Slade ran towards her, with his small head wobbling like a pea on a drum, his question left his mouth when he was within ten feet, ‘When’s the last time you saw, Mitch?’ His cheeks were flushed, he sounded breathless, a little hysterical.
‘I don’t know, earlier, I gave him his lunch on the deck, he ate it and then I came back here. Why, where is he? Is everything all right, Slade? What’s going on?’
‘No it aint. I’ve just been in to find him. Thought he was crunk, out cold, but he’s not.’
Susie considered this, ‘Well he’s probably gone out with one of the hands, he’ll turn up, Slade.’
‘No you dozy Pom, it’s not that he’s missing. I know exactly where he is.’
‘Oh. Well I don’t understand, I thought you couldn’t find him.’
‘I found him all right, but here’s the thing, he’s dead!’
‘He’s what?’ As the strength left her legs, she needed it repeating.
‘He’s dead!’
She flung her hand to her mouth; her heart beat loudly in her ears. She felt elated, relieved and guilty all at once. Then, slowly, the fear crept in. What would happen to her and Nicholas now? With no sponsor and no job, what exactly would happen to her and her son?
6
Mitch’s death left Susie in a state of flux. Rather than provide her with instant sweet relief, she instead felt anxious, frightened. She was torn between enjoying her new-found freedom away from the pawing hands of the deceased and the daily fear of what might happen to her and Nicholas now.
Without her defined role, she tended to hover, awaiting her fate in a different way than before. She cooked for the visitors and ranchmen, staying in the background and waiting until rooms were empty before scuttling in like an old retainer, clearing crockery and sweeping crumbs from the table. At least with Mitch gone, the guests ate in the dining room and not on the veranda where the heat of the sun was enough to make her faint as she looped from table to kitchen and back again, carrying trays, plates and bottles.
It was on a hot, hazy morning as she balanced the unwieldy bowl of liquid on the edge of the card table, when she looked across the terrace and saw the car pull up. This was not unusual, for the last few days, many a vehicle had kicked up a dust as it stopped in front of the gates and poured forth people from all over, neighbours from a few miles away and suppliers from other side of the state. All were keen to pay their respects to the sheep station owner who had provided them with a living and was at present laid out in his best and only suit on the dining room table. She had avoided setting foot in there since the funeral home had delivered him earlier that day and this was how she would remain until he was buried tomorrow. The thought of witnessing him dead was almost as repellent as seeing him when he was alive.
Susie noted that many of the visitors were just as keen to enquire about his will as they were to drink and reminisce about good old Mitch who had in death, for many, lost his vulgar air. Indeed the man to whom they referred bore no resemblance to the hard drinking, foul smelling creature that had manhandled her until her heart beat in her throat with naked fear. It was strange how death could do that to a person.
She rolled the long white sleeves of the shirt up over her elbows, revealing her muscular forearms. She noted how tanned her skin was against the pale cotton – without a mirror or the time to study herself, she assumed her face was similarly coloured; certainly the ends of her hair had gone from chestnut to blonde.
Dipping the cloth into the metal bowl full of soapy water, she wrung out the excess before wiping it over the window sill and submerging it again beneath the bubbles. Bringing the cloth out and wringing it once again. Susie watched as the back door to the shiny cream Holden opened. She wondered which land owner or supplier would lumber out and remove his hat and loosen his tie. She would of course offer cake and a cup of tea or something stronger, steering them towards the parlour where they could sit with the other mourners and Mulga Plains staff, who hadn’t sobered up for the best part of a week. They were eager to greet any new arrival, as it was a good excuse to top up their glass. And yet, the man who stepped out from the back of the car was not a land owner or supplier. He was a smart-looking man with pressed white trousers and a blue jacket. Looking closer, Susie was shocked to see that he was wearing the uniform of a naval officer.
