A Far Country

by John Fletcher

Small chance he would forget it.

  When he married Alison he had thought that everything in his world would fall into place; now it was all coming apart and he didn’t know why. There seemed nothing he could do about it. His temper suffered as a consequence and Alison, as always, bore the brunt of it.

  ‘That woman won’t never rest ’til she owns the whole damn country‚’ he stormed at her.

  His need for violence, almost sexual in its intensity, became more urgent. Alison knew it was only a matter of time before it engulfed her once again. She sought consolation in the only place she knew to find it.

  The days were warming as summer approached. Along the cliffs the grass had dried and turned brown. Even at the grotto the turf between cliff face and precipice was dry. It crunched beneath Alison’s shoulders as she looked up at Jason, his face anxious as he bent over her.

  ‘I am afraid for you‚’ he said.

  ‘No‚’ she said, smiling softly at him.

  ‘Blake—’

  She raised her fingers to his lips. ‘Don’t let’s talk about Blake here. This is our place.’ Her eyes caressed the rock crevice with the ferns still green inside it, the black stone of the altar, the emptiness of the softly murmuring sea. ‘I never want Blake to come here. I don’t even want to hear his name. Having you with me is too precious for that.’ She smiled up him. ‘You mustn’t worry.’

  No use saying it. He did worry. Shutting Blake out did not alter the fact that he was still at Bungaree, that she would still have to return to him when they left here. If Blake found out what was going on he was likely to kill her. Try to kill Jason too, perhaps, but Jason could look after himself. Alison was a different story. There were nights when he lay awake, frantic with worry for her and for his hopes of future happiness. His feelings for her had intensified, become absolute. He had loved her before but it seemed nothing compared with how he felt about her now.

  ‘If anything happened to you I wouldn’t want to live.’

  ‘Hush.’ Once again her fingers caressed his lips. ‘Don’t talk like that.’

  ‘I can’t help it.’

  ‘I love you with my whole heart‚’ she said. ‘I think I always did. I just began to deny it after a while. I should have trusted you. Everything that’s happened is my fault.’

  ‘Fault’s got nothing to do with it‚’ he told her. ‘We’re here now and that’s all that matters.’

  It was not true. The fact was that she had married Blake, that her husband had claims on her he would not otherwise have had, that if he found out about their relationship there would be hell to pay.

  Yet there was no complete relationship between them at all. They met here, they talked softly and lovingly together, they bared their hearts to each other; they had not, in a dozen meetings, made love. They both knew it was inevitable, both wanted and yet did not want it. Without that final commitment they could still pretend that being here together meant nothing, although both knew that such distinctions would not protect them if Blake found out.

  Every time they rode to the grotto they asked themselves whether perhaps today would be the day but so far that day had not come. For all their eagerness to be with each other they still drew back from that final step. Perhaps today …

  Now Jason bent over her, his expression grave, concentrating as he undid the buttons of her dress.

  She watched his face. ‘You mustn’t do that‚’ she said, ‘you don’t know what it does to me.’ But did nothing to stop him, feeling the warm breeze on her skin as finally her dress fell open.

  He kissed her warm flesh. His tongue explored her, he breathed the scent of her body. She moaned a little, body writhing.

  ‘God, Jason …’

  He drew back. They looked at each other, panting. He kissed her again, mouth, eyes, throat, breasts, her arms were round his neck, holding him close, his hand explored her, found her.

  ‘Oh God …’ Voice dying, senses drowning as sensation overwhelmed them.

  Now, perhaps, was the time. After all the uncertainties, all the business of saying to themselves this and not this, so far and no further, perhaps now was the time.

  He became bolder, explored further. She did not stop him.

  Now.

  And then, lying naked together on the grass, he touched her face and found it wet with tears.

  He drew back a little and she opened her eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked her.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘There is something.’

  Silently she shook her head.

  ‘We don’t need to go further if you don’t want to?’

  ‘No!’ Passionate denial. ‘Never that!’

