by Amanda Doyle
Kevin’s expression had set.
‘He and Susan are going off somewhere, I believe,’ he informed her tonelessly. ‘She hasn’t been away for a while, so I suppose she feels she’s due a change, and week-ends are her only chance until the holidays. I’ve no idea where they’re going, though, so don’t ask me.’
‘I wasn’t meaning to pry, in any case,’ Emmie reproved him a little uncomfortably, and then brightened purposefully. ‘That will be lovely, anyway, Kev, and we shall look forward to it. We can take the truck on from here, and you can leave the jeep. There’ll be more room, and you might even drive it for me.’
‘That’ll do, then, Emm. See you in the morning, nine o’clock-ish.’
He left them, then, to embark on their session of hair-washing and excited preparations, and when he returned for them next morning they were already waiting on the small front veranda, and needed no second bidding to clamber into the utility.
It was an idyllic day. What was left of the morning was spent in wandering idly about the stores, which were this time thronged with people. Kevin seemed to know most of them, these visitors to town, and took obvious pleasure in introducing her to his friends. Emmie was glad that she had worn her prettiest dress and that her hair was clean and soft and shining. It gave her the confidence she needed to meet the openly critical looks which she was receiving.
She was aware that she was something of a curiosity in Berroola Junction today. Most of the people whom she met had heard that someone new had come to the store and had taken back Miss Millicent’s children, but Emmie sensed that her appearance had somehow taken them by surprise. They huddled in little groups talking and looking after her when she had left them, and she found that the only way to cover the faint embarrassment she experienced was to turn her attention to the children themselves. Consequently, she indulged them rather more than she had intended, buying them small items that they admired without argument, chatting animatedly to them as she herded her small party from shop to shop, while trying to ignore the inquisitive glances and subdued conversations that were going on around her.
They lunched at the cafe on steak and eggs, and ice-cream sodas, and after that they strolled down to the play-park.
When sufficient time had elapsed after the meal, the three children elected to go swimming, and Kevin and Emmie lay in the shade on the grass nearby, talking desultorily.
It was a pleasant spot in which to relax. Other people already occupied the scattered benches or wandered down the paths beside the river. Small children ran and skipped tirelessly ever the lawns and amongst the flowers, ignoring the notices that warned them to keep off the beds of geraniums and cannas, petunia and snapdragons that made such a colourful display. From the pool came shrieks of laughter and the endless sound of splashing.
This atmosphere was good for Kev, thought Emmie to herself, playing with a blade of grass which she had plucked, and watching his face as he lay there with his eyes closed. Some of the strain had gone, and his brow was smooth just now, unfurrowed by the tormenting thoughts that were never far away. She was glad, now, that she had come after all, since the outing seemed to be having a therapeutic effect upon her companion, and the children were obviously enjoying every minute of it.
‘Want to swim?’
‘I don’t think I can be bothered,’ she confessed lazily. ‘And anyway, I didn’t bring my costume.’
‘You could hire one, I suppose. Used you to, in Sydney?’ ‘What? Swim? Not much. My sisters did, though. I’m not very good, I’m afraid. Not the athletic type at all, in fact.’
‘Don’t apologise for that, Emmie, as if it’s something to be ashamed of. You’re very nice the way you are, if you ask me.
Sort of cosy, companionable, easy to be with.’ ‘Thanks, I must say.’ She hadn’t meant to sound tart. It was just that—well, there were so many things she’d have liked to be called rather than any of those. They were homely attributes, quite run-of-the-mill. Very ordinary indeed. Wistfully she couldn’t help reflecting how nice it would be, just once, to be told something just a little more exciting about oneself than that one was cosy, companionable and easy to be with. .
‘Now I’ve offended you, and I didn’t mean to.’ Kevin sat up, put an arm around her. ‘Dear Emmie! Can’t you see that it’s a compliment, what I’m saying? You’re a girl in a million, if you want to know. Who else could I possibly have told about Sue and me, for instance? Who else would ever have bothered to listen, let alone understand? Who but you
would have----’
‘Kevin, look!’ Emmie interrupted in a voice that had gone strangely dry. ‘Those people over there, talking by that willow—isn’t it Ridd and Susan who are with them? Yes, it is! And I’m sure they’ve seen us.’
