by Lucy Walker
‘Howdy, Beatrix! Howdy, kids!’
‘Hullo, Rick. You beat us to it.’
Mrs. Weston was standing by the car adjusting her lace stole.
‘You haven’t spoken to me yet, Rick,’ Mrs. Weston said, without looking at him.
Rick made a bow. He looked quizzically into Kate’s face a moment and then dropped her arm.
‘The best is last, Mrs. Weston,’ he said. ‘Will you take my arm?’
‘You know, Rick, you’re the only person round about who has any manners where the old are concerned.’ He had taken her stick from her and let her lean on his arm.
‘Nuts!’ he said. He glanced over his shoulder at the girls.
‘Sorry, all of you. I’ve been commandeered.’
‘Isn’t that like Mother?’ Beatrix said pettishly. ‘As if Rick wants to spend the evening trailing old ladies. She’s always got to have the best of everything.’
‘Oh, poor Mother!’ Annabel said. ‘It gives her such a lot of pleasure …’
‘Why doesn’t someone marry Rick?’ Kate asked suddenly. Hal had stopped doing things to the car like locking the doors and examining the wheels.
‘Rick can’t be caught,’ he said. ‘He’s too shrewd.’
He had offered Kate his arm and she took it.
‘Being married is like getting trapped, is it?’ she asked lightly.
As they came into the wool-shed she dropped Hal’s arm. Something, all the events of the evening, had put her on her mettle. She felt as if everything she had in her had risen to the occasion. Some Weston had trodden on her toe once too often. They had practised their habitual devilry on one occasion too many. She was fighting angry and her way of showing it, or rather camouflaging it, was to hold her head and to gaze out with a challenging eye on the festooned wool-shed with heightened colour and a kingly pride in the way she carried herself.
She did not know it, but she looked very young, very desirable.
Mrs. de Berhans, advancing down the centre of the polished floor to meet the new arrivals, thought she had never seen anyone so winsome and so charming.
‘Why, my dear girl,’ she said after she had greeted Mrs. Weston and Annabel and Beatrix, ‘you have come, a fresh spring flower, right out of the English countryside. That lovely skin. Oh, don’t let the Australian sun ruin it.’
Hal, a little proprietorial, looked at Kate with his head on one side.
‘That’s what I’m marrying,’ he said proudly.
Kate did not look at him.
‘How do you do?’ she said, taking Mrs. de Berhans’ outstretched hand. ‘You make me feel very welcome.’
She liked this middle-aged woman, who was well-dressed in a long full-skirted black dress. Her hair was just greying round the face; the rest was very black. Kate knew from her voice that she, too, was English.
‘How long have you been here, Mrs. de Berhans?’
‘Thirty years. I’m often homesick, but I never regret having come to Australia. I keep my accent because there are so many English around here.’
She led the group down the length of the wool-shed to where there were shovel-backed cane chairs in a group under the raised platform.
‘This looks like the place of honour,’ Beatrix said.
Mrs. de Berhans smiled.
‘You know your mother, my dear. We wouldn’t dare put her anywhere else. Anyway, it was Kate’s visit that gave us the idea.’
Kate looked around. All along the walls people were seated. Here and there groups stood about talking. Their ages ranged from eight to eighty and their dressing from the poorest to the very smartest. A small orchestra was grouped around a piano in the middle of the shed. Palms were banked everywhere and in the corners whole branches of forest trees stood in draped tins. On the raised table at the end of the wool-shed arum lilies, marguerite daisies and roses were massed in thousands.
‘So many flowers …!’
‘Mrs. de Berhans has the best garden in the Great Southern …’
A number of children were sliding up and down from one end of the dance floor to the other.
Kate could see Peg Castillon talking to the pianist of the orchestra. Rick Benallen bent a moment over Mrs. Weston as she sat down and then walked casually over to the group by the piano. It was the first time Kate had seen him in clothes other than the khakis and the heavy military boots. He looked slimmer in the black tuxedo. It was beautifully tailored and his shoes were of soft black patent leather. He walked easily and casually and noiselessly. How different from the clumping of those great boots!
