Wife to Order: An Australian Outback Romance

by Lucy Walker

  ‘Why have you done this, Harry? It wasn’t only because Uncle Tam was sick, was it?’

  ‘No, Carey girl, it wasn’t.’ He took out his packet of tobacco and began to roll himself a cigarette.

  ‘Then why?’ asked Carey again.

  ‘I like your man, Carey. I told you that once before. I like Oliver Reddin. He’s a man any other man would have a lot of respect for. I think maybe he’s a bit hard round the region of the heart.’ He looked up quickly then went on with the business of making a cigarette.

  Carey found herself looking with a kind of dull fascination at the thinning spot on the top of his head. One day soon Harry would have a really bald spot there. What a pity! And yet he was too nice to grow old early. When he wore a hat he looked much younger because it covered up the receding hairline at his temples and his thinning hair on the top of his head.

  She was too numbed to think of anything else but the fascination of those fine fair hairs that just covered the crown of his head.

  Harry looked up again and smiled.

  ‘I like my Carey, too. She’s a girl that needs a lot of love. You know, like a hothouse plant needs warmth and water. So I reckoned I’d take you back to Wybong where you’d get plenty of that.’

  ‘Oliver never shows his feelings,’ Carey said. ‘Supposing inside he does love me …’ Wishful thinking, but she had to say it. Anyhow it was too late now … after what she had said.

  ‘In that case,’ said Harry, poking the tobacco into its cover with a match stick, ‘he’ll come after you.’

  The last words startled Carey. There was a long silence.

  ‘Supposing he doesn’t come after me? They’re very proud, the Reddins …’

  ‘Then they can keep their pride in splendid solitude and we’ll keep you. You’ll get over it, Carey. People always do. Funny, but love is the most fickle of all the emotions. You take friendship now. Just plain, everyday, backyard friendship …’

  ‘Supposing he does come?’

  ‘He can have you back if he comes because he loves you. If it’s to save that Reddin pride, old Harry Martin will soon know. I can pick pride as quick as I can pick a good brumby, and Oliver Reddin can pick a thoroughbred.’

  ‘Harry,’ Carey asked quietly. ‘Why is everybody running my life now? Uncle Tam … when he left me at Two Creeks. Oliver. You …’

  Harry leaned back in the carriage corner and puffed smoke rings towards Carey. When he blew a good one he could see Carey’s face framed in it. It was a lovely face, gentle yet with a firmness about her round chin. Just now her blue eyes were wide and a little sad.

  ‘Well, love,’ he said, with a quiet smile, ‘sooner or later there had to be a reckoning. We let you run us all, back there at Wybong, but that was really because men like to have a pretty girl managing them. Specially when she did it in the artful-artless way Carey Fraser did it. She had to learn some day she could only rule her kingdom up there in Wybong because her subjects let her rule it. And because they liked it. Sooner or later she had to find out that underneath they were running her. You see, it suited everyone to have things ship-shape, and Carey Fraser was the one to do it … because she was so sweet and lovable about it.’

  Harry turned and shed a little ash in the ash-tray on the arm rest of his seat.

  ‘Things weren’t planning out too well for Carey down there at Two Creeks. So we had to come out in our true colours. We had to come and do a little running of Carey in the open.’

  ‘We?’ asked Carey in a subdued voice.

  ‘Uncle Tam and I. Uncle Tam first. “Get down there to Two Creeks, Harry, and see how things are going with my lass. If she’s good and happy put in a gang to clean up that farm for her and let her be. If she’s not … bring her home”.’

  ‘Then he’s not sick at all?’

  ‘Well … he told me he was. You know what Uncle Tam is, Carey? Maybe he was and maybe he wasn’t. He was never one for doing things the direct way.’

  Harry grinned, then went on:

  ‘Who am I to question a good honest man so much older than myself, and whose motives towards his niece were of the very highest order?’

  Carey’s back stiffened.

  ‘Harry! You deceived me. You know I would never have come if I hadn’t thought Uncle Tam was sick, and needed me.’ Harry’s face sobered and he blew another smoke ring.

  ‘Wouldn’t you, Carey?’ he said quietly. ‘Sooner or later … wouldn’t you have come home?’