She tried to draw away.
‘Well, what of it?’ Kev sounded stubborn. His hand remained exactly where it was, albeit his fingers had tightened somewhat convulsively. ‘It’s a public park, and everyone’s in town, it seems, so they’ve as much right to be here as we have.’
‘Yes, it isn’t that. I just thought——’ She broke off to stand up, thereby forcing her companion to withdraw his arm and . stand up too. ‘I—I really think I should get those children out,’ she muttered confusedly. ‘They’ve been in the water long enough.’
‘O.K.’ He brushed the grass clippings from her back as he spoke. ‘I’ll wring out their cozzies while you get Daisy dressed. Then we’ll go and get a drink. I thought we might try the motel later.’
Emmie’s face was flushed.
‘Kev, I really think we should be thinking of getting home. At least the children and I should—so I’m afraid that means you, too, since we’re all in the same vehicle.
‘What’s the hurry, for heaven’s sake? You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?’
‘Oh yes, it isn’t that. It’s been a marvellous day out, but I don’t want to be home too late. They’ll be sitting in the back in the dark and everything. Look, Kev’—she turned to him persuasively—‘why don’t we all come back to my place, and I’ll cook us a special meal? We’ll take a vote to find out what to have, and if we haven’t already got the makings in the larder, we’ll go and buy them right now, before we go. What do you say?’
‘I wanted to save you that, Emm. Hang it all, you do it every day in life, as far as I can see. This was to be a treat, and they give a very good dinner at the motel, too.’
‘Another time, Kevin. Please. This will be a treat, too. I love cooking special things, and it’s ages since I have. Let’s go and get something tasty and madly exotic, and I’ll show you how good I am. It’ll be fun, and we can do the motel another time.’
‘If you say so, then. But I don’t suppose the children will plump for anything exotic, anyway, so I reckon you’re being over-hopeful. I insist on buying whatever it is you decide on, though. This was to be my treat, remember. We’ll get some wine too.’ He was beginning to sound slightly more enthusiastic, and Emmie knew that she had won.
She was not sure, quite, what had caused this feeling of almost blind panic, but it could hardly be described as reasonable. It had gripped her so precipitately that it had allowed her no time to analyse the cause. She only knew that she suddenly felt stifled, confined, and that all she wanted was to get away from Berroola Junction as quickly as possible.
They shopped for the provisions they needed, hastened on by Emmie herself, and after another round of iced drinks in tall, cool glasses, they headed out on to the Koolonga road once more. Passing the driveway into the motel, Emmie somehow couldn’t refrain from scrutinising the car-park furtively. No sign of a big, long Chevrolet, but that didn’t mean that it most probably wouldn’t be there later I Ah well, it was no business of hers, really, was it? It could have been embarrassing for Kev, though, she told herself stubbornly, and then chided herself for going to such ridiculous lengths to justify her own sudden, childish whim to escape.
Back at the store they unloaded their purchases. Emmie rinsed the sw
imming things and hung them out on the line, and then went inside again to prepare dinner, while the children chattered animatedly about their day’s adventures and then took Kevin off to show him Quinty.
‘If we can find her. I think she’s often away hunting when she’s not actually in the shed. She must be a good mouser. She’s getting awfully fat.’
‘Why Quinty?’
‘It means plenty, you see. She was thin when we called her that, and she needed plenty of tucker to rally her round.’ ‘Hmm. Maybe you’ll have to change her name.’
‘No, we won’t. It’s still all right, because now it could mean that there’s plenty of her. Plenty of cat, I mean.’
‘Which there undoubtedly is.’
Their voices receded and Emmie smiled faintly to herself as she got on with her preparations.
Chicken Maryland had won the vote, and it took her a while to do all the trimmings—small, puffy corn fritters, sliced fingers of banana, croquettes of potato, and the golden joints of meat.
