by Anne Hampson
‘I shall never understand why you were so foolish as to run such a risk, merely for defiance,’ he said at last, frowning at his own thoughts.
‘It wasn’t an act of defiance, as I told you at the time,’ she reminded him. ‘I have no idea why I didn’t take more notice of the time, and watch the homestead lights. I felt—sort of lonely and wanted to think—’ Tina broke off, shaking her head in a distressed sort of way. Some strange tension was affecting her nerves; she had no idea at this stage that there existed an inner yearning for Charles to like her. All she did know was that here again was that unaccountable hurt experienced on more than one occasion lately when he had been sharp with her, or indifferent, or giving all his attention to her sister, as he so often did these days. Last month there had been a shed dance at Glendallie Station, owned by Rick Drummond and his wife Emma. They had naturally extended their invitations to include the two stepsisters of Charles and they had all stayed the night, as the station was almost a hundred miles from Farne River Downs. Charles had divided his attention between most of the women present, showing a charming side to his character which left Tina gasping with astonishment. He danced several times with Moira, holding her so close that there had in fact been smiles and nods among the guests, and Tina had been acutely aware of these. Charles had not given Tina any attention at all until the end, when he had the last but one dance with her. The last dance he had with Moira, and coming home the following day it was Moira who sat in the front of the car with him, and Tina sat in the back with Flo and Mac. ‘I wouldn’t be so brave as to get lost on purpose,' she added on a little quivering note. ‘I’d be too frightened of not being found.’
‘You were bound to be found,’ he returned unemotionally. ‘On foot you couldn’t cover sufficient distance to make discovery impossible. If we hadn’t found you that night we should certainly have done so the following day, when we could search from the air. You knew that.’
‘I can’t make you believe me, can I?’ she said helplessly.
‘It didn’t make sense.’
‘I know that,’ still in the same helpless tones. And then, resignedly, ‘You’ll always believe I did it on purpose, so there’s no more to be said.’ But after a pause she did add a thank you for his not mentioning the matter to her father. ‘I know you didn’t, because he hasn’t mentioned it in any of the letters I’ve had from him since then.’
‘It doesn’t mean that I won’t,’ he returned without hesitation. ‘You’re on trial, remember—and your real report will come at the end of the year.’
A deep sigh escaped her. She said,
‘I think you’ll give me a very bad report.’
‘Probably,’ he agreed in heartless accents ... and yet, somehow, Tina sensed an addition to the change visible in his features; she sensed a change within him, a softening in his manner with her—almost imperceptible, yet there all the same. His eyes, for instance, were not quite so cold and uninterested; he leant back against a tree and made himself comfortable, just as if he had no immediate inclination to get up and leave her. Instead of the awkwardness she felt she would experience in his presence she found she was in fact at ease in some pleasant yet indefinable way. She no longer wanted to be alone to revel in the wild call of the bush, in its solace and the heady tang of its eucalypts and other vegetation. This new sensation, bewildering and only half tangible, drew her into a kind of flurry where confidence was lacking. The long silence, while Charles was looking her over and frowning slightly as he did so, was more than she could bear and she said impetuously,
‘The horse, Charles ... you don’t mind my riding him now and then?’
Absently he shook his head; he was now absorbed by something else.
‘You’ve lost weight,’ he observed in tones almost sharp.
She nodded.
‘It’s the heat,’ she told him, her lips curving into a deprecating smile. ‘I’m not used to it even yet.’
‘The heat ...? It’ll get hotter from now on—until February.’
‘I’ll get used to it in time.’
He flicked another glance over her and his frown deepened. Was he anxious about her? The idea appealed to her, and brought an involuntary smile to her lips. She sensed a lurking impatience at her action and immediately curtailed the smile.
‘Losing weight is not a matter to be taken lightly. How much have you lost?’
‘I’ve no idea. Five pounds, perhaps.’
‘As much as that?’ The edge of sharpness became more pronounced. ‘How do you feel? You’re not faint, or anything?’
