The Mutual Look

by Dingwell, Joyce

Within two weeks they had been engaged. Everything had been whirlwind, magic, romantic, the quick exuberant way a girl wants such things. Rodden was no laggard lover, he had planned marriage the moment they hit Sydney, which, he had said, would be the beginning of next month.

  `Oh no, Rod, Melinda foals next month, only in the middle of it, so we'll have to wait a week or so.'

  `Darling, you're not serious?'

  `I wouldn't be over any of the others, they're normal breeders, but Melinda

  `Wants you to hold her hoof?'

  `Roddy!'

  `Janey,' he mocked.

  `Rod, I'm in earnest.'

  `And I, Jane, have never been more earnest in all my life. Putting a mare before me, the very idea!' He had made a jest of it, but unmistakably there had been no laughter there.

  But I'm not, Rodden. I'll marry you right now. This very moment.'

  `Only it happens I don't want it like that. I want a ceremony back home, all the glamour and fuss and—'

  `You really mean the handouts?' He had told her several times about the Bower generosity when any of its members married.

  `Perhaps I do,' Rodden had said unabashed.

  Jane had been silent a while, she remembered, then she had pleaded : 'You don't have to leave at that time, you could wait an extra week:

  `I'm going at the date I just said. With you.'

  `Rodden, I know I sound unreasonable—'

  `You do.'

  `But this time it means a lot to Melinda. She's been unlucky before, and Bob Westleigh believes—'

  `Spare me from a sentimental vet! I've looked the mare over and she's as strong as the proverbial horse.' Rod had laughed at his wit.

  `Only,' Jane had inserted quietly, 'she's not.'

  `Then she's expendable, my dear Jane, and old Russell should see to it. You can't run a stud on redundant stock. We don't.'

  She had noted that 'we', but not commented on it. `You have to be sensible, I agree,' she said, 'but surely affection—'

  `Can't come into business, Jane. Good lord, what have I here and not known it before? A pony high priestess?'

  `I am not!' she snapped.

  I’ve seen dog women,' Rodden had gone on, 'soppy sentimental females drooling over Fido or Rover or Prince, but I've never encountered the horse variety yet.'

  `Rodden, I like horses. You must yourself or you wouldn't have followed your career.'

  `It's a sound career, and, I hope, in time a rich one, but never if sob stories fill the page instead of figures.' `Profitable ones, of course.'

  `Of course.'

  They had stood looking at each other, neither giving

  ground. If only Rodden had said : 'Darling, I see your point, so see mine, come with me when I say, I need you,' she would have agreed.

  But Rodden's lip had stuck out, he had said instead, `Pony high priestess. All right, stop and hold Melinda's hoof.'

  And he had turned and gone.

  She hadn't believed it. She had his ring on her finger, his promise in her heart. She loved him, he loved her.

  But a week later a letter had come from William Bower, Rusty's Australian nephew, thanking his uncle for the good wishes his vet had brought back with him from Surrey. And that had been all.

  Another week and no letter. A month. Two. Jane had boxed the ring and sent it over. Still no communication. At the end of six months she had known it was the end. Such a silly thing to put Finish to it. And yet

  `Is the door shut, girl?' Rusty had asked once; tactfully the old man had requested no details.

  `Yes, Rusty,' she had said.

  `Then don't fret. I'm not. You two—well, you had no mutual look.'

  `Oh, Rusty, you are a fool !'

  `Fool's Gold, that's what I'm calling Golden Girl's foal. Like it?'

  Slowly but progressively, and eventually without pain though still with a little bitterness, Jane had emerged from her abyss.

  Now, she thought, gazing out of the stable door, it could all happen again, if she went.

  `It's a long time ago,' Rusty was intoning, 'he'll be in some smart business of his own, that young fellow.' The old man had guessed her thoughts. 'Anyway, what does it matter, Jane?'

  `No matter. It's dead.' She said it truly. 'It's just that it makes me wonder about your William Bower.'

  `Look at his photo.'

  'No.'

  'All right, don't look, then, but don't see him with Gair's face until you come face to face with him '

  'Which I won't be doing. No, Rusty, I'm sorry. If you want to—well, reward me, why can't it be without going out there, without giving me a share of the gems? One gem would do,' she said intensely.

  Yes—Dandy. But what would a scrap like you do with Dandy? Especially now that we know—'

  'Yes?'

  But Rusty had not continued with that. 'Horses cost money, Jane,' he said, 'a deal of money, you should appreciate that. William has enough, I believe, some from his parents, most from his own initiative. If Dandy is to have the best, it's to be out there.'

  'Very well' ... a sigh ... 'consign Dandy, too.'

  'With you?'

  `No, Rusty. It will hurt me terribly, but I would get over

  it.'

  wouldn't,' the old man said sadly. 'I'd feel cut off completely from my fellows knowing you weren't there ... well, until they were acclimatized, anyway.'

  Jane pricked her ears at that. Till they became acclimatized ... then it need only be temporary?'

  `I'd like it to be longer, but I haven't made that stipulation.'

  'Rusty, just what stipulations have you made?'

  He brightened at that, evidently seeing a gleam of hope, and, folding his arms, looked across at her, still standing at the door.

