by Lucy Walker
Her heart stopped leaping. So that was it! Oddly enough Sara was now disappointed that he had not ordered her to stay because he had chosen her safety before Julia’s. Even if it had only been for Ransome’s sake.
‘No,’ Sara said, bending down and picking up a twig to whisk away the flies. ‘I do not want to go. The sun has been rather much for me, Greg. I think I’ll have a shower and a rest before we have drinks on the veranda.’
He held open the gate of the enclosure for her to walk through. In silence they approached the homestead and went through the wire door on to the veranda.
‘Had fun?’ asked Julia. She was still reclining on the chair and her legs were still displayed to advantage.
‘Lots,’ said Sara shortly. ‘I’m now going to have more … under the shower.’
The gauntlet, so politely hidden from view before, was now thrown down. Julia must think she was in an advantageous position. Sara wondered why.
Chapter Nineteen
The plan for the picnic by air was finally abandoned. This did not constitute a defeat for Julia, for the decision to give up the idea came in the first place from Jack Brownrigg, too much a friend of Greg’s to want to go against his wishes, and in the second place because the Camdens and Hunts, particularly their children, had become truthfully bored. And their boredom was not to be borne any longer since the open session in the air informed them an Airways plane was due tomorrow to pick up a sick child at the station farther up the reaches of the river.
Everybody decided at once it would be just no trouble for that plane to land in the sheep run and transport the now discontented families to Perth. Everyone agreed that a week’s holiday on the Swan in the kindlier southern latitudes would be a grand way to finish off the whole business of Ransome. A week later they could get a booking on the Trans-Australia plane and be back in Adelaide in no time. The Hunts would fly straight on to Melbourne where they lived.
From Greg’s point of view this folded the party up nicely, though he gave no sign of feeling this way. Only Sara knew it because she saw the little creases of tension disappear from his forehead.
Jack Brownrigg, too, now decided he wanted to get back on his own beat and became suddenly, and a little inexplicably, so anxious to do so it was decided that he, with Greg and Sara, would fly back to Ransome the day before the Airways plane would be able to pick up the rest of the party.
Julia said she would go south for some shopping. Possibly go on to Adelaide to see the Company about ‘business affairs’ and fly back to Ransome by the Alice Springs route. Clifford would go with Julia and return to headquarters to take over the management of affairs there.
Both Clifford Camden and Jack Brownrigg seemed to have lacked their usual spirits since they had left Ransome, and Sara wondered if she had been too indolent a hostess. The truth of it was, it was difficult to be a hostess of any kind at the old homestead. The life was too much one long veranda picnic. It was fun in itself but it was every man for himself, and no privacy at all, there was no chance to give the little individual attention to a person that one is able to do when in a big homestead.
On their last night together Sara determined to make some special effort. She found it quite a problem to try and juggle chairs, and who sat in which chair, without drawing attention to what she was doing.
When they sat on the veranda with coffee and cigarettes after dinner it was hard to prise the overseer out of his chair in order that she, Sara, might sit next to Clifford for a little while. She could only do so by asking if she herself could change places as she wished to discuss something with Clifford.
When they were all arranged, after all the men stood up and helped her arrange the chairs, she found she could not think of what to say to Clifford to justify such a move.
‘Heigh-ho, young Sara, what’s on your mind?’ asked Clifford in a voice that everyone listened to.
‘Well, not really anything much. I thought perhaps you might give the girls back in the office my love. Tell them about me, and the kind of things I’m doing …’
‘Not on your life. They’d all be cadging favours with me to get a transfer to the station. Then they’d get married and I wouldn’t get them back.’
‘Who’s left on Ransome to get married now you’re leaving, Clifford?’ Sara laughed.
‘I could always come back. And there’s Jack. No one goes to Ransome without striking Jack somewhere on the route. And his tongue’s fairly hanging out for a bride. Why, you could have had him yourself for tuppence, Sara.’
Clifford’s voice belonged more to the city than the great outback. It hadn’t the soft muted tones of men who drawled and spoke through half closed lips. It could be heard all along the veranda.
‘What nonsense you do talk.’ Sara tried to laugh Clifford’s words away.
‘Nonsense be blowed. You could have had me too. Why didn’t you give me the same glad eye you handed Greg?’
‘You weren’t looking.’ Sara tried to meet Clifford’s rough attempt at gallantry with one of her own but she didn’t like the way her polite intention was turning out to be a conversation piece to which everyone was studiously listening.
She felt it was meant for humour but it wasn’t in very good taste. Greg, she thought, by the way he sat back in the shadow, so still that even the lighted cigarette in his hand didn’t move, thought this way too. The Greg who had not cared for men who made bets on women would hardly care to hear herself discussed thus, even though it was only in fun.
She worked back to the girls in the office, sending each individual one a message. By this time she was too disheartened to try to get near Jack and be pleasant to him.
It was not until they were all on the point of parting for the night that she found herself near the edge of the veranda with Jack.
‘Jack,’ she said. ‘I haven’t had the opportunity of two words with you. I know we’ll be with you in the plane tomorrow, but you’ll be up in the pilot’s seat and I’ll hardly be able to talk to you there. I do want to thank you for bringing us down and …’ she hesitated.