He was concerned about her! Sudden warmth suffused her body. Only now did she fully realize just how lonely and alone she had been since coming here. Charles’s concern was a pleasant balm which she savoured, even though she had a shrewd suspicion that it might be only temporary.
‘No, I’m not faint. I’m fine.’ She had no intention of telling him that she had been feeling ill, and that she had fainted in the excessive heat of the kitchen. He’d disbelieved her over the bull and, therefore, it was feasible that he would adopt a similar attitude were she to tell him of the weakness which came over her periodically.
‘You’re sure?’ No mistaking the anxiety now and her pleasure spread, only to be checked immediately as with faint satire he remarked that his father would expect her to be returned to him in good health. He went on to say she must eat well, and added, ‘I am competent to advise, Tina, and I expect you to take my advice.’ He eyed her narrowly, and sternly, the lean bronzed features taut, and the tightly-stretched skin clear and faintly shining. His mouth, which on occasions could be full and sensuous, was compressed with severity and she glanced away, avoiding his gaze, because it stripped away the small access of happiness his previous concern had afforded her.
‘Yes,’ she responded, unaware of the dejection creeping into her voice, ‘I’ll take your advice.’
He got to his feet, pulling his slouch hat from the back of his head.
‘Don’t go far,’ he said, adopting the more familiar drawl which he used when speaking to others in the house. ‘You’d have done better to take a siesta this afternoon, rather than riding in this heat.’ He was going and she wanted him to stay. She voiced the first thing that came into her head.
‘I could only have the horse at this time. Moira wanted it this morning—’ and she broke off, because of course this was not the thing to say. Strangely, Charles made no arrogant response but frowned to himself before with sudden decision he told Tina she could have a horse of her own.
‘I’ll get Oily to find you something quiet.’ He was untethering his horse; she thanked him hastily, searching her mind for something else to say.
‘Are you going back to the homestead?’
Turning, he regarded her in puzzlement.
‘No; why do you ask?’
She was shy all at once, and scared in case he should suspect she was endeavouring to keep him with her, if only for a few seconds longer.
‘I—I thought I—we—might ride back together. But if you’re not—’
‘I’m riding over to that bore.’ He flicked a hand and she looked in the direction indicated. Charles was undecided and she waited to see what he would say.
‘Come along if you wish,’ he invited at last, a disinterested inflection in his voice. ‘We’ll be in time to join the men for smoke-oh.’
Rising, she asked shyly,
‘You don’t mind?’
‘If you accompany me?’ He lifted an eyebrow, but otherwise his face was expressionless. ‘I shouldn’t have invited you if I did.’ Slinging the reins over his arm, he proceeded to untether the gelding while she pulled her straw hat forward to shade her face from the searing heat of the sun. To her surprise Charles hoisted her into the saddle, and they rode towards the group of stockriders clustered by the bore trough, reining in as they drew nearer to them. Glances were directed from Charles to Tina; then the men would look surreptitiously at one another. Their thoughts were not dif
ficult to read. A new departure for the Boss, they were saying silently, for it was generally accepted that Moira was the favoured sister, while Tina was almost a nonentity. The tea was already made, while the billy was being filled again by Roper, one of the bachelors who lived at the homestead and ate in the kitchen every morning, ate the huge helpings of porridge and steak or eggs and bacon which Tina or Bertha served up to him. He was young and he laughed a lot, often teasing Tina, informing her she was the most attractive girl he had ever seen and swearing she would one day agree to keep company with him. He was rather more genteel than the tough and seasoned general run of men on the station and she once asked if he would not like to live and work in a town. He preferred the lusty life of the Outback, he had replied instantly. The only thing that appeared to bother him at all was the fact of not having a girl-friend.
