‘Don’t be silly,’ snapped Deirdre. ‘She’s not going into town in this state for everyone to see! You don’t live here, Will. Teddy likes her privacy. She doesn’t want to be paraded about when she’s not feeling well. You should just go.’ She marched into the room and plonked herself down on the other side of Teddy who refused to roll over and sit up. Will didn’t go anywhere.
‘Teddy needs to find a way to deal with this, Deirdre, not avoid it. She needs to prove to herself she can beat it.’
‘Harrumph.’ Deirdre stroked Teddy’s hair. ‘Shows what you know. You go. I’ll look after her.’
‘If it’s my fault she’s like this, I’m staying.’ His hand stayed on her like a territorial claim. ‘You phone the girls and tell them she can’t make it.’
Deirdre stood. Teddy knew she hated the thought of letting people down, so the realisation she was going to have to make the call would make her resentful. But leaving it for later would only make it worse. She harrumphed again, and went into the kitchen. Teddy felt Will lean over her.
‘Teddy?’ he whispered. ‘She’s gone. Can you sit up?’ She shook her head, but he ignored her and lifted her gently but firmly up and into his arms. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’ She shook her head and glared at him though her swollen eyelids. He considered her, the concern in his face turning to a small smile. ‘Yeah, you are,’ he told her. ‘You, Teddy Broderick, are okay, and you’re only going to get better.’
He reached out a hand and stroked her wild hair back from her face. It was a simple gesture from a man she felt she hardly knew, but it washed through her like a warm wave of comfort and she leaned into his hand. He pulled her loosely into his arms and stroked her back and her hair.
‘Ted, you don’t have to wig out for me to come over here, you know,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘I’d pretty much do that anyway, if you’d let me.’
She smiled. ‘Stop being a smart-arse,’ she told him and she felt him smile, too. When Deirdre came back into the room he held her closer.
‘Lara is very disappointed, of course,’ she informed them with a sniff. ‘Late notice and all that.’ She was glaring at Will.
‘Sorry, Deirdre,’ he said.
‘Don’t bother apologising to me,’ she snapped. ‘It’s Teddy I’m worried about.’
‘Teddy is far tougher than you give her credit for.’
‘And you think you know my granddaughter?”
‘Yeah, I think I do.’ His arm was still around her. ‘But I’m going to have to go in to help with the parade in half an hour,’ he added. ‘I’m on music.’
Teddy nodded. ‘Say sorry for me?’ she whispered.
‘No one needs you to say sorry, Teddy,’ he told her. He marched out of the house and lifted his collar against the cold blast of wind. More rain was coming.
The window was down and blasting cold air on her hot face, still burning with shame and the imprint of her father’s hand. The rumble of the old ute was loud enough to smother the sound of Deirdre’s crying, so she allowed herself the brief luxury of wailing in grief and fury, letting the tears pour down her face, and sucking in air so she could bellow it out again into the privacy of the cabin. She had pulled onto the road without knowing where she was going, but now it was late morning and she found there was nowhere she wanted to be other than with Harry.
She slowed her weeping and considered how brave she was feeling. As the salmon gums flashed past her window she imagined herself rolling up Harry’s driveway. Would he be happy to see her? Of course he would, she told herself. He loved her, and she loved him.
Mr Beswick passed her on the road and she gave him a cheerful wave. She sniffed. She’d never broken down in front of Harry and had never let him see how bad it was for her because the shame was too great. Sometimes she wondered if the awful truth of it would ruin her chances with him – that he’d see her terrible home and want to distance himself from the family. She loved Harry desperately. She wanted him and she would want him even if she was an heiress and her father a disapproving baron, and she had to give up everything to be with him.
Deirdre checked herself in the rear-view mirror. She was a disaster. Her face was swollen, her hair was a mess and she wore no lipstick because she’d run from the house. She’d had to get away from her father and the farm.
She imagined Harry’s kind eyes and cheeky smile. He would take her in for a few hours, surely. Perhaps she could help him with the cows until she calmed down. She paused when she reached his gate, blew her nose and drove tentatively up the driveway to his house.
