It certainly wasn’t shut now.
The timber floorboards creaked, a sound at odds with the usual moans of the house. This was a footstep, ever so slight. Someone was in the room with her. Edwina was sure of it. She pressed back into the pillow and waited. The surrounds were altered by the netting boundary and the weak moonlight. It highlighted the dressing table and chair, haloing the bed and her body lying within the white sheets, but the corners of the chamber remained dark and impenetrable. She rubbed at sleep-gummed eyes. There it was again. The same noise.
She sat upright, lifting the sheet to her chin. ‘Who’s there?’
Maybe it was her imagination. Jed lay on one of the wallaby hides, sleeping soundly, and although he was old, surely he’d wake and start barking if there was an intruder. But then how could the door have opened itself?
The noise sounded again. This time a soft thud. There was definitely something in her bedroom and by the direction of the sound it was over near the dressing table. As she waited, sheet clutched to her chest, the lion cub appeared. With a start Edwina watched as the animal walked silently across the floor, moving from the dark to the light, padding cautiously as if on its toes. Tail extended so that the tasselled end was obvious, the animal halted and looked upwards. The moonlight reflected onto the young lion’s face and Edwina drew back from the eerie shine in the cat’s eyes. Then the cub was moving again, circling the collie sprawled on the floor, snuffling the dog until Jed lifted his head. The cub pounced on the old animal, grabbing at his neck. Jed snarled and snapped and the baby lion growled back. Then both settled down next to each other on the wallaby hide.
‘Heavens,’ said Edwina, lying back in the pillows. Her heart was racing.
‘Did I wake you?’ Will stepped out of a shadowy corner.
‘What are you doing here?’ Edwina said sharply, sitting upright again. ‘You’ve scared me to death. You shouldn’t be here.’
‘I’ve been here most of the night, Edwina,’ admitted Will. ‘I was worried about you.’
‘I’m … I’m fine,’ she replied, drawing her knees to her chest. ‘Now, please go.’
He approached the bed, walking slowly around the perimeter, his fingers brushing the mosquito netting, rippling the material. ‘No you’re not,’ he argued. ‘Who would be?’
‘You should go. If anyone found you in here …’
Will began lifting the netting, gathering it up as if he were a fisherman hauling in his catch, the material bunched in his hands. In an instant he was ducking beneath the folds.
‘What are you doing? Stop,’ she said loudly, shifting sideways away from him.
‘Do you really want to wake the house? Your father and brother?’ Unasked, Will sat on the edge of the bed, folding his hands in his lap. ‘You’ve certainly managed to cocoon yourself in here.’ He draped the mesh so that once again it contained the sleeping space and now him.
Edwina’s breath caught in her throat.
‘Are you alright?’ asked Will. ‘I don’t mean you any harm; you know that, don’t you, Edwina?’
‘Yes,’ she answered meekly, moving carefully away from him so that the brass bedhead dug into her shoulders. ‘Please leave.’
‘Mrs Ryan was very worried.’
‘You must go. It’s, it’s just not proper, you being here.’ She felt his eyes on her and was conscious of the thinness of her nightgown.
‘I’m only here to help. Been sitting there in the corner since the house quietened I have.’ Will gestured to an undistinguishable space. ‘Must get cold in here come winter. There’s a gap over there you could fit a child through.’
‘Have you really been here for most of the night?’ The thought of a man sitting in her private room watching her unnerved Edwina.
‘Someone had to keep an eye on you. Make sure you were alright, and besides, that cranky old Scotswoman said you didn’t eat your supper.’
It was true; she’d picked at the cold cuts of mutton, the congealed fat making her dry-retch. ‘I wasn’t hungry.’
‘I don’t blame you.’ Reaching out, Will took her hand in his.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ said Edwina, only half-heartedly trying to pull away from his grasp. The heat from his touch made her heart race.
‘I know what it’s like to be flogged,’ admitted Will. ‘You try your best, and still it’s never good enough. Everything has to be their way. As if we owe them. They make us feel ashamed as if it’s our fault. But it’s not, you know.’
