Escape to Koolonga

by Amanda Doyle

  ‘I suppose none of us is satisfied with ourselves,’ she smiled. ‘It’s a universal feminine failing. It’s five foot two, actually, by the way. I’ve always longed to be taller, and as for protectiveness, I’ve been smothered with it all my life. You take my advice and treasure those extra six inches. They can mean that one doesn’t have to fight quite so hard for one’s independence.’

  ‘Who wants independence?’ Susan shrugged. ‘It’s an overvalued commodity.’ She reached into the biscuit tin and helped herself, sank firm white teeth into the gingernut she had taken. ‘We all thought Miss Millicent would have chosen someone a little more—well, mature, to take on her responsibilities with those children. You’re a bit of a surprise, you know. To Ridd too. He almost thinks they’d be better to go back to the Homes and take their chance there, but he tells me you’re obsessed with the idea of having them.’

  Emmie flushed.

  ‘I want to give them a home, yes, that’s true. Millie was my friend, our old governess for years and years, you know. I think it’s just what she’d have expected me to do, no more, no less. It’s not a question of sacrifice on my part—I must stress that point.’ She passed the other her tea-cup, offered biscuits again from the tin. ‘I genuinely want to have those children. I think I can give them the continuity and security that Millie hoped would go on even though she herself wasn’t here.’

  ‘I see.’ Susan crossed her legs and sipped her tea thoughtfully. They were very attractive legs, long and brown and shapely. ‘Ridd gave me the impression that you were so fervent about it that you’d probably be over to get them almost immediately. I was rather surprised that you hadn’t come. I’ve been expecting you.’

  ‘I wanted to get the place in order just a little bit first, before I got in touch. I’ve only just got delivery of my car, too. And I’ve been planting out a few things. I thought it was important to get this painting done, as well, before I got them over.’ She laughed. ‘Children and the permanent variety of paint don’t mix awfully well, at least not in my experience, and I did want it all to be fresh and bright and welcoming for them when I got them back. As a matter of fact’—she hesitated only an instant—‘I did suggest to Kevin that he go on and tell you that I’d arrived and would be coming for them soon, but he—he had other things to do, and couldn’t.’

  ‘Kevin Condor? Yes, I’m sure he had,’ Susan agreed dryly. Then, after a pause, and looking absorbedly at the tip of her painted toenail, ‘How wasKevin, by the way?’

  ‘Oh, very well, really—at least so far as I would know. He’s very nice, isn’t he? Kind. He was to me, anyway, over at Koolonga. And he was very obliging driving me over here with all my stuff.’

  ‘Was that all he said? Just that he had other things to do?’ ‘More or less.’ Had there been some subtle change in that cool, disinterested voice? ‘I think that was about all. He said he’d leave it to Ridd to tell you. And I suppose he was right there. I mean, it is Ridd’s affair more than Kev’s, being the executor of Millie’s estate and all.’

  ‘That’s not why he did it, for all that, Emily.’ Sue Wensley’s eyes were hard and bright as she put down her cup and looked directly at Emmie.

  ‘He was quite sincere, if that’s what you’re questioning.’

  ‘He did it to hurt me, that’s all.’

  ‘Why would he want to hurt you, Sue? You don’t mind if I call you Sue?’

  ‘Of course not. In fact, if you’re going to be here for any length of time, I hope we can be friends. It’s nice to find another girl about one’s own age in the vicinity. You may have heard that I—lost my husband—rather precipitately—’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t easy, I can tell you, Emily, that first while of adjustment after the shock, the awfulness, the sudden emptiness and loneliness.’

  ‘No, it must be dreadful,’ agreed Emmie with feeling. ‘I can only begin to imagine it, I’m afraid. But surely you’re wrong about Kevin. I mean----’

  ‘I’m not wrong,’ Sue sighed. ‘The trouble with Kevin is that he can never forgive me for turning to other people when he wasn’t here. Well, what did he expect me to do? Try to get through it alone? There are times when one just can’t do that, and for me that was one of them.’

  ‘I’m sure he understands that, though. He strikes me as being a very understanding person. Reasonable, too.’

  ‘He understands nothing.He doesn’t even try.’

