‘With the bank?’
‘Yes.’
‘Abel, why are you doing all this?’ she asked.
‘Because you have to know, don’t you, you have to know whether you can afford these kids or not. That is if you were allowed to keep them.’
‘Of course I’d be allowed.’
‘Well, we’ll come to that later. What is interesting me right now is their financial situation.’
‘It would be all right, and even if it wasn’t the Government would help and I could work.’
‘And support three children? I doubt it. The children are at the growing fast stage and would cost a packet. Anyway, Josephine, you wouldn’t be considered for guardianship. You’re no blood relation.’
‘My sister—’
‘Was no relation, either, and won’t ever be now.’
‘No,’ Jo said.
‘Also, you’re unmarried,’ he reminded her.
‘Not married yet, but—’ But Jo decided not to go on with that.
After a while she asked: ‘What would happen to them if—’
‘When,’ he corrected, ‘not if. Homes, I think you’re meaning. Don’t look so aghast, homes are excellent these days. Actually, given a choice, I doubt if those kids would vote for you before a home.’
‘They wouldn’t vote for anybody or anything,’ corrected Jo. ‘Can’t you understand that that’s why I can’t give up yet? Not until the children come alive.’
‘Aren’t they now?’
‘No.’ She turned her head away, but not before he saw the tears.
He put down the teapot from which he had been about to pour again. Going to the door of Tender Winds, he put two fingers to his mouth and produced an ear-splitting whistle.
‘My proudest accomplishment,’ he grinned at her, ‘and one that’s always won results quick-smart.’
It won results this time, but not quick-smart. The children came wandering in.
‘I’m taking Josephine up to the site where it’s planned to build the house that will replace this one, so you’ll come, too,’ he told them. ‘As we go she will tell us all about the banana, something I don’t know, having been a westerner, and something I don’t believe you know, either.’
‘No, we don’t, but we’re not interested, thank you.’ Amanda.
‘We’ll wait.’ Dicky.
‘Wait.’ Sukey.
‘You didn’t hear me properly,’ said Abel. ‘I said you will come too, not will you come. Now about turn and off we go—’
‘Walking?’
‘Well, we won’t be driving up a cliff.’
‘How far?’
‘As far as the flying fox. Then we’ll snitch a ride up with the bananas.’ If Abel expected more enthusiasm at that announcement he was disappointed.
The children did not even nod. They simply turned round as bidden and marched out like small automatons. Catching back a sigh, Jo followed them.
The path up to where the flying fox operated was a flattish track, but when they reached the fox and climbed giddily on to its surrounding platform, the going was directly, steeply up. Pickers would have had no hope of getting their crops to the top without the fox.
Jo had hoped that Dicky would find a mechanical interest in the fox, as most boys would, but after a quick examination he simply sat on a box like the rest of them and watched the scenery slide past.
And what scenery! Green, green, green. Great green shining banana palm leaves below, beside and above them as the cliff soared and the bananas on the cliff soared with it. Such dense green that nothing else could be seen, except, upon occasion, the blue plastic of the covers enclosing the maturing fruit.
‘Josephine,’ prompted Abel, ‘tell us about the bananas.’ He should have said me, not us, for the children’s hunched shoulders and averted faces made it very clear that they were not the slightest bit interested. Nonetheless, Jo tried.
‘Bananas,’ she said, ‘are the oldest fruit in the world.’
‘Apples are,’ corrected Amanda—so at least, Jo congratulated herself, the girl had heard.
‘Some say that, but many in tropic climes say bananas. They say Eve tempted Adam with a banana, not an apple. Oh, dear!’ She looked apologetically at Abel.
‘Go on,’ he assured her, ‘I think they’re following you.’
‘But are you approving?’
‘If they are following, Jo, I am even applauding.’
If the children were, as he had suggested, they still did not look it.