  At Two Creeks, dinner over, Millicent sat in one of the small arm-chairs of Oliver’s study and read the mail while Oliver went through some accounts at his desk.

  ‘You would have a better light if you went into the drawing-room, Millicent,’ Oliver said without looking up.

  ‘It’s too quiet in the drawing-room,’ Millicent replied. ‘There’s more company here.’

  Oliver looked up then and Millicent met his eyes.

  ‘You shouldn’t have let her go,’ Millicent said with sudden vehemence. ‘What do you suppose people will say? You should be President of the Shire Council unopposed. People expect it. What will they think about your wife going away like that before they’ve even met her? You need her, and the whole Shire needs her. They expect the president’s wife to play a part …’

  ‘That had nothing to do with feeling lonely sitting in the drawing-room by yourself. You have been doing that for much of your lifetime,’ Oliver interrupted abruptly.

  Millicent moved her position in her chair with a gesture of irritation.

  ‘Well, after a house party things are always a little dull.’

  ‘You used to be pleased when people went home so that you could have a rest … and put the homestead in order again.’

  Millicent stiffened and assumed an expression of pained patience.

  ‘I don’t wish to have an argument with you, my dear brother. You should not have let her go. That is my last word; except to say that I’m very surprised at a man like Harry Martin placing Carey in such an ambiguous situation.’

  ‘So you didn’t find him so hard to accept, after all?’

  Millicent flushed, a very unusual demonstration of feelings for her.

  ‘My opinions do not matter with you these days, Oliver. What does matter is the good name of the Reddins. It is outrageous to think your wife appears to have so little interest in the affairs of the Shire that she goes away at a crucial time, even before people in the district have had time to call on her.’ She paused. Then she went on: ‘Furthermore, there will be no one here to receive your guests at the gymkhana and the polo season …’ Millicent took in a deep breath. She changed her tone somewhat before she added: ‘Carey is much more capable than I guessed at first. She could have managed the duties very well. Her manner is very good. Quite charming, in fact.’

  Oliver appeared to go on with his work and did not answer. Millicent made a half-angry, half-exasperated movement as she gathered together her letters, some of which were on her lap and some on the small table beside her.

  ‘I have an urge to see this Wybong myself,’ she said at length. ‘If Jane can afford to satisfy her curiosity, so can I. Furthermore, any visit I might pay there would serve to mitigate against gossip that might arise from Carey leaving her home with ‒’ Millicent’s voice faltered ‒ ‘with Harry Martin,’ she said. She had gathered her mail into one hand now and she stood up. ‘I’m going to my room,’ she added. ‘You are no company, Oliver. You live the life of a judge … sitting there behind your table. And I’m afraid your judgment is academic and has no relation to the realities of life. You deal in problems and not in people.’ She moved towards the door. ‘If I have to stay a few more days in this empty echoing house I might as well spend them in the solitude of my own room,’ she finished with a touch of bitterness.

  She walked slowly to the door as if hoping that Oliver would say something. At the door she turned and opened her mouth as if to make one last sally. When she saw her brother’s face she stopped.

&nb
sp; ‘I’m half inclined to go with you myself,’ he said quietly. He paused, then added, ‘I also would like to see this … Wybong.’

  ‘To see Wybong, and not Carey?’ asked Millicent curiously.

  ‘I would like to see just exactly what it is in Wybong that so attracts Carey. Other than Harry Martin, of course.’

  He noticed that Millicent winced.

  Yes, it was the kind of blow at Reddin pride he should not let pass. He understood Millicent’s feelings. He passed his hand over his face as if suddenly tired.

  ‘I feel as if I have been in some kind of a daze; as if I have not been seeing clearly.’ He stood up abruptly. ‘You are quite right, Millicent. It was extremely bad judgment on my part allowing Carey to go … without me. I can’t understand myself. I don’t like to be found at fault in matters of judgment. I have a certain pride in being accurate in my summing up of situations. I could have given an honest opinion about those horses, and then gone to Wybong with them.’

  Millicent already had her free hand on the door. She looked at her brother in surprise.

  ‘You actually think you were wrong in letting them go … like that?’

  There was an expression in Oliver’s eyes that inexplicably touched Millicent’s heart.

