by Lucy Walker
Also she was rather touched by the fact that Oliver had included Tony in the arrangement although there had been some fireworks between Oliver and Hannah and the Wacketts about finding Tony some suitable clothes, bathing him and snipping off bits of hair that were too shaggy to be tolerated at Mount Macedon. Tony had objected at first, but finally when he realised that it was a compliment to be invited out to such an occasion he succumbed to the combined ministrations of the kitchen and stable staffs.
He sat, during the long but fast drive into the mountains, between Carey and Oliver in the front seat of the great car.
Carey wore the new silk dress that had come that afternoon, and the new black suede shoes that, though they looked as dainty as her other pair, were more comfortable because the heel, though slim, was not quite so high. All the same, she reflected, she would not want to walk seven hundred miles in them.
She knew now that all this business of dining with Oliver, staying with Mrs. Cleaver for a fortnight, and then getting married, was as much because she didn’t have a penny or sixpence in her purse as because her shoes had been too high-heeled to let her escape across the paddocks as Tony had done. She would have died rather than ask Oliver, or Hannah, or the Wacketts for a loan.
Some inner instinct told her that marrying Oliver was the sensible thing to do to put everything in order. It settled the matter of her father’s farm which under the will Oliver had to administer; of Uncle Tam who wanted to live at the hotel where he had no more domestic troubles, and of Oliver who wanted someone to care for Tony and to settle the problem of when he would marry and who he would marry. Sooner or later he would have to have a wife … for convenience sake.
Inside her all the little pieces of jigsaw puzzle that made up her life and Oliver’s life, Tony’s and Uncle Tam’s lives, slid into place with perfect patterning.
She was very young, yet she had the confidence of a young girl who had had to manage a sick man, a foolish uncle and all the itinerant stockmen who had used Uncle Tam’s house and paddock as a stamping ground for themselves and their mounts when they came into town after the pay-off.
The only thing she did not visualise, and did not attempt to visualise, was what happened next … after the wedding ring was slipped on her finger and she changed her name for Oliver’s name.
She told herself it meant looking after Tony, and keeping Millicent from running Two Creeks against Oliver’s will.
Up the gullies and round hairpin bends the great car swept, and eventually pulled in to a stop outside the Log Cabin. The conversation had been negligible though several times Oliver had made some comment about the pasturage, the flocks, or the state of the fences of pastoral properties that flanked the road on either side. He took the Great Dividing Range, with its blue mountains, its sharp gullies and its sudden vistas of sprawling plain so much for granted he did not realise the awe and wonder with which it filled Carey. He accepted her silence as part of his idea of her as an inexperienced outback girl who probably had had no training at all in the arts of light conversation.
Tony, irritated by his collar and tie and the fact that his hair was plastered and greased down on to his head as never before, was silent from sheer frustration.
At the Log Cabin Oliver got out of the car when a man came forward and opened the door for Carey.
The chill of the evening mists curled around their ankles as the mists themselves curled around the mountain top then drifted down to fill the valley below with beds of cloud-like cotton-wool.
Inside, however, a great log fire was burning. The dark wooden tables were set with coloured striped cloths and the cottage chairs standing around put the last rural touch to the cabin.
Oliver selected a table by the window overlooking the valley. Already night was closing in so that all they were likely to see through the window were the stars beyond the mountain peaks.
He consulted the menu and ordered the dinner, then he turned at last to Carey and Tony. He looked from one to the other.
‘I believe he thinks we are both children,’ thought Carey.
Underneath his brusque manner he must be a kind man, though. A cruel man would have turned both herself and Tony away, and would have sold the farm as it stood. She felt a little warming of gratitude towards him because of his sense of honour in dealing with responsibilities that had been wished on him by other people.
However, he quickly dispelled this illusion.
‘The first thing you will have to do, Carey,’ he said across the table, ‘is teach Tony some table manners. With those he is wearing to-night we are not likely to enjoy our meal.’