‘Well,’ sighed Jo, ‘I’ve told you how to eat bananas, so now I’ll tell you about bananas. They belong to the family of Musaceae, and they are one of the most productive plants known. You find them in Brazil, India, Mexico, Canary Islands as well as all our own surrounding islands, and, as you see, right here. The annual crops indeed are over twelve million tons.’
‘And that,’ came in Abel helpfully, ‘is a lot of bananas.’
The children still said nothing.
‘The plants,’ persisted Jo, ‘as you see consist of great stems with giant leaves and big flowering branches, and the branches of fruit can grow very very large.
‘Mostly, as they approach maturity, the branches are safeguarded by plastic covers. This also helps the fruit to ripen. Again there are banana ovens to do the trick. But once away from the plantations the escaped bananas just grow and ripen as they please, and we ... my sister and I ... used to say they were the best bananas of all.’ All at once Jo could not go on. Oh, Gee, she was thinking, is it all finished? can it be finished? She felt Abel’s hand briefly on her shoulder and was glad of it. The flying fox came to a halt on the top.
They examined the new home site, which Jo did not comment on, for she could not see it through her blur of tears. She was grateful that Abel now was showing the children an honesty box on the cliff road where the flying fox delivered its load to the fruit trucks. For twenty cents a motorist could choose a hand of bananas and be on his way.
Jo had recovered by the time the children and Abel returned. This time they came down in the fox without Jo reciting any more facts about the banana, something she would have preferred to do if only to take her attention off the giddy descent. The flying fox literally came straight down the cliff and even now she still had not grown to like it.
Down at the bottom once more, they walked slowly back to the house.
‘Thank you for the discourse,’ Abel said. ‘I needed it. All I knew about bananas before was that you didn’t eat the skin.’
‘And yet you took bananas on?’
‘I told you why. I didn’t want to take on a wife.’
‘Yet if I remember rightly you asked me to put down your name in my little black book.’ Jo added daringly: ‘With V to M.’
‘You remember rightly,’ he assured her.
‘Then?’ she asked.
‘Then?’ He had stopped suddenly, stopping her with him. The children now were well ahead. ‘Then, Josephine?’
‘Nothing,’ Jo said shortly, and began moving forward again. After a moment he caught up with her.
They walked in silence for the rest of the way. It was not until they rounded the corner to Tender Winds that Jo caught her breath in surprise and pleasure.
There were two cars pulled up at the house now, Abel’s ... and another she knew very well.
She should, she thought, hurrying forward. It was Gavin’s.
‘Gavin!’ she called, and the man who had just stepped out of the car turned round and held out his hand to her.
‘My dear,’ he said.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gavin kissed Jo very discreetly. He disliked an outward show, and for the first time Jo was relieved about that. She had always wanted Gavin to let himself relax more, give out. Now she was glad of his understatement because she knew that if he had put his arms around her she would have been embarrassed in front of Abel. She did not know why, all she knew was that she did not want emotion from Gavin, not with Abel Passant watching on.
But when she looked quickly around, there was no Abel.
Before Gavin could ask about the other car, she took her fiancé into the house, and there his embrace was much more abandoned. It rather surprised her. I should have left him by himself before this, she thought whimsically, certainly my absence has made him fonder.
‘I’ve missed you quite intolerably, dear girl,’ Gavin was saying. ‘Only a few hours since you left, scarcely more than a day really, but it seems like forever. When I heard the shocking news over the radio and immediately confirmed it I knew I couldn’t stay away from you any longer. Josie, I even closed the office.’ He looked at her with pride.
‘Oh, Gavin!’ Jo said, impressed.
‘What an appalling thing to have happened, and what you’ve been through, poor sweet. But it’s all over now, my dear, and I’m taking you back with me.’
‘Oh, no, Gavin, I can’t. You see, I have the children here.’
‘So I perceived. They seem a quiet bunch.’ Gavin seemed quite pleased about that, and Jo soon learned why.
‘We’ll take them back with us,’ Gavin said magnanimously.
