by Gloria Bevan
She shook her head. ‘Not a crumb. But I’ve got some tea;’ she added hopefully, ‘and a tin of condensed milk, cigarettes. And that old black billy you always carry in your car will be around somewhere.’
‘What more could you want? Come on, Tracy, give me a hand to find a place to pitch the tent! That clearing under the trees should do it! Looks like there’s a creek running alongside too ... couldn’t be better!’
Soon he was hammering tent pegs in to the hard ground while Tracy knelt to sort out the supports. She couldn’t help thinking that although Lucie might be horrified at the delay, for herself being forced to camp out in a clearing by the sea was all part of the delight of this unexpected holiday. Why pretend to herself that her feeling of elation had nothing to do with Stephen? Why deny the growing intimacy between them? Endlessly she found herself thinking of him—that was, when she wasn’t stealing secret glimpses at the dark profile at her side. Driving, swimming, sunbathing, it was all a part of this deeply satisfying content that made the days seem divorced from ordinary living, shot through with a sparkle as golden as the endless brightness of the ‘sunshine coast’.
I’m in love with him. I love him. That’s why I’m only happy when he’s near me, why I love to listen to him, look at him, even just.to think about him. In love with a man who regards me as a not incompetent secretary, if he thinks of me at all.
But it didn’t matter. Today was hers ... and tonight. In this mood of high excitement, that was enough.
CHAPTER SIX
‘Oh well,’ Lucie murmured philosophically, ‘what I always say is that what can’t be helped must be enjoyed!’ Her expression lightened as she gazed along the length of the shoreline. ‘And these East Coast bays are known as the best places ever for collecting driftwood. Look, Tracy, there’s oodles of it here, piled up all along the banks!’ She wandered off along the sand, pausing at intervals to pick up pieces of bleached timber, whittled by tide and weather into grotesque likenesses to birds and animals. A twisting serpent, a llama’s long face, a deer’s head.
All the time Tracy and Stephen swam in the clear water, splashing each other, running up to sunbathe on the warm sand where heaps of seaweed bore witness to a recent summer storm. Again and again they plunged back into the sea, cool and invigorating to skin still glowing from the rays of the sun.
They were seated on a fallen log, idly watching a cargo boat on the horizon, when a lone figure appeared around a point of the bay. As he came nearer Tracy realized the stranger was a cheerful-looking Maori fisherman, his tattered trousers rolled above copper-coloured knees, a sugar sack roped over one shoulder. With a friendly grin he paused beside them. ‘You picked a good camp site here! Staying long?’
‘That depends.’ Steve picked up his shirt from the log and fishing in a pocket, offered the stranger a cigarette from a crumpled packet. ‘We had a breakdown,’ he went on in his laconic tones, ‘petrol pump just packed up. What we want now is to contact someone going through to the nearest garage to pick up a part. What do you think of the chances?’
‘Pretty good.’ The dark face broke into a friendly grin. ‘My brother Stan, he’s going over there tonight, he’ll make a call at the garage for you.’
‘Great. If he could just ask them to send us back a new petrol pump for a Holden, will you? If they don’t have one in stock—’
‘He’ll have it,’ the Maori fisherman grinned. ‘I’ve never seen him stuck for one of those yet. My brother Stan, he’ll bring it along in the morning!’
‘That’s darned decent of you—’
‘No trouble. How about tucker? I’ve got a bagful of fish here. Nice and fresh, eh?’
‘We wouldn’t say no!’
The fisherman extracted a silver schnapper from the sugar sack, then slung the bag over his shoulder. ‘This fellow big enough for three of you? Better get going now. See you in the morning with the pump. You like to bet on it?’
Stephen laughed. ‘I’ll take your word for it! Thanks a lot!’
The stranger lifted a hand to his forehead in a gesture of farewell, then moved away. They watched him disappear around a point of the bay. ‘He must live somewhere around here,’ Tracy murmured.
Lucie said: ‘What luck, his brother going to a garage tonight! Anyway, I don’t care now about the breakdown. It’s fun, isn’t it, camping out in this lovely bay!’
