by Mary Moore
At lunch time Mr. Alexander was missing, and Kirsty said he was in bed and wanted nothing to eat. When Fern half rose to go to him, Kirsty said, 'It's best to be leaving him alone for a while. Have your lunch, then see if you can cheer him up.'
When Fern knocked on his door, and went in, she was shocked to see the change in him. He was tired and his colour was bad.
'Would you like some lunch now, Mr. Alexander?'
'No, nor do I want a cup of tea, I've already told Kirsty so. I don't want to be fussed over.'
'You don't feel well enough to take our planned trip to the greenstone factory, or the tour of the big milk powder plant?'
'No. Go on your own - Brett will probably let you have the car.'
Fern replied, 'Let's cancel it. It wouldn't be any fun if you weren't with me. Could I just sit here and talk to you? Or would you like me to read a book aloud?'
Mr. Alexander seemed to shrink down into the bed. 'Please leave me alone. Go away.'
Fern walked away sadly. Out in the garden she spoke to Kirsty, offering to help her.
Kirsty shook her head. 'You go off and visit Mrs. Smith, or go for a ride.'
Fern wandered off towards Smith's, only to find them dressed up leaving for town. It just wasn't her day. Too much had happened. She strolled across to the cowshed and visited the calves in the calf paddock for a while, then looked over to the gravel pit which was full of water and saw the newly hatched grey ducklings taking their first swim. They were darling little balls of grey fluff, swimming along after their mother. Fern laughed as she watched.them .
From a short distance away Robbie called, 'Come and give a hand.'
Fern joined him. 'What are you supposed to be doing?'
Robbie leaned on the grubber. 'Hard labour !'
Fern laughed. 'Doesn't look too hard. Give it to me.' She took the grubber and leaned on it. 'See, nothing to it?'
'Very funny! You're supposed to chop out all the ragwort ... see that green weed with the yellow flowers? It's all pretty pathetic really, because we'll be boom spraying it with weedkiller next week. It's just Ross's way of getting at me. He's been on me back all week. I've a good mind to go and find him and tell him to keep his flaming job.'
'You'll have a long walk. I went to visit Smithy, and they were leaving to go to Hokitika .'
Robbie stared. 'Why didn't you say so straight away?' He gave a bloodcurdling Tarzan yell, and twirling the grubber over his head three times, let it go sailing through the air. It landed close to the edge of the pond. 'Come on! It's a lovely afternoon for sitting in the sun, doing nothing, and more fun if you've got a pretty bird beside you.'
Fern followed him protesting, but Robbie took no notice, so she sat down beside him.
'Now cheer me up!' he commanded. 'I've had a rotten week, and stuff your conscience with the thought that all work and no play makes Robbie a dull boy.'
'Oh, so that's why you're dull! I wondered!'
'I'm not getting through to you, I can see that. You're to flatter me and build up my ego, which has had a sad thrashing. Lay it on real solid.'
Fern smiled. He did actually look unhappy. 'Robbie, I think you're so handsome, and wise and intelligent, and I'm sure you have such a marvellous personality that you have to carry a can of insect repellant to keep the girls off. Will that do?'
Robbie ran his fingers through his curly hair. 'Not bad at all. I'm beginning to feel better already. I think you could do better if you tried harder. How about - you appeal to me because you're...'
'Such a nut,' Fern finished.
'I guess I am.' He lit a cigarette. 'I lost my bird last weekend and got stoned, and nearly lost my job because of it. If Brett hadn't stepped in Ross would have sacked me. You know, you often hear people say, old so-and-so, his bark is worse than his bite... well, with Ross it's different.'
'I like Ross,' Fern said indignantly.
'I might too, if I was a pretty girl, and he fell all over me to make a good impression,' Robbie said dolefully.
'Tell me about your girl.'
'You mean tell you about the one I had last week? Her name is Maureen, and she's... aw, what's the use? She got mad because I had a few drinks too many and she went home with another bloke. So I went on to enjoy what was left of the party, which wasn't much after she'd gone, only the booze. Well, I got a rare skinful and someone dropped me off at the gate. I navigated the drive successfully, and was just going to walk in the door, when I fell over the wheelbarrow full of wood. It made a bit of a noise, enough to wake the dead, Ross said. Well, he blew his lid. He's not what I call a charmer at any time, but at three o'clock in the morning, he's out of sight.'