It was the last thing Jo had expected, and she looked at him tremulously.
‘You—you mean it?’
‘Of course. I only hope they’re as docile on the journey as they are now. Children can be such a trial travelling. Once in town, of course, we can hand them over.’
‘Hand them over?’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘Over where?’
‘Over to some good welfare soul until their future is determined, my dear.’
‘But it’s determined already. I’m taking them.’
‘You’re—’ Gavin looked at Jo incredulously, then after an oblique moment his face cleared, even appeared shrewdly approving.
‘Perhaps you’re right, too,’ he nodded. ‘You did give me the impression that the father was—er—well placed, and after all, the children’s private schools, and the man’s private aircraft ... poor unfortunate fellow ... would bear that out.’
‘Except,’ came in Jo with a composure that surprised her, ‘that they were not expensive schools, Gavin, and that Mark only rented the plane.’
‘What?’
‘That, anyway, is how things are, I’ve been told.’
‘Dear, dear.’ Gavin frowned for a moment. Then he recovered. ‘All the more reason then that we do take them in. If what you’ve just told me is true, if these young people are—well—’
‘Waifs and strays?’ asked Jo bluntly.
‘Your words,’ Gavin said stiffly.
‘Then,’ went on Jo, ‘it’s not all the more reason, Gavin. What will become of them if what we thought was available for them is not available at all?’
‘My dear, in this enlightened age I should think you should have no fears about that. Social welfare, especially as regards children, is now quite an established thing. Anyway, it has nothing to do with you, has it? You’re no relation.’
‘My sister would have been, and Gee and I are—were twins.’ Jo’s voice choked.
‘My dear, you’re overwrought, and quite naturally so. But after some more thought, after the service—’
‘We’ve had that already, Gavin. We had it in the garden and—’ Jo stopped. She wondered, not far from hysteria, what Gavin would have said had she finished: ‘And we sang Hear the pennies dropping.’
As it was Gavin was a little shocked at the small amount he had heard, and frankly said so.
‘Well, really, dear, it’s nothing to do with me, but—’
‘No, Gavin, it’s not!’ Jo said quite sharply, and he gave her a sharp look back, and then said again:
‘Poor child, you’re overwrought. Now go and get your bag and I’ll take you back at once. The children’—he beat Jo to it—‘can be looked after by that person presumably belonging to that car now outside the house.’ So Gavin had noticed Abel. ‘Who is he, Josie? A welfare officer this soon?’
‘No.’
‘There is a relative of some sort, then? Good. In that case we can leave them safely with him.’
‘The person is nothing to do with them, Gavin.’
‘Yet he’s here?’ Gavin looked at her keenly now.
‘He owns the place,’ Jo said. ‘He’s the new plantation boss.’
‘I see. Presumably he came down here to tell you that your tenancy days are at an end?’ Gavin looked around him with distinct distaste; it was obvious he saw only the chaos and none of the love. Well, looking with him, could she blame him?
‘No, he didn’t,’ admitted Jo, ‘he said I could stay on. His name is Abel Passant and he’s been most helpful.’
‘Which I would have been had you thought to communicate with me, dear. Why didn’t you?’
‘I ... I ... oh, Gavin, it only happened yesterday!’
‘But surely I should have been the first person you would have thought of, turned to.’
‘I couldn’t think. I couldn’t turn. I can’t now, not properly. Oh, Gavin, don’t be angry with me.’
Gavin looked gently down at her. ‘How could I ever be, my dear? But try to look at it my way. I come all the miles out here, rough miles, certainly bad on the tyres, to find you walking down from the mountain with a total stranger. Some fiancés might even get a wrong impression, Josie, they might think if it’s good enough to entertain a man outdoors it’s good enough to entertain him in a house.’
‘But it is his house.’
‘With you in it!’
‘Also him.’ Jo meant to say it, but somehow it did not come out. Instead she asked:
‘Would it be so awful with three children in it as well?’
