Now he was on top of her, his mouth pressed on hers. Lillie wriggled but there was no way she could free herself from his grasp. He roughly pulled her jeans down and urgently spread her legs wide apart. She felt him enter her and an agonising pain shot up inside of her. She wanted to cry out, but Brad’s tongue was so far inside her mouth she could make no sound at all. Each excruciating thrust felt as though it was tearing her apart. Finally he let out a primal cry of satisfaction before moving off her to grab a cigarette. For some time Lillie lay in stunned silence. She had read about the act of making love in novels, and Sheelagh had told her about it in a letter.
My God, Lillie. Wait till you try it. If you strike the right fella it’s like taking off into space. You never want it to end.
What had just happened bore little resemblance to what Sheelagh described. It seemed more like rape than the tender moment Lillie had imagined it would be. Yet there was no way she could accuse him of forcing himself on her. After all, here she was, alone with him, having consumed enough wine to fuddle her brain. By lying on this blanket with him she had more or less given her consent, even though she had asked him to stop. Eventually she sat up and looked at the rug they’d been lying on. Ma’s tartan rug. With horror she saw it was covered in blood. Her blood. She felt so embarrassed that she scrambled up.
‘Can you move?’ she asked Brad. ‘I need to wash the blanket.’
He looked at the blood and then at Lillie. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise you hadn’t done it before.’
Oh yeah! Lillie wanted to shout. It’s something I do every day of the week!
‘That’s okay,’ she said. ‘You weren’t to know.’ She paused. ‘But I did ask you to stop.’
‘Did you? I didn’t hear. I thought you were enjoying it. In any case, there’s no way I would’ve been able to stop. You should’ve said you didn’t want to do it before we started.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘You’re probably right. It was my fault. I should’ve said.’
Stepping down to the river she placed the rug on the ground before she waded into the water. As she stood there, with the cool current splashing against her bare legs and washing away her blood, a dreadful guilt engulfed her. What would her parents think? While she wasn’t overly religious, what she had allowed to happen was a mortal sin. If she had enjoyed it, this wouldn’t seem so bad. You’re an idiot, Lillie O’Sullivan, she rebuked herself, trying hard to stop the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
After a moment Brad came down to the water’s edge, picked up the rug and waded in, washing the blood off.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
‘It’s all right,’ Lillie said. ‘But I’d like to go home now if you don’t mind.’
Out of the water they got dressed in awkward silence, packed up the picnic things and stuffed them and the rug into their saddlebags. They rode back to the homestead and put the horses back in their paddock.
‘You sure you’re okay?’ Brad asked again as Lillie walked him to his ute.
‘I’m fine. Truly I am.’
‘I’ll give you a holla,’ he said, getting behind the wheel, ‘in a day or so.’
As she watched him drive away, the tears that had been threatening started to flood down Lillie’s cheeks and she wiped them away with her sleeve. At that moment Arthur wandered out from the stables. She wished now that she had asked him to come with them.
‘You all right?’ he asked, lifting his stockman’s hat and looking at her with concerned black eyes. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘I’m not crying,’ she said. ‘I got something in my eyes riding back from the river.’
‘Ah. That’s it. Anyway, you have a good picnic?’ He looked at her wet hair. ‘And a swim?’
‘Yeah. It was great.’
Arthur helped her unpack the saddlebags. When he pulled out Ma’s wet rug she said, ‘I dropped it in the water when I was shaking the crumbs off.’
‘Ah. Easy to do.’
The way he said it, Lillie was sure he knew exactly what had happened.
Grabbing the remains of the picnic and the rug, she took them across to the homestead, where she hung the rug on the clothesline to dry. She would tell Ma the same story she told Arthur. Once she got inside the house she ran a hot bath and lay in it for some time, trying to relieve the pain between her legs.
Today she’d lost something she could never recapture. And there was no way she could tell anyone what had happened. How she had tried to stop Brad. If she did blurt that out, even to Deb, all anyone would say was that she had brought it on herself. She thought of Clara and Ronan. She couldn’t imagine Ronan hurting Clara the way Brad had hurt her. Surely all sex couldn’t be like what she had just experienced, otherwise no one would do it willingly.