'Not quite,' Fern laughed.
'Sunday morning, all stations were go . You weren't in the shed, unfortunately, or he may have had something else to occupy his tiny mind. After lunch I'd promised to help clean up the hall where the party was held, and there was Weird Harold chatting up Maureen, so I went out the back and cleaned up what was left in the keg. I didn't get home to milk, because someone brought another keg from somewhere, and so it was a repeat performance of Saturday night.'
'Not the wheelbarrow, I hope?'
'Do you think I'd be stupid enough to come in the front door twice? No, I decided to avoid the wheelbarrow by coming in the back door. I would have made it too, if some great steaming twit, who shall remain nameless, hadn't decided to leave the wheelbarrow strategically positioned at the back door steps. Do you want me to go on?'
Fern shook her head.
'I should think not! The language that old buzzard used hasn't been heard here on the Coast since the bullock waggon days.' He picked up a stone and threw it close to a pair of paradise ducks which were swimming past.
Fern remonstrated, 'Don't do that! They're so nice, they haven't hurt you.'
Robbie growled, 'Anybody or anything that looks happy hurts me. What right have they got to enjoy life? There's a party on this Saturday night, and Maureen won't even speak to me. I've phoned her and each time she hangs up before I can get a word in.'
'I think I'll go and see how Mr. Alexander is.' Fern got to her feet.
'Hang on a minute! I've just had a brainwave. How about you coming to the do with me? If Maureen saw me with a smashing-looking bird like you she might have second thoughts.'
'Thanks, but no, thanks. I'm far too old for you, Robbie, and have far too much sense to try making a girl jealous. It wouldn't work.'
Robbie was on his feet. 'What are you going on about? I'm twenty-one, I'd be years older than you, and I promise not to drink, and I'll forget about making Maureen jealous. If you don't come with me, I can't go, all the others have jacked up their partners ages ago. Aw, come on, Fern!'
'If you'd promised Maureen not to drink you would be going with her,' Fern said. 'I'm twenty-four.'
Robbie roared with laughing. 'Who do you think you're kidding? Anyway, how can I promise Maureen anything when she won't speak to me? Say you'll come. It'd be a real gas.'
Fern hesitated. Robbie smiling was irresistible, but Robbie downcast and begging was even more so. 'Yes, I'll go with you, but if by any chance you manage to convince Maureen that you're prepared to lead a sober and upright life, for her sweet sake, then count me out. I mean, I'm all on Maureen's side. No girl wants to get all partied up and then have a boy breathe beery fumes all over her - that is, if he's capable of standing.'
Robbie's lopsided grin was back in place. 'I knew you couldn't risk missing some action. Twenty-four, huh! If you're that old I'm Gary Cooper.' He picked her up and swung her round in a circle.
As Fern regained her feet she said sternly, 'Any more of that, and you can find yourself another partner. And remember, I'm just as fussy as Maureen. If you take me out and get tight, I'll see that Ross hears about it, if I have to go over and tip over the wheelbarrow myself.'
'No. Scout's honour . Lips that touch wine shall never touch mine, and all that guff. I feel so good I'm going back to work. Shows you
what the influence of a good woman can do!'
Fern went home to help Kirsty prepare dinner, then rode Gypsy to bring in the cows for milking. She helped about the cowshed enjoying the soothing sound of the pulsation of the milking machines. She still hadn't got used to the sight of the cows lining up like angle-parked cars.
When she'd showered and changed for dinner, she found Kirsty quite upset, but endeavouring to conceal it. 'Mr. Alexander won't get up for dinner.'
'I'll take it in to him,' Fern offered.
'No, he says he can't eat.'
'I'll go and talk to him.' Fern went quickly down the passage. The door was open, so she walked in. 'Kirsty says you're not joining us for dinner. I wish you would. I need you.'
'What do you need me for?' His tone showed no real interest in her reply.