‘I’ll go along with that!’ Stephen’s gaze lingered on Tracy, dark hair clinging wetly to her head, face and limbs touched with faint colour from the sun’s warmth. ‘How about you, Tracy?’
‘Me?’ She pushed aside a curtain of wet hair and smiled up at him. ‘It’s all new country to me!’ But in her heart she knew that the experience would have meant little to her, had not Stephen been here to share it with her. Especially as right at this moment his eyes held a warm message for her, a glance that if it hadn’t been so fantastic, she might have interpreted as ‘make no mistake, I love you’. Too much sun, she chided herself, it was giving her ideas. Breathtaking, impossible, wonderful ideas!
A little later, feeling cool and refreshed, she went with Stephen as he broke off dead branches of fragrant tea-tree from tall trees growing near the creek. Heaping the firewood over crumpled sheets of newspaper thrust between two great rocks on the sand, he held a match to the paper and soon the crackling flames rose high. Fat spluttered in the smoke-blackened frying pan as he lowered into the smoking pan the filleted fish.
It was, Tracy decided a short while later, quite the most enjoyable outdoor meal she had ever tasted. The tea that Stephen made from creek water boiled in the billy was strong, hot and, even if slightly smoked, delicious. Afterwards they sat around the glowing embers, watching the last rays of the sun fade in a splendour of tangerines and reds splashed over the horizon. Soon nothing except a primrose glow remained, fading up into the blue, pricked by faint stars.
They all strolled along the darkening beach, the sand cool now to the touch of bare feet. Then as they returned to the camp fire, Lucie stifled a yawn. ‘I’m beat. Think I’ll turn in.’
‘You’ve got the torch out of the car?’ Stephen asked.
‘Yes, thanks. How about you, though, Steve?’
He shrugged carelessly. ‘I’ll toss down in the car.’
‘Well, goodnight, then...’ She hesitated. ‘It’s awfully quiet here, isn’t it? No one around for miles. I’d feel a lot happier if you two were somewhere around. You won’t wander toe far away, will you? It’s ... kind of lonely somehow, once it gets dark.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Tracy said with a smile, ‘we won’t be far away.’
Swiftly trees and bush around them were transformed into dark smudged shapes, a shower of stars was pinpointed against the soft dark violet-blue of the night sky. It was very still, the only sounds the gentle murmur of the waves washing softly on the shore and the eerie cry of a native owl in the branches of a tree overhead.
Tracy dropped down by the firelight, hands clasped around her knees, and Stephen tossed a fallen branch of tea-tree across the glowing embers. As the leaping flames soared upwards she caught his glance fixed on her face and her heart quickened.
‘Tracy!’ In a few strides he had reached her, dropping down at her side. ‘This is something I’ve been wanting for a long time—’ Trembling, she felt herself responding to the swift and urgent pressure of his lips on her own.
Through the wild excitement racing through her veins she became aware of his deep soft tones. ‘You know how I feel about you, don’t you?’ Placing a hand beneath her rounded chin, he tilted her face until she caught the dark brilliance of his eyes. ‘You must have guessed?’
She raised a finger to trace the dark contours of his shadowed face. ‘I thought,’ she said very low, ‘that you could scarcely stand the sight of me. That day at the wharf when I first arrived here ... and afterwards...’
His soft laugh answered her. ‘If you only knew...’ She felt his arms tighten around her. ‘I’ve loved you right from the start, Trac
y,’ a surge of happiness was lifting her high on a tide of elation, ‘I always will.’
She stirred in his arms and for a moment there was a silence. The dancing flames threw into relief the strong dark face she loved—yes, loved. So this was love, all this time when she’d thought she’d hated him! This was what it was all about! Dreamily she stared into the firelight. ‘You know something?’ She sent him her wide and friendly smile. ‘I got so mixed up about... Oh, you know, what happened before I ever arrived here ... You’ll laugh at this, but do you know once I had this crazy idea ... I got to thinking that you and Alison—’
‘Alison!’ A log crashed, sending up a shower of sparks and with a sinking heart she saw the muscles tighten around his jaw. Oh, why must she spoil everything with her mention of the other girl? He wore his closed look again and when he spoke his voice was curt and clipped, almost guarded. ‘Look, my sweet, there’s something—’
Her heart fell with a plop. But just for once she refused to let Alison spoil the radiance of the night, just as intentionally or otherwise she had so often done in the past. All that mattered tonight was that she was alone with Stephen at last. Alone and in love, in love, her heart sang.