  ‘Oh, surely? I mean --- ’

  ‘Kevin’s changed,’ the other girl asserted bluntly. ‘You wouldn’t understand, Emily, because you never knew him before, but when he came back to the country he was different. Not the Kevin I’d known before. A stranger.’

  ‘Well, I suppose those new experiences would be bound to affect one, wouldn’t they? I mean, one would be bound to change just a little, going through all that.’ For some reason, Emmie found herself leaping to Kev’s defence. Who was this girl to judge? What did she know about the rigorous demands of military training in strange places, the difference in routine and environment, the pain of being parted from the person one loved? Had she no imagination, no understanding herself? Or was she being stubborn, believing only what she wanted to believe, because it made her feel more comfortable in her relationship with Riddley Fenton? Easy to say that someone had changed, when it suited you to think so, and justified your own inclinations. Poor Kev! ‘If he seems different, it will only be a surface thing, I’m sure. People don’t change basically— not when they’ve been fond of each other.’

  ‘Who said anything about being fond of each other?’ Sue Wensley’s tone was brusque. ‘Fond? What does that mean, anyway? Nothing lasts, Emily, you’ll find that out for yourself some day. Nothing endures, specially if we want it to very particularly. Nothing lasts. Life’s for living, hour by hour, and day by day. Just take it as it comes, that’s my motto. Grab what happiness you’re offered, while you can, that’s what I say now. We’re all changing, and so is life, with every minute that passes. Time doesn’t stand still, so we can’t either.’

  ‘Physically, that’s true. I can’t argue that we don’t all grow physically older, and in that sense change, with the passing of each day and the passage of time. That’s nothing more than the natural sequence of evolution itself. But not so far as our love and feelings go, Sue. It’s a state of mind as well as a physical state, love. Perhaps in Kevin’s case only the outward manifestation has been altered by his experiences. Have you thought of the possibility of that?’

  ‘My dear, you’re impossibly naive, if you really believe such nonsense. Let’s' leave it, anyway. What you think can’t make a mite of difference to anything. I was just curious to know how Kevin’s mind is ticking these days, that’s all, but I’m not actually terribly interested. One can’t go back to how things were, even if one wanted to, and I don’t want to, as it happens. Having been married, I’ve evolved a stage further than Kevin, if we’re going to talk about evolution in any sense. And now, having been forced to stand on my own feet, I’ve emerged as a person who has little time for that possessive, jealous calf-love that young men go in for—the sort that can abandon the so-called loved one to go off with the chaps in khaki just for the hell of it, little boys playing at their eternal game of soldiers. I prefer to receive only what I’m prepared to put into a relationship, and only an older man is willing to meet one on those terms, I find.’

  She must mean Ridd Fenton, mustn’t she? It certainly figured. He was the sort of man who’d find Susan’s philosophy attractive, no doubt. No ties, no commitments, just a coldblooded ‘affair’ that was conveniently suitable to both the involved parties. What a callous creature he was, if ever there was one, especially when poor Kevin was emotionally implicated, too. Ridd would need to be blind if he couldn’t see that much I Blind, and selfish. Very much the latter, most likely. She could hear his voice now, as if he were right beside her. ‘No man is worth it,’ he had said. No woman, either, in the reverse situation. Ri
dd would never tear himself to pieces over a woman. This convenient affair with Susan Wensley would suit him down to the ground. No soul- searing emotion, no entanglement from which he couldn’t easily extricate himself in a manner at which he was by now no doubt adept. And all the time poor Kevin suffered—inarticulate, miserable.

  ‘Are you sure you are being fair to Kevin?’ she persisted. She didn’t want to appear presumptuous, yet she was consumed by a burning pity for the boy.

  ‘More than fair.’ The other’s voice was brittle. ‘It’s amusing that he didn’t come on that day, though, to tell me you’d be coming for the kids. Typical. It’s his way of punishing me for getting married to Jo in the first place, I suppose. Well, what did he expect me to do? Sit around and languish when he chose to go off and play at heroes?’

  ‘The going-off wasn’t of his choosing.’

  Susan sighed.

  ‘That’s just where you’re wrong, Emily. There are a lot of things that you don’t know, so do stay out of it like a pet, will you?’ She put down her cup, stood up. At the doorway she paused, as if obliged to explain further.

