After Sundown

by Anne Hampson

  Tina glanced swiftly at her, the purse she had extracted from the bag unopened in her hand.

  ‘You still find it monotonous here?’

  After a small silence Moira’s suspended laugh broke.

  ‘Fishing, aren’t you?’ Pulling out a chair from under the pretty little inlaid desk, she sat down. ‘No, Tina, I’m not finding it monotonous—at present. Charles has altered all that.’ Moira glanced at her polished fingernails and added softly, ‘He’s in love with me.’

  Mechanically Tina opened the purse, conscious of a peculiar tightness in her heart.

  ‘Did—did he tell you he—he loved you.’ Sure of the answer, Tina braced herself to hear it. In the same soft tones Moira purred,

  ‘Of course he did. I’m not so stupid as to make assumptions, just because of the way some man acts towards me.’

  Taking money from the purse, Tina glanced at her sister, to become faintly puzzled by Moira’s evasion of her direct look.

  ‘He really did actually say he loved you?’ The question tumbled out unwittingly, the stressed word betraying doubt of Moira’s veracity.

  ‘I don’t tell fibs,’ came the unsatisfying answer as Moira raised her head. ‘How much are you lending me?’

  Shrugging faintly, Tina said she could have almost all she had. There was no need of money when she, Tina, was so neat leaving, and when in any case there was no opportunity of spending it.

  ‘Thanks—you’re a brick!’ Eagerly Moira took the money, counted it and told Tina to remember how much she owed her. She would repay it when she got some money from Austin, she said. It was on the tip of Tina’s tongue to say she could have it as a gift, but she bit back the words. After all, she was not certain of exerting her charms successfully on her father, optimistic as she was.

  ‘What time are you going?’ Tina wanted to know, sitting on the bed again in preparation of continuing her rest when Moira left.

  ‘In the morning, early. Charles has business to do at the bank, and so I’ll shop around for a dress and whatever else I want. Then we’ll have lunch together, and fly home.’ Standing up, Moira gave a happy little sigh. ‘It’ll be fun seeing shops again, even though they’ll be dull and old-fashioned in comparison to those we used to patronize.’

  Lying down again when she had gone, Tina felt a dryness in her mouth, and a loneliness stole over her. Tears hurt her eyelids as she closed them. Why was Charles so mean that he differentiated between Moira and herself in this way? Perhaps he was in love with Moira, but that was no excuse for his treatment of her sister. Feeling inordinately sorry for herself, Tina decided not to go down to lunch.

  Charles could not make her, and she had no desire at all to see him and Moira making eyes at each other across the table.

  Bertha came up; the message from Charles was given.

  ‘Tell him I’m tired, and am resting for the present.’

  ‘The Boss said quite firmly that you must join him for lunch.’ Bertha stood by the bed, reluctant to leave without Tina’s promise that she would be down directly.

  ‘Him? Is he alone?’

  Bertha looked surprised.

  ‘He always eats alone during the day; you know that.’

  ‘I expected my sister to be with him today.’

  The woman shrugged, clearly puzzled by Tina’s manner.

  ‘The Boss likes to eat alone until evening. Everybody eats either in the kitchen or in the small saloon—’ Bertha gave a small impatient shrug and said once again that Tina knew all this.

  ‘I’m not coming down, all the same,’ she returned, defiantly determined. ‘I’m resting.’

  ‘Very well.’ The door closed and Tina swung on to her side. Two or three minutes later the door opened, and without ceremony Charles entered.

  ‘I sent word that you had to lunch with me.’ He stood by the bed, and when she turned she encountered what could only be described as a glowering expression.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she told him querulously.

  ‘Get off that bed,’ he ordered softly.

  ‘I’ve told you—Oh, how dare you!’ But he had taken her arm and literally jerked her to a sitting position; the next moment she was on her feet. ‘My arm ... you’re hurting me—’

  ‘Be downstairs in two minutes,’ he commanded, and left her.