‘I’ve seen worse table manners than Tony’s,’ said Carey truthfully and loyally. ‘Nobody round Wybong gives the wandering stockmen cups and saucers because they always drink straight from the billy …’
She broke off because Oliver was looking at her with an odd expression in his eyes. Suddenly she remembered Uncle Tam telling him she had been reared gently … as a lady. She remembered the glamour clothes, the hair set, the manicured hands and painted fingernails with which she had arrived at Two Creeks. Uncle Tam had deceived him, and Oliver Reddin knew it. He thought she too had been party to this deceit but was so inept about it she kept giving herself away. This was the second time she had done it.
Oliver Reddin broke straight into another subject without any comment on what Carey had just said.
‘I will take you into Melbourne to-morrow,’ he said in a businesslike way, as if the whole matter of preparing Carey for marriage … and marrying her … was the same thing as a business undertaking. ‘We will go straight to Mrs. Cleaver’s house. I have already been in touch with her by telephone and she understands the whole situation.’ He paused. ‘It is not a very unusual one, you know. Up north arranged marriages are quite the thing. A shortage of girls … up there …’
‘But there isn’t a shortage of girls down here,’ said Carey quickly. ‘There’s Jane. You know, Millicent’s friend …’
The smile in Oliver’s eyes hardened.
‘If you are thinking of that conversation between my mother and sister you might remember some implication that there was a shortage of girls down here who could milk cows and do farm chores around the place. Jane, when you meet her, will convince you with one glance she doesn’t qualify there.’
‘Do I qualify?’ asked Carey.
‘I’d call Tony a very solid farm chore,’ Oliver said, looking at the boy.
Tony was spooning his soup the wrong way. He ignored Oliver’s remarks. Carey wondered if this was perhaps the proper and most effective way for a small boy to defend himself. There was a great virtue in silence. She had learned that long ago in Wybong. She decided to resort to it as a tactic on all possible occasions.
The waiter was bringing the fish course now so Carey gave it her full attention and left the direction of conversation to Oliver.
For quite a long time he too was silent. Then suddenly, and once again in a businesslike manner, he took up the subject of Mrs. Cleaver and Melbourne.
‘I want you to put yourself entirely in Mrs. Cleaver’s hands, Carey. As a matter of fact I feel you are wise enough and … shall we say inexperienced enough …’ this with a touch of irony, ‘to know that it is the best thing. She will tell you exactly what is expected of you. She will arrange your clothes and your outings. When she thinks the time is suitable she will take you to Cranston in the St. Kilda Road. That is our Melbourne house. My mother and sister are returning there the day after to-morrow. The wedding will be arranged from the church of which the family have always been parishioners; and the reception will be at Cranston. We will remain at Cranston for several days, and then I’m afraid we will have to return to Two Creeks. The racing season is just beginning and I have been pasturing several racers. I have to be on the property.’
Carey ate her fish with care, nudging Tony when he picked up the wrong knife or fork, and by using her eyes directed him to the right ones. If Oliver noticed this un
spoken conversation going on between the young boy and the girl he proposed to make his wife, he said nothing. Neither did Tony. He jogged Carey’s foot in response to let her know he understood there was some kind of conspiracy between them. And that Oliver Reddin was not included.
Carey, with her quiet inward smile, thought Oliver was probably surprised she knew herself which knife and fork to use and when.
Uncle Tam was right in spite of what Mr. Reddin thought. She had been taught proper social usage at Wybong. Mr. Reddin did not know that the local Rotary … local Pastoralists Association had their monthly dinners in the big room at the back of the hotel and that she, Carey, always helped. Her father had been a gentleman, and a pastoralist, in his days of good health himself. Mr. Reddin seemed to have forgotten that.
Now she had to be sent to Mrs. Cleaver to learn to be a lady! Carey hoped very much that she would get on with Mrs. Cleaver.
Oliver had taken out his pocket-book.