Swiftly she put up a finger, held it against the firmly-cut lips. She smiled appealingly into the stern face. ‘Do me a favour, will you, Steve, please? Tell me about it another time?’ Any other time, her heart whispered.
‘Maybe you’re right!’ The sombre expression fled from his eyes and all at once, in one of those lightning changes of mood, he was gay again. ‘It’s too good a night to spoil with confessions, and there’s always tomorrow. Right now—’ As though it were the most natural thing in the world she moved back into his arms. Roughly he caught her close and the next moment his kiss, the intoxication of his nearness, blotted everything else from her mind.
The heady excitement still possessed her when, much later, she made her way to the darkened tent. Lucie’s even breathing indicated that the older woman had long been asleep. Tracy wondered how anyone could waste time in sleeping on such a night. Lying in her sleeping bag, hands crossed behind her head, she lay staring into the darkness. How could she not have realized before the reason for her growing feeling of excitement, her sense of heightened perception? Stephen ... she found infinite pleasure in just being near him, hearing him speak, watching the changing expressions of the dark mobile face. Even though there were times when withdrawn, distant, sardonic, he was beyond her understanding, it made no difference. She only knew she loved him, and always would. The miracle was that he loved her too. And there was time ahead, time for love, for getting to know’ each other better, straightening out all those stupid misunderstandings that had bedevilled her in the past. Her thoughts went off at a tangent. How foolish of her to have worried so about Alison, to have allowed the other girl to throw a shadow over her happiness, even for a moment. She had other, more important matters to think about. Even, perhaps—her breath caught on a wave of longing—a lifetime of shared happiness.
In the morning Stephen was dashing a billy of creek water over the camp fire, douching the glowing coals to grey ash, when the Maori acquaintance of the previous night appeared around a point of the bay.
From the tent opening Tracy watched Stephen stroll along the beach to meet the other man. ‘Hi there, she caught the beloved deep tones, ‘hope you’ve got some good news for me. How did you make out last night? Manage to get a message through to the garage?’
‘Better than that! I’ve got you the pump you wanted!’ The stranger drew from the sack roped over a muscular shoulder an electrical replacement pump.
‘Great! How much do I owe you?’ As the money changed hands Tracy heard Stephen say: ‘How about a cuppa? I can soon get the fire going again.’
‘Thanks a lot, but I’ve just had breakfast. Gotta get going now. A good trip!’ With a parting wave of his hand he strolled back the way he had come and soon the barefooted figure vanished around the rocks.
Soon Stephen had fitted the replacement part to the car, sleeping bags were rolled up, the tent folded and the camping gear stowed in the back of the car together with piles of driftwood, stones and shells that Lucie had collected during her short enforced stay at the remote bay. Before long they were on the road once again, following the dust-choked highway with its narrow bridges and sheep-threaded hills; passing vast sheep stations where homesteads were set amongst towering shelterbelts and the mellow red of wool-sheds gleamed amongst tall macrocarpas.
Presently they pulled in at the entrance to a carved Maori meeting house and Stephen explained to her the symbolic meaning of the intricately carved scrolls, the significance of the crossed centre poles where small squat figures gazed down at them from iridescent paua-shell eyes. Bemused with her newly-discovered happiness, Tracy was scarcely aware of what he was telling her of ancient Maori lore. She was far more conscious of other, more important matters. The message in his eyes when he looked at her that signalled a secret ‘I love you.’ The new note of tenderness that tinged his tone. Surely Lucie must sense the feeling, strong and warm, almost tangible, that flowed between the other two. You only had to look at Stephen to know that he too was radiantly happy. It was there in his eyes, the timbre of his deep baritone, singing a song as he put the Holden into low gear and they climbed the hilly roads where yellow dust rose behind them in a cloud.