Peg turned, smiled at him, and putting her arm round his shoulder, leaned on him as she talked to the pianist.
There was something comradely and happy in the gesture.
Annabel hurried after Sugar, who had gone to join the sliders. She picked the child up and took her out of the door at the end of the wool-shed.
Several men came up to speak to Hal and Mrs. Weston. They were sunburned, a little awkward. They all had the same characteristic faded blue eyes. Their faces were shy, tired and guileless; their voices crackled. They laughed a lot and one would have thought they hadn’t a care in the world. Their hands were work-worn and scarred.
Each one was introduced to Kate and each one became even more shy. They talked to Hal or his mother about the apple crop, the wool sales, thrip, or the cost of clearing. Then they went away again. Kate liked them immensely and wondered how long it took to dispel their shyness and how soon their eyes would lose that tired weak look that was only a facade.
The orchestra began to play a waltz. Hal, without waiting for the first phrase to finish, took Kate’s hand and led her on to the floor. The music was good. They stood a minute, alone on the floor. Everyone was looking at them and for the first time Kate fully realised what it meant to be Hal Weston in Blackwood. No one would have taken a step before him.
He danced beautifully, she knew that. His tallness gave him that ascendancy in the dance that every woman likes. His back was very straight.
‘They’re all watching us,’ she said.
‘Of course. They’re curious.’
‘Don’t you mind?’
‘Not with you … in that dress. I’m proud of you.’
She made a little moue.
‘Thank you kindly, sir.’
He looked down at her.
‘Enjoying yourself?’
‘Sometimes.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Don’t you like us?’
‘Sometimes.’
Others were dancing now and he had to pay some attention to guiding her.
‘I’ll see you about that afterwards,’ he said in mock anger.
They stopped talking and danced beautifully.
Kate caught sight of Peg Castillon dancing with Rick Benallen. When the music stopped Peg came over to the Weston party. Rick spoke for a few minutes with Mrs. de Berhans and then walked rapidly out of the wool-shed.
Peg looked at Kate admiringly.
‘Hullo, Kate!’
‘Hullo, Peg!’
She wasn’t as easy as she had been when they had taken a picnic party down the orchard at Appleton. She was restless, her eyes wandering from one to another. She spoke to Mrs. Weston but did not seem to be paying much attention to the older woman. Her eyes flickered towards Hal. He stood smoking a cigarette in silence. He did not once glance in her direction.
The music began again. Hal threw his cigarette on the floor and put his foot on it. He bent over Kate with elaborate formality and took her hand.
‘This is just a continuation of the last … I think!’ he said.
‘Hal, shouldn’t you dance with Beatrix, or perhaps one of the others …’
But he had taken her on to the floor.
‘I’m dancing with you,’ he said.
Kate had the uneasy feeling it was not so much for the pleasure of dancing with her as hurting someone else.
‘Beatrix has gone outside with Ted Aitkins,’ Hal s
aid. ‘That means there’s a barrel there. They’ve got it going already.’
‘Do they drink much?’
‘Swill in it.’
Kate looked surprised.
‘Do you mean everyone, or just the farm hands?’
‘I mean everyone.’
The dance ended and Kate sat down by Mrs. Weston.
‘In my day,’ said Mrs. Weston, ‘we had music with some tune in it. Look at all the people sitting down … and the men standing round the door like a clump of dog-weed!’
‘In your day the men wore gloves and the girls were chaperoned,’ Hal said impolitely. They talked idly for a little while.
The music began again. Kate shook her head when Hal looked towards her.
He said ‘Excuse me’ formally and went across the floor and danced with a plump, fuzzy-haired girl of about twenty.
‘The school teacher!’ said Mrs. Weston dryly. ‘Can’t understand Hal’s taste in girls. The whole roomful to ask and he goes and asks a school teacher.’
‘She’s probably a good dancer and highly intelligent,’ Kate said softly. ‘At any rate she’s enjoying herself … look how she’s laughing!’