They were standing in the shadow just outside the circle of light.
‘And what, Sara?’ Jack asked, bending his head a little to try and see Sara’s face in the half light.
‘And for being with us,’ she concluded.
Jack turned his head and looked out through the fly-screen.
‘Look!’ he said. ‘The moon is just rising. It makes the paddocks look like a silver sea.’ They stood side by side looking out to the west where the moon, a great silver and apricot ball, was hanging low on the skyline. Jack moved to the wire door.
‘Let’s go out and feel it as well as see it,’ he said. ‘Ever felt the moonlight, Sara?’ Sara was reluctant to go but felt it was a discourtesy to hang back. Moreover, it would look as if she was putting a construction on Jack’s invitation that was something certainly not in his mind.
‘Just for a few minutes,’ she said. ‘We leave at sun-up tomorrow, don’t we?’
They were down the short flight of steps and moved towards the wooden fence enclosing the homestead.
‘Now you can breathe,’ said Jack. His hand was a shadow sweeping in the arc of the heavens. ‘Can you believe we are not alone in a world of grass, sky and stars?’
‘I think it is very wonderful and I think you put it in a very romantic way. But I’m a married woman now and the beauty alone has to be sufficient for me.’
‘And no romance.’
She turned her face to his.
‘Yes, there is romance, Jack,’ she said quietly. ‘But it belongs elsewhere.’
Jack was silent.
‘You don’t want any noses punched?’ he said at length, and quite seriously.
‘No thank you, Jack.’
He sighed.
‘Then we’d better say goodbye to the moon and the stars. Come on inside. I’ll return you to your husband. Is that what you want?’
Sara squeezed his arm.
‘Yes
, Jack. That’s what I want.’
He put his hand on her hand where it rested in the crook of his arm and they returned to the homestead thus.
Greg, hearing them coming, stood up and opened the wire door for them. Neither removed their hands until they were back on the veranda.
‘No success,’ Jack said, shaking his head lugubriously. ‘She is so bemused she can’t even see the stars.’
‘You’ve got no technique, Jack,’ said Clifford. ‘Now let me try …’
‘Oh, no, thank you,’ said Sara quickly. ‘If everyone tried to show me the stars I’d be worn out before dawn. I’m off to bed.’
Only Greg, Jack and Clifford were left on the veranda.
‘Good night, everybody,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘What? No stars, even for Greg?’ said Clifford.
Sara hesitated.
‘Yes, one star for Greg,’ she said. She went up to him. ‘A good night kiss before I retire to the female part of the sleeping quarters.’
It seemed as if he would not bend his head, so she stood on her toes.
She kissed him on the mouth.
Then as she slowly drew back their eyes met. The moonlight was shining in Greg’s, and her own eyes were in shadow. She swallowed a lump.
‘Good night, my dear,’ she said.
‘Good night, Sara, my dear,’ he said. Then he held open the door for her as she went into the dressing-room.
‘Greg’s was for the gallery,’ Sara said to herself. ‘But mine wasn’t. Mine wasn’t.’
It was shortly after sunrise the next morning that the Dove took off, carrying Greg, Sara and some freight from the sheep run. The stockmen who were later to come to Ransome would follow in about ten days’ time.
Everyone was up and breakfasted, and those waiting till the next day for the Airways plane gave the three of them a tumultuous farewell. Now that the party was really over and everyone could see the horizons of home in sight, the old good spirit had returned. It was momentarily forgotten that forty-eight hours before they were so bored with one another it took all their time to keep tempers in check.
Only Julia did not appear and her absence was more notable, as far as Sara was concerned, than her presence would have been.
Sara was thrilled to find herself heading back for Ransome without Julia. Now perhaps life would be different. Not only would she have some respite from Julia, but the house-party would be over. They would be back to the way they were before any stranger set foot on the place. And the strain of impending events would have gone too.
What would it be like? She meant, what would life with Greg be like.
Greg had just been up in the seat next to the pilot and he now stepped down and sat in the seat on the other side of the gangway from Sara. All the seats in the Dove were single seats so he could not sit next to her.
‘You feeling all right, Sara?’ he asked.
‘Quite. I don’t even feel very nervous.’ She smiled. Her eyes suddenly showed their two pixies. ‘That surprises you, doesn’t it?’
Greg was thinking the two pixies had been hiding for a long time now and he replied:
‘Oh, no. I knew you’d get used to it sooner or later.’
Sara thought ruefully that he didn’t give her any credit for trying. And she had tried very hard. Her attempts at self-discipline had taken more out of her than anyone guessed.
‘You go back and talk to Jack,’ Sara said. ‘I rather like being here and just looking. Besides, I think Jack likes company.’
‘I’ll come back later,’ he said, and went back to join Jack.
They’d been flying for over an hour when Sara heard a bang.
Strange! she thought to herself quite calmly. I always knew this would happen.
She closed her eyes. She was quite certain her pulse was normal. She wondered why.
The engine was spluttering badly. She lay back in her seat with eyes closed and thought quite calmly, ‘I suppose I might die. I hope it doesn’t hurt.’