Harry was just crossing the yard to his workshop when she arrived. He looked at the ute in surprise and the sunlight caught in his golden hair. A smile broke out over his face.
‘Deirdre!’ he called, and her heart was flooded with relief. She pulled up outside his house and he came to the window.
‘What a wonderful surprise . . .’ he began, and then, seeing her face, he pulled open the door. ‘Deirdre! What’s the matter?!’ She climbed bashfully out of the car, exposing her reddened face. ‘Oh, my darling!’
He gathered her into a hug and she wept in relief against him.
‘Come inside,’ he said gently, and led her into his neat kitchen. He sat her at the table and made tea while she watched him in silence. The comfort of the simple action soothed her and made the scorching mark on her face seem as if it didn’t exist. Finally he placed a plate of biscuits in front of her with a strong cup of tea.
‘Now, tell me. What happened?’
‘Oh Harry, I’ve had a terrible day. Dad was drinking all night and this morning, well, there was just no talking to him! Viv’s away in Perth visiting a friend and I’m stuck here day after day with him. He wanted breakfast, but he didn’t like his bacon and eggs. We argued because I told him they were the same as I always make them, and he —’ She broke off.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘He said terrible things to me. He swore at me, he said he wished he was dead and – oh, Harry I’m not proud of it, but I said I wished he was dead, too.’ She touched her face. ‘He slapped me so hard I fell over.’ She found she was weeping again. ‘I picked myself up and ran, and behind I could hear him crying that no one loves him, that his own daughters wish he was dead.’
She shuddered and sipped her tea. The warm liquid comforted her.
‘And do you?’ Harry asked gently. ‘Wish he was dead?’
‘No,’ Deirdre said quickly. Harry picked up a biscuit and inspected it carefully. ‘Well, sometimes, maybe, but I do feel terrible about it afterwards,’ she assured him.
Harry smiled kindly at her. ‘I’m glad you said that,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have believed you otherwise.’ He sipped his tea. ‘I can understand how you feel, Deirdre. It must be hell out there sometimes. I don’t know how you both cope. It makes me so furious!’ He put down both his cup and his biscuit. ‘Deirdre, I think you know how I feel about you. I can’t bear to see you suffering, my darling.’ He kissed her forehead softly. ‘Say you’ll come away with me soon. Let’s just leave Windstorm. We can start a new life. I’ll leave this place for Frank to run, he’ll be fine – well, apart from the milking cows. He thinks they’re a waste of time . . .’
‘Yes.’
‘Deirdre?’ his eyes were bright with hope.
‘I said yes, silly. When can we go?’ Harry laughed and pulled her up into his arms and they hugged. Then he kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him back. Her life was about to change forever and it couldn’t happen soon enough.
His hands travelled greedily over her body. She shivered and moved closer, touching him shyly at first and then boldly tracing her hands down his arms and around his waist to his back. He deepened his kiss and Deirdre knew that he wanted more from her. She felt a dark thrill of power knowing that this man who she loved so much would want her, even with her terrible family; that he would want to start a life with her, that he would want to claim her as his own. Sh
e softened her kisses and found that today, she wanted exactly the same thing.
‘Deirdre,’ he murmured, ‘I love you.’ He kissed her. ‘I want you to be mine.’
She looked into his wonderful brown eyes and kissed his cheek softly, letting her mouth linger there. ‘I want that too,’ she whispered and he led her to his bed.
The sky was so dark and heavy with unshed rain that some of the cars Teddy passed had their headlights on in the gloom, and when she pulled up at Windstorm Hall, she could see the windows were aglow just as they would have been for the dances her grandmother had so loved. The dress was too tight, and her hair was falling around her shoulders in her panic. She had bright red lips and black mascara. She wore high heels, which were sinking into the ground, and she had a heart screaming at her to get away.