Soon they were speeding along in sight of the coast ones more. Stephen pointed out to her the remains of an old whaling settlement, the gigantic pots still lying near the beach. At Te Puia they paused for a hotel meal and a bathe in hot mineral springs with their picturesque outlook on the Pacific.
Then as they neared Gisborne the high hills on either side of the roadway were cleared and sheep grazed on lush green pastures. Soon they were passing great plantations of tobacco, followed by undulating acres of maize crops. At length the road skirting the sea brought them to Gisborne, a colourful city with its clean wide streets and modern stores with attractive display windows.
‘They’ve got a new post office now,’ Lucie told her. ‘The old one was demolished in the last ‘quake.’
Tracy nodded. She was back in her own private dream, so much in love, she admitted to herself, that she scarcely cared what Lucie was saying. It was sufficient to know that Stephen was here at her side, the centre of her world. She mused that she would always think of Gisborne with pleasure. A lovely city with its masses of flowers, giant hydrangeas covered with blossoms in pinks and mauves and blues; flowering oleanders in city streets and suburban gardens. She would remember it for what the trip around the cape had brought her, the love of a lifetime!
They pulled in at the entrance to a block of modern apartment buildings with adjoining restaurant, and while Lucie and Tracy waited in the pleasant foyer Stephen went to the office to arrange the booking.
A softly-spoken Maori girl led them along a carpeted corridor towards an attractive unit where dark peacock-coloured furnishings contrasted with the stark white of the paintwork. In the bedroom shared by the two women Tracy crossed to the windows and throwing them wide, stood looking out over clusters of red-roofed houses and winding rivers to the high, sheep-dotted hills beyond.
A little later, feeling delightfully refreshed after a cool shower, she slipped into a crisp lemon trouser suit and went with Lucie to the courtyard where Steve was wiping the dust-smeared windscreen of his car.
Soon they were moving through suburban streets, taking a bridge that spanned a wide river, then sweeping up a winding road that led them over sun-scorched hills where sheep were dotted as thickly as confetti and all around was the brooding stillness of the country.
All at once a low white building swept into view and they turned into the entrance gates of Cook Hospital, moving past green lawns and flower beds. A smiling young Maori nurse- aide wearing a pastel-pink smock led them through a pastel- tinted ward and out to a porch where sunshine streamed through wide glass windows over a bed. A young man lay propped on pillows, on
e leg extended high on a frame held with pulleys. As the party came through the opening he turned a pale face towards them, his expression of idle interest changing to one of delighted surprise as his brother strode forward.
‘How are you, mate?’
‘Steve! Good to see you!’ He gripped the outstretched lean brown hand.
Tracy had a brief thought that even the thick drooping black moustache couldn’t quite conceal the shy, vulnerable look of the young face. The eyes were a clear grey, Steve’s eyes without their sardonic glint. Honest eyes. He was the sort of man, the thought came unbidden, who would fall a whiling victim to Alison’s glittering charm.
‘Hi, Lucie!’ Cliff grinned up at his aunt. ‘Nice of you to come all this way to see me—’
‘I wouldn’t have missed the chance for the world!’ The soft brown eyes misted. ‘How are you feeling now, Cliff?’
‘Pretty good. I look okay, don’t I?’
‘Oh, you do, you do! A bit pale, that’s all. But your back?’
‘Coming along fine! So is the leg. They tell me the breaks are healing up as good as gold. I’ll be on crutches any day now and after that I’ll be out of here in no time, thank the lord!’ His curious gaze moved to Tracy, standing quietly in the background. ‘Why didn’t you tell me,’ she caught his whispered remark to Lucie, ‘that old Steve had fallen for—’
‘Oh, sorry, Cliff,’ Lucie murmured apologetically. ‘This is Tracy. We brought her along with us on the trip. I should have told you ... I did mean to write to you, but somehow I put it off and so much has happened since—’ She stumbled, caught herself up and went on in a nervous rush of words. ‘She’s staying with us at the valley for a while.’