The One Who Kisses: A Heartwarming Australian Outback Romance

by Lucy Walker

  ‘How do you do?’

  The smile did not deceive Mrs. de Berhans.

  ‘How do you do, Kate, and welcome. Do you want me to ask Hal into afternoon tea too … or shall we treat him as a chauffeur and dispatch him forthwith?’

  She smiled knowingly at Hal.

  ‘I don’t think Hal wants to give up the afternoon to tea and chatter. He could go if you can think of a way of getting me back to Appleton before sundown,’ said Kate.

  ‘I’m damned if I’m going,’ said Hal.

  He opened the wire door and sent his hat spiralling across the wide floor to a cane chair. It came to rest neatly underneath.

  ‘You see?’ he said. ‘My hat says, I stay.’

  ‘Then come in, both of you. Kate, how charming you look! It was nice of you to dress for me. Most of my visitors under thirty come in jeans or jodhpurs.’

  The sun streaming on the roof of Arundel made the veranda very hot and they went inside to a drawing-room on the south side. The glassed wall of the room was a series of windows and these were wide open to let in what faintly moving air there was. It also let in the drone of bees and the scent of burning gum leaves.

  The room was a large square with box window seats all along the windowed wall. All the furniture, the long cushions on the box seat and the dozen small cushions strewn about the comfortable chairs and lounge were gaily coloured chintz. The woodwork was lacquered black. The white ceiling was crossed with narrow black beams. The whole was cool, comfortable and easy.

  Kate sat in a corner seat by the window. She rested her arms on the black woodwork of the sill and gazed out into the forest. Here, on this side of Arundel, the forest came right up to the home fence.

  ‘Aren’t you afraid of fire?’ Kate asked. She had heard about the constant terror of the forest fires throughout the long Australian summer.

  ‘Always,’ said Mrs. de Berhans. ‘And fire has been more than once in the trees on the south side. Each time we’ve got the prisoners out from Pardelup prison farm, and they’ve saved us.’

  ‘Are the prisoners allowed out for firefighting?’

  ‘When they’re endangered themselves? Certainly. And if Arundel forest went the fire would move straight into Pardelup. We’re what you might call a buffer state.’

  Hal stood by Kate looking through the window.

  ‘I’d take out some of that timber all the same,’ he said. ‘There’s no young stuff in it and you might as well get rid of the old. If only for safety’s sake.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Mrs. de Berhans. ‘You’re no judge of jarrah, Hal. My father planted that paddock with sapling jarrah. And he kept the undergrowth scrubbed to give Arundel the look of English parkland. It did, too, until we could not get labour for scrubbing. Sometime when the wind is right I’m going to burn through and scrub again.’

  Kate noticed that colour had crept up Hal’s cheeks. He had been caught out on what must be fairly elementary knowledge of forest land. Mrs. de Berhans did not spare his feelings.

  He shrugged.

  ‘Not having been born in England I feel no particular leaning to parkland,’ he said. He sat down and drew out his cigarette case. He did not offer it to Mrs. de Berhans or Kate. Kate thought of the kindly intimacy of Rick’s lighting a cigarette for her. She began to wish that Hal would go. When Mrs. de Berhans brought a cigarette box from the mantelpiece and offered her one she unwittingly caught her hostess’s eye. She knew that Mrs. de Berhans, too, wished that Hal would go.

  Kate felt suddenly light-hearted.

  ‘I’m emancipated,’ she thought with a leaping of spirits. ‘I’m cured. Last night’s little foray was only the last dying fling of a doomed love … how beautifully melodramatic that sounds. I wouldn’t give up, so I tried again. And now, quite suddenly, I don’t care any more. I’m bored by him. I’m just horrifically bored by him.’

  Kate turned to Hal. She felt grateful to him for having cured her so completely of her love. Or had it been only infatuation? Like Mother had said? Love for love’s sake!

  She began to talk to Mrs. de Berhans about Sydney fashions.

  ‘The fashions are so similar to those in English magazines but much, much more colourful. We wear brighter colours here. Are much braver about ornaments. And there’s something brilliant and dazzling about the fashion-conscious Sydney girl. The English girl is more lovely in a soft, feminine kind of a way … but the Australian girl with her long athletic lines and her brilliant use of colour is nearer the Pacific Islands.’