She trotted up the steps at the side of the hall, past the kitchens where the afternoon tea was waiting to make its welcome appearance, and peeked out at the audience. Will was playing an old tune, which she recognised as ‘To a Miniature’. Cate was the last walker, she was in Ida’s wedding dress, and she looked like an angel. The dress was a silk crepe, it draped over her curves and fell just below the knee. Cate smiled and waved over at her daughter, Brigit, who was shoving one of her dad’s scones in her face to celebrate the gala occasion.
Trish picked up the microphone. ‘What a beautiful display of grace and beauty,’ she announced. ‘There’s nothing like the classics!’
There was a warm round of applause, and Teddy looked out across the small sea of welcoming faces. These were her friends, even those she didn’t know. She breathed in deeply at the top of the stairs, marched down the steps at the side of the stage and took the floor.
‘Uh, excuse me, Trish,’ she said. ‘Could I have the mic, please?’
Trish looked surprised. ‘You’re okay?’ she asked, and Teddy nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.
She turned to the crowd.
‘Good afternoon everyone. I’m sorry, I’ve just arrived. I’m Cinderella this afternoon – a little bit late to the ball.’ There was laughter. ‘I didn’t want to walk today, to show off Deirdre’s lovely gown, but I’ve changed my mind.’ She took a deep, cool breath in, and a long, warm breath out. ‘Because this gown, like all the dresses here, tells a story.’ There was a cough from the back row and someone blew their nose in the silence. ‘My grandma made it.’
She turned slowly around so that everyone could see the soft floating layers and the modest yet daring strapless bodice, boned and sitting like armour across her torso. ‘She sewed these seams straight, she pressed the lining fabric carefully with an old kerosene iron and she unpicked this bodice six times until she had it right. She sewed late into the night when her father was asleep and again early in the morning so she could start her daily chores on time. She dreamed and told stories with her sister, Vivian, as she worked.’
Teddy glanced out to the front row to where Deirdre sat, in her best dress, faded blue, rigid. Transfixed.
‘But she didn’t know that she was a part of a larger story, one as old as time. The girl who threw herself off a castle parapet because her lover spurned her, the princess who died of a broken heart, the mermaid who faded away to nothing but a song on the air. The real story of this beautiful dress is that it was once a gown filled with magic, it was spun from gossamer, it held her future in the folds of its skirt. And when she wore it, she became a wonderful princess whose heart was made of purest gold, whose lightness and laughter burst from her so that people gathered around her to hear her speak, to watch her dance. But she lived with a terrible ogre, who was cruel to her and starved her of love. Her days were filled with work and fear, and she thought she might shrivel up under the weight of her secret captivity.
‘Until one day, there came a handsome prince. He saw the beautiful princess with her glittering laughter and golden heart and they fell, as princes and princesses do, deeply in love. Come away with me, he told her, and we will forge a kingdom together. Yes, the princess said, I will, and her golden heart flew from her chest and into his greedy hands. Now that he had his prize, he became cruel and he pushed her to the ground. Stay down, he told her. You are not so beautiful any more. Without your bright treasure you look to me like a dowdy milkmaid, nothing more. I could never love you. And he filled her hollow chest with dirt and cow dung, and sent her home to where the ogre lay sleeping.
‘Without her heart of gold, her laughter left her and she could
have died. The wind whistled through her empty chest, and beetles and spiders made nests there. She looked in at the ugliness and felt ashamed to have been so cruelly tricked. But there was work to be done: cleaning, tending the animals, milking the cows, feeding the terrible beast.’
The crowd was sitting silently in their chairs, staring. At her. One or two were smiling serenely as if story time was entirely reasonable and they were enjoying themselves immensely. But silently.
‘Of course, when soil is fertilised and cultivated, a seed will begin to grow and one day a seed grew in her heart. A bluebell. Then a delphinium. A hyacinth. And in the rich earth carefully tended by her work and care, fertilised by dung, watered by tears, a little garden grew, then fields of fresh green grass. Then trees and birds to fill them, until her heart was filled with flowers, with friendship, and with loyalty and love. And although she was slower to laugh, unwilling to dance, and no longer the princess with the heart of gold, she found she had grown a new heart, more beautiful, and more valuable than the first.’