He looked to be a couple of years older than she was, tall and straight-backed, with thick, dark short hair visible beneath his hat. His skin was weathered, and under neatly arched brows, his blue eyes were cold and clear. Most importantly, he wore the uniform of the British. Susie had seen this cap, badge and shirt countless times in the harbours and seaside towns in which she had grown up. Home… he reminded her of home. A pang of longing twisted in her stomach. Ironically, he was just the sort of man that her mother would approve of – the sort of man with clean fingernails and a commanding stature. The sort of man that she would always have run a mile from.
She felt flustered at seeing him and as she turned, she caught the edge of the precariously balanced bowl, sending the water cascading over the deck and the metal clattering against the timber with an almighty crash. She crouched down and mopped ineffectively at the soapy pool that gathered on the floor. Tuning to her right, she came face to face with the shiny toes of two black, polished shoes.
‘Hello down there!’ He had the merest hint of an Antipodean twang to his vowels.
She shook her head, too nervous to speak. He reached down and with his palm towards her, urged her to stand. She placed her hand inside his and stood slowly. His eyes flitted between her face that was upturned towards his own and her braless form that was perfectly visible beneath her wet shirt.
‘Any more water in that bowl and I’d be ditching the car and heading back for one of my ships.’ He smiled, an odd half smile that used only one side of his mouth. She glimpsed his white, even teeth, and Susie smiled back before immediately casting her gaze downwards, ashamed by her appearance. He was not to be deterred, ‘I’m Phillip, Phillip Gunnerslake. Mitch was my uncle. Haven’t been to this old dump for years, I’ve just arrived with my wife.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Susie whispered, although what she was apologising for wasn’t quite clear. She stared at him; noticing the tiny rivulets of sweat that gathered on his top lip. He pushed his dark hair away from his forehead and seemed not to notice her, casting his gaze around the terrace. Her heart hammered in her chest and her face flamed. She hoped he couldn’t read her thoughts.
‘I don’t know your name.’ Phillip asked with indifference.
‘I’m just, Susie…’ She reached out, trying to grasp the sud-covered bowl in her wet hands, but it slipped further out of her reach.
‘Do you need a hand there, Miss Susie?’
He spoke slowly, and smiled his strange half-smile again.
‘Phillip!’ It was almost a scream. He practically leapt from the terrace. The woman, seemingly his wife, was a generous-hipped redhead who stood with her hands on her waist and several suitcases around her feet, ‘Are you going to help me with these or do break my back doing it alone?’ The woman’s English accent would, under different circumstances, have been a balm, but her nasal tone irritated Susie. She wore a lemon-coloured paisley mini dress with matching coat and pill box hat. It was more suited to a wedding than a funeral, Susie thought, but then who was she to comment, she was wearing men’s clothes that smelt of moth balls. The woman’s hair had been curled and set, the dry ends were starting to frizz in the heat.
Phillip gritted his teeth and barked a short laugh. ‘No drama, Joanne, I’m coming.’
The night was pulling its blind on the day when Susie slunk back to her little shed after the drunken ceremony that had been Mitch’s funeral. Her print frock, one of Mitch’s wife’s, was soaked with sweat and clung to her back. Susie had been glad of the gift, it would have been worse to skivvy for these people in her usual shirt and trousers. Nicholas was awake, sitting up in his cot, chatting to himself as he often did;
Loulou was by his side. She stood, ambling towards the house in the darkness, ready to get back to washing dishes in the kitchen, trying to keep up with demand from the funeral guests outside.
‘Hey there little man! Here I am.’ Susie lifted him from his cot and wrapped her arms around him. It had been over an hour since she had last seen and fed him, ‘I missed you!’ She covered his face with kisses. Nicholas clapped, which was his new party piece.
‘You are so clever! Look at you clapping, my clever baby.’
Slade’s drunken voice bleated from the door way, taking her by surprise, ‘Well let’s face it; he’s probably a darn sight cleverer than his mother! How did you get things so wrong, if is this the best life you could manage for that boy?’
Susie placed Nicholas in the cot and walked outside. In her time at the ranch, she had learnt how to keep these brutes away from her son, using every diversion tactic possible. Nicholas didn’t murmur, he was now accustomed to being raised up and plonked down at regular intervals. It made her heart ache at how adept he was, asking for so little of her time, tolerating the hours of abandonment.