Four days later Brad rang her up and said he was back on with Sally. ‘I really like you, Lillie,’ he said. ‘It’s just that Sally and I have some unfinished business.’
Thanks, Lillie wanted to shout down the line. Thanks a lot! You could’ve told me that before you stole my virginity.
But instead she said, ‘Thanks for letting me know. I hope you’re both very happy,’ and rang off. Shaking with hurt and fury, she rushed to her bedroom, flung herself on the bed and cried herself to sleep.
A few weeks later when her mother asked her why she wasn’t seeing Brad any more, she lied. ‘He’s gone away.’
And she said much the same to Ronan when he asked. But he was so involved with Clara that Lillie didn’t think he cared much about what his sister was doing anyway. It was only Deb she couldn’t fool.
‘He broke it off and he’s gone back to Sally,’ Lillie said when Deb asked her how it was going.
Deb shook her head. ‘If he’s like that, you’re better off without him.’
Lillie thought that Deb was probably right. But that didn’t stop it hurting. The sad thing was that when she looked back to when she lost her virginity, it would always be something she’d rather forget, rather than remember fondly. But then again, she supposed she wasn’t the first girl to be in that situation.
CHAPTER
38
Kathleen stood back and appraised the photographs she’d hung. She was pleased with the selection she’d chosen for this, her first exhibition. Not only was there a good representation of the Australian bush, she had also developed a few negatives from her Calcutta days.
‘I think you’ve chosen well,’ Roger Mann said, coming to stand beside her. Over the time she had been selling her photographs in his gallery she had got to like Roger very much. ‘And you’ve chosen the frames beautifully,’ he said. ‘They really show off the photographs.’
Normally Kathleen only mounted her photographs. For this exhibition she had them framed in a shop in Tamworth and was delighted with the result, although she’d had to add a bit to the price to cover the cost. She hoped that wouldn’t put people off.
‘Thank you, Roger,’ she said. ‘How many people do you think will come?’
‘Hard to say. We’ve had fifty acceptances; nonetheless, at times some just turn up. And, of course, others who say they are coming sometimes don’t.’
Kathleen tried not to feel nervous. ‘If we have fifty I’ll be more than pleased.’
He walked over to where Kathleen had placed one of her series. These photos depicted scenes along Wattle Creek Road on the drive from Eureka Park into Gullumbindy. There was one of the ruins of a timber outbuilding with weeds and a gum tree sprouting through the roof; the remains of a farmhouse burnt by the bushfires; a copse of trees around a dam and a huddle of sheep sheltering from the sun under a weeping willow. ‘I think these are my favourites,’ he said. ‘They’re so typical of the Australian bush.’ He looked towards the far wall. ‘But I do like your Indian ones as well.’
Lillie was putting up a large photograph of the river in front of Eureka Park. Kathleen had taken it on dusk and the colours reminded her of the Hooghly River in Calcutta — all
mustards and browns, with the overhanging trees reflected. She was pleased to see Lillie smiling. Although she had told her that boy, Brad Hickey, had gone away, Kathleen suspected he hadn’t and that he had dropped Lillie, causing her great sadness. But Kathleen didn’t want to pry. If Lillie wanted to tell her she would. The same as Ronan would tell her when he was ready what was happening with Clara.
‘Who’s that gorgeous boy?’ Lillie asked, pointing to one of Kathleen’s Calcutta photographs that featured a little boy sitting on an Indian Chief motorbike and laughing, his luminous dark eyes gleaming in the sun. ‘He looks as though he’s having such fun.’
Kathleen smiled. ‘His name was Sanjay. He lived in the native town on the outskirts of the city.’
‘He’s looking at someone off to the side. Who was that?’
Kathleen waited a moment before answering. ‘Oh, I don’t know … probably some other children.’
