.
It was really hard for me to understand her attitude. I had come from a home full of love, and my family were all confident that they were loved. I told her I didn’t know why I loved her, that it wasn’t because of her brown eyes, her endearing giggle or anything else I could pinpoint – it was the whole package. ‘Loves comes unbidden, sweetheart. I don’t pretend to understand human emotions. I just accept what is. I will never let you down, Jen. Trust me on that.’
When I saw the stress disappear from her face and her smile, I wished I’d said those words earlier. However, it wasn’t so unnatural for me to hang back. After all, I was trained to deliberate, not make hasty decisions, and we’d had only a week to get to know one another. Perhaps I was a bit of a stick in the mud, old fashioned, too careful, I don’t know. A week is such a short time in which to decide on the person you wish to live with for the rest of your life. Anyway, that day’s experience shook me, and I decided not to waste another minute. ‘Let’s be honest with each other for the rest of our lives, Jen. Please, darling, let’s get married as soon as possible.’
She said – and I’ll always remember her words – ‘I can’t wait, Andrew. Loving you and being your wife are the only things I want in the world.’ She leant forward and kissed me awkwardly in the confined space of my car. ‘I simply can’t believe it. An hour ago I was feeling like killing you, and now all I want to do is kiss you again and again.’
‘Rather difficult to do that in the car. Let’s get out.’
We stood at the passenger side of the car on the verge of the road. I put my arms around her. She pulled my head towards her. She trembled when my mouth touched her parted lips. I responded to her reaction. We were fused together.
Cars passed. Horns honked – a shocked rebuke. Young people openly flouting accepted social conventions – what was the world coming to? Overt displays of lust, even affection, have no place outside the bedroom. That’s what they would be saying.
I pulled away. ‘Time we stopped, I think. It seems we are causing scandal. What will you do now, sweetheart?’
‘I’ll do exactly what I originally planned. I will see Alistair as soon as possible, and I’ll come back.’
‘Then we’ll go together to Sydney. If it’s OK with you, I’d like you to stay with my family. I’ll ring them today. I know how much they will want to meet you and welcome you into the family. And I have just had another thought. How about we have a honeymoon travelling through the state looking for a home and station that we can buy and live in for the rest of our lives? What do you think?’
CHAPTER 31
GENEVIEVE
On the day I returned to Sydney and after Alistair finished surgery, we walked in the park. It was all over in a few minutes. I steeled myself for this moment. He made it easy for me. I realised later that I should have given him more credit for sensitivity.
‘Alistair, I have to talk to you about us …’
‘Don’t say it, Genevieve. Your answer, of course, is no. I think I’ve known for certain since the day you said you were going back home to meet a friend you thought was killed during the war. That was the man you thought you loved, wasn’t it, Genevieve?’
I nodded.
‘And now you have discovered that you do love him.’
I nodded again. Any words would have sounded inadequate.
‘Even if he hadn’t turned up I was fairly sure that things between us wouldn’t work out as I hoped. The fact that you stayed away for six months after we came back to Australia – why would a woman even half in love do that? It makes no sense. If one is in love, one counts the minutes while parted from the person who is loved.’
By this time, tears were gushing down my face.
‘Look, Genevieve, we were both lonely – me especially – and shipboard atmosphere is conducive to romance. I was and am ready to remarry, but I think I have not yet found the woman who wants to take me on. I’ll always think of you with great fondness, Genevieve, and I wish you the happiness you deserve.’
‘Oh, Alistair, you are such a dear friend. I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.’
‘It’s because you didn’t want to hurt me that you didn’t turn me down completely when I made my preposterous suggestion. I am too old for you, Genevieve. You need a much younger man to love, and I sincerely hope you have found one.’
I continued to cry. He said, ‘Don’t cry for me, Genevieve. I am so happy we didn’t make the worst mistake of our lives.’