  ‘As you have said, Millicent, I am an academic judge of people, and not a practical one. I spend too much time examining the facts, and not the motives …’

  ‘You think people might talk?’ Millicent asked uneasily as if Oliver thinking this gave much more cause for alarm than if she thought it herself.

  He lifted his hands in a gesture then let them fall to his side.

  ‘That is beside the point,’ he said with a touch of his old reserve. ‘We will leave in the morning. We will overland by car. Will you let Hannah and Cook know? And telephone to see that Mother will be all right for another week?’

  Millicent was so relieved she suddenly looked ten years younger.

  ‘It’s a long way. We’d better leave early. It might take us three days if the roads are bad. I’d better find out about hotels.’ Both her voice and step lightened as she went through the door.

  Oliver listened to her receding footsteps and then sat down again. His pen traced small patterns on the blotter in front of him, his mouth had the drawn white line around it, and the small muscle worked in his cheek.

  As Millicent had said … the house echoed an accusing silence around him. Yet in every room, in the hall and passages, there was a flitting ghost of a young girl who always smiled. Around her was an aura of happiness, of sound and laughter.

  He was very alone in the silence of his study.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was late afternoon, an hour before sundown when Oliver drove the big overlanding car into Wybong.

  For quite a long time he and Millicent had been silent. They hadn’t known there would be bitumen all the way to Wybong. Oliver’s road map was three years old and it showed a gravel track for a hundred miles west of the dust bowl. They had expected at least another day on the road.

  In the commercial room of the hotel in which they had stayed last night he had seen a recent pastoral map tacked to the wall. It showed Wybong in heavy black type.

  He turned to an agent who was sitting at a table making out his day’s orders.

  ‘Since when?’ Oliver asked, putting his finger under Wybong.

  The man looked up.

  ‘Oh, since uranium and oil joined the gold in the district outback of the town,’ he replied. ‘’Bout three years, I think.’

  The man grinned. ‘Suppose you thought the world ended at the Victorian border, hey?’

  The bitumen highway ran right through Wybong, cutting it in half as neatly as a bisected circle.

  Civilisation after eighty miles of bush scrub began with some old shanties, then shortly changed to wood and iron bungalows resplendent in modern paints and begirdled with shrub gardens.

  ‘Must be water here,’ said Millicent. ‘Those gardens …’

  ‘Outback towns always rise on water-holes or a permanent creek bed,’ Oliver said shortly.

  ‘Good heavens,’ said Millicent. ‘Look at those buildings. And the shops. Very modern.’

  Oliver said nothing.

  ‘We’ve passed one hotel. Quite pleasant and new, it looked. I suppose it is better to stop at one nearer the centre of the town? Oliver, what do you suppose that place is? It’s more imposing than our own Shire offices.’

  ‘The carving over the doorway says “Public Library”.’

  ‘In the middle of the desert! Good gracious me!’

  ‘I imagine that very big modern building on the rise of the hill over there is the high school,’ said Oliver dryly.

  ‘But we haven’t even got one in Preston.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d better do something about catching up with Wybong when I’m in office,’ Oliver said.

  There was a curious note in his voice and Millicent looked at him sideways.

  Her brother was smiling … actually smiling.

  Millicent swallowed. Well, of course, if she had been wrong she would be the first to admit it.

  Oliver swung his car to the side of the road and parked it alongside the kerb. He judged he was dead centre of the town and the hotel on the left looked a good one.

  He got out of the car, walked round and opened the door for Millicent and then took their two cases from the back. He followed Millicent into the lobby of the hotel.

  The farther north they had driven the hotter it had become. Two hundred miles back Oliver had taken off his coat and thrown it on to the back seat. He left it there. He could see and feel he wasn’t going to need any coat in Wybong.

  As they entered the hotel they walked into a cool draught of air.

  ‘Air conditioned!’ said Millicent, startled.

  ‘Seems like it,’ said Oliver. He nodded to a desk partially hidden by an array of palms. ‘I think we register over there.’

  He put the cases down and walked towards the desk. A middle-aged man greeted him with a pleasant smile.

  ‘Can I do anything for you, sir?’

  ‘I’d like two rooms, one for my sister and one for myself. We haven’t booked …’

  ‘That’s all right, sir. We accommodate through travellers. Would you please sign the register.’