‘Please go away, Slade.’
He laughed. ‘That’s it, give me orders why don’t you!’
‘You are a nasty creature.’ She was certain that Loulou had been going to name him as having some part in her attack, ‘Don’t think I don’t know what happened to Elouera. You may think you’ve got away with it, but these things have a habit of coming back to haunt you. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you treat me so badly, I really don’t, but you’ve been awful to me since the day I arrived and I’ve done nothing to deserve it, I’ve only ever cooked for you and tried to keep out of your way.’
‘You think I’d hurt Loulou?’ he took a step closer, ‘You know nothing! Think you can judge me, Miss High-and-Mighty? Think you’ve got it all figured out don’t ya?’
‘No, Slade, I think I’ve far from got it all figured out, but I’ve got the measure of you!’
‘No you haven’t. Not even close. And if you think the gallant naval officer is the answer to your prayers, you better think again. I saw the way you were looking at him.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Susie felt her cheeks flush.
Slade chuckled and shook his head, ‘I think you do, but that’s not what I came to tell you. I heard good old Phillip list you today as part of the fixtures that go with Mulga Plains! That’s how’s he sees you, a thing, for sale along with the gateposts and the creaking old refrigerator!’
‘What are you talking about?’ she shook her head in confusion. He wasn’t making any sense.
‘I’m talking about the will, which was read this arvo and there you were, listed along with Loulou. ’
Susie sank down onto the red dusty floor, not caring for her pretty cotton dress.
‘Don’t be ridiculous! That’s not true. It can’t be.’ Loulou’s words sprang into her mind, ‘I am nothing and it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me here, not even close…’
Slade lowered his voice, ‘Oh, but it’s true all right, I seen it with me own eyes and you want to be careful, Missy, without Mitch here to keep the dingo’s off his property, things he owns might get a little damaged, d’you get me?’
Susie felt a quake of fear that started in her gut and spread to her limbs, standing, she tried to feel strong, she could not be threatened by him, she had a little boy to protect, ‘I think there must be some mistake…’ she spoke to the ether, wondering if she was listed alphabetically and what might come before and after.
‘No. No mistake, I promise you.’
Phillip’s voice cut through the darkness, ‘And I promise you, Mr Williams that if you don’t get your things together and be gone by sun up, then it’ll be more than dingoes that you’ll have to worry about. Go now and go quietly.’ Neither had heard him approach in the dusk.
‘I ain’t afraid of you, you gutless Pom!’ he veered on Phillip.
‘And neither should you be. I am a man of reason and as long as you are reasonable you have nothing to fear.’
‘A man of reason? Is that right? All I know is that your uncle was ashamed of you, he told me that and I can see why! Reckon you might be fooling others, but I’m not taken in by your shiny buttons and your slick haircut!’
‘Thank you for that valuable insight, Mr Williams, the clock is ticking. I suggest you go and pack.’
Slade swayed where he stood, considering his best course of action. It was a relief to all when he broke into a run towards the lodging block.
‘Are you really a man of reason?’ Susie asked.
‘Depends on what you mean by reason.’ Phillip’s voice was soft.
Susie let her head fall against her chest and she mumbled into it. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t call a person a “thing” would you? To be inherited like a… a… a piece of furniture.’ Her body shook with the exertion.
‘Don’t cry. Come on. That disgusting bully is gone and he won’t be coming back.’
‘I think he beat Elouera, very badly, knocked out one of her teeth and cut her lip. I’m sure it was him. I won’t ever forget finding her like that. She hasn’t told me exactly what happened, but I expect he did worse than that.’
He turned away from her and stretched his arm out towards her, urging her to follow him wherever he was heading and if she had been alone, she just might have.
‘I… I can’t leave my son.’
‘You have a son?’ he sounded incredulous.
She nodded towards the cabin, where Nicholas now slept, unaware of the drama unfolding outside the ill-fitting front door.
