The Burning Land

by John Fletcher

  The young man glanced at him and winked. ‘I’ve been asked to pay the money. As a loan, you understand.’

  Matthew turned his head and for the first time saw Catriona, standing in the corner where the young man had been.

  The excitement died as the three pence was handed over and the onlookers realised there was not going to be a fight after all. Matthew followed his rescuer to join Catriona. He felt a fool and it showed.

  ‘You don’t look very pleased to see me!’

  ‘Of course I am.’ Scowling.

  ‘Let’s not quarrel.’ She smiled. ‘You can give me the money later, if it worries you. Let me introduce you to my cousin. Dorian Kennedy from Currawong.’

  ‘How d’you do.’ Dorian’s handshake was firm, his smile friendly, and Matthew felt a little better.

  ‘I never thought about having to pay,’ Matthew confessed.

  ‘Lucky Dorian was here,’ Catriona said. ‘I could hardly have paid for you myself. The word would have been around town in no time.’

  It probably would be in any case, Matthew thought. Matthew Curtis of Montrose trying to gatecrash a town dance. He wondered how long it would take for the word to get back to McLachlan.

  Catriona smiled at him. He smiled back. Neither spoke. He thought desperately, This was what I wanted but now she’s here I’ve nothing to say to her.

  ‘How far’s Currawong from here?’ he asked Dorian Kennedy.

  ‘Fifty miles northwest. My dad’s the overseer on one of the stations there.’

  ‘What you doing in Jim Jim?’

  ‘Dad likes to keep in touch with the family.’

  ‘Mrs Kennedy’s my aunt,’ Catriona explained.

  ‘My parents can never get away,’ Dorian said, ‘so I come instead.’ He grinned at Matthew. ‘You want to dance with her, don’t let me stop you.’

  Matthew gulped, looking at her. ‘I dunno how.’

  Catriona took his arm. ‘I’ll show you.’

  The people on the dance floor were spinning round and round in each other’s arms beneath the goad of a violin clutched by a gnomelike man standing on a stage at one end of the room. It didn’t look too difficult.

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  Appearances can deceive. He stumbled around the floor, tripping himself and her, trying desperately to get the hang of it. He stepped on her foot, managed to ease the pressure in the nick of time and looked down at her anxiously. ‘I warned you.’

  She smiled, leaning back in his arms. ‘You’re doing fine,’ she said. ‘Listen to the rhythm of the music. Tum tum tum tum tum, tum tum tum tum,’ she sang, leading him as they swung across the floor. ‘That’s it! That’s much better.’

  By the end of the second dance he had worked out what was going on.

  Dorian and Catriona seemed to know most of the people there. There were a lot more men than women and what girls there were seemed to Matthew a lot less attractive than Catriona.

  ‘Come and meet Felicity.’

  ‘I came here to be with you,’ he protested.

  ‘But we mustn’t spend the whole evening by ourselves. We do that and people will be sure to start talking.’

  ‘You make it sound like the people in this town do nothing but gossip,’ he said.

  She opened her eyes wide. ‘That’s exactly what they do. You talk to Felicity. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to meet you.’

  It seemed she was. Matthew talked to her for a while, even summoned up his courage to invite her on to the dance floor and felt her melt in his arms.

  He had been thinking of women for over a year now but, never meeting any and knowing absolutely nothing about them, had sometimes wondered if he would ever get the chance even to know one, never mind explore the significance of the interesting little bumps—not so little, some of them—that he had observed pushing out the fronts of their dresses on his rare visits to town. Observing Felicity’s response to their dance together, he thought it might not be such an impossibility after all.

  ‘You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself,’ Catriona said acidly when he rejoined her at the end of the dance.

  He heard the note in her voice and glanced at her, surprised. ‘Only doing what you told me,’ he said cheerfully.

  She sniffed, saying nothing.

  ‘Wanner dance?’

  ‘I think I’ll sit this one out.’

  Please yourself, he thought.

