The One Who Kisses: A Heartwarming Australian Outback Romance

by Lucy Walker

  ‘Good galloping!’

  ‘Let’s go!’

  And they did, thundering towards a ridge of hills behind which lay the Salt Lakes, rimmed by ti-trees and clay pans.

  Three quarters of an hour later all the parties had joined forces. Already a tarpaulin had been raised against the Weston station waggon. Under this two canvas collapsible cots were set up for Sugar and Baby. Fine nets were thrown over them and, tired from the drive, they fell asleep.

  ‘Peace for an hour,’ Peg Castillon said.

  ‘Peg, come here, dear …’ This was Mrs. Weston. ‘Now let you and I set the tables. I insisted on the linen cloths being brought …’

  Mrs. de Berhans came blithely from behind the trees.

  ‘No need, Mrs. Weston. The boys from Arundel and Allandale have already seen to everything. They’ve got a barbecue going at Pier Point, just over the ridge. That’s where the big solitary gum tree is, remember?’

  Mrs. Weston’s face literally darkened.

  ‘Well, I think you people from Arundel had better get on with your picnic over there. We’ve got sufficient here for our party. And this is a good spot for the children …’

  ‘Ideal, but we’re having the picnic under the gum tree. Now off you go, Peg … you can have my horse. You take Kate and Ron and surround the lake. I think you can go all round this one without having to break into the bush. Now, go on Peg. Do as you’re told, that’s a good girl.’

  Mrs. Benallen bore down upon them from the other side.

  ‘Hal, the boys want you. They’ve got the keg of beer open already. Go on, Burns, you lead the way. Now don’t stop for anything. If you don’t take charge of that keg, Hal, the Allandale boys will have the lot.’

  ‘For blinkin’ hell’s sake, what are we waiting for, Hal?’ Burns asked, and loped and rolled off up the track.

  It seemed as if in a minute everyone had faded away except Mrs. Weston, Judity, the two ‘B’s, and the two babies. Beatrix had made herself scarce as soon as the cars arrived.

  Mrs. Weston, probably for the first time in her life, looked nonplussed.

  ‘Judity can watch the babies for an hour,’ Mrs. de Berhans said firmly. ‘Come along, take my arm, Mrs. Weston. The picnic is going to be over under the big gum tree.’

  ‘It’s too early for lunch,’ Mrs. Weston said testily. ‘I don’t intend to eat anybody’s picnic for at least an hour.’

  ‘Neither you shall. We’re just making tea. You’ll have a cup of tea, won’t you?’ Mrs. Benallen said.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving the children. I owe it to Annabel to keep an eye on them. A snake might get in one of the cots.’

  Mrs. de Berhans’ voice was soothing.

  ‘Neither of you shall leave them then. Judity, you come along and get some tea for Mrs. Weston. Now come along, Judity … stop that humming and hawing … the tea will grow cold.’

  Doubtful but obviously anxious to come, Judity heaved her great weight off the camp stool.

  ‘Judity …’ began Mrs. Weston. But Mrs. de Berhans drowned her words.

  ‘That’s right, Judity … now hurry along. Don’t keep your mistress waiting. There you are, Harriet, you give Judity an arm up the rise. She’ll never make it with that great weight of hers.’

  Mrs. Weston, bewildered, looked about her. There was no one but the babies. Somehow they had all tricked her. She stared at the boxes unpacked from the Westons’ cars and which contained the food she and Cook and Riley had prepared in the early morning. The boxes stood about forlorn and ownerless. Over the rise, above which could be seen the giant leafy arms of the solitary gum tree, could be heard the sound of laughter and many voices. Round the salt path of the lake there came the thunder of horses galloping and Peg and Kate, the two de Berhans boys and two of the Cricks boys streamed past.

  Suddenly, and terribly, Mrs. Weston was alone in the world.

  It was getting on without her. Even Hal had been seduced by a tankard of beer.

  She sat down abruptly on the camp stool vacated by Judity and mourned her lot.

  Kate had the time of her life. Peg and the boys were great fun. They explored the lake and its fellow a quarter of a mile farther inland. The Cricks boys were indefatigable in their labours to find new and curious things to show the ‘lady from England’.

  ‘Look, lady … see, I’ll fro’ this waterlogged root in the lake. It don’t sink!’