'I had a row with Brett. Oh, he apologized, but I'd like you there to sort of give me moral support.'
His eyes brightened. 'Brett apologized? What did you fight about?'
Fern said, 'I'll tell you if you get up and have dinner with us. Here's your dressing-gown and slippers.' She felt a bit mean as she saw the hope come back into his face. She helped him up and said, 'It wasn't really much of a row, but it upset me.'
'Tell me,' he urged.
'It was rather silly really. Brett asked me to stay on for another couple of weeks. I said I would, and he said he'd put me on the payroll if I'd stay. I was mad. He didn't have to pay me to stay.'
'No, no, he was very stupid. Brett asked you to stay?
Hmm, that's good. Hurry now, we mustn't keep Kirsty waiting.'
Fern knew very well that Mr. Alexander thought Brett had asked her to stay after the talk they had had in the barn. It was wrong of her to lift his hopes; but she hadn't told a lie, it was the timing which was of paramount importance. Still, anything was better than seeing him lying in bed so miserable and defeated.
As they sat down to dinner Brett said, 'You'll be pleased to know that Fern isn't leaving tomorrow. I've asked her to stay on for a while.'
That was all that was needed to put Mr. Alexander in high good humour . He ate his meal, listened to Fern telling about seeing the new grey ducks, and laughed heartily at her humorous account of Robbie's trials.
It was only as dinner finished and Fern said that she was going to the party with Robbie on Saturday night that she realized she had lost all she had tried to gain.
Mr. Alexander stood up. 'I'm glad that Robbie doesn't let slip the chance of taking a pretty girl out. Shows the boy has sense, more than some people I know.' He glared at Brett. 'I'm going back to bed.'
He stayed there all day Friday and all day Saturday, refusing to take his meals, refusing to talk to Kirsty or Brett, and being barely civil to Fern. Fern wavered between being angry with the old fellow for putting such pressure on Brett, and admiring him for fighting for what he wanted, using the only methods he had at his command.
Fern went to see him before she left for the party on Saturday. She was wearing the same greeny -brown trouser suit as she had worn the first night at dinner in his house.
'Delightful, my dear, truly delightful. I hope you have a very happy time.' But there was no sparkle in his eyes, no real interest.
The hall was artistically decorated with huge king ferns and tubs of flowers. Fern was more interested in the band that played such toe-tapping music.
One dance with Robbie convinced Fern that no matter how catchy the music was her foot was not going to take too much abuse. She was quite happy to sit and watch the others and listen to the music .. . well , happy wasn't quite correct. She would have much preferred to spent the evening at home with Kirsty, but she had promised Robbie, and she was stuck with it. She knew that the vivacious redhead was Robbie's Maureen, and it rather amused her to have the girl casting oblique glances at her from time to time. She saw the partner Maureen had with her, and thought if that was 'Weird Harold' then Robbie needn't worry about the competition too much.
'Go and ask her for a dance, Robbie,' Fern urged. 'I'm sure she would accept. She's been looking over here hopefully, just waiting for you.'
'Well, she can wait.' Robbie was extraordinarily stubborn. 'She made me sweat it out all this week ... see how she likes it. If I leave her long enough with that drongo , she'll fall on my neck when I start my search and rescue attempt.'
'Go and dance with someone else, then. You don't have to babysit me.'
'You wouldn't mind?'
Fern shook her head, and was quite relieved when Robbie took off across the room to join the group around Maureen. She saw the affronted expression on Maureen's face when Robbie partnered the girl standing beside her on to the floor. He came back to Fern to report progress, and the next dance took the girl the other side of Maureen.
It didn't bother Fern how he sorted out his difficulties, as long as she could go home soon.
'Hullo, Robbie abandoned you?' Brett sat down beside her.
It was silly to be so pleased to see him. 'I wasn't expecting to see you here. You didn't say you were coming. And Robbie didn't abandon me, I chased him away. You see, I can't dance, and anyway, I only came with him so that he would have a chance to get his bird back.'
'Would you like to go home?' Brett asked.