‘Pshaw!’ said Mrs. Weston irritably. ‘Just another one throwing herself at his head.’
Kate felt the little tight angry feeling in her chest. She didn’t like sitting out. She had a girl’s horror of being a wallflower. But she knew that none of these shy men would come and ask her unless Hal or one of his sisters brought them up. Peg was dancing with a short rotund man who jigged relentlessly. Peg looked over his head and obviously wished the dance to end as soon as possible.
Mrs. Weston kept up a commentary on the other women’s dresses … none of which was complimentary … Kate sat in silence. She said ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ occasionally but didn’t listen. She didn’t believe in people like Mrs. Weston. They weren’t real.
When the dance ended Hal took his partner back to her seat and then walked casually out of the hall. Peg Castillon walked over to the orchestra again and resumed her conversation with the pianist. Kate looked at her regretfully. In the long slim black dress she was very tall. Her hair was wispy and the make-up on her face had either been there so long or had been so badly put on that now her face was shining and the lipstick stuck to her mouth in uneven patches. Her dark eyes looked quickly and anxiously towards Kate, and then away again. She stood badly, as if she were nervous.
The orchestra struck up with a noisy chord, prelude to the next dance. Hal stood for a few minutes in the door-way. There were only two or three couples beginning to dance. Hal walked into the centre of the floor and stood watching the orchestra a minute. Then he turned and spoke to Peg. They stood facing one another. Suddenly Peg buried her face in her hands and ran from the floor.
Hal took out his cigarette case and selected one with care. He lit it and then moved casually towards Kate.
‘Shall we dance?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Kate. ‘I’m enjoying watching everyone.’
She could not bear to look at him.
At that moment Mrs. de Berhans came threading her way between the couples.
‘Oh, there you are!’ she said, as she sat down beside Kate. ‘I have neglected you shamefully. There is so much to supervise. One must keep at it, you know. As soon as the men get onto the beer they get irresponsible … one has to watch in case of fire. The ricks, you know. The lovers will get amongst them.’
‘Of course. But you shouldn’t worry about me. I’m having a lovely time.’
Mrs. de Berhans looked at her anxiously. ‘When my husband was alive he could look after the outside while I looked after my guests inside. Till Ron and George, my sons, grow a little older I have to do both jobs … rather inadequately, I fear.’
She paused for a minute.
‘I must introduce you presently to some partners. You must dance with someone else beside Hal, you know.’
Annabel came back into the wool-shed at that moment and Hal went towards her and they joined in the dance. Kate and Mrs. de Berhans watched them in silence. Then quite involuntarily they turned their heads and their eyes met.
‘He is a stormy petrel, is Hal,’ Mrs. de Berhans said. ‘I do hope you will be happy with him. He has some very good points.’
Mrs. Weston was engrossed in a conversation with someone who had come up and was sitting in the chair beside her. A short, puffy woman with sharp black eyes. Mrs. Weston introduced her as Mrs. Willy. It was quite clear that Mrs. Willy and Mrs. Weston had one thing in common … a general disapproval of every other woman in Blackwood.
Kate turned again to Mrs. de Berhans.
‘Would you call Hal’s horsemanship one of his good points?’
‘He’s the best horseman in the district. Except for Rick Benallen … but he’s hard on his horses.’
‘I know. I’ve seen him. But he goes where they go. He’s fearless.’
They were both hedging.
‘How do you like it at Appleton?’ Mrs. de Berhans said at length.
‘Very much. I think I will like it more when I get to know everyone better.’
‘Of course, my dear.’
They were silent a minute.
‘Kate … as one pommy to another, dear, will you ask me to help you at any time?’ She put her hand lightly on Kate’s arm. ‘I am nearly always at home if you would like to ride across some time. Come alone … then we can talk.’
‘Thank you. I will do that.’
The pause was awkward.
‘Is Peg’s father here?’ Kate asked at length.