‘Yes, a little boy, Nicholas. He’s fourteen months old.’ One of two, twins ...
He took a sharp intake of breath, ‘Is Mitch his father?’
‘Urgh!’ she couldn’t contain the involuntary shudder that swept over her from head to toe, ‘No. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but, God no.’
‘Good. If he had a son, it would change things significantly.’
Susie sat down on the cushion and drew up her legs, hugging her knees towards her chest. She spoke quietly, as if only to herself. ‘I had twins. My boy, Nicholas, and a little girl, Abigail. It’s a horrible mess. I’m from Dorset. I’ve been here for almost a year. I got pregnant back in England and my mother arranged for me to go to a mother-and-baby home,’ she broke off to gather her thoughts, to try and regulate her breathing, this was the first time she had spoken her story aloud. ‘They took her; the nuns who ran the house were quite wicked. I changed my mind about giving my babies away the very second I looked at them, but it was too late for Abigail, they took her and I had to think fast to escape with Nicholas. I heard that they were offering the ten-pound ticket for people to come over and start a new life here. Mitch sponsored me and it all went wrong and now you have to help me. Please.’
Her sob was loud and unrestrained; she shook her head before laying it on her folded arms and concentrated on getting her words out,
‘I am so very, very unhappy. I don’t know how I keep going. I miss my home, I miss having handfuls of shampoo to soap my hair, I miss music, coffee shops, London, the coast, rain. I miss everything. If it wasn’t for my son I would have curled up and died, I know I would. I can’t think. I can’t think about anything, not my past or my future, I can’t. I have to just keep going because if I think about my life or what lies ahead, I think I might go crazy. I’m on the other side of the world to my little girl who doesn’t even know I exist. My baby boy spends his life either asleep in a cot or waiting for me to come home and when I’m not with him, I am a skivvy, cleaning and cooking and waiting on the pigs while they drink and play cards. I think this is hell. I think that I have been sent here to be punished, I really do.’ Her tears dripped from her face and splashed on her arms.
Phillip reached out a finger and stroked her arm. Susie’s hair stood on end. He had such a commanding presence, she almost felt afraid of him.
�
��What will happen to us now?’
‘Well, Miss Susie, that depends on you.’ Phillip placed his hand on her back, rubbing in small circles; she could feel the heat of his skin through the thin material of her frock.
It felt wonderful to feel human contact. She felt her spine unknot beneath his touch, ‘I don’t understand.’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Phillip leant closer and gave her the softest kiss on the lips. ‘Let’s just say that if you’re nice to me, I’ll make sure that everyone’s nice to you.’ He looked at her affectionately. ‘Remember, you have your whole life ahead of you here. You might as well make the most of what you’ve got.’
She closed her eyes, confusion whirling in her brain, as he moved his hand down to her breast.
‘No! No… I can’t!’ Standing up she stepped back and held him at arm’s length. ‘Phillip, I don’t know if I can do this, I want to, I do, but you’re married… I can’t afford to make any more mistakes.’
She cried then as she lowered her arms to her side.
‘Oh no, please no more tears.’ His voice had taken on a different tone, harsher.
‘I’m sorry.’ Susie mumbled as she sank back down onto the cushions under the awning and lay in silence, allowing her racing heart to settle. Phillip lay next to her and stroked her skin. She savoured the weight of his palm as it skimmed her body, drawing the ache from her bones and healing her spirit.
‘Now why don’t we try that again?’ He rolled onto her, pinning her under his weight, pushing her down into the cushions as he fumbled under her vest, his breath coming in short, heavy, beery bursts as his tongue snaked into her mouth.
Susie tried to wriggle free, ‘Please… stop… no! Don’t talk to me like that!’ She didn’t know where she found the courage, but knew that she had to lay a marker, if he was going to be her new boss, she had to make a stand or things for her and her son could get a whole lot worse.
‘I’ll talk to you anyway I please, Slade was right, you come with the property.’ A glob of spit landed on her cheek, as she felt her insides turn to ice.
The Ten-pound Ticket Page 5