  ‘Tell me, Kate … just what are the matrons wearing in Sydney? Or aren’t you interested in people over forty?’

  ‘Of course I am. There’s Mother … but she’s an Englishwoman. Nothing would ever change her. She wears tweeds in winter and an unobtrusive shantung suit in summer. Quiet, decorous and dignified! But Benita … Benita Holmes is the friend who introduced me to Hal. She’s older than I am … though younger than Mother. She’s terrifically smart. She wears suits too … but with gorgeous big flowers on a straight background. And a big hat with plenty of front and no back. And earrings. Big gypsy earrings.’

  Hal coughed.

  ‘I imagine I’d have a more profitable afternoon if I went and looked at the sheep.’

  Mrs. de Berhans jumped up.

  ‘Of course, Hal. I’ll get Adam to take you down.’ She had the door open and was literally showing Hal through it. ‘The merino cross-breds are mustered for dipping in the long paddock. Do have a look at them and tell me what you think. And Hal, have a look at the new lot of dipping powder. Seems strangely pale to me. Strong tells me it’s a new compound. Will you have a look at it and let me know what you think?’

  Her voice was growing distant as she walked with Hal out on to the veranda. The wire door banged.

  Mrs. de Berhans came back, a mischievous smile on her lips.

  ‘It’s the Sydney fashions that did it … That got rid of him.’

  Kate looked apologetic.

  ‘Do you suppose anyone has ever wanted Hal to go before?’

  ‘I don’t suppose. I know. But it’s rarely been a young woman. What is the matter, Kate? Just a lovers’ quarrel…? Or something more important?’

  ‘It started off as that, then it became more important. Then it became suddenly and beautifully not important at all.’

  ‘Do you feel like telling me?’ She lit another cigarette and pulled up a chintz-covered seat near Kate. She leaned forward, her face kindly but intent, her elbows resting on a black lacquered table.

  ‘I wish I could think up a harrowing story for you. You look as if you deserve it. I just was worried about Hal. Then I got angry with him. Then … just when we arrived here, and for no reason at all, I discovered I felt relieved and even happy. I just felt as if a load of potatoes had fallen off my shoulders. I think it was because I discovered I wasn’t going to feel hurt … or love-lorn … or something. I just feel relieved. And I don’t know why.’

  Mrs. de Berhans gazed at Kate thoughtfully.

  ‘Does Hal know?’

  ‘How could he help but know? Surely even Hal did not expect me to thrive on silence and abstinence?’

  ‘And you don’t feel love-lorn? That’s not natural. Have you got someone else you’re thinking about?’

  Kate coloured. Her voice had an edge of indignation in it.

  ‘I don’t hold love as cheaply as all that. Hal is a different person here in Blackwood from what he was holidaying in Sydney. That’s all there is to it. I can’t be in love with two different Hals and clearly Hal can’t stay in Sydney on holiday perpetually … So, well… so there’s an end to it.’

  Mrs. de Berhans still went on looking at Kate thoughtfully. The girl began to feel restive under the prolonged gaze.

  ‘Don’t you believe me?’

  ‘Of course I do, dear girl.’ She butted her cigarette and stood up. ‘I’m going to make the tea myself … just in my own little pantry.’

  Kate looked around the comfortable room. There were
books, magazines, newspapers and catalogues on the shelves. There was a glorious though small assortment of old china. There were large silver plates … engraved with family names … fitted to brackets on the walls. It was a lived-in room, as remote from the drawing-rooms of suburban England as Kate had known them as a Chinese pagoda was from St. Mathias’ in the Warwick Road. It was much more comfortable than any of the three withdrawing-rooms at Appleton. There the card-room seemed strictly for writing or listening to the Good-doers’ session on the radio. Kate supposed that once cards had been played there. The drawing-room proper was not for use at all. It just stayed, shaded by blinds and curtains; correct, formal, useless. The billiard-room, where most of the family activities took place, was enormous. The fireplace end was used for sitting about, sewing or reading. The entrance end for minor jollification. In the corner near the door was one of the two pianos housed at Appleton, the gramophone pick-up and the record library. In the middle, Kate supposed, they played billiards.