‘It’s different for me, Will. You don’t understand.’ She felt his breath on her skin, warm and moist.
He clutched her fingers more firmly. ‘It’s not different, Edwina, that’s the problem. That’s what we tell ourselves to survive. But the thing is, once they start hitting they usually can’t stop. They have to have everything their way, all the time.’
‘He’s never done it before,’ she sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of a hand. He was so close to her, too close. ‘Father knows, Will. He knows about the circus. The police came.’
‘The coppers? Here? Why didn’t he turn me in?’ His eyes were sharp, calculating in the moonlight. ‘Of course, because then you would have been dragged into it and the entire family involved. And we couldn’t have the Baker name associated with a petty criminal.’ Will tugged absently on the hanging netting. ‘Blood’s thicker than water, eh?’
‘You forget, Will, I was at the circus unchaperoned, dressed as a man. People will talk. I have quite embarrassed my family.’
‘And that’s why he hit you, because of reputation?’
Edwina wished he would leave, but at the same time she found herself thinking of their shared kiss in the tack room, of the whorl of his ear when she’d cut his hair. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘No,’ agreed Will, ‘you’re right; I don’t. There’s never a reason good enough to strike a woman. He’s a hard man your father. If he tells a person to jump you have to ask how high. Why would it be any different for his children when he treats his help so badly? I’ve sure earnt my keep and more. It’s probably just as well I’m not staying to dig a great bloody hole for his water. I don’t know nothing about water and wells. But I’ve heard about walls collapsing, about men dying inside. I know that much.’
‘You’re going?’ asked Edwina; his leaving brought up contradictory emotions in her.
‘He fired me. I reckon that was the easiest way to keep the coppers off the trail and get rid of me. Davidson even escorted me to the boundary. Your father was worried I’d upset those chinks he’s brought in to do the ringbarking, taking jobs away from good honest men. I don’t understand the thinking of it. Anyway, one of those chinks will dig the well. Cheaper. No complaining. That’s why your father likes Davidson so much. That’s his idea of a perfect worker – one that can’t talk back.’
‘My father’s a businessman, Will.’
‘Don’t spruik his good nature or the ability to make some jingle. He hasn’t done any favours by you, has he? And you know why, don’t you, Edwina? It’s because you’re a woman and women aren’t supposed to have wants and needs or answer back.’ He gave a wry grin and moved a little closer to her on the bed so that their bodies touched.
‘And you think we should?’ Edwina trembled. It would be very easy to simply lean into his arms.
‘Everyone’s got an opinion.’ He ran a finger along the length of her arm. Fine hairs rose in response. Edwina’s skin prickled. He simply had to leave; they’d already gone beyond the conventions of polite society. And yet …
‘We’re alike, you and I, Edwina. You know that, don’t you? Oh not with things like money, that’s for sure, although you don’t live in high style here.’ He gave a small laugh. ‘But other things. We’re sentimental – me rescuing that cub and you with your mother’s tree. I’ve watched you. You’ll spend an age searching for some trinket for it. It’s like your world is there, but that’s only because you’ve not found something better to replace it with, and you�
�re certainly not getting any help from your father, are you? We hope that our kinfolk will understand and support us, but they have their own problems, you know. I don’t blame them; I don’t blame my father for the drinking or hitting me, ’cause eventually I fought back. But I hate him for what he did to my mother.’
‘Will –’
‘You want a better, kinder life. You want something more than this. That was why you went to the circus, wasn’t it? To find something better, only you didn’t realise that at the time. It was more than just escaping your father, wasn’t it?’
‘Maybe.’ A vague sense of unease began to worry Edwina.
‘My ma once said that goodness only comes to a person if they chase it. Well, I’m chasing mine. We belong together.’
Edwina shook her head adamantly. ‘It would never work, Will. It can’t work.’
‘You went to the circus when you shouldn’t have and I was there and we met. Some things are just meant to be.’ He lay down on the bed, his head on the pillow.
‘You can’t stay, Will. I want you to leave.’
‘Do you know how long it’s been since I slept off the ground? Lie down, Edwina. Come on.’