*
Andrew and I were married in Sydney at the end of October 1920. Before that I stayed with his family – his schoolgirl sister, his twenty-year-old sister, who had just become engaged, and his gentle mother. It was the mother who made the greatest impression on me. I was astonished by her and couldn’t easily accustom myself to the quietly loving and humorous woman who welcomed me into the family home with spontaneous affection. For a while I hung back, unsure how to deal with positive displays of affection and marvelling at the sight of Andrew hugging his mother and his sisters. I was embarrassed and found it difficult to respond to them in the same way. In the end I realised, as I’d suspected once or twice before, that I was not so very different from Tom. Not having affectionate parents on whom I could model myself, I was in many ways emotionally stunted.
All that was going to change I felt a thrill of excitement go through my body when I thought of Andrew patiently showing me how to reveal my feelings without fear of rejection.
*
Hand in hand, we walked along the small beach near to his home. We didn’t speak.
‘A penny for them,’ he said eventually.
‘Well, I was just trying to work out who I am. Am I odd, Andrew, because I’m not certain about the sort of person I am?’
‘I know who you are, darling, and that’s why I love you so much.’
‘Oh, you always say things like that. It makes me feel good, but I still can’t, for the life of me, understand why you love me. I’m such an ordinary sort of person.’
‘You’re fishing for compliments.’
‘I am not. I am having deep, philosophical thoughts. I was thinking that when we are young adults we are what we are because of the way we were brought up as children. You’d agree with that, wouldn’t you?’
‘I guess so.’
‘The thing is, it’s not immutable; adult experiences can change a person entirely. I was once a naive simpleton. I could have ended up marrying a dull chap and really knowing nothing about anything. But then my circumstances changed. I went to war. I began to change. We met, and now I’m a different person altogether. Do you see what I’m saying?’
‘I understand what you are saying, but I think you are being over-simplistic. I have always believed it’s not circumstances that create the sort of person one is – people create their own circumstances because of what they are deep down.’
‘That makes sense. Fascinating to think about, isn’t it?’
‘Well, I don’t know that I’m that fascinated. If you don’t mind, darling, I’d rather talk
about us.’
He steered me towards the rocks at the end of the beach. Water lapped around our feet. The harbour waters sparkled under the intensely blue sky, and the yellow sun beamed down on us as if bestowing a blessing. It was a scene I would never forget. And, later, in the bad times, I would recall not only the scene – but also his words.
He turned me so that I faced him, pulled me closer so that our bodies touched. He kissed me gently – my eyes, cheeks and my lips.
‘How lucky I am that I’ll have you for the rest of my life; to waken every morning with you by my side. To inhale your scent. To see and feel your silken hair ruffled and partly obscuring your eyes, which are alight with love. Your skin, which I caress, as smooth as satin, your arms stretching up – hands locked around my neck as you pull me down towards you. That’s what I want to think about, Jen darling, and that’s the way I want us to begin each of our days together.’
Rather shyly, I told him that my dreams of our future were slightly different. I’d never been so honest in my whole life. ‘I sometimes think of us together, and I have this most compelling, shocking desire to love you – not just in bed but everywhere, with even an audience, because I want the whole world to know how much I love you.’
He grinned. ‘Sometimes, darling, you take this rather conventional bloke’s breath away. Don’t ever change, will you, sweetheart?’
*
Our wedding ceremony was held in a small stone church near his home and from which one could see directly up the harbour, always busy with small ferries and sailing craft, and past numerous bays to and beyond the city.
‘This was what I dreamt of when I was in gaol,’ he said as we stood together after the ceremony. ‘It’s got to be the greatest view in the world – especially now we are sharing it.’
Madeleine and Tom travelled to Sydney for the marriage ceremony. There were just a few of my friends from nursing and army days along with Andrew’s quite large extended family members and some of his army and school friends.
Just as Andrew had suggested, we planned a leisurely honeymoon travelling through the state looking for a property that would be our eventual home. We found just what we wanted. It was nearly four hundred miles to the north-west of Bellara in flatter country with fertile black soil – an excellent area for raising merino sheep.