  ‘Look lady. I can swim this blinkin’ hoss over this lake. You watch …’

  And clinging by the mane … for the Cricks boys all rode bare back (too poor to buy a saddle) … the horse and rider disappeared to the farther side.

  ‘See them trees, lady. Iron barks they are. Grow terrible strong they do …’

  It was glorious country for riding but for all other purposes seemed barren and loveless. The thin paper-barks drooped in unhappy clumps around the smaller clay pans. The largest stretched for hundreds of yards with a surface as smooth as a billiard table.

  ‘A good landing ground,’ Kate said with a laugh.

  ‘That’s just what it is … sometimes,’ Ron de Berhans said. ‘That’s where John Campbell landed last time he went to see Beatrix at Appleton, and if Rick comes by plane … like Mrs. Benallen said … that’s where he’ll come.’

  So it wasn’t a joke! Rick really was coming to the picnic by plane!

  Kate, wheeling her horse and breaking into a gallop, gave a shout of laughter.

  So Rick was coming to the picnic. And by plane! Oh fabulous country!

  And heavenly day!

  Under the great gum tree, trestle tables were poised. All manner of plastic boxes and containers were set. Through their partly transparent lids one could see an array of foods. Yet somehow it didn’t all seem quite enough.

  Kate wondered vaguely if perhaps they were going to add the Appleton contribution to it.

  A hundred yards away the barbecue burned against a horseshoe-shaped stone wall … improvised with stones and rocks picked up around about. On this billies boiled.

  Tired from the long ride, Kate and Peg sat, their backs to the gum tree, and talked together. Beatrix was over by the beer keg in earnest conversation with Strong and Hal and Burns.

  ‘Bet they’re talking about burnt wool …’ Peg said.

  ‘Why aren’t you concerned about it, Peg? After all, your father was involved one way or another, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Not on your life. No one as straight as Dad’s been all his life has to worry about a few drunken yokels accusing him of burning the wool store down. He worries, but I don’t.’

  ‘How did it burn down?’

  ‘Don’t know. But their fire investigators are in Blackwood, you know. Evidently the place was insured … and that means an enquiry.’

  Faint on the air there came a thrumming.

  The boys ran out from under the tree yelping like a pack of puppies.

  ‘That’s Rick!’

  ‘That’s him, by golly!’

  ‘That’s blinkin’ well him. Cripes, ain’t he grand?’

  The drone became a speck which became a noise and a plane.

  It was a Tiger Moth and circled so low that the two men in the cockpit leaned over and waved. Everyone stood up and waved. The boys screamed and yelled. In a minute they were all on horseback … the Cricks mounting by holding the mane as they ran. The horses disappeared in the direction of the clay pan.

  ‘Some of you men had better go and help Rick,’ Mrs. de Berhans called. ‘He’ll have too much to carry.’

  Hal turned away from the keg.

  ‘Come on …’ he said vaguely. ‘Let’s go.’ Two or three of them ambled lazily across the stretch of scrub towards the lake.

  Kate looked after them. She thought that in a minute Rick would come through those bushes. He would smile down on them all from his lean height and all of them would get just the same amount of warmth and impishness from that smile of his. But somehow the party would begin with Rick. Without him it had been fun. But
it had been waiting for him.

  Then she remembered Hal for the first time,

  ‘Golly,’ she thought, ‘I haven’t even thought of him once since we left Appleton.’

  ‘What are you looking so big-eyed about, Kate?’ Peg asked.

  ‘Surprise. Do you know what, Peg? I’m really an Australian now. I said “golly” to myself without knowing I was saying it. And do you know some more?’

  ‘I’m breaking my heart to hear.’

  ‘You certainly are …’ Kate burst out laughing. ‘I just realised I haven’t even thought of Hal …’

  ‘You’re cured,’ Peg said. ‘I gave you a week when I saw you after you got off the train, but I guess you’ve got more sense of loyalty than I gave you credit for. It’s taken nearly two.’

  Kate sat up straight and looked across the bush. The plane engine had cut out and there was only shouting and laughter coming from the clay pan. She straightened her back to see the procession of men and boys coming towards them. In the middle of them was a tall, wide-brimmed hat.

  Kate caught Mrs. de Berhans and Mrs. Benallen both looking at her speculatively.

  She got up hurriedly.