When it was ready, she called everyone to the table, and they sat down—just like a proper family, she told herself, with Kevin at one end, and Emmie at the other, and the children at the sides. She had gone to special pains this evening, and her reward was in the wonder on the children s faces as they took in the pretty cloth, tall glasses of lemonade, and centrepiece of flowers.
Kevin raised his wine-glass in salute, and the two adults exchanged solemn glances.
‘To us.’
‘To us all,'affirmed Emmie, glowing with pleasure that the treat seemed to have turned out exactly as she had hoped.
Later, when the young ones had gone to bed, they sat on the front veranda making idle conversation, replete, tired, but strangely at peace with each other. Kevin lounged in the deck-chair smoking, and Emmie sat on the stool she had brought from inside earlier, listening to the occasional creak of the boys’ stretchers around the corner as they turned in their sleep, lulled into somnolence herself by the intermittent shrilling of a cicada from somewhere out there in the bushes.
It was only when the long, dark shape of a car came over the level crossing higher up, and swept down the track past the store, catching the Koolonga jeep in its headlights beams, that Kev finally got to his feet, stretched reluctantly.
‘Good lord, I’d better be going, Emmie. I’d no idea it was so late.’
The car had of course been Ridd’s. It took the left fork beyond the store, because he would be dropping Susan off before he returned to his own homestead. He must have seen the jeep that Kevin had borrowed still standing outside the store, but there wasn’t much he could say, was there, when he was so late abroad himself?
Even so, Emmie found that some of the pleasure had gone out of the evening, simply with the passing of that long, sleek automobile.
She waved Kevin off, and went back to the kitchen, began automatically to put things away. She wasn’t going to spoil a lovely day by allowing herself to think about someone like Ridd Fenton!
Next morning Emmie started to do up Daisy’s room. The little girl had had her way on the night she had arrived, and only the boys now slept under the hooped mosquito nets on the veranda. Daisy had the small room adjoining Emmie’s all to herself, and it had recently occurred to Emmie that it would be nice if the child could have a pretty, feminine little place of her very own—the sort of frilly, flowery sanctuary for which every small girl secretly hankers.
Daisy had been delighted at the prospect, and yesterday they had chosen delicate pale grey paper for the walls and some dainty rose-sprayed cotton for the bedspread and cushions to complement it.
It took longer than she had thought to paint the woodwork alone. The window-frames were old, and tiresome to do, and she had to putty them up in places where the wood itself was decaying. Poor old store! Underneath the surface brightness she had given it, it was in pretty poor shape!
By the third afternoon the boys were bored with the whole affair. When they came back from school to the tea that was waiting, they groaned when they saw the rolls of paper strewn everywhere and the kitchen table cleared for yet another glueing operation.
‘We thought it’d be finished by now,’ wailed Jim.
‘How much longer?’ queried Morris. ‘I’m sick of the smell of that stuff. What a fuss, and all because she’s a girl.'
‘Shut up, Morrie!’ flared Daisy. ‘Just because you’re jealous,
’cos you aren’t getting a pretty room of your own-------’
‘Jealous! Huh!’
‘Children, children!’ Emmie clapped her hands sternly, silencing them. To tell the truth, she was sick of it herself, but equally she was determined to complete the job. Poor kids! She could concede their point. The place reeked of adhesive, and there were scraps and trimmings lying everywhere. It would take her hours to clear up this mess even when she had finished the actual papering. There was glue on her hands, her clothes, her hair, not to mention all the other places it shouldn’t be, and she was keeping her temper with difficulty.
‘Look,’ she said a little desperately, ‘why don’t you play something? Something—er—new?’
‘Such as----?’ Three pairs of eyes sought inspiration from
the dark-fringed hazel ones up there on the ladder.
‘Oh, I don’t know----’ Emmie gestured vaguely.
‘We’ve played everything we can think of,’ complained Morris. ‘You said you’d take us over in the truck to see our yabbie traps. If you could come --- ’
‘But I can’t. I know, why not dress up or something like that?’