  ‘What, then?’

  So quietly that he could barely hear her she said, ‘Blake …’

  ‘Are you afraid of him?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant …’ And was silent.

  He waited, saying nothing, holding her closer to him, feeling the length of her body against his.

  ‘I married him‚’ she said, her voice very small. ‘I was afraid you would never come back and then my father was killed and I …’ The tears choked her voice and ran down her cheeks.

  ‘You were alone‚’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Knowing that it mattered very much.

  ‘It matters to me. If I had been braver‚’ clutching him, speaking into his hair, ‘we could be together now, properly. There would be none of this.’

  ‘We are together now‚’ he told her.

  She twisted in his arms so she could see his face. ‘And do you love me? In spite of Blake?’

  ‘I love you with my life.’

  She looked at him wonderingly and he saw her heart in her eyes. ‘And I you‚’ she said.

  ‘Then nothing else matters.’ He stroked the side of her face. ‘But I am still afraid for you.’

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘If Blake finds out—’

  ‘I told you not to mention him. Not here. Here there is just the two of us.’

  ‘But if—’

  ‘If there is going to be trouble there will be trouble‚’ she said, ‘whatever we do.’

  Which was true, certainly.

  ‘I hope there won’t be trouble‚’ she told him, a smile forming in her eyes, ‘but if there is it will seem a hundred times worse if we’ve done nothing to deserve it.’

  He looked down at her, feeling her heart beating, the swells and hollows of her body pressed against his. A great peace, a great joy and exultation, rose within him. ‘You mean …?’

  Her smile widened, her fingers moving, the nails running gently over him.

  ‘Yes‚’ she said. Then, fiercely, ‘Yes.’

  When Alison rode home she wondered if the joy and fulfilment she felt would show in her face but Blake was out and, when he came home, seemed to notice nothing. He was surly but these days he was always surly. It did not matter. She wondered if he might want her tonight. She hated the idea of it but if it happened that wouldn’t matter, either. Nothing mattered except seeing Jason again as soon as possible.

  It wouldn’t be easy.

  ‘You an’ that Asta‚’ Blake said that night. ‘Seems like you got a regular love affair goin’.’

  ‘Hardly that.’ She laughed. ‘But it is nice to see another woman.’

  Blake did not know what to make of it at all. ‘She threatened to put us off‚’ he said, ‘yet still you goes an’ sees ’er.’

  He did nothing to stop her; if his wife and Asta became close friends, as it seemed they had, it might serve to protect him if Asta ever turned nasty. For the same reason he managed to control himself when he felt the urge to lash out physically at Alison. It wouldn’t do to cross her now she had Asta on her side.

  So twice every week Alison rode off, twice a week she met Jason at the grotto, twice a week they made love. No thought now of doing nothing; as the summer wore on they could scarcely wait to get their clothes off when they reached the ledge. They both
knew it was foolhardy but neither of them spoke any more of danger. They were committed. Alison in particular barely thought about what she was doing. Nothing could happen to her while she felt like this. Jason felt something of the same and he, too, went his heedless way without regard for prudence or his earlier fears. Now, now, now: it was the only imperative either of them acknowledged.

  Until, one day, much like all the other summer days, they rode separately to the grotto, as usual, they met, as usual, they made love, as usual, and when it was over she looked up at him and told him she was pregnant.

  Eyes anxious, she spoke as though it were a calamity. ‘I’m sorry‚’ she said.

  ‘Don’t ever say that!’ He seized her hands and shook them sharply to repudiate her words. Then he smiled at her, emotion spilling into his eyes, his voice, his heart. ‘It’s wonderful news, wonderful!’ He hesitated. ‘You’re sure?’

  She did not know if he meant was she sure she was pregnant or was she sure the child was his. Both, perhaps. She had missed for the second month so at least that was certain. As for the other, there was no way of knowing. Blake came to her far less often than he had but still he came so anything was possible, but every instinct told her that the child was Jason’s. It might be wishful thinking but she willed it to be so, was determined it was so. Another Blake? She would not contemplate it. She lied, as though lying could make it so. ‘I am sure. Sure I’m pregnant. Sure it’s yours.’