  ‘I think I’ll go and see how Mrs. Weston is getting on, after all,’ she said. ‘We’re really awfully unkind.’

  She fled over the rise.

  Meantime Rick and his pilot arrived under the gum tree with their swag. Three roast turkeys straight from the ovens of the Pastoralists’ Club at Albany. A sucking pig, lobsters, salmon. Salads too numerous to name. Fruit salad in a barrel; oysters; icecream straight out of a refrigerator. Even hot soup for the babies.

  When Kate came back over the rise with Mrs. Weston leaning on her arm the trestle tables were groaning, the turkeys were being sliced and the salmon was being put to bed in a nest of shredded lettuce.

  Rick smiled benignly as he gazed down on this fabulous array of food. Someone put a tankard of beer in his hand.

  How white his teeth were in his sun-browned face!

  He looked up as Kate came towards the tree. Her eyes did not seek his … but somehow found them.

  Mrs. Benallen watched Kate’s parted lips and saw them tremble for a moment. Then she looked at her great son. The imp was in his smile, but also something tender enough to bring warmth to her own heart.

  ‘Perhaps …’ she thought ‘Perhaps …!’

  Her eyes caught those of Mrs. de Berhans. She took out her handkerchief and blew her nose.

  ‘It’s the pollen in the air,’ she said.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Mrs. de Berhans said. ‘There’s no pollen about. What’s wrong with you is imagination.’

  ‘Too much imagination altogether.’

  ‘Well, you will be a writer, my dear.’

  Rick smiled at Kate over the top of his tankard.

  ‘Hullo, Peaches!’ he said.

  Chapter Seven

  The picnic lunch was a feast. Superb food superbly cooked. Burns afterwards unashamedly pulled his slouch hat down over his eyes and went to sleep. Several of the men who had come from Allandale and Arundel walked over towards the lake, stripped off their shirts and lay stretched on the ground with the sun beating down on their backs. Kate knew that Australians were chronic sun-bathers; however, here they braved more than the powerful rays of the sun. Sandflies with their irritating and persisting nipping abounded everywhere.

  The women found it easier to sit under the tree, where the smouldering gum leaves from the barbecue spiralled enough smoke in the air to keep away all insects.

  Baby lay prostrate on a ground-sheet and Judity tickled her with her toe. Sugar, more restless, wandered between the lake and the camp. Everyone had to keep an eye on her, though Billy Cricks insisted she couldn’t drown in the lake … she could only float.

  Rick rolled his cigarette and gazed out over the lake. His hat was pulled down a little on his forehead and his eyes screwed up against the glare of the sun.

  ‘Well, how you all doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Lovely, Rick,’ Peg said. Unashamedly she rubbed her stomach with a rotary movement.

  ‘Full up,’ said Beatrix. ‘Now I want to go to sleep. Keep quiet, everyone.’

  Mrs. Weston sat on the outskirts of the party. She reclined back in a collapsible canvas chair and crocheted. Every now and again she looked up at the sun and insisted that a ray or two of it was penetrating the leaf roof. Someone would get up, move her chair for her and settle her down. The sun, steadily moving across the sky, would soon find another hole in the treetop and shed a ray on her. The performance of moving and settling Mrs. Weston would begin again.

  The two ‘B’s, Mrs. Benallen and Mrs. de Berhans, sat among cushions on the ground.

  The talk was desultory and sleepy. Presently even that ceased and everyone dozed or pondered on the many eccentricities of the great bush. Kate thought about its space and distance. ‘So vast!’ she thought. ‘So vast and so empty.’

  Lizards rustled. Crickets kept up a persistent clicking. Here and there a dry stick crackled. It was hot, the air heavy with leaf smoke.

  Kate’s head drooped, and she slept.

  When she awoke the camp was astir. Sugar had been twice rescued from the lake by one or other of the Cricks. (‘They’re not such bad kids after all!’) The de Berhans boys had decided a short cut to silence and comfort was to let her drown. Mrs. Weston, nature getting the upper hand of her for once, had leaned back in the canvas chair and fallen asleep, her mouth open.

  Rick had said, ‘Come for a walk, Peg,’ and they’d gone round the lake.

  Someone was stirring the fire by kicking it together with his great, timeless, imperishable boot. The billies were put on to boil.

  Mrs. de Berhans stretched.