  ‘Kev could have got turned down, or at least a deferment. There were medical grounds, if he’d cared to pursue them and use them to his advantage. Oh, nothing serious—a chest condition that sometimes comes on. Others have got themselves turned down for less, but he wouldn’t even try. Not even for my sake.’

  ‘I see,’ said Emmie gently, and strangely enough, it was compassion and not contempt that she felt for this lithe, beautiful, mixed-up girl as she followed her out and over to her car.

  An impasse between two likeable people. Deadlock. And Riddley Fenton had been quick to step in and take his chance.

  ‘I’ll come over for the children tomorrow, if that will be all right, Sue?’

  ‘I’ve prepared them. They’re quite looking forward to returning with you, I think. After all, this was their home, such as it is.’ She leaned out of her window and surveyed the store with fresh interest. ‘I must say you’ve improved the old place already, Emily. Does Ridd know you’re doing this?’

  ‘Not unless Kevin told him.’

  ‘Kevin knows?’

  Emmie nodded.

  ‘He came over yesterday and helped me to scrape off some of the harder bits,’ she admitted, and was surprised to see the look that flitted over the other girl’s expressive features.

  ‘Oh. So it’s not just at Koolonga that he’s been kind?’ An eyebrow lifted, as Susan tapped a manicured hand upon the steering-wheel with a gesture that was difficult to define.

  ‘Well, I’d better be getting along. Come for tea, and you’ll be able to size each other up over a plate of scones or something. About four o’clock, if that suits. I’ve a pile of exercises to correct yet, so there’ll be nothing much in the way of a spread, I warn you.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  Emmie watched the Holden until it was lost in its own dust-cloud, and then she went back to her pail and brush. She had been happy enough at her task before, but oddly, Sue Wensley’s visit had depressed her.

  She forced herself to carry on until darkness fell, and finally went inside to light the chip heater for her bath, wondering why she should react like this. It was nothing to do with her, after all, and tomorrow she was going to get the children back to Millie’s little house, now white and shining and smelling strongly of fresh paint. That should be enough to chase away any fleeting sense of depression, surely?

  The school building was larger than Emmie had expected it to be. It was constructed of the seemingly ubiquitous weatherboard in the same colour as her own little store had been before its coating of fresh white paint. A fading caramel-pink. Weatherboard colour. There was a netted area that enclosed a roughly laid-out tennis court, some swings and a wooden see-saw. At one end was a long, low, open shed that might have housed bicycles, horses, or in fact almost anything.

  Today it was empty, and silence reigned in its vicinity.

  Emmie walked up the path to the open door. From inside came the sound of voices—children’s voices.

  As she stood uncertainly on the step and tapped on the door frame to announce her presence, there was a shriek of excitement from somewhere within.

  ‘Here she is, Miss. It’s her!

  ‘All right, then, Jim. I’m coming in a minute.’

  Three faces peered around the corner of the dark passage, three pairs of eyes surveyed the newcomer with cautious curiosity.

  Blue eyes. Blue again. And the last pair, great dark orbs that were liquid and beautiful, without the inquisitive, birdlike sharpness of those other pairs. Serene eyes. Melting brown pools of tranquillity and peace and quiet dignity.

  ‘Go on, Daisy, girls first.’

  Brown-eyes was unceremoniously shoved from behind, and catapulted into the hall, a thin little thing in a skimpy cotton smock. Emmie took in the delicate limbs, crimped black hair, smooth, milk-chocolate skin that told of mixed blood, part-Aboriginal.

  “Daisy, did they say? Hullo, Daisy.’

  She knelt down and put out her hands, and the child took them unhesitatingly.

  ‘Hullo.’ Daisy jerked her head behind her, to where scuffling noises and a few giggles were emerging.

  ‘They’re shy,’ she explained equably.

  ‘And you aren’t?’

  A shake of the curly head.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for you to come all day.’

  Thats nice. So have I. I’ve been counting the minutes. How old are you, Daisy?

  ‘Six. But Morrie and Jim are nine. My birthday’s soon. Come on, you two.’

  ‘Yes, go on, sillies.’ That was Susan’s voice. She came around the corner, smiling, herding the boys in front of her as she approached. ‘Morris. And here's Jim,’ she supplied. ‘And I see you’ve already made Daisy's acquaintance.’