But it wasn’t other children he was looking at. Kathleen remembered so well when that photo had been taken. They had gone to the native town on the Indian. When Sanjay saw them he had rushed over, demanding to be allowed to sit on the bike. Kathleen remembered wondering whose eyes were the happiest. Sanjay’s or her squadron leader’s as he gently placed the little boy up on the seat.
‘Who owned the bike?’ Lillie asked.
Kathleen smiled. ‘Oh, just a friend of mine and Jessica’s. But come,’ she beckoned, pointing to a small pile of photos still needing to be hung, ‘let’s finish getting these up. Before we know it, it’ll be six and people will start arriving and we won’t be ready.’
The last photo she hung was the one she’d taken of Shannon Boy and Clara before Clara went back to Ireland to marry Charles Fitzpatrick. It was such a lovely photograph she had asked Clara if she could use it in the exhibition.
‘Of course, Aunt Kathleen. I just wish I could come down for your big night, but I can’t get time off from my job. It’s only the dentist and me. If I’m not there he’d have to shut up shop. And it’s such a pity Ronan’s away on work experience on that property out west. He’s devastated he’s going to miss it.’
Kathleen smiled as she looked at the photograph. Having blotted his copybook when he first went down to Tommy Brown, Shannon Boy had now more than earned his keep. In fact he had won his last two races. He’d even won a Group One race at Rosehill, and the whole family and Clara, who had come down for the weekend with Ronan, had yelled and screamed at the television set to urge him on, celebrating afterwards with flutes of champagne. Soon after that win Tommy Brown had rung up with an offer from another of his owners to buy him. For days Kathleen and James agonised. Finally they decided to let him go. In a way Kathleen had said goodbye to him when he went down to Burra Lodge, knowing he was unlikely to come back to Eureka Park. If they took the offer they could watch his progress from a distance and still feel very proud of having produced him. And know that the money they got for him could be put back into Eureka Park in order to produce more great foals. Much as she missed Shannon Boy, Kathleen had a feeling that Finn would have agreed they had made the right decision.
She smiled as she imagined him laughing and saying, ‘You can’t get too attached. If you do you’ll stuff up all my work. Yours too.’
Straightening the photograph, she looked at her watch. She stepped over to where she had left her handbag, picked it up and went to the bathroom to freshen up her lipstick and run a comb through her hair before the guests arrived. Looking in the mirror Kathleen could see there was certainly a lot more grey in her hair now, but she didn’t mind. In fact she quite liked it. She wasn’t so sure about the deep wrinkles around her eyes, despite James telling her they were smile lines. And with Shannon Boy’s contribution to the stud, and now with her first exhibition about to begin, she had been smiling a lot more lately. With one last look in the mirror she left the bathroom and went to greet James, Marcus and Freddie who she could hear arriving. Then she saw Lorna and Brian Medlow. And Father Fogarty. And the Hogans. How lucky she was to have such good friends, who had made the trip up to Tamworth for this.
By eight o’clock it was finished and the fifty-odd guests had left in a merry throng. In the corners of twenty-five of Kathleen’s photographs there were little red sold stickers.
‘Well done, darling,’ James said, handing her a glass of champagne. ‘You were a roaring success.’
‘It went much better than I thought,’ she laughed. ‘I was awake most of last night imagining I wouldn’t sell any.’
‘Did you see that woman talking to Lorna and me earlier?’ James asked as they stood before a beaming Sanjay sitting on the motorbike. Even it had a red sold sticker.
‘Yes,’ Kathleen said. ‘She’s that friend of Dawn’s. Winifred Black. I was surprised to see her here. I would have come over but she was gone before I could.’
‘She didn’t stay for long. As soon as I went up to talk to Lorna she made as if to leave. But before she did she stopped and beckoned as though she wanted to say something to me privately. Then she seemed to change her mind. Just said that Finn had talked to her about his days in India. And that he had known you when you were there.’
‘So she knew you were a friend of his. And had taken over Eureka Park.’
‘Evidently.’
‘She didn’t say anything else? I mean about seeing him before he died?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘All very strange,’ Kathleen said.