  He turned away to take two keys from the rack. When he turned back he swung the register round and quickly read the signature there.

  ‘Your cases will be taken through for you, Mr. Reddin,’ he said smoothly. ‘Your rooms face the south and will be cooler. There’s hot and cold water … Say!’ He stopped and looked at Oliver with greater interest. ‘I’ve heard that name before. You been here before, sir? No! By crikey … that’s the name young Carey Fraser married. You wouldn’t be related? To a girl in our town, sir?’

  ‘The same family,’ said Oliver. ‘Did you say there was hot and cold water in the room? If my sister goes to her room now is it possible for her to get some tea?’

  ‘Certainly, sir. Room service any hour of the day or night.’ He leaned round Oliver to speak to Millicent. ‘Just lift your bedside telephone, miss. Order anything you like. That is, unless you’d like to go to the Espresso lounge. Through that glass door, right of the dining-room.’ He turned back to Oliver. ‘Very pleased to have you with us, sir. Anyone related to Carey Fraser is always welcome in this town.’

  ‘You know her?’ asked Millicent as if she had to ask the question and could only just bring herself to do so.

  ‘Know her? I’ll say I do. Carey always does the flowers when the Rotary Club or Legacy or the Returned Soldiers have their big dinners here. They reckon they wouldn’t have any dinner if Carey didn’t do the decorations.’ He broke off and gave a lugubrious smile. ‘That is until she went away and married into your family, miss. Your gain’s our loss I can tell you …’

  ‘How do you grow flowers in this climate?’ asked Millicent disbelievingly.

  ‘All the big stations have g
ot gardens. Shade-houses, too. Down round the Olympic swimming-pool there’s big gardens and shade-houses. We’re never without flowers in Wybong.’

  ‘Round the what?’ said Millicent.

  ‘The swimming-pool. Olympic distances. You know, hundred and ten metres long. Oh, sorry sir …’

  Oliver had turned away.

  ‘Would you like some tea right away, sir?’

  ‘No thank you,’ Oliver said shortly. ‘I’m going out. Millicent, you would probably like to remove some of the travel stains and have a rest. I will see you later.’

  ‘All right, Oliver. Don’t hurry back.’ Millicent turned to follow her case now being carried by a porter and Oliver went through the main entrance again.

  Out in the street he stopped and looked up and down its length. There were several big cars outside the stores. An ancient spring-cart drawn by a dapper young mare rattled past. A young girl and boy went past on horses and a minute later an outsize station-wagon purred along resplendent in blue enamel and chrome fittings.

  The men in the street ranged from some bow-legged stockmen weathered an earth brown by a lifetime exposed to sun and wind to some extremely well-dressed men, all coatless but wearing spotless long-sleeved white shirts with reticent ties.

  ‘The business executives,’ Oliver thought, summing them up.

  The women were hatless, wore attractive sun-dresses showing bared neck and arms.

  ‘Gold gipsy ear-rings are all the go in Wybong apparently,’ thought Oliver.

  He crossed the street and walked a hundred yards until he came to a tea-shop.

  Inside it was cool, and almost empty. Rather a late hour for afternoon tea to attract the citizens, he thought. He sat down at a table and when a waitress came to him he ordered tea and sandwiches.

  ‘You a stranger here?’ the girl asked when she came back with her tray. She was slim, dark-haired, with curious but friendly eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ Oliver said. ‘Do you know whereabouts a Mr. Tam Fraser lives in Wybong?’

  ‘Certainly I do,’ the girl replied as she deftly set the table with a mat, plate and knife and began to dispose the teapot, milk and sugar in a semi-circle around them. ‘Everyone knows old Tam Fraser. Owns a place called Stockmen’s Rest right at the top end of the street. Turn left when you go out. Last place in town. Can’t miss it because there’s a big pepper tree over the gate and you’ll see the stockmen sitting about under the trees. There’s a whole gang in town right now from Cartheroo station. Old Mr. Tam lives at the pub opposite these days but now Carey’s home he’s back at the old homestead. You like me to pour your tea, mister? Or you like to do it yourself?’ Until now she hadn’t drawn a breath. Oliver was as much fascinated by her stream of words as by the fact she was able to direct him to Tam Fraser’s house.