  It only took Mrs. de Berhans a few minutes to make the tea. She brought it in on a tray. A young housemaid followed her with a plate of cakes and another of scones. The maid went out without looking up or waiting to serve the tea.

  ‘That’s another Cricks …’ Mrs. de Berhans said.

  ‘Are there so many in Blackwood …?’

  ‘Dozens. That one comes of a family of eleven and a new one appears at the school every year. No one ever goes there to see how they manage … and they’re so pale and seedy looking.’

  ‘Why doesn’t someone go to see them?’

  ‘The track to the house … a tin shanty, no more … is right through the middle of their home paddock. And they keep the bull in the home paddock. For the express purpose of keeping people out.’

  ‘But why?’

  Mrs. de Berhans shrugged.

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine, my dear.’

  ‘But they came to your wool-shed dance? There seemed to be a Crick in every second seat.’

  ‘Oh, yes, they come out. Harold Crick has just blossomed out in a new Custom Line car. Incidentally, he was doing the scouting for Parsons and Sons. I think he got the Appleton wool clip for Parsons.’

  Kate sipped her tea and did not look up at Mrs. de Berhans. She remembered Mrs. Weston’s sarcastic reference to the Cricks’ car which drove up to Arundel in front of the ‘super-sonic’ on the night of the dance. And Hal had answered by saying the Cricks got their money from the same place as the Westons. Kate supposed everyone knew everyone else’s business in Blackwood, but she didn’t like to make any comment to Mrs. de Berhans. However, it was Mrs. de Berhans herself who pursued the subject.

  ‘The wool stores fire would be just as disastrous for Harold Crick as for the Westons.’

  Kate felt herself stiffening. In spite of her warm liking for Mrs. de Berhans she knew there was something disparaging to the Westons in this coupling of them with a family that appeared odd and even a little unsavoury in the references made to them.

  ‘I didn’t know it was disastrous to the Westons …’

  Mrs. de Berhans, who had been watching Kate intently, burst out laughing.

  ‘You’re having a terrible time being loyal to your in-laws, Kate. I suppose it is not very fair of us all to put you in the pillory like this.’

  ‘You all?’

  ‘Well, Harriet Benallen told me, very contritely I might add, that she had been rather tactless to you. And I’m sure Peg Castillon, or the old man, wouldn’t mince matters with you. And here am I adding fuel to the fire with which everyone is attacking the Weston family.’

  ‘Why do you do it? They are not as unkind as all that. And they are so powerful and well established in the district … surely they have earned a right to some respect?’

  ‘Of course they have. They’ve been hard workers … all of them. They’re not doing anything more underhand about unloading their wool than most of the farmers. But when you are rich and powerful and very respected you can’t afford to make a mistake. There’s always someone waiting to pull one down. I think Mrs. Weston made a bad mistake going in with Parsons and Sons. So did some of the family out there at Appleton. They were well and truly divided on it. As for you, Kate … you’re too good for the Westons …’

  Kate flushed.

  ‘I would rather you didn’t make comparisons like that. It really is embarrassing to me.’

  ‘Of course it is. You wouldn’t be what you are if it wasn’t. But you just come off that prim and proper pedestal of yours for a minute and let’s look facts in the face. If you were you, and fighting tough, and just a shade cunning, and as much experienced in love as Hal, you’d be just right for Appleton. You see what I mean?’

  ‘I hope you don’t mean I’m soft?’

  ‘I mean you’ve got to be more than you are to be good enough for the Westons. So I’m not so very unflattering to them. On the other hand there are some people, and I think you’re one of them, who would rather go without those extra traits than have them and succeed with a bullying family like the Westons.’

  ‘They haven’t bullied me.’

  ‘Oh, yes they have. They don’t shout and walk round cracking stockwhips … and believe it or not, I’ve known autocratic pastoralists up in the north who make a practice of doing that when their sons come home with their girl friends, but they just make it hard going.’

  She held up her hand.

  ‘You must listen to me, Kate. I’d only be half a woman if I didn’t give you that advice. After all, you haven’t anyone else to help you.’

  Kate felt herself unstiffening.