  Dorian appeared, glasses clutched in his hands. ‘Here. Have one of these.’

  ‘What is it?’ He inspected the dark liquid dubiously.

  ‘Whisky.’

  ‘I’ve never drunk it.’

  ‘About time you did then.’ Dorian pressed the glass into his hand. ‘Go on. Do you good.’

  It tasted harsh and made him cough but it warmed him to his boots. It also made the room swirl a little but it was a good feeling. He swallowed another mouthful.

  ‘Be careful,’ Dorian laughed. ‘That stuff can be potent when you’re not used to it.’

  If he’d had money in his pocket Matthew would have bought more whisky once their glasses were empty but he was dependent on Dorian and Dorian did not seem inclined to buy any more. Even so, when the dance finally ended and they walked out into the street his ears were buzzing and he had some difficulty in focusing.

  ‘Will you be all right?’ Catriona asked him.

  ‘I shall be fine,’ he said, swaying ever so gently.

  He walked with them up the street until they came to the store. There they stood and looked at each other. Apart from them, the street was empty.

  ‘I’ll slip in and make sure the coast’s clear,’ Dorian said. He looked at Catriona. ‘You won’t be long, will you?’

  ‘Only a minute.’

  When they were alone Catriona said, ‘Dorian is nice, isn’t he? I’m very fond of him.’

  ‘I’m fond of you,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Are you?’ She smiled. ‘More than Felicity?’

  ‘Felicity?’ He smiled, too. ‘Who’s Felicity?’

  ‘I wonder. I must go in,’ she told him. ‘And you must get home. You will be all right?’

  ‘Reckon he’d skin me, he knew I’d slipped out.’ Matthew shrugged. ‘Tough. I’m not a kid any more.’

  ‘Doesn’t he like you going out?’

  ‘It’s never happened before.’

  She looked at him. ‘You’ve not been out? Never?’

  ‘Live out on a sheep run, there’s nowhere to go.’

  ‘You came here.’

  ‘I’d like to come again too. If you’re here.’

  ‘It won’t be so easy when Dorian goes back,’ she warned him.

  ‘When’s that?’

  ‘Another two weeks.’

  ‘All the more reason to use the time we’ve got.’ Heart thumping, he leaned forward. He thought she would turn her face away but she did not.

  He had wondered what a girl’s lips would feel like. They were different from what he’d expected—firm and soft at the same time, moist and absolutely desirable. He held her closer and her lips parted beneath his.

  She pulled away and he felt her trembling through her clothes.

  ‘I must go in.’

  ‘Don’t.’ Knowing she must. He looked at the store front. ‘Which room is yours?’

  ‘Round the back. Why?’

  ‘Just curious.’

  ‘I’ll be at the dance next Saturday,’ she said.

  ‘So shall I.’

  She was gone. He turned and walked back up the road to where he’d tethered his horse. His head was spinning and not just because of the liquor. The music, the excitement, above all the rapture of knowing that he had kissed a girl at last and that she had kissed him back, spun like the wildest of waltzes through his head. It was all he could do not to dance, sing, shout out loud in the middle of the deserted street.

  Next Saturday, he promised himself. Next Saturday.

  FIFTEEN

  Matthew smuggle
d himself back into the house without detection. The following week he did it again.

  The Saturday after that was Dorian’s last before returning to Currawong. Catriona and Matthew knew that meeting after he had gone would be much harder. It might even be impossible. It made the last Saturday tense and emotional, so much so that half a dozen times during the evening they nearly fell out and it was only Dorian’s common sense that prevented them.

  After the dance they walked back to Simmons’ shop, dragging their feet through the cool and shadowed dust of the deserted roadway like kids on their way back to school.

  Dorian said, ‘It’s a hot night. I’m going down to the river for a swim.’

  Matthew looked at Catriona. ‘Want to go?’

  She looked dubious. ‘For a minute or two, maybe.’

  They turned between two of the buildings, crossed the paddock and came to the bend in the river just below the town where the current had formed a deep pool overhung with trees.