She was aware that Greg had come back into the seat over the gangway. He was leaning forward over the short distance and pulling at her safety belt.
‘Sara,’ he said gently, ‘I want you to fasten your safety belt.’
She looked down in a dazed way while he adjusted her safety belt.
The engine was spluttering. It seemed to be back-firing and every now and again it cut out. The plane was wobbling.
‘Sara?’
She looked up at him now. His eyes were dark pools.
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘Yes. I’m not frightened, you know.’
‘Good girl. Now listen carefully. Keep your right hand near that press clasp. When we land, touch that clasp instantly, but not a minute before. You understand?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But why have the belt on at all?’
‘Because the bump can throw you out of your seat and break bones. Don’t press until we touch ground. Right?’
She opened her eyes wide at Greg.
‘I’m very calm,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
Greg was speaking a little more urgently now. The engine cut out for a long time before it seemed to grip again.
‘Jack is sending our position by radio. He is going to pancake land when he can find a clear spot. He’s jettisoning as much petrol as possible. But the time is short. There’ll still be petrol on board. Sometimes there is fire. The moment we land you’re to press that clasp and get out through that door. Don’t look back or wait for us. You’ll be holding us up and every second will count. Every fraction of a second if there is fire. Got that?’
She nodded.
‘We’ll follow you instantly. If you clear the door we can get through. You can save us all, Sara, by obeying orders.’
‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I’ll do exactly what you say.’
They were losing altitude rapidly now. The engine kept cutting out monotonously, almost to a rhythm.
‘You’ve done this before, Greg, haven’t you?’
He nodded. She remembered his telling her of the lonely eeriness of the Red Ranges. Were they going to land in the Red Ranges now?
‘It’s funny,’ she said suddenly. ‘I feel quite calm.’
Greg put his hand out across the gangway and took her left hand with his left hand. It meant they sat awkwardly but it left their right hands free for the clasp on the safety belts.
‘Sara?’ he said. There was a deep note in his voice.
But her eyes were closed. She had her hand in his. How warm and strong it was!
‘I feel quite calm, quite calm,’ she said, as if astonished.
The next moment they struck. The plane hit, and then seemed to ricochet off the ground into space. Then it hit again.
‘Thank goodness for the safety belt,’ Sara said, but she didn’t really think the words left her lips.
They struck again.
‘Now!’ said Greg.
Sara’s thumb pressed the spring of her safety belt. Greg was leaning back in his seat to give her room to get out into the cramped gangway.
She was in the gangway now and Greg was behind her. He leaned over her shoulder and shifted the bolt on the door.
‘Jump, Sara! Jump! You’re to run for it. Put three hundred yards behind you. Jump and run.’
As she jumped she remembered that Jack, in the pilot’s seat, had sat humped forward as if he was not going to move.
‘Why didn’t he look round?’ she said, as she hit the ground.
She fell on her face and her nose hurt.
‘Perhaps I’ll get a straight nose after all. But wouldn’t it be awful if it was more turned up than ever. I’ve got to get up and run …’
She stumbled a few steps and turned round.
Greg was not following her. At any moment the plane might go up in flames.
She stopped.
‘I’ll stay with him,’ she said. ‘And furthermore I wish I’d stop talking
to myself as if I was Alice in Wonderland.’
She ran back to the plane. From a few yards off she could see Greg struggling with Jack’s body inside the plane. He had turned and was trying to wedge Jack around in front of him towards the door. He saw Sara.
‘Run!’ he shouted. ‘Run. In God’s name, run, Sara.’
He’d got one of Jack’s legs through the door, and Sara came under the plane where Greg could not see her.
She tried to reach up to help Jack but his foot kept escaping her. Then after an interminable age both legs came through and the lower half of his body.
‘Drop him, Greg. Drop him,’ Sara cried. ‘I’ll catch.’
Greg probably did not hear, but Jack was suddenly hurtled through the door. A second later Greg leapt after him.
No time for words now. They picked Jack up between them and half dragged, half carried him for fifty yards. Then Sara lost her grip.
‘Look … get him on my back, Sara. Quick! You push from behind.’
They got Jack’s inert body on Greg’s shoulder like a sack of flour. They ran on, Sara pushing from behind. She remembered thinking she must keep her footsteps in time with Greg’s so that they didn’t trip one another up.
They were two hundred yards from the plane when it exploded.
Simultaneously they threw themselves and Jack flat on the ground. They lay thus for a full minute. Then Greg sat up.
‘Let’s get out. The heat will get us.’
They got up again, this time dragging Jack as before. When they’d gone another fifty yards they hoisted Jack on Greg’s back again. Then they ran on. When they ceased to feel the heat they sat down, their heads on their knees. Jack’s body lying prone between them.
After a long time Sara straightened herself and looked at him.
‘Is he … is he dead?’
‘No,’ Greg said. ‘I knocked him out. He has two legs broken as far as I could see. The pain was too great. He couldn’t make it.’
He stiffened himself and, without getting up, straightened Jack. The two legs lay crooked, one of them covered with blood, stretched before him.
‘Let’s get some shade before he comes to,’ Greg said. He stood up.