  ‘I think you are right, Mrs. de Berhans. But I do find it embarrassing to accept their hospitality and then join in a conversation about them with other people. Because you are so kind I will tell you that Hal and I did have a few words to-day. Not many, and not important … yet they released quite a lot of feelings I’d been storing up. I’m quite sure now that neither Hal nor I really wants to marry one another. I think Hal feels the same way that I do, though he has said nothing of it yet.’

  Kate broke off. She could not know that Mrs. de Berhans was looking at her and thinking she had never thought a young girl could make so momentous an announcement with such careful simplicity and such effortless dignity. For the statement that Kate had just made was momentous. Mrs. de Berhans knew that by the pallor now in Kate’s cheeks; by the little tight line of her lips, usually so full and rather sweet.

  As she poured more hot water into the teapot she reflected that no girl, be she experienced or naive, could meet someone like Hal Weston, become pledged to him in marriage, arrive at Appleton with its carefully displayed well-being and its great potential for wealth as well as beauty, without being somewhere caught in the mesh of desires and ambitions.

  ‘Do you mind very much, Kate? I mean, are you disappointed?’ She asked these questions so gently and with such obvious compunction for the girl that Kate had no inclination to fall back on her dignity.

  ‘I think I’ve been through an awful strain. I’m terribly sorry about Appleton … and the people in Blackwood … and the jarrah forest …’ She broke off.

  ‘It’s such a pity …’ she added lamely. Tears were unshed in the back of her eyes. ‘It’s such a pity …’

  ‘But about Hal you don’t mind?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m very relieved.’ She smiled. ‘Ever so much relieved really.’

  ‘What does Hal think about it? Or what is he likely to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t go into it very fully with him. You see, I promised to mind Annabel’s children for her while she goes to Albany. I’d feel wretched if I let her down. If I went home now I’m sure Annabel would be unable to go to Albany. Beatrix is going to Kattanup with Hal and I’m certain Beatrix would not alter her arrangements. Beatrix has a very strong mind …’

  ‘I know. And Mrs. Weston has to be molly-coddled through the business of having two young children on her hands. What an imposition on you, Kate
.’

  ‘Not at all …’ Kate’s eyes were bright now and there was a hint of fun in them. ‘Peg Castillon is going to help me. I don’t quite know how … we haven’t planned it yet. Peg and I thought we’d knock quite a lot of fun out of it really.’

  ‘Well, I think you’ve got a rotten weekend in front of you and I’m going to take a hand in it. Just wait till I tell Harriet Benallen …’

  ‘Oh, please don’t. Please, Mrs. de Berhans. This is my affair. I would much rather you didn’t tell Mrs. Benallen. I don’t want her to know.’

  Mrs. de Berhans looked at Kate thoughtfully.

  ‘You really don’t want her to know?’

  ‘Please. I’d much rather not.’

  ‘But you don’t mind the rest of the world knowing. What’s wrong with Harriet Benallen, my dear? The rest of the world will know if Peg Castillon goes to Appleton and the Weston family decamp en masse.’

  Kate was nonplussed.

  ‘Well I’m not going to keep any promise not to tell Harriet. I’ll think about it.’ Mrs. de Berhans said. ‘She likes you enormously and if we could organise a little fun … she’d be absolutely wild if she was left out.’

  ‘But I thought she was always busy writing …’

  ‘Don’t you believe a word of it. She writes a lot but it’s her pet excuse for not going where she doesn’t want to go.’

  Kate said ‘Oh!’ Mrs. de Berhans noticed she looked anxious and preoccupied. She was quite sure Kate had not taken any dislike to Mrs. Benallen. Nobody ever disliked Mrs. Benallen.

  ‘Perhaps we could rope Rick in somehow …’

  Yes! There was that tiny tightening of the lips, the over-anxious look that all motherly people hate to see in a young girl’s eyes.

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that later. In the meantime we’ll have a picnic to the Salt Lakes. We could even go to-morrow or Friday and include Beatrix and Annabel to a picnic … and without Mrs. Weston.’

  Certainly there was the light of conspiracy in her eyes.

  ‘Let’s think how we can do it.’

  ‘Won’t Mrs. Weston be offended?’ Kate asked.

  ‘My dear Kate, she’s always offended. And I don’t intend to care. We’re going to have a picnic and we’re going to have Annabel at least. Annabel never goes anywhere except as her mother’s companion.’