‘Dressing up’s for girls.’ ‘Nonsense I It’s for everybody at your age. You sound about a hundred, instead of nine years old, talking like that, she reproved. ‘It’s only for laughs, anyway. There are some things in the store cupboard that you could use—they must have been there since long before Millie’s time even—they’re terribly old-fashioned. And I’ve some funny old hats that you can put on.’ She scrambled down from her perch to show them. ‘See. You can do what you like with them, act out a play or one of your school stories, or make up something, anything. Go on, surely the three of you can think of something to do with all that! I shouldn’t be long in finishing, if you can amuse yourselves in the meantime.’
‘Oh, all right, then.’
The boys were slow to capitulate, but Daisy was typically enthusiastic. After they had disappeared for a while, sounds of pure merriment emanated from the bedroom. There were occasional long silences, each one followed by more gigglings and whisperings.
That little ploy seemed to have met with some success, thought Emmie thankfully, as she toiled with the long strips of paper and the gigantic brush. Her shoulders ached and her head felt as if it might snap right off if she had to move it even a fraction further back, but if she could—just—get— that— bit—there ---------
She was on top, the very top step of the ladder, leaning backwards at a perilous angle while trying to persuade two adjacent strips to match each other, when the little bell at the front of the shop chuckled throatily. When it repeated its tinny tinkling sound several more times she knew it must be the children. Jim was forever tinkling at that bell!
‘You’re busy.’
Ridd’s voice, so deep and unexpected, right at her back, almost sent her flying off the ladder. She recovered her balance by a freak series of contortions, more athletic ones than she had ever dreamed she could produce! She glared down at him reproachfully.
‘You frightened me,’ she accused severely.
‘I’m sorry.’ He didn’t sound a bit regretful, actually. Just
amused. ‘I’m a bit scared myself, to tell you the truth.’
‘Why?’ She pushed her hair back with glue-daubed fingers.
‘Have you looked in the mirror lately?’ He grinned, in that peculiarly engaging manner that had a slightly disturbing effect upon one’s equilibrium. ‘Come down off your perch and be human for a minute. You look like a small, distracted, warlike bird
hovering about up there.’
‘I beg your pardon.’ She stiffened her voice to counteract that maddening thud in her chest, and climbed down carefully, ignoring the brown outstretched hand. ‘Did you want something from the store?’ she asked politely, pleased at the indifference in her tone. He need never guess the precise effect his presence so often had upon her, if she could maintain such an impartial pose as this always!
‘The number seven wire, remember? Or haven’t you got it yet, Emily?’
‘Yes, it’s in.’ She knelt down at the dark counter, and pulled out the rolls from underneath. ‘Here you are, Ridd.’
But Ridd wasn’t looking. He was back at the door, inspecting the bell again. It gave a couple more of its bronchial chinks as his fingers pushed it to and fro.
‘Do you stock these things?’
‘Did you want some? They aren’t for doors, really. They’re
‘For horses. I know.’ He was looking at her strangely, and Emmie slid her eyes away, suddenly confused by the softening of his stern expression, the curving of the level mouth. ‘Ringers and horse-tailers and spare-boys need them, certainly, but you won’t get many of them passing here with their plants, Emily. This is predominantly sheep country, you see.’
‘That’s the only one I have, anyway, and it’s not for sale, although I could of course order, if anyone happened to need any.’
‘You bought it for this specific purpose? I hadn’t noticed it before.’
‘You always come in the back way, that’s why.’
‘So does almost everyone, so why bother with a thing like this?’
‘Because I like it, that’s why.’ Her head went back defiantly. ‘It’s cheerful and welcoming, and it—it makes the shop sound busy.’
‘As busy as you envisaged it?’ Ridd’s swarthy face was set in faintly critical lines. ‘I’m afraid it doesn’t ring as often as you’d imagined it might when you first pursued this harebrained scheme, does it, eh?’ He stood above her, twirling his broad-brimmed hat between his hands, searching her face in that uncomfortably penetrating way. ‘How are things panning out, Emm? Financially, I mean, of course. Are you managing to tie the ends together?’