‘To-day is October the third,’ he said. ‘On Thursday October the sixteenth I will call for you at Mrs. Cleaver’s house. I will take you home to Cranston. We will be married on Saturday, October the eighteenth.’
With an unexpected thud of her heart Carey saw that the wedding wasn’t something in the distant future at all. When dates were given it made it all very near. She had a sudden panicky feeling. She did not look up at Oliver but rather down at Tony sitting beside her. The small boy looking up saw the bleak expression in her eyes. He jogged her left foot with his right foot to let her know he was there; that he understood and that between them they would thrash out all difficulties.
Oliver sensed the contact between the two and he put down his pocket-book and looked at them.
‘Carey,’ he said quietly. ‘You do know what getting married means?’
Her eyes flew up to meet his.
‘Yes, of course, Mr. Reddin. I’ve seen lots of people married at Wybong.’
‘Would you please call me Oliver. Don’t let me tell you that again. And I think the sooner you forget what you saw and learned at Wybong the better. You are in a different tract of country now.’
‘Yes, I do know, Mr … Oliver. The paddocks are so green and they’re not so big …’
‘And the people are different.’
‘Oh yes, the people are different,’ agreed Carey. But she was careful not to say that in an argumentative way. Oliver Reddin was not a man with whom one argued. Besides, she had seen where arguing had led her Uncle Tam. Now, if Uncle Tam had only learned to keep quiet at the right moments! Like Tony, for instance.
The roast duckling and apple-sauce was before them now. Tony had been served with a drum-stick and he was about to pick it up in his fingers when Carey nudged him with her elbow. With a sigh Tony took up his knife and fork instead.
Carey looked up to see if Oliver had noticed. His eyes were studying her with a strange look of concentration.
‘Do you think you could grow up in two weeks, Carey?’ he asked, with a slight touch of exasperation.
‘I grew up a long time ago,’ she said. ‘I just don’t look like it on my outside. But inside …’
‘Yes. I wish I knew just exactly what does go on inside that head of yours.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Carey said quietly.
Oliver looked startled.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Carey repeated. She bent her head and paid attention to the duckling.
‘The young can sometimes be very wise,’ Oliver said unexpectedly.
‘Am I wise?’ Carey asked, pleased.
‘Very,’ he said with a sudden sternness. ‘You are wise enough to marry me without making a fuss about it. You will be looked after for the rest of your life.’
‘And my farm will be looked after, too,’ said Carey. ‘You will be able to open up the racing paddock and run your horses right through my place, too, won’t you, Oliver?’
His eyes studied hers for quite a long time. He shook his head slightly as if rejecting an unwanted thought.
‘That would be to the advantage of us both, Carey. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I figured it out,’ said Carey.
‘We all figured it out,’ said Tony. ‘Me and Tim Wackett, too. You could train ’em for the Melbourne tracks on a long run like that, Mr. Oliver.’
‘I’ll have something to say to you and Tim Wackett when I see you down at the stables in the morning, young man. For the time being get on with your meal, and speak when you are spoken to. Moreover, if you touch Carey’s foot again I’ll put you outside.’
Anger had settled in his eyes and Carey wished she hadn’t raised the subject of the farm. If that was what Oliver wanted the farm for it surely didn’t matter if he said so?
‘You can have the farm, Oliver,’ she said impetuously. ‘You see, we’ll be married. And what’s mine is yours.’
Oliver’s eyes went very dark.
‘The first thing Mrs. Cleaver can do is take you to a lawyer,’ he said. ‘You will be informed that an executor is in a special category that does not permit him to make any gain personally from an estate he administers under a trusteeship. Do you understand that, Carey?’
‘I didn’t, but I do now,’ she said.
‘Good. Then when you have finished your dessert, and when Tony has resisted the temptation to lick his plate as well as his spoon we will leave. We will drive into Melbourne as early as possible in the morning.’