  White-faced and trembling, she sat opposite to him at the lunch table five minutes later. His glinting expression and tight mouth portrayed the smouldering wrath within him and prudently Tina kept a hold on her tongue—although there was much she would have liked to say. After a long while, during which she deliberately toyed with her food but ate very little, Charles surprised her by asking what was wrong.

  ‘Why the obstinacy all at once?’ he added as she raised uncomprehending eyes to his. ‘You’d already been warned that you were to lunch with me—just as you were to breakfast with me.’

  ‘I didn’t feel like eating,’ she returned sulkily, and placed her knife and fork on her plate. He glanced at them and said evenly,

  ‘What you want is a damned good hiding.’

  Swiftly she averted her head, the blood hot in her cheeks.

  ‘If Father heard you say that—’

  ‘He shall hear me say it. Eat your meat!’

  What was he going to say to Austin? she wondered, thinking for a second about her getting lost and putting everyone to a great deal of trouble. Picking up her fork she began to eat her meat, aware of Charles’s watchful eye upon her. He seemed to be examining her face and eyes, and then his glance moved to her arms. Tina wondered if he were assessing how much weight she had lost. She would not put it on again—not before the arrival of her father. She hadn’t the slightest intention of trying.

  Before she left the table he said,

  ‘I’m flying into town tomorrow; you’re welcome to come if you wish. Moira’s coming—but no doubt she’s mentioned it to you?’

  Tina stared, conscious of a movement in her heart which was like a small thud.

  ‘I can come as well?’ She noticed his sudden frown at the surprise on her voice.

  ‘Certainly; you can accompany me whenever I go into town. It’s an opportunity for you to do some shopping.’

  A smile broke, and for a few tense seconds her lips remained parted. An odd expression settled on Charles’s face as he stood looking down at her, taking in the faintly heightened colour and the quiver of an eyelid which seemed in some delectable way to denote shyness.

  ‘Thank you, Charles,’ she murmured huskily. And with a little sense of shock she felt her animosity swept away in the torrent of happiness that flooded over her. ‘I expect we shall be starting out early?’

  ‘Very early, so you must get some rest today. Go and take a siesta now, and tonight you can go to bed early.’ Unsmilingly he continued to regard her as she stared up at him, eyes shining, mouth trembling slightly. His own eyes flickered with a new unfathomable expression, and his lips moved as if a suspended smile hovered there. But if so it never broke, and soon Tina was alone, her eyes straying to the window, and beyond to the tall lithe figure striding away towards the home paddock where Sonny was waiting to hand Merlin over to him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FROM her seat in the plane Tina glanced down, thrilling to the scene below. The creek wound about, deflected constantly from the course it strove to take—the easiest way to the sea—by hard bands of rock which created the meanders which added such beauty to the landscape, and gave rise to the variety in the pattern of the trees. Clumps of River Red gums and coolibah trees possessed the loops of land formed by the meanders; sun-warmed spinifex plains were bright green owing to the recent deluge which had brought to life the spring flowers, hardy courageous little plants which stored unbelievable amounts of water in their stems and leaves. Small carpets of pirik scattered about brought a question from Tina, who was answered by Charles after he too had glanced down.

  ‘Parakylia,’ he informed her. ‘It’s a desert plant that can lie dormant for several
years, and then spring to life when the rain comes.’ It could grow and flower and seed all in a mere ten days, he went on to tell her, and Tina shook her head from side to side in wonderment at the miracle of nature.

  ‘You’d think they’d die—without water all that time.’

  ‘Adaptation to environment,’ he replied, glancing at Moira to see what interest she had in all this. She was at that very moment stifling a yawn, one well-manicured hand raised daintily to her mouth.

  ‘Kangaroos!’ exclaimed Tina, pointing away to the distance. ‘Horace was telling me that they have a sort of second sight and can guess where a thunderstorm will occur, and so they all go off to find the water.’

  ‘That’s right—they’re then said to be “on the wallaby”.’ He looked down again, to where the mob of kangaroos was to be seen, some resting under the shady eucalypts, while others grazed in the thick green bush. Beyond them the mountains shone, brilliant crimson in the strange combination of vivid and muted light effected by the drifting woolpacks overhead. In the more faraway distance stretched mulga scrub and semi-desert in an eternity of awe-inspiring solitude.