Kicking back the bedclothes, Edwina scooped up the netting and ducked out of the bed, then ran to the far side of the room. This was wrong. Terribly wrong. Did Will really think that she would lie with him? Her head was pounding, the skin across her cheek stretched tight with pain. ‘You can’t be here,’ whispered Edwina, ‘you simply can’t be here.’
‘I’d always care for you, Edwina.’ Will spoke into the dark. ‘Always. I might not be much now, but soon I’ll be a self-made man. I’ve got prospects I have. Things will pick up. There’ll be work to be had. And once that happens, I’ll come for you. You’re not promised to anyone, are you? So what have you got to look forward to, but a life of caring for your menfolk, and when your brother marries you’ll have to care for his wife as well. Is that what you want?’
The bedsprings creaked. Edwina glanced out the door. She could sleep on the couch in the sitting room; surely he wouldn’t follow her in there.
Will had turned on his side. ‘You’re a skittish thing, aren’t you? I guess that comes from being kept here on the farm. I’ve heard your brother and father talking, I have. You don’t really think your father will find you a husband of note after what happened at the circus? I mean, you said that people will talk.’
Edwina sat near the dresser, curling her feet under the nightgown. Will was right. Once her involvement in the circus theft began circulating around the district few families would consider her possible marriage material. The way the family kept to themselves, as well as her father’s profession, meant they were removed from the community, and now she had added to their oddness by way of an action that was impossible to wipe clean. Edwina was reminded of her childhood. Of learning to write copperplate, first with a pencil and then with ink, of the deliberate, painstaking strokes required to form cursive letters, of her many mistakes and the wasted paper. Now there were no fresh pages left on which to practise. Or were there? Will wanted a new life, as she did. He cared for her and she liked him. Why should she stay on the property and wait for her father to find some stranger for her to marry when Will was offering her a way to leave?
‘Wait for me, Edwina. A month or two at the most. I’ll find us a place first so you don’t have to stay here a moment longer.’ He flipped up the netting, his boots landing on the timber boards with a loud thwack. ‘I’ll be back. Back for you, Edwina, and you don’t realise it now but you’ll be thankful for it.’
There it was: the assumption that she would simply agree and be grateful. Why did every man Edwina know feel compelled to tell her what to do?
Moments after his leaving, a low whistle, a signal of sorts, came from the orchard. As the cub and Jed ran from the room, Edwina rose quickly, shutting the door.
Chapter Twenty-two
Edwina woke the next morning groggy and sore. Her cheek ached terribly and it was difficult to open her eye. Probing the tender skin, she was suddenly wide awake at the memory of Will sharing her bed. She lay quite still, rigid with uncertainty. Heavens, she thought nervously. He’d come back during the night. He was still here, beside her. The warmth of him could be felt against the small of her back. She began to move towards the edge of the bed, inch by inch, trying not to move too fast, hoping one of the rusty springs wouldn’t squeak.
As she painstakingly made her way across the mattress she tried unsuccessfully to still her rattled thoughts, absently observing the flickering pattern of the trees on the timber floor. Outside the sound of the wind rustling the orchard leaves carried the rise and fall of a distant thumping. With the slowest of movements she lifted the bedclothes and the netting, and crept from the bed. She turned back, expecting to see Will.
‘Will?’ she said softly.
But the bed was empty, save for the lion cub and a cheeky Jed, lying top to tail on the sheets. The door was partially open, the outside brilliance a harsh awakening. The cub gave a yawn and snuggled closer to Jed, their muscles twitching in sleep. Will hadn’t returned and she was glad for it. Glad he’d not tried to take advantage, as she knew if he had she would have truly doubted her ability to control her emotions. There was an attraction there – one that she never could have imagined would take hold of her in so short a time. And yet it was strong enough to consider his proposal. For his offer was more than just an opportunity for them to be together; it was a means of escape.
The pounding of her heart lessened as Edwina shut the bedroom door so that the animals couldn’t get away, and then reached for yesterday’s clothes scattered on the floor. The shirt was spotted with blood and she cast it aside. Opening the wardrobe, Edwina sorted through her scant garments and, choosing an ankle-length skirt of beige, matched it with a clean white shirt of her mother’s. Edwina rolled the sleeves up, added a tight-fitting waistcoat in pale yellow that had been relegated to the too-small drawer, and then sat down at the dresser. She wasn’t working in the fields ever again.