‘I’d like to get married,’ he said, grave for once. ‘It would be nice to have one of those bungalows facing the road over there, beyond the homestead. I’d have my garden brighter than anyone else’s, with hibiscus and frangipani and poinsettias and—oh, all the flowers I could possibly grow. And my kids would go to the school—Yes, it would be nice to have a wife.’ And he had looked longingly at Tina who, sympathetic as she felt towards him, had not the slightest intention of extending him the merest hint of encouragement. Her future lay in England, with her stepfather, and when eventually she did marry, it would be to a gentleman of polish, not to a hard-bitten sun-tanned cattle man whose chief interest was in the saddle and the wide open spaces. After the first flush of romance such a marriage would become one of dull routine for the woman, who would scarcely ever see her man, and when she did she would have to listen continually to his recounting of what had happened out there on the range—as that was all these men could ever talk about; Tina had heard that said several times since coming here, to Farne River Downs.
‘Sit down, Tina.’ Charles’s voice brought her from her reverie and she made herself comfortable on the bank of the dry creek bed. Mac handed her a cup of tea and she smiled her thanks.
‘We’re in for rain, Boss,’ Roper was prophesying with a swift glance upwards. Mere wisps of cloud hovered against the vivid blue of the sky. Tina expected a swift contradiction from someone, but to her surprise Charles nodded as he sat down opposite to her, while Mac said,
‘Yes; there’ll be thunderheads up there before the night’s out. Tomorrow there’ll be water rushing along the creek.’
Accepting the tea offered to him, Charles drank deeply; his sombrero was pushed to the back of his head, freeing his attractive brown hair so that it fell forward on to his brow. A lean hand sweeping through it took it back; the action also gave him a more human aspect, thought Tina, noticing his eyes slanting at her as he sensed her sudden interest. Delectable colour tinged her cheeks beneath the tan. Charles beheld her in strange and thoughtful silence for a long moment and, disconcerted by this direct gaze, she averted her head, sipping her tea.
‘It will be pleasant to see water in the river,’ she commented a few minutes later during a lull in the men’s conversation. ‘In England we don’t have dry rivers. In fact, when Father said there were comparatively few permanently-flowing rivers in Australia I couldn’t understand it, because you naturally think of a river running.’
Mac looked at her and laughed.
‘True, most rivers run—at first,’ he amended. ‘They then meander, and lastly they flow, sluggishly, as they near the sea.’
Charles looked at him and smiled faintly. ‘You do have dry rivers, though, Tina. What about those in places like Yorkshire that disappear underground?’
She nodded.
‘In the limestone,’ she said, thinking of Malham and the clints and grikes and swallow holes she had learned about at school. ‘The rivers still flow, though, but you can’t see them until they reappear somewhere downstream.’
‘Something similar happens here, in a way. We get our water from underground—or perhaps you didn’t know this?’
‘I did, yes. You have artesian bores.’
‘What is all this?’ Roper wanted to know, helping himself to more tea, ‘a lesson on geography?’
‘Geomorphology,’ corrected Mac.
‘Never heard of it,’ returned Roper frowning. ‘Let’s talk about the coming shed dance; it’s a much more interesting topic.’
Charles raised his brows.
‘What shed dance?’
‘Well, Boss, we usually have one about this time of the year.’
‘Do we?’ with that lazy drawl and an added inflection of boredom. ‘Yes, I believe we do.’
Tina’s eyes brightened.
‘When do we—you—have it?’ She looked at Charles a little diffidently, wondering if he were considering her forward for butting in, as it were. She recalled the dance at Glendallie Station, remembered the charm which Charles exhibited towards the people there. He had danced with most of the women but seemed more interested in Moira than anyone else. Tina had begun to think he was not intending to dance at all with her, but he had at last done so, almost at the end of the evening. He looked at her now, but without any marked degree of interest.
‘I expect we shall have it towards the end of the month,’ was all he said and, having finished his tea, he rose. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes.’ Swallowing her tea, she got up. Once again he helped her into the saddle and they rode away together, Tina conscious of the interest they had left behind, aware that already the men were talking about this new departure of Charles—riding with the girl in whom he had never before taken the slightest interest.