  The three in the aeroplane continued to look down, but no further conversation ensued, and Tina became lost in thought, glancing now and then at her sister and recalling her reaction this morning on learning that Tina was to accompany her and Charles to Yarraboola. Tina had tried to mention it last evening at dinner, but conversation flowing all the time precluded any suitable opening. And afterwards, when all the others retired to the verandah, Charles reminded her that she must go to bed early, ensuring extra rest, owing to the early start he intended making the following morning. Defiance pressed, in spite of his earlier warning about the extra rest she must have, and instinctively her chin went up. But noticing the sudden glint in his eye she smothered the words rising to her lips and with a quiet good night for everyone she went up to her bedroom. And within five minutes of getting into bed she was glad she was there, for the fatigue had been pronounced since tea time, and her eyelids had drooped even during the lively conversation of the dinner table.

  At breakfast Charles had kept a watchful eye on her and, naturally guarding against any dissension that might lead to a change of mind on Charles’s part about taking her into Yarraboola, she prudently she had to resign herself to going to town with hardly any money in her purse.

  ‘I don’t know what time we’ll be back—’ She had tailed off as Tina made an effort to break in.

  ‘I’m coming too,’ she informed Moira excitedly. ‘I’ve just come up for my bag. The money I lent you—I’ll have to ask for it back,’ she added apologetically.

  ‘You’re coming with us?’ frowned Moira, and when Tina nodded, ‘When did Charles tell you this?’

  ‘He asked me yesterday afternoon if I’d like to go into town. Naturally I said I would.’

  The sudden tightening of her sister’s lips was unmistakable and Tina swallowed hard. Moira was so very different with Charles ... so soft and smiling and friendly.

  ‘You’ve lent me the money, and so you shouldn’t ask for it back.’

  Tina stared at her sister unbelievingly.

  ‘I didn’t know then that I’d be going into town. Of course I’m asking for it back. I haven’t any money at all, you know that.’

  ‘If I give it back then I’ll have nothing.’ Moira’s pout was in evidence and Tina bit her lip.

  ‘Then we’ll have half each,’ she returned, although reluctantly, because she herself had had visions of buying a new dress for the shed dance. To her utter astonishment Moira was shaking her head.

  ‘I need it,’ she began. ‘Half won’t do either of us any good.’

  ‘But it’s mine!’

  ‘You lent it to me—’

  ‘Oh,’ interrupted Tina angrily, ‘I’m not arguing with you! It’s my money and I want it!’

  But Moira refused to return it; she would pay it back when Austin arrived, she promised, going on to say that he would be sure to give them some money. Tina argued, repeating that she wanted her money back now, but it was all to no avail and in the end she had to resign herself to going to town with hardly any money in her purse.

  They drove in the overlanding car to the airstrip, and soon Tina had forgotten all about such mundane things as money, for this was a terrific experience, and a new one, an experience which was part of the Outback scene, as all the graziers used air travel, the distances being so very great.

  With ease and smoothness Charles brought the plane down, and went off on his own to attend to the business which had been responsible for bringing him here. He was to meet them later, and they would have lunch together.

  Tina was asked for advice when Moira began choosing a dress. At last the purchase was made and, as all the money had not been spent, Tina asked for enough to buy a pretty blouse which she thought would go very nicely with a pair of trews which she had brought with her from England.

  ‘I can’t, Tina. I’ve underwear to buy, and in any case, I like that blouse myself.’

  Tina set her teeth.

  ‘What’s come over you?’ she snapped. ‘You didn’t used to be like this.’

  ‘I was never so hard up for money before. I’m not like you, Tina; I need lots of spending money. You’re not so clothes-conscious as I am.’

  ‘I used to be, when I had the money to buy clothes. I want that blouse, Moira!’

  ‘You don’t bother about clothes since coming here,’ Moira pointed out. ‘You’re happiest in a pair of old pants and a shirt.’ Moira smiled with some amusement, but if she expected to thaw her sister she failed. Tina retained a scowling countenance even until they met up with Charles again, half an hour before they were to be at the arranged meeting place outside the cafe. He was in the store, looking at shirts, and Tina would have passed without noticing him, but Moira grabbed her arm and brought her to a standstill.