  ‘The men have got to get back,’ she said. ‘My cows have got to be brought in and so have those on Allandale.’

  ‘Let’s have tea,’ Mrs. Benallen said. ‘Then the men can pack up and go. We can follow when we like.’

  Hal, who had been formidably silent all day, began to throw boxes and cartons about and sing.

  Kate furrowed her brow. Hal’s moods were unpredictable.

  ‘What’s bitten him?’ Beatrix asked.

  ‘Perhaps he’s pleased Rick and Peg are enjoying themselves,’ Kate said. ‘Look, you can see them through the trees …’

  Rick was walking round the rim of the lake throwing gum nuts one after another towards the centre. Every now and again Peg would stop, take aim, and try to out-throw him. They laughed together and strolled on.

  ‘Pity Rick doesn’t marry Peg, and be done with it,’ Beatrix said unexpectedly.

  Kate was silent. ‘I ought to say something,’ she thought. Mrs. de Berhans moved round the tree and tried another seat.

  ‘What are you two girls talking about?’

  ‘Rick and Peg,’ Beatrix said in her forthright manner. ‘It’s time someone tried to make a match of them.’

  ‘What nonsense, Beatrix. They’re absolutely unsuitable. Peg’s a dear but not orderly. Now Rick is the most orderly and thorough person I’ve ever known.’

  Mrs. Benallen moved around this side of the tree.

  ‘Talking about Rick? Yes, he is very thorough … thank goodness!’

  ‘The Castillon place is a pig-sty,’ Mrs. Weston said, suddenly coming awake.

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Mrs. Benallen asked innocently. ‘And I don’t agree with you really. Peg’s rather untidy, but she never lets things go too far.’

  ‘Her redeeming grace is a facility for knowing when things have got too far,’ Mrs. de Berhans said. ‘Then she has a glorious clean-up and the whole district is called in to inspect the state of the shelves.’

  ‘Very naive,’ said Beatrix. ‘All the same, I think Rick ought to marry her. It would give her something worthwhile to think about.’

  This, in the presence of Mrs. Benallen, shocked everyone into silence. There were no nuances, no subtleties about Beatrix and her utterances.

  Ka
te felt cold inside her. She told herself it was because of the freedom with which these people all talked about one another. Some of it was kindly. But not all.

  Hal, who had been carrying boxes across the clay pan to the Tiger Moth, stood, hands on hips, and surveyed them.

  ‘Women’s gossip party?’

  ‘Go away, Hal. We haven’t started on you yet,’ Mrs. de Berhans said.

  His head was a little on one side, his eyebrows raised. Standing like that, his blond bigness at its best in khaki pants and blue denim shirt, not to mention the snake-belt and the military boots, he still had some qualities with which to charm.

  ‘Come for a walk, Kate. Then they can get started.’

  She stood up and looked at the others.

  ‘Don’t make it too bad, will you?’ She put her hand on Hal’s arm. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Round the lake’s as good a place as any.’

  They crossed the short distance of scrub to the lake. Hal stooped to pick up a gum nut. Like Rick he too walked throwing them as far into the centre of the lake as his throw would take them. He whistled cheerfully.

  ‘You really are a funny person, Hal,’ Kate said. ‘You seem so happy. Yet yesterday you were so cold and angry …’

  ‘My belly’s with good capon lined,’ he quoted. ‘Do you know your Shakespeare and do you still hate me?’

  Kate stopped and looked at him.

  ‘As if you cared!’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Well, don’t let’s spoil a good day to-day. See that paper-bark tree over there?’

  He threw a gum nut and hit the tree with well-aimed accuracy.

  ‘When we get to it … we’re going to get behind it … and I’m going to kiss you.’

  He whistled.

  Kate held her breath. For a minute she closed her eyes.

  ‘This is it,’ she thought. Looking at him under her lashes she knew that in this mood he was nearly lovable: nearly the Hal she’d known in Sydney.

  ‘We’re getting nearer,’ he said, throwing a gum nut. ‘And nearer … throwing another. Each finding its mark with a sharp knock.

  Kate felt panicky.

  ‘I suppose one more kissing won’t hurt,’ she thought. ‘How does one refuse anyone as self-contained and arrogant as Hal? He just wouldn’t believe I don’t want to kiss him. He just wouldn’t take “no”. He just doesn’t think it matters that he hasn’t kissed me for days.’