Moira was standing by the paddock as they neared the homestead; she turned on hearing the horses’ hooves, and a swift frown knit her flawless wide brow.
‘How did you come to be riding with Charles?’ she wanted to know when they were alone a few minutes later.
‘He came along; I think he saw Grey Prince and—’ Tina stopped, vexed at the slip. Somehow, she had no wish to proffer the information that it had been Moira whom Charles had expected to see. But of course she had gone too far and Moira herself supplied the ending to the sentence.
‘—expected to see me, eh?’ Clearly she was not pleased, and Tina felt suddenly flat and dejected. It had been most pleasant riding with Charles, across the spinifex plain towards the bore where the men were preparing for smoke-oh. She had felt more a part of the life than at any other time since coming to Farne River Downs, the loneliness she had known up till now being dispelled for one short interlude. Moira’s undisguised antagonism took away the pleasure and once again Tina experienced that unhappy feeling of aloneness. ‘I wish I hadn’t let you have Grey Prince.’
‘That’s not very nice of you, Moira!’
‘I hope you’re not cherishing any ideas about Charles, Tina. He isn’t the kind to mess about with little girls.’
‘Mess about?’ echoed Tina, eyes opening wide.
‘You know what I mean. If he’s intending to have a love affair with one of us, it’ll be me, so, as I said, don’t get any ideas.’
Tina went a trifle red.
‘I’m not in the least interested in Charles! And I don’t really think you are either. You said you didn’t like him.’
‘That was at first. I’ve changed since knowing him, you’re well aware of that.’
Tina looked at her, recalling vividly how Moira had hated the idea of coming out to Charles’s cattle station. She would not come, she had declared several times, and when in the end she had been forced to do so, she had sulked for a whole fortnight before their departure for Australia, and on the plane she had grumbled incessantly.
And now, having met Charles, she liked him.
Did Charles like her—in that particular way? Moira had stated quite emphatically that he did, but Charles so often adopted an enigmatic attitude that it was difficult in the extreme to make even a remote guess as to his thoughts.
‘He’s having a shed dance soon.’ Her own reflections had
induced this remark, as she was musing on the last dance they had attended, when Charles had undoubtedly portrayed keen interest in Moira.
‘He is?’ Moira’s eyes brightened, just as those of Tina had done earlier on hearing about the dance. ‘It’ll be fun I Everybody for miles around will be coming, I suppose?’
‘Yes; it’s usual to ask all the neighbours.’
‘I’m going to town to buy a new dress. I wonder if Charles will take me into Yarraboola? He goes there now and then, as you know, and I’d love to fly with him.’
‘I’ll bet he won’t,’ returned Tina ... and with a little shock of surprise she admitted that the wish was father to the thought! With another little shock she knew she wanted nothing more than to be spiteful as she told her sister about Charles’s relenting over allowing her to have a horse of her own.
‘He’s letting you have one?’ Moira set her mouth and brought down her lashes, shading her expression. ‘I never expected him to do that, not after your getting yourself into his bad books the way you did.’
‘We talked about that today, and I feel somehow that he might have forgiven me.’
Moira frowned and looked away, to where Horace the yardman was busy mending a break in the white-painted fence. Watching her, Tina noticed the pout on her lips, which had been familiar when they were in England.
‘I wish I hadn’t let you have Grey Prince,’ she said again. ‘If I’d been riding him myself it would have been me who would have been chatting with Charles.’
‘You sound horrid, Moira. I don’t get much pleasure, and it was nice to have Charles talk to me. He hasn’t been kind to me at all since we came here.’ Her brown eyes were shaded as she thought of her loneliness, and of the hard work she had to do, work that had made her lose weight, so much weight that Charles had actually noticed her thinness.
Moira turned her head to cast her a strange glance.
‘Did talking to Charles give you pleasure?’
‘It was certainly a change from the indifference he’s always shown to me. Yes, I did enjoy talking to him ... and his response.’