  The air was fresh and cool by the water. Catriona spread her shawl by the edge of the bank and sat on it.

  ‘Aren’t you coming in?’

  ‘What would anyone say if they saw us?’

  ‘Who’s going to see us this time of night?’

  ‘You never know. In any case, I’ve got nothing to wear.’

  ‘You’ve got something on under your dress, I suppose,’ Matthew said, greatly daring. ‘Wear that.’

  ‘And go home with everything soaking wet?’ she laughed. ‘Talk sense.’

  ‘No one’ll know.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on that.’

  Eventually he gave up. ‘You needn’t think I’m going to sit here just to keep you company.’

  Her nose went up. ‘Nobody asked you to.’

  Petulantly he turned away and stripped off his shirt and breeches. It felt strange—exciting, too—undressing in front of a girl. He had not given up hopes of enticing her into the water but by the time he was ready she still showed no sign of moving.

  ‘You coming or aren’t you?’ Dorian was already in the water, his body a white glimmer in the darkness.

  ‘Coming …’

  Matthew sprang in, bunching his knees to his chest and making as big a splash as he could, hoping to get at least some of the water on Catriona. The water was cool and silky on his skin. He thrashed his way across to the other bank where it was deeper.

  Dorian came up behind him and tried to wrestle his head under the water. He twisted away from him. For a few minutes they chased each other around the pool like seals, laughing and splashing. Finally Matthew hung on to a root growing out from the bank and looked back at Catriona. She was sitting where they had left her, watching them, chin resting on her knees.

  He swam back across the pool and stood on the sandbank, looking up at her. The current was cool and pleasant about his knees.

  ‘It’s nice,’ he said. ‘Come and join us.’

  A quick shake of the head. ‘You know I can’t.’

  ‘Why can’t you? You stand here, in the shallows, you’ll get nothing wet but your feet.’

  She did not move.

  ‘You scared of water or what?’

  ‘No.’

  Some instinct made him tease her. ‘Think some boogie fish is going to grab you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Crossly.

  Something in her voice made him think she might be weakening. ‘Come and stand here with me,’ he urged her. ‘It’s quite shallow. See?’

  ‘You’ve got nothing on.’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  Only his pants. It was exciting, tempting her like this, and he could feel his body responding. He glanced down. It was obvious, more so than he’d thought. He crouched down casually in the water but could see by her expression that she had seen it too.

  But she had taken her shoes off. Her bare feet, wet with dew, gleamed in the grass.

  Excitement and embarrassment warred together. Excitement won.

  ‘Come and stand here,’ he said again. ‘Please?’

  ‘How deep is it?’ Weakening.

  ‘Not deep at all. See for yourself.’

  She looked. ‘It must be at least a foot deep.’

  ‘About that.’

  ‘My dress will be soaked.’

  ‘Take it off.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She would not look at him. ‘You know I can’t.’

  ‘Paddling your feet in the river,’ he said, ‘what’s wrong with that?’

  They both knew what was wrong with it but he knew he had won, anyway.

  ‘Come on,’ he said.

  She would not take her dress off but she hiked it up above her knees and got down awkwardly into the water like that.

  ‘It’s nice,’ she said cautiously.

  They looked down at the river flowing gently past them, the ooze sucking at their toes, their legs shimmering white columns reaching down through the water.

  Catriona hoicked her dress a little higher. Matthew was very close to her. He moved closer still. His hand strayed over her, lingering.

  ‘Don’t do that!’ Sharply.

  He decided she didn’t mean it. His hand explored some more, knowing she could do nothing to stop him without letting go of her dress.

  ‘Please don’t …’ But softer now, much softer.

  He was hard, throbbing. Deliberately, he pressed himself against her and saw her eyes widen.

  ‘Don’t you want me to?’

  ‘Of course I want you to,’ she cried, distressed. ‘That’s why you mustn’t.’

  ‘I’ll stop, then.’ But did not.