The evening was a fiasco, Carey thought. Yes, indeed, she must remember that silence was the only means of keeping out of trouble with Mr. Reddin. She meant Oliver. It would be easier if only he wasn’t so remote and didn’t treat her as if she was a witless child. All the same, thinking that way about the farm had been a bit witless. Why hadn’t Uncle Tam explained everything to her?
On the morning following the dinner at Mount Macedon Carey shook hands politely with Mrs. Reddin and then Millicent. Oliver was waiting outside by the big car.
‘My dear child,’ Mrs. Reddin said. ‘You must come to Cranston as soon as possible and meet Oliver’s friends. His important friends, I mean. The ones that live in Melbourne.’
‘Do have something done about your hair, Carey,’ Millicent said. ‘It’s just too sweet that way … but a little juvenile. You don’t want people to think Oliver is marrying a child. I’ll get my friend Jane Newbold to get in touch with you. She knows the very best hairdressers and the latest styles. Her hair is nearly the same colour as yours … more red in it … so I do advise you to look at her to see what perfect grooming really is. It’s an absolute must.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Carey said gravely. ‘Only Jane Newbold mightn’t want me to look like her …’
‘Oh my dear, don’t worry about that. You will never look like Jane. Not the same type at all. Ask Oliver.’
‘Yes, I will,’ said Carey agreeably, but not feeling it.
She went out through the front door and down the steps to the big car. Oliver put her case in the boot. From behind the magnolia tree Tony was peering out at the departure. Carey waved her hand.
‘That boy!’ said Millicent crossly. She had followed Carey out on to the steps. ‘Why on earth Oliver doesn’t send him back where he belongs I can’t imagine.’
At the sight of Millicent Tony’s small complacent face disappeared in the leafery.
‘Promise me you won’t send Tony away while I’m gone,’ Carey said to Oliver as she got in the car. Her face was suddenly creased with anxiety. Millicent did indeed seem to have so much authority around Two Creeks that anything could happen.
‘He is one of the reasons why I am bringing you back here,’ Oliver said. ‘Don’t worry about Tony.’
She thought Oliver’s face was a little pale this morning. He had been closeted with Millicent in the office for a long time after breakfast. Carey supposed with guileless perspicacity that Millicent had been telling him he ought to marry Jane Newbold instead of herself.
/> She wondered what Jane was really like.
In the remote fastnesses of the smoke-room of the Wybong pub Uncle Tam packed his pipe and reflected comfortably that Carey’s ingenuousness would be a pleasant prank to play on Oliver Reddin.
‘Sweet as a treacle pudding,’ he told his pipe. ‘And meek as a newborn doe. But can she handle a handful of men when there’s black thunder on their brows! Yes, Carey’ll do all right with Oliver Reddin. An’ he’ll do all right with her.’
He had just received the letter from Oliver telling him he intended to marry Carey.
This is the only solution to the problem as I see it at the moment. [Oliver had written.] It is quite satisfactory to me as I intend shortly to stand for the Presidency of the Shire Council. A wife, in this situation, is not only useful but almost a necessity. Carey is young enough to learn quickly and willingly the duties of a wife in such a position. Being a country girl she will fit in more easily with the country bred people hereabouts. I seldom use the Melbourne house.
In the meantime Carey will not only be given a good home and position in life but, and I can assure you of this, a considerate and even affectionate husband. I can see already that Carey has a great many qualities that demand affection.
I will write to you later about the details of the wedding. I’m afraid that, for the sake of my relatives, it will have to be something of a big affair in Melbourne.
Yours sincerely,
Oliver Reddin
‘That’s exactly what I meant to happen,’ Uncle Tam told his pipe again. ‘Marry ’em off.’ Then added more ruefully, ‘I wish I could pick a winner as easily in the Melbourne Cup. That reminds me.’ He sprang up and began to look in a table drawer for paper and pen. ‘That’s the first duty Oliver Reddin can do as my future nephew-in-law. He can tip me off for the cup. He breeds horses, doesn’t he? Don’t tell me he won’t know what’s going to win.’
Chapter Five