  The boys extended tentative hands, prompted by their teacher. They wore neat khaki shorts and shirts, and their hands had obviously been recently in contact with some soap and warm water. Emmie took in the shining laces, slicked- down hair, scrubbed knees, and hid a smile. It wouldn’t be like that for long, but it wasn’t a bad start, all the same.

  ‘Can we call you Emily?’ asked Daisy solemnly, unabashed by the boys’ shyness. ‘We gotter call Sue “Miss? because the others do in class, see, but you’re not our teacher, are you? You’re just a friend.’

  ‘I’d rather Emmie, actually, if you don’t mind. It’s what I’m used to.’

  ‘It suits you better than the other,’ said Susan unexpectedly. ‘I’ll call you that, too, if you prefer it. Come on round to the veranda and we’ll have tea there. It’s cooler.’

  It was a gay affair. In no time at all the boys had forgotten their initial malaise, and fought over the pikelets and the final drop of lemon syrup as if Emmie had been amongst them all her life. Daisy belied her serenity by running about in a mercurial fashion, up and down the long veranda and in and out the swing-door, favouring her foster-brothers with a flashing white smile that teased and taunted as she plucked the last pikelet from under their very noses with her thin, supple, milk-chocolate fingers, and darted off.

  ‘Whoopee!’ Morris stopped in mid-pursuit as he spied the old blue utility. ‘Can we ride in the back going home?’—and there was a sudden jump in Emmie’s throat as she lifted Daisy into her arms and set her in the back beside the boys.

  ‘No standing up, then. The first one who tries it comes in front.’

  She turned to Susan, who was reminding her erstwhile charges that she expected to see them in class in the morning, and not to be late.

  ‘Thanks for the tea and everything, Sue.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. I enjoyed it myself.’ Susan gave one of those careless shrugs whose genuineness Emmie already felt inclined to question. ‘Don’t let these little monsters devour you, will you? And you be good for Emmie, now, you kids.

  And I’ll see you tomorrow. On time, remember.’

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ they choruse
d, and then Emmie found first gear and they were bouncing up and down in the back and waving to their teacher as the old truck headed out on to the track.

  When she stopped at the front of the store they all scrambled out and dropped nimbly to the dusty ground.

  There was a sudden silence. Then—

  ‘Skin the lizards! You’ve painted it!’ ‘Crikey. It—it looks different!’ Morris and Jim gazed in awe.

  ‘Do you like it?’ asked Emmie uncertainly. Perhaps it would have been wiser to warn them first that she had made some alterations.

  ‘It’s great. You’d hardly know the old place, would you, Jim? Look, she’s fixed the veranda rail, too.’

  ‘No, Kevin did that. I’m afraid carpentry is hardly my line.’ ‘Can we sleep on the veranda? We always do!’

  ‘Do you?’—doubtfully.

  ‘Sure. On the stretchers. The bedroom’s too stuffy.’

  ‘I don’t like the veranda,’ put in Daisy firmly. ‘You have to have mosquito nets, and they’re stuffier than the bedrooms.’ They’re not, stupid.’

  ‘They are.’

  ‘They aren’t!’

  ‘I wish Millie was here,’ said Daisy stormily, and all of a sudden she began to cry. She cried with great, heart-shaking sobs that shuddered right through her thin little frame and caused hot crystal tears to course down her smooth brown cheeks.

  ‘Cry-baby-cry-put-your-finger-in-your-eye.’

  ‘Be quiet, Jim! Here, Daisy’ —Emmie scooped the little girl up and held her close. ‘You boys can carry in your things— Daisy’s too. Hurry up, now.’

  She walked away with her sobbing bundle, out of earshot, patting Daisy’s heaving back as she clasped her to her and murmured soothing words into the curls that tickled her own cheek.

  ‘Did you call her Millie too, Daisy? So did I. We all did, from the time I was just a little girl, much smaller than you even. I wish she was here, too, just as you do, but we can’t do anything about it, and she’d hate us to cry. She wanted us all to be happy, and that’s why she brought us together like this. Look, I’ve something to show you, something I want you to see.’ She set the child down gently.