All I See Is You

by Lily Hammond

  Libby was determined it could be more. It could be made more. The perfect opportunity for them to get to know each other better, both before and after Clemency left. She was sure too, that she could find – or manufacture – the opportunity for another of those kisses.

  On the telephone, Clemency sighed. ‘What if she doesn’t turn up in time to make the train?’ she asked. It was the obvious question.

  Maxine’s voice, when she answered, was tight. ‘I still have to go, Clemency,’ she said. ‘Today. If she’s not back – then she’s on her own. I can’t wait around.’

  Clemency turned, placed a hand against the wall and leaned on it, head drooping. ‘She’s not coming here, do you think?’ she asked. ‘You did tell her I was coming to the coast with you?’

  ‘No,’ Maxine replied. ‘I did not.’

  ‘Are her things still there?’

  ‘Ruth says there are clothes still folded in her drawers.’

  A weight dropped from Clemency’s shoulders. She rested her forehead against the wall in sudden relief. ‘Well, then. She’s probably decided to take off for the day and miss the trip to Greymouth. She’ll be back for dinner, I’ll guarantee.’

  ‘That’s what Ruth thinks too.’ On the other end of the line, Maxine sighed. ‘I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t come swooping in and grabbed her in a fit of madness.’

  ‘I have not come swooping in,’ Clemency said. ‘There have been no fits of madness.’ But she wondered if she should go look for Eliza. Then remembered the clothes still in the drawers and relaxed, letting the tension run out of her. ‘Do you still want me to come to Hokitika with you?’

  There was a brief pause then Maxine’s voice came back, lower, more confidential. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Of course it’s all right,’ Clemency told her, standing up again, rubbing at her arm. It was getting colder. Typical Dunedin weather, she thought. ‘Are you going to tell me what the trip is about, though?’

  ‘On the train,’ Maxine replied. ‘Or, if we can find that damned girl, then when we get there, I promise, okay?’

  ‘All right,’ Clemency agreed, then said goodbye and hung up, looking at the watch on her wrist. She had an hour to get ready before driving to Maxine’s, then the railway station. Libby would drive the car back. She sighed again.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Libby stood in the doorway to the dining room. ‘Your trip hasn’t been cancelled, has it?’

  Clemency shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘And I’d best get packed for it, I suppose.’

  ‘You haven’t finished your coffee,’ Libby told her, then frowned a little. ‘Although it will be cold now, I’m sure. I could make you some more?’

  ‘I’d best pack,’ Clemency said again.

  Libby made herself smile. ‘Don’t forget your cameras. You never know what opportunities might arise.’ She smiled wider, made it confiding, self-deprecating. ‘I envy you your new cameras.’ Her face brightened. ‘Would you like me to pack them up for you? And make sure you have film and everything you need?’ She stepped forward in the dimness of the hallway, knowing it would make her fair hair glow the way that Clemency’s was. ‘Do let me help,’ she said. ‘It’s the least I can do in return for your generosity in letting me stay here.’ She waved her hands at the house. The beautiful house, that had taken her breath away when Clemency had run up the stairs and opened the front door for her, spreading it wide for her to enter.

  Clemency was distracted. What was Eliza thinking – running off instead of going to Greymouth? Then, Clemency’s mouth quirked in a smile. She couldn’t blame Eliza for doing it. Might even have done the same thing in her place. And Ruth would take her back in – she had a soft heart like that.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to Libby. ‘That would be lovely, if you could.’ She checked her watch again, turning the face to the light from the window. ‘I’m afraid I’ve left things rather to the last minute.’

  Maxine nodded her head at the view out the train window. They hadn’t left the station yet, and steam billowed across the platform.

  ‘You’ve an admirer there,’ she said.

  Clemency looked out at Libby. ‘Do you think so?’ she asked.

  That made Maxine laugh. ‘One only has to look at her. She wants you quite desperately, I would say.’

  ‘We barely know each other.’ But Clemency thought of the kiss they’d shared, upstairs in the hotel, by the door to Libby’s room. She thought of the way Libby caught at her hand, holding it, making it clear that things didn’t have to stop with just a kiss.