'Oh, I'd love to go home, but I'll have to wait till Robbie makes what he calls his Search and Rescue attempt. I wish he'd get a move on.'
While Brett lit a cigarette she said, 'Don't feel you have to keep me company. .. I'm fine on my own.'
'I prefer to sit here, not for your sake but for my own. I guess I'm not in the party mood.'
It was only then that Fern saw the lines of strain on his face. It must be really eating into him, that he could not carry out the task his uncle set him. Being a nurse she knew what weight relatives put on a dying person's wishes. It wasn't fair. Compassion for him welled up inside her. She felt like putting her hand on his arm and saying, 'Ask me to marry you, and I'll turn you down. That way your uncle's anger will be directed at me.' But she couldn't say that... she wasn't supposed to know what was troubling him.
Robbie joined them, and his mood was one of barely concealed triumph. 'Next dance and she's mine!'
Fern scoffed, 'I wouldn't count my chickens before they're hatched. She hasn't got that red hair for nothing. If you'd played with me as you're doing with her I'd have seen you dead before I'd dance with you.'
'That's why she's my girl, and you're not,' Robbie grinned unrepentantly.
'That's one of the reasons. The other one is I wouldn't have you gift-wrapped.'
'Hey, Fern! You are packing a punch. What's the matter? Has Brett been needling you?'
'No, you are. My foot is hurting, and I want to go home, so either you fix things up with Maureen now, or I'm going over to tell her what you're playing at, and then see if you get anywhere with her.'
Robbie beat a hasty retreat, and the next dance he was on the floor with Maureen.
Brett touched her arm. 'Is your foot really painful?'
Fern smiled. 'It is a bit, but not nearly as bad as I made Robbie believe.'
As the dance finished Robbie brought Maureen to the table to introduce her to Fern. They only stayed a few minutes, then Robbie said, 'I told you, Maureen, that I was only taking care of Fern till Brett came, and you didn't believe me. You've got a nasty suspicious mind, and I'll expect you to be extra nice to me tonight to make up for having such wicked thoughts.' As he walked away with Maureen on his arm he turned and winked at Fern's outraged face.
'The sneaky little beast, dropping me in your lap as soon as he's got what he wants! Well, that young man's in for a surprise. I'll go and sit in his car, and he'll know all about the saying "two's company, three's a crowd" before this night's out.'
'He's aggravating, I'll give you that, but you're the one who'll suffer most if you wait for him. This shindig could go on for two or three hours. Do you think your anger will sustain you all that time? I'm off home now, you're welcome to a ride.' Br
ett stood up waiting for her.
Fern decided to go with him. She could always catch up on Robbie tomorrow.
When they arrived home Brett garaged the car, then remembered that Fern was only wearing light sandals, and the ground was muddy from the rain over the past two days.
'Hang on a minute,' he walked round the car and scooped her up into his arms and carried her across to the cement, put her down carefully on the garden seat, then sat down beside her. Fern sat there thinking of the last time he carried her along the hospital corridor. She had been so furious that she had promised herself, if he ever picked her up again, she'd bite him if there was no other way to retaliate, yet now she felt no anger.
'It's a beautiful night.' She sighed, thinking that the beauty of the night wasn't going to help Brett with his problem. She watched the huge full moon, rising over the mountains, casting its silvery light along the willows and pine trees, touching everything in its path with magic. She felt the anger and frustration in the man sitting beside her, but could not think of anything to say to help him, so she just went on sitting there, feeling somehow that he was glad of her company.
'You're very quiet.' Brett spoke at last.
Fern quoted, ' "To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven ... a time to keep silence and a time to speak".'
'What's that from?' Brett looked at her.
'The Bible, you know - Ecclesiastes, Chapter Three, "A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance." That's not in the right order. When I was away at boarding school whenever the principal was out for blood she read that out at prayers. I suppose that's why it sort of stuck in my mind.' Fern stood up. 'I think it's time to go to bed now.'
Brett stood up too and looking down at her, said, 'You're a strange girl.'
'And you've said that before.'
'I wish I'd know you when you were at school.'
Fern laughed, 'You wouldn't have liked me. I was pretty revolting, in more ways than one.'