‘Yes,’ James said. ‘It is a bit.’ He put his arm around her and smiled as he looked at the motorbike in the photo. ‘That was certainly some bike. I don’t think I’ve ever seen another Indian.’
Kathleen shook her head. ‘Neither have I.’
As she said that, she wondered what had happened to it. Was it still in India? She also wondered about Winifred Black. Why had she come all this way to Kathleen’s exhibition if she didn’t want to talk to her or to James, knowing they had taken over Eureka Park after Finn’s death? After all, Dawn had asked her to look out for him.
* * *
It was an unseasonably cold December night when James glanced around the table at his family and thought how blessed he was. It was now over four years since the family had arrived at Eureka Park. Lillie had completed her Leaving Certificate and, although she wouldn’t get her results until the New Year, she thought she had done quite well, particularly in English literature. Marcus had always been their difficult child, but the Christian Brothers seemed to be settling him down. And Freddie was just Freddie, growing at a rapid rate, but still the fun-loving boy he always was. He looked at Ronan, who had grown into such a fine young man; he had finished university and would officially graduate early next year, was playing rugby for the local team and had already started work at Dalgety’s in Armidale, where he was still living in digs with Dave, Clara and two other students. He was enjoying travelling to a number of different properties in the area to give advice on stock and machinery.
‘He’s a bloody good bloke you’ve got there,’ the manager had told James last time he went in to see him about a new tractor. ‘Works damn hard and gets on well with the locals. Would think he was a local himself.’ He’d then laughed. ‘Well … I suppose you lot are regarded as locals, eh!’
This evening James noticed Ronan fidgeting nervously at the table. Then his son stood up.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please,’ he declared in a mock announcer’s voice. ‘Order!’
Everyone stopped talking and stared at him.
‘We’ve waited a long time to make this announcement.’
‘What announcement?’ Freddie asked excitedly.
Ronan smiled, gazing down at Clara. ‘I’d like to introduce you to my future wife. The most beautiful girl a man could ever hope for. I think I’ve loved her from the moment I first set eyes on her when we were five years old and she used to steal my chalk in the nursery at Rathgarven.’
James tried not to show his shock. Although he had a fair idea that Ronan and
Clara were an item, he’d had no inkling it was this serious. His first thought was of Jessica. How would she cope? How would James cope with her response?
‘Wow! That’s fantastic,’ Freddie exclaimed with joy, pushing his seat back and rushing over to them. ‘I knew you should marry Clara.’ He looked at Clara’s finger. ‘Where’s the ring?
‘We’re choosing it tomorrow,’ Ronan said.
Even Marcus, who was normally laidback, grinned as he sauntered over to give Ronan a pat on the back and Clara a warm embrace. ‘Gees, you two! That’s awesome.’
‘Gosh, how exciting,’ Lillie said, going around to congratulate them both. ‘I’m really happy for you.’
Now Kathleen smiled at James before she went over and embraced Ronan and Clara heartily. ‘Darlings, that’s wonderful.’
Finally James stood and moved around the table to shake Ronan’s hand. ‘Congratulations to you both. And welcome to the family, dear Clara,’ he added, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Thank you, Uncle James,’ she beamed. ‘I’m so happy to be part of you all. And so will Mummy.’
I’m not so sure about that, James thought. He had a strong suspicion Jessica would be furious Clara had given up a life at Drominderry House and all it entailed, particularly for Jessica herself, to marry Ronan. After Clara had phoned her mother to let her know she was back at Eureka Park, Jessica had written to Kathleen to say how disappointed she was they hadn’t sent her straight home to undo the damage she’d done by flitting off and letting Charles Fitzpatrick down.
‘Honestly,’ Kathleen had said when she read the letter to James, ‘she really is the pits at times. How does she think we can send Clara home?’
Now James looked at Kathleen’s happy face. Although she’d been annoyed with Jessica for only thinking of herself when Clara had broken off her engagement, she was sure to be pleased to have her friend as part of their family. Now more than ever James would have to keep Jessica’s threats a secret.
‘Have you told your mother yet?’ he asked Clara.
The Homestead on the River Page 33