  But Clemency had smiled, a little awkwardly, and made her excuses. If, she thought, there hadn’t been Eliza, she might have been tempted. She lifted a hand and gave Libby a wave as the train jerked, then moved out of the station.

  But there was Eliza. There had been Eliza that very day, in fact. Eliza’s smooth, silky body.

  ‘What are you thinking about, for heaven’s sakes, Clemency?’ Maxine asked, breaking into her thoughts. ‘You’re a thousand miles away.’

  ‘Just about Libby,’ Clemency lied. She didn’t think Maxine would take kindly to knowing where Clemency’s mind had really gone. Maxine was furious with Eliza, who was still conspicuously missing when it came time to leave for the station. She’d told Ruth to stick the kid on the next train to Greymouth as soon as she showed her face.

  ‘You’re entertaining the idea of her?’ Maxine twisted in her seat and peered out the window behind them but couldn’t see Libby Armstrong there anymore. ‘I can’t believe you’re letting her drive your motor.’

  Clemency shook her head. ‘Nor can I, to tell the truth.’

  ‘And letting her stay in your house.’

  But that, Clemency shrugged her shoulders at. ‘That at least, seems reasonable to me. Better than the hotel.’ She leaned back against the seat. ‘I’ve a feeling Libby was rather stretching her resources staying there.’

  ‘Probably wanted to impress you when she invited you back to her room.’ Maxine grunted, shifting around on the seat unable to get comfortable. And the journey was only starting. It was nine hours to Christchurch, where they’d stay the night, then get on another train to go over the Pass to the West Coast. Just the thought of the trip made her grouchy. ‘Well, I’m impressed with your generosity anyway.’

  There was something about Maxine’s tone that gave Clemency pause. Her brow furrowed. ‘You think I made a mistake?’

  Maxine sighed. She wanted her pipe. But she didn’t want the looks she’d get if she took it out and lit up. Okay for a man, perhaps, but she just wasn’t a man. She smoothed down the fabric of her skirt and sighed.

  ‘Maxine?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ Lifting her gaze, she looked at Clemency. ‘I want to like her – my God I do because she’d so much more suitable than Eliza, I think we can all agree on that.’ She paused.

  ‘But?’ Clemency asked. ‘I hear a but there.’

  Damn. Maybe she should buy a packet of cigarettes from the dining car. There was a long trip ahead of them and she was so nervous.

  She sighed. ‘But there’s just something about her.’

  ‘Okay,’ Clemency said slowly, drawing the syllables out. ‘But what?’

  ‘I don’t know. The way she looks at you – following you around with her eyes.’

  Clemency laughed. ‘I would have thought that was a good thing.

  Maxine shook her head. ‘She’s got that calculating look about her.’ She shifted in her seat again. Definitely she would go buy a pack of cigarettes, and damn those who might scowl at a woman smoking. ‘I mean, I can understand her looking at you with interest – you’re a good catch, and there aren’t many fish in our particular sea, if you understand.’

  Clemency understood. It had been her problem all along.

  ‘But I don’t know. We’re supposed to fall in love with each other, lose and find our hearts. When I saw Libby today, I didn’t see someone leadin
g with their heart, that’s all.’ Maxine stood up. ‘That’s all. And I’m probably wrong.’ She shrugged her heavy shoulders.

  ‘I’m going to go get some cigarettes.’

  Chapter Forty

  The ground was hard. From here she could smell the water, deep and briny and for a moment Eliza thought she was still dreaming. She’d dreamed of her mother again, and this time she was no mermaid singing love songs, her hair curling down over her shoulders. This time she’d been a harpy, screaming, eyes wide and wild, screaming at Eliza, pulling at her hair, tugging at her clothes. Pulling her down under the waves so that when Eliza opened her mouth to cry out, the water flooded in and her screams were as soundless as ever.