‘My dear, you’re in the country, and you know country conventions. That’s why I wouldn’t stay here myself—not now. Had things been as we thought ... your sister, her husband-to-be here as well—’
‘But they’re not, are they?’ This time Jo was not just near hysteria, there was a definite hysterical note in her voice.
Gavin kissed her soothingly. ‘I’m going back to town,’ he said. ‘I’ll be out again tomorrow. It’s time-consuming for me, and I really can’t afford such wastage, but I realise I’ve expected a little too much of you, that it will take longer than I thought. Now be a brave girl and try to collect yourself. Remember always that I love you, my dear, otherwise would I have given you your ring? Would we be engaged? And dear, don’t, for your own sake, which incidentally entails me, too, now, and so makes it my sake as well, be seen too much with this person.’
‘Be seen out here!’
‘You know what I mean,’ Gavin said a little stiffly. ‘I’m leaving you now, Josie.’ He kissed her gently and left the house. A few minutes later she heard his car going down the track.
Dear Gavin, she thought fairly, he means well and I should have been nicer to him. More important, I should have been honest with him. Tomorrow I’ll tell him that Abel is staying here so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t stay here as well.
Jo, going to the door to see what the children were doing, wondered how Gavin would take that ‘as well’.
She did not have much time to think about it, though. Abel reappeared from somewhere and came into the house. ‘Guest gone?’ he asked.
‘He wasn’t a guest, he was my fiancé. I think it was impolite of you to have hidden yourself.’
‘I thought it was discreet,’ he grinned. ‘I thought he mightn’t like me looking too familiar with the place. Ah’ ... giving Jo a triumphant look ... ‘you gave that a thought, too.’
‘Of course I didn’t. I mean—’
‘Yes, Josephine, what do you mean?’
‘I—I told him you were the new plantation boss, that you owned the house,’ Jo said shortly.
‘Also that I was living in the house?’
‘No. I had no time. Gavin is coming again tomorrow.’
‘Why didn’t he stay on instead of buzzing in and buzzing out again?’
‘Co
untry conventions. Now are you satisfied?’
‘I’m answered,’ Abel replied.
He watched Jo as she began to prepare the evening meal. She did not know whether the children would eat it, but it still had to be prepared.
‘I’m glad he’ll be here tomorrow,’ he said, ‘because I won’t, and I don’t want you to be left moping.’
‘Are you going away?’ She hoped her alarm did not show in her voice. Heavens, she thought, I’ve let myself come to depend on him.
‘Only to Sydney. I want to find out more about the young fry.’ He paused. ‘For you.’
‘Then thank you.’
‘Because very soon,’ he continued, ‘you’re going to have to make your decision about them, aren’t you?’
‘About the children?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve already made it,’ she told him.
‘And when you’ve made that decision,’ he ignored her interruption, ‘you’ll have to tell me so I can help you carry it out.’
‘You help me?’
‘If you want the children, you haven’t the remotest chance of getting them on your own. You see, you’re unmarried.’
‘I’m engaged.’
‘No help at all—sorry.’
‘But I’m going to be married.’
‘Not the same as being married. It has to be signed, sealed and delivered, something I think your young man is not falling over in eagerness to make happen. Even,’ he added deliberately, ‘without children.’
‘You have no right to say that!’
‘No right to declare the truth?’
‘Truth?’ Jo demanded hotly.
‘Can you honestly—honestly, Josephine, state that your fiancé is ready to marry you tomorrow? the day after? next week?’
‘I—we—well, we decided—’
‘Particularly accompanied, as you would be,’ Abel continued ruthlessly, ‘by three minors?’
‘He could,’ Jo said stubbornly. ‘Gavin could. You don’t even know him, so how can you talk like this?’
‘I know men, and of them I know only one who would be willing to marry you, children and all, at the same time unwilling.’
The Tender Winds of Spring Page 5
