The Station Boss

by Jane Corrie

  `Clay's sister—my aunt,' replied Vicky impatiently, in the tone of voice that said that Sheena ought to have known that. 'Come on, let's see what we can find,' she said eagerly, throwing her bat down on to the table with a clutter and making for the door.

  On reaching the door and finding that Sheena still stood where she was by the table, she dashed back and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the door. 'I don't think ' began Sheena, who now found herself being determinedly pulled up the stairs towards a room on the right of the passage, 'that I can possibly wear one of your aunt's dresses.'

  `Why not?' asked Vicky, in a surprised voice as she opened the door of the bedroom she was heading for. `Maria won't mind. She's got heaps of dresses, she and Carlotta were the same size and they often swapped dresses. Carlotta's not so slim now. I suppose having children had something to do with that,' she added thoughtfully, as she opened the doors of a large wardrobe that took up two thirds of the opposite wall. 'You'll have to wear an evening dress, you'll feel awful in an ordinary dress,' she commented absently, as she searched for what she wanted.

  `I shall feel worse wearing someone else's dress,'

  answered Sheena, just as stubbornly. 'Especially as I haven't got permission to borrow it!'

  'Well, think about Clay, then,' Vicky retorted smartly, and gave a grunt of satisfaction as she located the dresses and took them out of the wardrobe. 'There's three here,' she said happily. 'You can try them on, I'm sure they'll fit you.'

  `I'll do no such thing ! ' Sheena replied adamantly, as she watched Vicky lay the dresses out on the bed for her perusal, then at the look of hurt she saw in Vicky's eyes, she added lamely, 'They're very nice.'

  As soon as she had said this, Sheena felt what an understatement that had been, for the dresses were quite beautiful and no doubt expensive ones. She didn't want to wear any of them; they were lovely, but they were not for her. To please Vicky, though, she did look at them. There was a pale blue dress of a silken texture with a rather low-looking V-neck, and although Sheena knew the colour would highlight her eyes, the front was much too low for comfort. The second dress was a heavenly wine colour, that would also suit her dark colouring, and would also emphasize the figure, as it was made of a kind of stretch material that would cling close. It was a sophisticated dress, Sheena concluded, and needed to be worn by a sophisticated woman, and certainly not for her.

  The third dress was more to her liking. It was white and absolutely plain with a cross-over pleated front, reminiscent of the classical line. The full pleated skirt fell straight from the waist. It was a

  simple dress, yet an elegant one. Had Sheena had to make a choice, that was the dress she would have chosen, but as she had no intention of borrowing such finery with or without the owner's permission, the question of choice did not arise.

  During her quick appraisal of the dresses, Vicky had watched her closely; now she demanded, 'Well? You liked the white one, didn't you? Are you going to try it on?'

  Sheena sighed inwardly. When it came to harassment, there wasn't much to choose between Vicky and her uncle! 'No, Vicky, I'm not,' she answered firmly, resolutely looking away from the disappointment shown by Vicky on this firm stand. She had to draw the line somewhere and so far she had not had much success with her uncle, and she did not intend to receive the same treatment from his niece.

  `We'll ask Clay about it,' Vicky answered stubbornly.

  `Don't you dare!' Sheena replied swiftly. 'If it's the informal affair you said it would be, then it won't matter what I wear. I've got some dresses, and if they're not good enough, then it's just too bad,' she declared fervently, then glanced at her watch. 'It's almost lunch time,' she added in a relieved voice, and looked pointedly at the dresses. 'You'd better put them back, Vicky, and thanks anyway. It was a nice thought on your part,' she tacked on hastily, at the mutinous look in Vicky's eyes.

  Vicky walked to the door with Sheena. 'Later,' she said, in a voice that told Sheena that she hadn't given

  up, and that Sheena might have second thoughts on the matter. Sheena made no attempt to dislodge this forlorn hope. For once she had emerged as the victor, and she was quite content to leave it at that.

  As Sheena took a quick shower to freshen herself up before lunch, her thoughts lingered on her earlier conversation with Clay, and again she tried to pinpoint the reason for her uneasy feelings where he was concerned. The trouble was, she conceded silently to herself, she did not know him well enough to be able to gauge his thoughts, and certainly not well enough to know when he was teasing her, or when he meant what he said.