  He did not question her certainty, did not wish to question it, perhaps. He stared down at her, delight like a flame in his face. He scrambled to his feet, went and stood at the very edge of the cliff and stared out at the rippled expanse of the gulf. He was naked. From where she lay Alison watched the play of muscles across his broad back, the narrow waist, the way his backbone tucked in above the taut flare of his buttocks. His hands and neck were burnt dark by the sun, the rest of him milk white. Sunlight lay in a golden pool on him. She thought she had never seen anything more beautiful in her life but her face remained sombre. He turned and came quickly back to her, arms outstretched, his whole body suffused with such energy that it seemed he could not remain still even for a moment.

  He said, ‘It’s the most wonderful news I ever heard.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Voice flat, face unsmiling.

  He looked wonderingly at her wand-slim body stretched full length upon the turf. ‘No-one would ever know.’

  ‘Give it time, everyone will know.’

  Her tone penetrated his consciousness at last. His smile died. He stared at her, perplexed. ‘Aren’t you glad?’

  A little boy, she thought, hurt because no-one likes his toys.

  ‘It will be brought up as Blake’s child‚’ she pointed out.

  The thought shook him. ‘Never!’

  ‘Of course. It must be.’

  ‘No!’ His expression was savage with determination. ‘I shan’t allow it!’

  Men, Alison thought, when would they learn to face reality?

  ‘How do you plan to stop it?’ she asked him.

  For a minute he stared at her without replying. ‘We’ll go away‚’ he said at length.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘East. To Sydney. Or Melbourne. I don’t care. All I know is I’m not having my child brought up as Blake Gallagher’s kid!’

  ‘What do we do in the city?’

  ‘I’ll find work.’

  ‘What sort of work?’

  ‘How do I know what sort of work?’

  ‘I’m not traipsing off to the city if I don’t know what I’m going to.’

  He stared at her, exasperated by her insistence upon details that he had no way of supplying. ‘You don’t seem to want to go away with me at all.’

  The knowledge that she was pregnant had given Alison a determination she had never had before. ‘I don’t know if I can say it but I’ll try. I can’t help seeing the problems. I won’t be able to hide it from Blake, not for long, but I can’t just get up and go away if I don’t know where we’re going. If it was just me I’d do it. I’d have done it a dozen times already if you’d ever asked me but you never did and now I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’ve got the baby to think of.’

  ‘I won’t have it brought up as Blake’s child‚’ he said again. He crouched beside her, took her hands in his. ‘You’re sure it’s not his?’

  She did not hesitate. ‘Yes.’

  ‘How can you be sure? I never asked you about it, I don’t want to ask now, but there must’ve been times when Blake … When you and him—’ He floundered, unable to say it.

  ‘It is your child,’ she told him clearly. ‘Don’t ask me how I know. I just know, that’s all.’ It had become an article of faith.

  Her utter confidence must have convinced him because she felt his hands relax in hers. ‘What else can we do but go?’ he asked.

  ‘You go‚’ she told him. ‘Find somewhere that’ll be right for the baby. Then send word and I’ll come.’

  ‘The last time I went away you got married‚’ he said. ‘Sure you won’t change your mind again?’

  At one time such a question would have devastated Alison; now she did not blink. ‘You’ll just have to take that chance.’

  ‘Maybe I should kill Blake‚’ he said savagely. ‘That would solve all our problems.’

  ‘And make a heap of new ones‚’ she said. ‘There’s no point talking like that. You know you’re not going to do it.’

  Jason walked back to the cliff edge, moving more slowly this time. ‘Where would you want to go?’ he asked her over his shoulder.

  ‘It doesn’t matter‚’ she said. ‘Anywhere nice where we can bring up a baby.’

  ‘I often thought I’d like to try my luck at the goldfields‚’ he said. ‘Lots of people made money there. A dozen times I almost went.’