  Eliza rubbed at her eyes and crawled onto her knees, peering out from the makeshift shelter. It was raining and she stared stupidly up at the sky. The day before, the sun had been out, and it had been warm, the day made of blue and gold. Now it was as though that had never been, and everything was monochrome. Shades of grey. Even the green of the grass was tinted grey.

  She shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her middle. At least it was daylight out there, though. The night – that miserable, terrifying thing – was behind her. The rising sun, even behind the clouds, had chased it away. Eliza felt herself gingerly touching the tender spot on her side where she’d been kicked. A bruise had bloomed like an exotic flower in the hours since she had hidden here under a nest of bushes beside the water.

  Her dress was torn. The buttons on her bloomers had come right off, were still somewhere up there on the street. If she stood up, she’d had to hold them bunched under her skirt, or they would come down.

  Her suitcase was also gone. She’d not been able to pick it up. She’d just run. So it was gone, along with the pieces of paper in the handbag. Eliza pressed her fingers to her neck, checking for the thread around it, for her mother’s wedding ring that she kept tucked under her clothes. And breathed a sigh of relief when it was there.

  A chill breeze crawled under the branches with her and crept about there, pushing itself under her coat. She shivered, hungry and tired. She didn’t remember finally falling asleep, only crawling into the hollow nest of shrubbery, and wrapping her arms around herself, waiting for the pain and fright to ease. It must have done so at some stage, because she’d fallen into a light and distressed sleep.

  She had to get to Clemency’s house. It would be warm there, and she could have a cup of tea, and something to eat, and Clemency would be kind to her, and she would feel safe there.

  Briefly, Eliza thought about going back to Ruth and Maxine’s house. It was closer. Much closer. And her side ached, up by the kidney. Would Maxine made her go to Greymouth if she went back? Even if she was hurt?

  Eliza hung her head, her hair tangled with leaves and twigs. She thought probably Maxine would. Maybe even Ruth. She couldn’t blame them for that. They were right – you had to work to earn your way. You couldn’t just take advantage of people, getting them to feed and shelter you.

  She wouldn’t take advantage of Clemency, she promised herself. Even if Clemency did have a big house and a motor car, and plenty of nice things. Eliza would work hard. She would pay her way. Even if she had to help in the kitchen and the garden while she learned how to use the cameras. She’d do that. It would be a pleasure to shine and polish that beautiful house.

  Eliza’s bladder ached, and she scuttled in a squatting shuffle back into the bushes, pulling down her bloomers and letting loose her water in a hot stream onto the dirt. Her kidney gave a sharp wince and she opened her mouth in a round o of pain. When she was done, she drew her bloomers gingerly off and blotted herself with them, then wadded them into a tight ball and tucked them under a root. There was no point trying to wear them. They were useless without their buttons and she didn’t want to limp all the way to Clemency’s house holding them up with one hand.

  Besides, she wore her coat. She felt less vulnerable with that buttoned tightly around her. And she still had her thick woollen stockings, even if there was a run up the length of the right leg. No one would be able to tell that she didn’t have any drawers on. Eliza crawled out from under the bushes and stood up, her muscles screeching at her. She lifted a hand to her head, but her hat was gone too. She turned and glanced back under the shrubs, but she thought she’d probably lost it the night before, when the man had grabbed her. It had probably fallen to the ground then, when he’d shoved her against the brick wall. She pressed her fingers to the back of her head, lightly. There was a great lump there, and she cried out soundlessly at the sudden, bright burst of pain. Her hair was matted there, and when she took her fingers away and looked at them, they were stippled with dried blood.

  Head aching, kidney grumbling, all her muscles protesting, Eliza looked around, blinking at the morning. She saw the strange trees that grew there at the waterfront and gazed up at them for a moment. Their trunks and spiky leaves were like nothing she’d ever seen before coming to this place, and right now, they made her feel like she’d stepped into a dreamland, where nothing was quite right. A sea gull swooped across the water then, screaming out caw caw caw and making her jump.