  She recalled the amused look in his eyes when he had asked her if she was afraid that he might take advantage of the situation, and what had he said? Her brow wrinkled in thought as she slipped back into her bedroom and searched out a clean blouse, and discarding her jeans, selected a skirt to wear that afternoon. Something about making passionate love to her. Yes, that was it. Her fingers stilled on the zip of the skirt, and she shook her head bewilderedly. What an odd thing for him to have said. He barely knew her, and she him, so what on earth could have prompted him to say something like that?

  It was here that she remembered Vicky's comments when they first met, on whether she was Clay's girl-friend, and her brow creased into a deeper frown. At last things were beginning to make sense. Clay Dayman had lots of girl-friends, that much was certain. In fact it was beginning to look as if he was some kind of womaniser!

  Her indignation grew as she combed her hair before going down to lunch. Was he afraid that she might join the queue of his admirers? And was that his way of warning her off? She nodded grimly to her reflection in the mirror. So that was what was behind his apparent concern for her welfare. Only it wasn't her welfare he was really worried about, it was his !

  No wonder he had brought Doyle into it! Using himself as bait for a possible reconciliation between them. Either way he couldn't lose, she thought scathingly. Her stated intention of broadcasting the news to certain interested parties in the knowledge that Doyle would get to hear about the engagement must have eased his mind considerably, she thought as she left her bedroom and made her way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It wasn't until she had reached the kitchen door that the thought occurred to her that Clay hadn't appeared particularly pleased at the news—in fact, anything but pleased.

  Whether he was pleased or displeased, she couldn't care less, she told herself as she entered the kitchen. She had no intention of contacting anyone at Barter's Ridge, not for that purpose anyway. She would have to let Cookie know that she was all right, and she ought to do that soon, she thought with a pang of conscience for not remembering sooner. It was true that she had only been away for two days, but it felt more like six months ! So much had happened.

  Vicky was already seated at the table, and helping herself to the salad lunch laid out for them when Sheena joined her, and although she was probably still smarting a little from her defeat over the evening

  dresses, she gave Sheena a cheerful, 'Hi!' as she sat down.

  Clay arrived shortly after Sheena began her lunch, and Vicky gave him a résumé on their exertions on the tennis court and the game of table tennis afterwards, to which he gave a satisfied nod to show that he was pleased that they had been able to amuse themselves.

  `We must take Sheena to Coff's Harbour,' he commented to Vicky, who gave a fervent nod at this.

  `You'd like that, Sheena,' she said, helping herself to some more salad, prompting the thought from Sheena that whatever else ailed the child, her appetite was a healthy one. 'There's a porpoise pool at Park Beach and they've trained them to do all sorts of things,' she added, and looked at Clay. 'This weekend?' she asked hopefully.

  Clay's eyes had been on Sheena, but now he smiled back at Vicky. 'I don't see why not,' he replied airily. `I'm almost up to date with the office work, and another morning's stint will see the back of it. This weekend it is, then.'

  The mention of the weekend brought Vicky's thoughts ba
ck to the dinner dance the following evening. `Sheena hasn't an evening dress to wear for the dinner dance,' she said quickly, darting a look of defiance towards the indignant Sheena. 'So I showed her some of Maria's dresses. They'll fit her, won't they ?' she asked Clay.

  Sheena's dark look left Vicky and rested on Clay whose thoughtful dark eyes seemed to be measuring

  her slight figure, and having come to the final measurement, he nodded agreeably. 'There should be no problem there,' he remarked cheerfully.

  `As far as size is concerned, no,' replied Sheena, incensed, feeling that she was being ganged up on. `It's just that '

  Vicky then broke in hastily with, 'She thinks it's a cheek, but I said Maria wouldn't mind, and she won't will she?' she appealed to Clay.