‘Yes. He’s been conducting a political meeting outside by the beer barrel. I sent Rick Benallen out to see if he could head him off. Rick is the only man who can really handle him …’
‘Is that why Peg ran off the floor? Perhaps Hal told her …’
‘Yes. It could have been that … perhaps it was that.’
Kate knew Mrs. de Berhans knew that Peg ran away because Hal had had three dances without even speaking to her. Kate knew they both knew that Peg was so wildly in love with Hal that nothing else mattered. Not even dignity.
‘If I gave him back to her,’ she thought sadly, ‘… he wouldn’t have her. She’s just not his sort.’
‘And now I’m going to bring some of these young men over …’ Mrs. de Berhans had risen, but Rick Benallen came across the floor and forestalled her.
‘Are you going to dance with me, Kate?’
‘Yes, please.’ She smiled as she left Mrs. de Berhans.
She looked up at Rick.
‘And I know what I’m going to do with you,’ she thought. ‘I’m going to cook you up in a nice savoury dish for Peg. But first I’m going to like dancing with you, very much.’
Rick, who had been looking over her head, looked down and caught the calculating gleam in her eyes.
‘Satan brewing mischief?’
‘No! Only Kate!’
‘What are you brewing, Kate?’
‘Toil and trouble! I’m match-making.’
‘Good heavens! Haven’t you enough with Hal on your hands?’
‘Oh yes. The match is for someone else.’
‘Toil and trouble are essential ingredients?’
‘Certainly. Didn’t you know?’
‘You sound very experienced, Kate. And I don’t believe you.’
They were near the door. The men standing around eyed them curiously. A puff of cool air stirred Kate’s hair. Rick dropped his arms and took Kate’s hand. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go outside.’
Across the gravel loading-square a string of lights hung like festoons under the boughs of the big jarrah tree. Against it was the barrel. The men stood about in groups. They all held glasses. Their laughter rocketed out on the night air in sudden spurts. A number of men and young boys sat along the fence rail on either side of the jarrah tree.
‘Don’t they want to dance?’ Kate asked.
‘Most of them can’t. But they like the li
ghts, and the fun. Also they like roast sucking pig and lamb chops. That’s what the barbecue’s got in store for them.’
‘Let’s go and see it.’
‘In a minute. Come and lean over the fence rail and talk to me, first.’
Still holding her hand, Rick walked across the gravel. A little way from the fence sitters he leaned against the fence, his arms spread along the top-rail, and looked out over the moon-washed paddocks. In the distance a black line showed where the forest began.
Kate leaned her back against the fence and studied Rick’s face. In the moonlight, in the electric lights around the barrel, his face was clear.
He turned his head a little.
‘Well,’ he asked, ‘what are you looking for, Kate?’
‘I was wondering what sort of a person you are. So I had to stare in your face to see. After all, you do a lot of looking at me too, you know.’
‘In search of pleasure. But what do you want to know about me?’
‘Why everyone in the district, from the lowest to the highest, has such a respect for you. Even Hal’s farm hands, Burns for instance, call you “boss”. They don’t call Hal that. Why you go out of your way to be so kind to me, when it’s Hal’s business, you know! Why you are kind to Peg, to Mrs. Railton, to Mrs. Weston! Why you can handle Mr. Castillon when no one else can! Why no one has married you!’
Rick grinned.
‘I certainly am learning about myself. I didn’t know about all those people, but I guess the explanation is simple, Kate. Everyone in Blackwood loves a good horse and a good horseman. I can ride. That’s the best boost any man can have. It’ll earn top marks without trying.’
‘Why can you ride better than anyone else?’
He bent his head towards her. The light caught a gleam of fun in his eyes.
‘I rear the best horses. I learn ’em, and then I ride ’em. A good horse will always make a good horseman.’
‘A good rider will make a good horse better,’ said Kate.
‘Anyhow, you tell me about you.’
‘I will some day.’
His voice changed a little and became more serious.
‘If I can help … It takes a fair bit of nerve to storm the Weston household, you know,’ he finished lamely.