  What time was it? Eliza had no idea. She lifted her face and sought the sun where it lurked under the thick clouds. She couldn’t find it. Instead, the rain ran down under her collar and she dropped her eyes and pulled her collar tighter around her chilled neck. Best get on with it, she thought, and turned one last glance back towards the hill behind her, where Ruth and Maxine’s house was. No, she decided again, and turned her steps to the left instead, setting out to walk the road to Clemency’s house.

  It was late, she decided, trudging along the road, head down, her stomach grumbling, feet beginning to hurt as the leather of her shoes grew wet. She tried to look at the water as she walked, but it was a different ocean today – grey and chill, the waves capped with white, cold and unfeeling as they raced across the harbour and butted against the stone wall where she walked, reaching up to splash at her, before falling away only to try and try again. Eliza gripped her coat, shivered, and kept on walking.

  Sometimes, a motor car passed her. She looked up every time, pushing her wet hair back from her face, hopeful each time that it would be Clemency in her fine dark red motor with the soft top. It would have the top up today, but it would be dry inside, and Clemency would look at her with those clear green eyes of hers, and her lips would smile at Eliza as they talked to her, and they would kiss her cold skin and everything would be better.

  She thought once that she saw Clemency’s motor car come up behind her, and she turned around on the side of the road, lifting her hand to wave at it. But her hand dropped lifeless to her side again when the motor car kept going, went right by her, despite her being certain that it was Clemency’s, heading along the road in her direction going towards the little port town where Clemency lived in the white and green house upon the hill.

  But it didn’t even slow down, and even though the top was up, and the windscreen wet with rain, Eliza could see it wasn’t Clemency driving it, so it couldn’t be Clemency’s car. She turned to face the road again, watching the long red motor car until it was out of sight, then dropping her gaze to the stones under her feet and plodded on. She sneezed, then coughed, her face dripping with rain. Her hands were wrinkled from the water, and she pulled the wet wool of her coat tighter around her chest, telling herself that she would be there soon. She would be there soon and then she would be dry, and warm, and safe.

  Chapter Forty-One

  There was a knock at the door and Libby looked up from the magazine she’d been staring at, flipping the pages, paying barely any attention to what was on them, only pretending to read the articles, while really, her thoughts were far away.

  Her thoughts were on the train with Clemency, and she found herself wishing her body was too. She wished she’d been in Dunedin longer, long enough to have established herself intimately with the small group of women – Maxine and Ruth, and Clemency t
oo, of course. Her more than anyone, and of course too, properly intimate. Then maybe, she would be on the train with them, going to their mystery destination for their mystery purpose.

  It was aggravating, she’d decided, that no more had she got to Dunedin, than Clemency had left. Tapping a fingernail on the printed page in her lap, she reminded herself pointedly where she was. In Clemency’s house, no less. Whether inviting her to stay had been only a gesture of friendliness, of sisterhood, so to speak, or not was moot. She was here, Clemency looked favourably upon her, and there had been that kiss, Libby reminded herself.

  The kiss. Libby took a deep breath, feeling the memory of the kiss all though her body.

  The knock came again, a little louder, and Libby put her magazine down on the sofa. She glanced out the window, where the wind was buffeting the trees on the lawn about as though it were some rough and tumble game getting out of control, then looked at the fire blazing merrily away in the grate. She shivered – who would want to be out and about in this weather? You’d never believe it had been fine the day before. Libby was realising the weather in this southern city was even more changeable than that in Christchurch.

  But the compensations were better here, she thought and got to her feet, holding out a hand to the flames before tapping on her heels out to the entranceway and the front door. It didn’t seem like the housekeeper or anyone was going to answer it.

  Libby pulled the heavy door open, already arranging her features in a suitable look of disinterested enquiry.

  ‘Yes?’ she said, then took a step back.

  Eliza looked at her, eyes wide and dark, hair in snaggled rattails down to her waist. Somewhere along the way, the pins had fallen out of her hair. She pushed it back with a shaking, raisin-skinned hand. This wasn’t Clemency answering the door. She shifted a little and peered behind the stranger in the soft pair of trousers and the scuffed shoes.