  `Considering they were paid for out of my hard-earned cash, I shouldn't think so,' Clay answered, with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

  Sheena stared down at her plate. She would be wearing the dress whether she wanted to or not, and she didn't want to wear any of the wretched dresses. It would have been nice, she thought bitterly, to have been able to make a stand somewhere along the line. It wouldn't have occurred to either of these two now watching her closely that she had her pride, and wouldn't feel comfortable in someone else's finery.

  `Well?' asked Clay, with a hint of warning in his voice that made her look up quickly at him and take due note of the look in his eyes that plainly said, 'Are you being awkward again?'

  Sheena's lips firmed as she met that look with a defiant sparkle in her eyes. 'I'm not sure that any of them will suit me,' she said calmly, although she had wanted to shout it out at him.

  `In that case I'll take you into town tomorrow to kit yourself out,' Clay announced firmly.

  `I'll come too,' interjected the avidly interested

  Vicky, thoroughly enjoying the verbal sparring match between Sheena and Clay, her feminine intuition sensing that there was more behind their too polite responses than met the eye.

  Sheena had a horrible suspicion that he had meant what he said, and there was no doubt that Vicky had thought so. I don't see why there should be all this fuss over a dress ! ' she said scathingly. I've never dressed up before, and we didn't dress ...' she had been about to say 'at Barter's Ridge', but the look in Clay's eyes stopped her, and she ended lamely with, 'before.'

  'At Barter's Ridge, you mean,' replied Clay stiffly, his voice indicating that he was deeply angry. 'Well, you're at Rimini now,' he went on, in a harsh voice that made Vicky open her eyes wide in astonishment and Sheena look away from the fury in his eyes. 'But the situation is somewhat different now, isn't it?' he demanded furiously. 'Here, you are a guest—my guest—and that counts for something around here. You may please yourself, of course, but I would pre-fer that you dressed in keeping with the rest of my guests for that evening.'

  There was an ominous silence after this stern re-buke and Sheena felt as though he had slapped her face. The fact that Vicky looked as shaken as she was did not lessen her fury. Who did he think he was, any-way?

  She knew that she was asking for trouble, but she couldn't leave it at that. 'Well, as your guest,' she said, in a too-sugary voice, 'may I request that I be

  excused from attending?' Her over-bright eyes wavered as they met Clay's.

  `Out of the question ! ' Clay bit back at her savagely. 'You're the reason I'm giving the dinner. Any more objections?' he queried softly, yet warningly.

  Sheena swallowed. It was like coming up against a ten-foot wall with spikes! She would go to the dinner, and she would wear an evening dress, and she would enjoy herself ! With a distinct feeling that she ought to spring to attention, give a salute, and say, `No, sir,' she shrugged her slim shoulders in a vain attempt to show that she could not care less either way, and that it was all a fuss over nothing, and replied quietly, 'None,' then reached for the coffee jug, noting with no little surprise how steady her hand was.

  Vicky's consoling, 'You'll enjoy it, Sheena, honestly,' did nothing to soothe her inner chagrin at the way Clay had reacted at the mention of Barter's Ridge. She had not meant to make a comparison between Barter's Ridge and Rimini, but he had obviously taken it that way, and had made her feel wretched and ungrateful for all that he had done for her.

  That evening she tried on the white dress, accompanied by Vicky and her enthusiastic remarks on how it suited her, she stared at herself in the long mirror. There were no alterations needed, and Sheena had felt a little piqued about this since she was keen to pounce on any excuse as to why she should

  not wear the dress—or any of the dresses. Not that that would have got her anywhere apart from an embarrassing trip to town as threatened by Clay, to buy clothing.

  `It suits you much more that it did Maria,' Vicky commented, as she studied Sheena with her curly head on one side. 'Mum says white doesn't suit every body. I wish she could see you now,' she added, with a suspicion of a break in her voice. She pushed a stray curl back from her forehead as if by that action she could also push back the memories of the past. 'She would suggest that you wear you hair scraped back from the front, with one of those golden bands to keep it back. You know, the Grecian style—and it would suit you. Maria tried it once, but her face was too plump to carry it off properly. Shall I try to find one of those bands for you?' she offered eagerly.