Jed and Jim-jam, disturbed by the noise, jumped from the bed and began rolling around on the floor as Edwina looked at her reflection in the mirror. Eyes rimmed with darkness and crusted blood around her nose, a blue-black bruise accentuated the swelling across a cheek. The person before her was unrecognisable. As was the individual within.
Pouring water into a bowl from a pitcher on the washstand, Edwina splashed her face. She’d thought a lot about her father in the hours before sleep found her. About what Mrs Ryan knew, about the woman, Gloria Zane. She wasn’t the only one in the family to cause harm. Her father was a hypocrite.
In a drawer Edwina found scissors and with a thick thatch of hair in one hand she lifted the blades. By cutting it she would be transformed into a modern girl. A flapper – admired by many and despised by the wowsers like her father. A new woman for the new age that her father was clearly so intent in keeping her from.
But could he keep her from it any longer? For she doubted there would be a fitting suitor here in the greater district of Wywanna. And what did it matter anyway when Will Kew was offering her freedom? The hair Edwina grasped was thick and glossy. Heavy and long. People sold their hair for wigs. For money. Her fingers closed tightly around the scissors.
After a long moment, Edwina sat the cutters on the dresser. Her circumstances were not that changed. A semblance of the girl she’d been before the bite of her father’s hand, before his wrathful, nasty words, still existed. But things would never be the same between them again. And Edwina doubted her ability to forgive.
Outside, a dull, continuous thud sounded. Edwina tied her shoelaces then walked onto the verandah, meeting Mrs Ryan, who cradled a pannikin of tea. Edwina quickly closed the bedroom door on a curious cub.
‘You’re up. Good. Good. I was worried, after yesterday’s horrors. Haven’t you missed all the fun and games.’ She passed Edwina the tea, studying the rarely seen skirt with a querying gaze. ‘We
ll, aren’t you gussied-up?’ The question hung. ‘The Irish boy’s gone,’ she said with an air of good riddance. ‘Was fired yesterday. Davidson escorted him off the property. Imagine that. Gone in a flash he was, then snuck back to ask after you. Made a favourite with him you did, eh?’ Mrs Ryan stared at Edwina’s skirt. ‘I told him to skedaddle before he was caught and your father put him in for trespass. Just as well he’s gone. Can’t have a lad like that sniffing around. No good can come of that. No good.’
‘No, no good.’ Edwina took a sip of the tea.
‘Something attacked the fowls last night. If I haven’t spent the morning counting dead hens. Three. Dead as doorknobs and killed for the fun of it. I’d blame the dogs but they were all in their kennels. Feathers everywhere and mangled necks, but it doesn’t look like whatever attacked was after a feed. No,’ the cook scratched her head, ‘doesn’t look like that at all.’
‘That’s strange,’ mumbled Edwina, thinking of the baby lion and last night’s open bedroom door.
‘Well, we’ll be eating those birds regardless. A person can’t be wasting good meat like that and it was a cool night so you can be assured the meat won’t be bad. In the boiler the first one is. Soaking the others so they’ll keep another day. Lucky for you, my girl, you were poorly. The morning I’ve had. I never imagined myself a full-time chicken-plucker. My mother would say the Ghillie Dhu was up to no good. My wordy. That’s what she’d be saying.’ She coughed and spat over the edge of the veranda. ‘Elves. Troublesome they are. That’s a pretty bruise you’ll be wearing for a few days, girl.’ The cook cocked her head in the direction of the rhythmic noise. ‘That’s the Chinese your father’s got digging the well. It’s a good quarter-mile from the house. Out on the flat, straight past your mother’s tree. That headman of theirs swears there’s pure drinking water in that spot. If they find fresh water I won’t have a problem making them the odd cup of tea. No, by Saint Andrew, I’ll be right pleased to do so.’
An Uncommon Woman Page 20