Silence. She waited. She glanced across at Will to see him gazing at her, his face far away, a smile gathering about his lips. When she dared to look across at her grandmother, she saw that she was slowly rising to her feet and straightening her best dress.
Teddy swallowed. In the silence that filled the room, Deirdre crossed the floor like a queen and offered Teddy her arm and Will put his fingers to his mouth and produced a massive celebratory whistle. It flew through Windstorm Hall like a golden bird. Teddy put down the microphone and took her grandmother’s arm. And together they proceeded to promenade Deirdre’s beautiful white dress down the centre aisle together, carried on a joyful wave of applause and a sea of smiling faces.
The cold wind blustered against the walls of the house. Deirdre’s small suitcase was open on the bedroom floor, nearly packed. She leaned on it to press her favourite dresses deeper into the corners, to make sure she could take the best ones. She had left her rose dress for Viv – she had always liked it and she’d be pleased to have it when she was gone. After Deirdre and Harry were married, Viv could come and visit her and she’d be careful not to lord it over her, being the married sister. She felt terrible that Viv was going to be left with their father, but it wouldn’t be forever. She snapped the case shut and shoved it under her bed. Harry loved her and she had a future with him. A future no one, not even her drunken father, could take away. She checked her lipstick in the dressing table mirror, then stood upright guiltily as Viv came down the hallway.
‘Viv!’ she exclaimed. ‘Don’t you look nice.’
Viv smiled. ‘Thanks, Deirdre. I wanted to make an effort today,’ she said. ‘Not for any reason. Just – to make an effort, that’s all.’ She placed her farm boots in the wardrobe. ‘Must get back to it,’ she sighed. ‘Dad’s in such a mood. I’m going to bed early just to avoid him.’
Deirdre nodded. For a moment she couldn’t speak, because she knew she would miss her sister too much. She wanted to tell her. To say, Vivian, I’m leaving with Harry today because I can’t bear this any more and if I don’t escape this place I’ll die. I love Harry so much I can’t breathe and I’ve given myself to him, body and soul. I don’t want to leave you; I don’t ever want to be without you, but this is an adventure, and here is the first step. It’s like a dance, do you see? It’s like a dance, and the first step is away from you. But soon your step will be towards me again. Towards us. But she didn’t.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Best get back t
o it.’
Viv was gone, back down the hallway to the kitchen to make dinner. It would be their last meal together even though Viv wouldn’t know it. Even though she would go to bed that night imagining that Deirdre was doing the same thing in her room, heading off to bed as always, pulling the patchwork covers up under her ears to keep out the chill, closing her eyes and drifting off to dream, while their father drank himself too slowly to death in the next room.
It was after ten o’clock when she left. She quietly pulled the case out from under the bed and crept from the house, holding her breath all the way out. The moon was too thin to light her way. But she had walked down to the front gate so often she could find her way in the near darkness, glancing about at the land cast in grey, tiptoeing until she dared to walk. And then she was there, at the front gate, like a sailor waiting on a dock for her first real adventure.
Deirdre was leaving tonight and she was never coming back. Her lungs filled with cold air from far away. She fancied it was the taste of her future. She put down her little case and breathed in, gulping in her freedom as if the dark wind was filling her with magic. The road was dark and silent, as if waiting for her. She looked towards the west, from where Harry would arrive.
‘See you at ten thirty,’ he had whispered in her ear as they’d parted outside his house, and he had kissed her just like they did in the films, holding her close and dipping her down. Heart racing, she had known she would love him forever. He was everything a man should be: handsome, strong and charming. She would be proud to be his wife. She wondered where they would live, who their friends would be: where they would holiday. She practised saying, My husband, Harry, and I have just come back from a marvellous trip to Paris, don’t you know? My husband, Harry, loves to dance – we danced the night away at a wonderful club in New York on our latest holiday. Harry, my husband, is such a joker – once, while we were in London he stole a bobby’s hat!
The Cowgirl Page 23