  Until somehow she managed to get one hand free and seized his and pulled it away from her and leant against him, breathing deep.

  He kissed her, very tenderly, no more games, and said, ‘I’ll miss you.’ Meaning it absolutely.

  ‘Will you?’ She watched the far bank. ‘You could speak to my father …’

  ‘What about?’ He knew, and knew very well, too, that he was not ready for anything like that. I’m sixteen, he told himself. A world out there to conquer. I’m not ready to settle down yet.

  ‘About going on seeing me.’

  ‘We’re too young. He’d never agree.’

  ‘He might. If …’

  Two dances, a kiss, a few minutes by the river … It had been fun, he would like to carry on along the same lines if he could, but it wasn’t important enough to give up the adventure of life, the challenge and excitement he could feel drawing him.

  ‘It’s certainly something to think about,’ he said.

  She looked at him. He returned her glance, awkwardly, and looked away.

  ‘Help me get out of the water,’ she said quietly.

  He did so. Her dress was hardly wet at all.

  ‘We’ll still see each other,’ he said. ‘Won’t we?’

  She looked at him. ‘Why shouldn’t we see each other? I’m in the shop every day.’

  Dorian, ever forbearing, had left them to themselves but now hauled himself dripping from the water. He and Matthew dried themselves as best they could, dragging clothes over still damp bodies. They walked back to the road in silence.

  Outside the shop the two boys said goodbye to each other, and Dorian and Catriona went indoors. Matthew walked back down the road to where Magic was waiting for him.

  He should have felt lighter than air, exultant. After all, it was the first time he had ever …

  He did not.

  He climbed into the saddle and began the long ride home.

  Guilty, that was what he felt. Guilty and depressed, without knowing why.

  It had been too much to hope that word of Matthew’s Saturday night excursions would not get back to Montrose. The next week, after a visit to Jim Jim, Andrew McLachlan came cantering back to the station with fury on his face.

  He rode straight up to the door of the house, dismounted almost before the horse had stopped, and marched indoors, shoulders
squared like a soldier engaging the enemy.

  ‘Where is he?’

  Lorna looked at him, heart sinking, knowing lies would not help him now. ‘Over in the workshop.’

  She watched him cross the worn patch of ground, moving with the unhurried deliberation of a natural disaster bearing down upon the boy.

  Lorna busied herself about the house, automatically carrying out the day’s chores while her whole consciousness remained focused on what was happening on the other side of the sun-drenched clearing. Eventually she heard a mild commotion and, moving swiftly to the window, saw the door of the shed clap back against the wall as the boy erupted into the sunlight, paused for a moment as though uncertain which way he should move, and ran to the stable.

  Instinct told her he was running away before her mind had registered the fact. Her feet, faster than either instinct or thought, were already propelling her through the door and across the clearing. She was at the stable door before Matthew had even begun to put the saddle on the mare.

  He looked up as her shadow fell across the entrance. His eyes were wild.

  ‘Don’t try and stop me!’ he warned her.

  She thought, he is leaving me and there is nothing I can do to stop him. But at least let me stop him going like this, in anger and fear.

  She spoke deliberately, trying to slow him down. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He tried to hit me with that damned belt of his.’ His hands were busy as he spoke, lifting the saddle, putting it on the mare’s back, cinching the girths tight. ‘I told you the other day I wouldn’t put up with it any more.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Is he dead?’

  The idea astounded him. ‘Course not. I hit him and he fell down but he’s all right. That’s why I must hurry. I got to get away before he comes round.’ He looked aggrieved. ‘I warned him, Ma. I’m not a kid any more. I told him not to belt me but he wouldn’t listen.’

  No, she thought, he never does.

  ‘Why did he want to hit you?’

  Matthew made an impatient gesture with his hand. He took the mare’s bridle and began to lead her out of the stable.

  ‘It was a girl, wasn’t it?’

  He looked at her. He did not speak but his cheeks went pink. She felt a sudden rush of love and tenderness at his vulnerability.