  Sheena was too concerned about Vicky's reference to her mother to worry about fashion, and shook her head smilingly. 'I'd never carry it off,' she said simply. 'I feel awkward enough in the dress. I'm not used to dressing up, you know. I shall have enough trouble watching out that I don't trip over the hem.' She glanced down doubtfully at the hem of the full pleated skirt, and took two experimental steps as if dancing.

  `There's plenty of leeway,' Vicky remarked, 'even when you're looking down at the hem, and you won't be dancing like that, now will you?' she demanded.

  This blunt observation forced a grin from Sheena, who had to concede that she was right.

  As she slipped off the dress and changed back into her blouse and skirt, she wondered where Clay was. He had mentioned that he had a lot of phoning around to do that evening in preparation for the impromptu dinner he was giving. She had wanted to phone through to the manager's office at Barter's Ridge and leave a message for Cookie, and she certainly did not want Clay anywhere in earshot, particularly as he seemed to have developed a chip on his shoulder where Barter's Ridge was concerned.

  Vicky, it appeared, was also thinking of Clay, though for quite another reason, and she startled Sheena by suddenly asking her, 'You do like Clay, don't you, Sheena ? Just a little bit,' she added with a kind of pleading in her eyes.

  Sheena's first reaction was to give the blunt reply of, 'No ! Not even a little bit! ' but the look in Vicky's eyes told her that her answer was important to her. She took a deep breath and rapidly sought for the right words. Words that would not hurt Vicky, yet would help her to understand things from Sheena's point of view.

  Seeing her hesitation, Vicky drew her own conclusions. `Oh, I know he's a bit overbearing at times,' she said, and looked down at her sandalled foot now scuffing the deep pile of the bedroom carpet. 'He's a bit used to having his own way, you see,' she went on carefully. 'But he's not always like that.' She kept her eyes on her swinging foot. 'If I was a little bit older he'd be the kind of man I'd like to marry. He wouldn't ever let you down.'

  Sheena looked at her, noticing absently that she wore the same blouse that she had worn the day before, and that it looked in need of a wash. As this thought seeped through to her she felt a spurt of motherly concern for her well-being, and was surprised at her feelings. She had never felt like that over any other child, although she had known many of the station children.

  `Only I like you, Sheena,' went on Vicky, unaware of the motherly feelings she had aroused in Sheena. `And I want things to be right between you and Clay.' She took a quick breath before adding on a cracked note, 'Then I know you'll stay.' She did not say anything else, she did not need to. The next min
ute she had rushed out of the bedroom, leaving a worried Sheena staring at the closed bedroom door.

  If Vicky had repeated her earlier question of did she like Clay, her answer would have been short and very explanatory. Sheena not only disliked him, but at that moment in time, she positively hated him!

  Hated him for what he had done to Vicky—making her an accomplice in the bargain. Vicky was in for another cruel disappointment, and she didn't deserve it. Sheena had seen the possibility and the distinct probability of failure, but even she had not contemplated or envisaged the hurt that they would inevitably cause her.

  Her hands clenched together tightly. She had hardly known Vicky when the proposal of the mock engagement had first been put forward by Clay, yet she had had her doubts. Clay had known, though,

  and he must have known full well the risk he was taking in introducing Sheena to the household.

  Her nails bit into her palms. Had he hoped to be able to keep her at Rimini? Had that been his plan from the very start? As a companion for Vicky, perhaps ? When Sheena thought of the rundown smallholding and the shack she had hoped to make her home, she realised that that must have been when the plan was hatched. He had not thought her capable of running the smallholding, even if she had been able to get it back into shape again. He had also frowned upon the thought of her living alone in what to him must be very primitive conditions.

  Her breath expelled slowly. It all added up. She had fallen into his schemes like a ripe plum, and she really hadn't stood a chance. She couldn't walk out on him, she'd nowhere to walk to, but more important than that, she couldn't walk out on Vicky—not now, or at any time that she could envisage in the near future.

  Vicky came first, and it was up to Sheena to see that she didn't get hurt. She gave a deep sigh. Soon the time would come when Clay would offer her the post of companion to Vicky, and she would have to accept it As with all her other dealings with Clay Dayman, she had no choice.