  ‘No.’ She was definite. ‘From what I’ve heard the goldfields are too rough.’

  Jason told Asta; she received the news gravely. She too had changed since Joshua Penrose had arrived. In matters of business she was as tough as ever but in other ways her personality had grown more mellow. Jason never had, never would, ask her anything about her private feelings but she seemed more comfortable and fulfilled than ever before. It looked as though the experiment—which was how Jason had always thought of it—was working.

  She asked the same question that Jason himself had asked. ‘Is it yours?’

  ‘She says so.’

  ‘How can she be sure?’

  ‘I don’t know but that’s what she says.’ He looked at her. ‘Seems to me we’ll have to go away.’

  Asta shook her head slightly. ‘You are sure that is a good idea?’

  ‘What else can we do?’

  ‘You can wait. Let us see this baby first. Then you can make up your mind.’

  ‘I reckon we should go now‚’ he said.

  ‘Because you are worried about Blake bringing up your child. Have you thought that if you go away you may end up rearing Blake’s child?’

  He shook his head stubbornly. ‘She would never have told me it was mine unless she was sure.’

  ‘If you wait you will know.’

  ‘Not to be certain.’

  ‘Of course. Look at you. You are big, dark.’

  ‘Blake is big, too.’

  ‘But blond as the sun. How can there be any doubt, with the fathers looking so different?’

  ‘It might favour Alison.’

  ‘You have nothing to lose by waiting.’

  ‘I’ll think about it‚’ he said.

  ‘That is right‚’ she said. ‘Think about it. Wait and see for yourself. Then, if you still want to go, good. At least that way you’ll be as sure as possible. That is all I ask. You owe it to yourself.’

  At Bungaree Alison said nothing, Blake seemed to notice nothing. At this stage there was little to see. Her body was as slim as ever and the few signs that existed—the infinitesimally increased weight of her breasts,
the darkening and enlargement of her nipples—were too faint to be noticed by any man who had no reason to be on the lookout for such things. Yet there was a change in her that had nothing to do with the shape of her body. She walked in a slightly different way, she held her head back proudly, at times she smiled secretly to herself, at times without even being aware of it she ran the palm of one hand caressingly over her belly, and these things Blake noticed.

  At first he thought nothing of it; then he was puzzled; finally, when Alison continued to say nothing to him, he grew suspicious. He did not speak but began to think, and his thoughts made him angry. He began to watch. Finally, he decided to act.

  Asta stood with her arms folded, her back to the door, and stared up at Blake sitting relaxed and seemingly jovial in the saddle. ‘We don’t see much of you these days‚’ she said. ‘What brings you to Whitby Downs?’

  ‘I thought I would come.’

  She knew he would never try to trade words with her, he was not quick enough to do that, but his eyes were everywhere. He looked particularly at the yard where the horses were penned, then shifted his glance back to Asta and smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. ‘I came to ride home with my wife but it looks like she’s already gone.’

  Damn, Asta thought. ‘You just missed her.’

  ‘Then if I go now I’ll catch up with her along the way.’

  Asta made her voice casual. ‘Unless she decided to ride around a different way.’

  His eyes did not shift from her face. ‘Why should she do that?’

  ‘For a change. Who knows?’

  ‘Did she say she was going a different way?’

  She smiled. ‘Alison doesn’t have to account to me for what she does.’

  He continued to stare at her. She would not look away but stared straight back at him. Their mutual dislike was heavy between them.

  Blake nodded. ‘I’ll be on my way, then.’

  He clicked his tongue at the horse and cantered off, dust rising in a filmy brown cloud behind him.

  Asta watched until he was out of sight then ran for her own horse. I must warn them, she thought as she ran, but with luck they may already have left.

  They had not; she found the two horses tethered in the strip of bush that ran parallel with the cliff. Thank God, she thought. At least they had not grown careless, as she had feared. She tethered her own horse with the others and hurried down the path.