  ‘Charles!’ she purred, lifting wide eyes to his piercing blue ones. ‘Are you shopping?’

  Ignoring so superfluous a question, he glanced at the armful of parcels Moira carried and remarked in his typical lazy drawl that she had been spending all her money, obviously, and then, turning his attention to Tina, and allowing his gaze to settle on her slightly flushed face for a moment he said, curiously,

  ‘And you, Tina—what have you been buying?’

  ‘Nothing,’ shortly and with a half angry spread of her hands. ‘That should be obvious.’

  His brows shot up at the querulous manner she exhibited towards him.

  ‘Why haven’t you bought anything?’ Faint contempt edged his tones; it would seem quite clear that he was reflecting on the past, when she had all the money she required, and had squandered it. ‘Was there nothing to suit your expensive taste?’

  Anger coursed through her; she glared at him, and then glared at her sister.

  ‘I had no money,’ she muttered almost savagely, and a swift frown creased his brow.

  ‘No money?’ he repeated, his puzzlement affecting the timbre of his voice. ‘You’ve had your wages.’ Tina’s darting glance, directed at her sister, was designed to bring forth an explanation, but Moira remained silent, averting her head in order to hide her expression.

  ‘I’ve spent up,’ Tina then lied, because Charles plainly intended waiting for some comment from her.

  ‘Spent up?’ he echoed disbelievingly. ‘How could you spend up? There’s not much you could want to buy at the store.’

  True, as Tina had told Moira, because the store stocked mostly tinned foods and other groceries, and such things as stationery which the stockmen and their wives would naturally need to buy. Some small items of clothing were also stocked, such as children’s things, and women’s undies—which was what Moira said she had bought with some of her money.

  ‘I’ve spent up,’ repeated Tina crossly, her glance on her sister again. ‘I can please myself what I do with my money, I hope!’

  The blue eyes opened very wide.

  ‘
Don’t adopt that attitude with me,’ he softly warned, and the colour rose in Tina’s cheeks and even spread to her neck. Moira looked up, and Tina gritted her teeth on noting the gleam of amusement in her eyes. She felt like giving her away, telling Charles that it was she who had spent up, and therefore, had had to borrow from her sister, but of course Tina made no such denouncement. But the little scene taking place utterly spoiled her enjoyment in the outing and all through lunch she sat silent while the other two chatted amicably together.

  It was still a little early, Charles commented as they left the cafe, and asked Moira if she had any more shopping to do. Seizing the opportunity of spending up completely, she said yes, and they all went back to the store together, where the remainder of the borrowed money went on a skirt and pretty pure silk scarf. The purchase of this latter fairly incensed Tina, knowing as she did that Moira had at least half a dozen such scarves.

  Charles stood apart, appearing to be neither interested nor impatient. He merely gazed around, idly watching the assortment of people—stockriders in tight trousers and checked shirts, their sombreros tipped to the backs of their heads; the few tourists, strolling around looking for supplies like tinned foods and other replenishments for their camping needs. There were one or two women from the cattle stations, buying clothes and cosmetics and other necessities. Like Moira and Tina, they had flown in with their menfolk, and already Tina had learned enough about the men of the Outback to make a shrewd guess that they were in a bar somewhere—talking about cattle.

  As she was leaving the store with Moira and Charles Tina noticed another blouse, one she liked even better than the first, which Moira now had, and without stopping to think she turned to Charles and asked if he would lend her some money and she would repay it in a few days’ time when her father arrived. Unaware that Tina was relying on Moira returning her money, in which case she, Tina, could in turn pay Charles, he naturally inferred that she meant to get money from Austin.

  ‘No, I shall not lend you money. If you like to squander what you earn on trifles which cannot possibly be necessary, then you will wait until your next pay packet comes along.’ A slight pause as he looked disdainfully at her. ‘What makes you so sure Father will give you money?’