  'The stipulations are that to earn that share you must go out and work with our two consignments. When you judge them as properly settled in, when William judges them as that as well, if you like you can sell out your dividend.'

  `Oh, I'd do that all right,' she promised.

  'Then you'll go, Jane?'

  haven't said so.'

  `If you don't go, then what will you do?'

  `Another job ... I told you ... the parents ... or follow the honey with David. He writes that honey is very lucrative.'

  `And be happy while you're doing this?'

  `Of course.' Her voice was too enthusiastic, and she knew he would pick it up.

  He did. 'Transparent Jane,' he said, 'you'd be miserable away from horses, you're a real—'

  `Pony high priestess?' she said sharply.

  `That Gair !' Rusty fumed. certainly did a bad job.'

  `Well, it's done. don't think so. Not entirely. You know what I think?'

  `What, Rusty? think Dandy will win this argument, that you'll go

  because of him.'

  `No!' Jane declared.

  `Then I believe I'll win, that you'll go because of me.' She had turned right back from the door now and she looked fondly down on the old man.

  `You're not really so happy being put out to grass,' she insinuated gently, 'even Kentucky blue grass.'

  `No, but I could be nearly happy knowing that Gretel, San Marco, Ruthven—'

  `Dotsy, Devil May Care—'

  Dandy,' they both said together.

  Rusty finished, 'Were in my girl's hands.'

  `Only till I bow out,' she stipulated.

  `Yes.'

  `And if I can't stand it I can waive that fifth and leave on my own accord?'

  `Yes.'

  Then—'

  `Then, Jane?'

  Tll do it.'

  `Thursday week the first contingent, twelve days to go out by air and ship, two days to fly back and to start it all

  again. I'll be waving you away on the fifteenth of June, Jane, and should welcome you home the beginning of the next month prior to you going off again.'

  `Then Kentucky for you?'

  `And Australia for you. Write often, Jane.'

  Jane said a little chokil
y, 'Yes, Boss.'

  CHAPTER TWO

  ALMOST at once, or so it seemed to a saddened Jane (and no doubt Rusty) the jack hammers began. Men invaded Little Down with all varieties of destructive machines, men looking like invaders from other planets in their yellow safety gear and steel helmets. Bulldozers lumbered in, semi-trailers, salvage lorries, and as they advanced, the stud ceased functioning.

  The lesser lights were dealt with first, among them Toby, who had loved apples and actually pulled them from trees, Minnie, who once had bitten a rather pompous VIP visiting Little Down and who still wore a smile of wicked remembrance, Melinda, because of whom Rodden had departed, along with Melinda's several offspring, for one good thing had come out of that episode : Melinda had beaten her birth hoodoo and was now the perfect mare.

  Each farewell wrenched Jane. She wondered what Rod-den Gair would have had to say about that. She wondered if mindlessness was an Australian trait. If so, what would William Bower have thought?

  Because Rusty had been in the habit of sending Jane abroad fairly regularly to pick up some colt or deliver some pony, her shots were up to date. All she had to do was pack and collect her tickets. While collecting, she changed the class from First to Tourist. Dear Rusty, how typical of him to cosset her! Well, he need never know that she had altered her travelling standard, and she was sure he could do with the extra cash.

  Saying goodbye was not so hard; she would be back in little more than a fortnight. The thought of saying goodbye the next time, though, made Jane feel bleak.

  She, Gretel, San Marco and Ruthven left duly from Gatwick, the mare and two geldings by air freighter, Jane

  minutes after them by a regular line. The plan was to rest the girl and boys at a Singapore stable owned by an old customer of Rusty's. A day would be sufficient, and a day would fit in admirably with the departure of the Southern Princess for Sydney.

  The flight to Singapore proved comfortable and uneventful. One quick check of the four-legged travellers assured Jane that Gretel, San Marco and Ruthven had fared just as well.

  She had a pleasant stopover in Singapore, doing the usual things ... Bushy Hill, Change Alley, selecting a length of Thai brocade to be made into a cheongsam in one day and delivered to her Southern Princess cabin.

  It was there when she boarded, and, to her delight, a perfect fit. About to change back, she decided she had bet-ter check up on her precious cargo; she had left full instruc-tions for the boarding of the mare and geldings, but she had not actually seen them on the ship Running along the nar-row passage of her tourist class deck, she giggled to herself at her unworkmanlike gear. She must be the oddest pony high priestess ... she never forgot that from Rodden ... in the world.

  No one saw her, however, and she gained the appropriate deck without attracting any stares. She slipped past several boxes of unenthusiastic canine travellers, stopped to cheer up a disapproving white cat on a leash, then found the girl and the boys. Well, they were there all right, but not, she saw at once, very happy.

  She checked their tethering—it was not too tight—she saw to water, availability of movement, light, several other necessary details. It was while she was attenddng to a small leg cut that Ruthven must have suffered in transit that she noticed a foot among the hooves. A man's foot. A long, expensive-looking shoe in dark tan leather. Dark tan socks above it. The end of a dark brown trouser leg.

  She looked up.

  The horses' berth was exclusively their own, this was

  something she had not changed when she had changed her standard of travel. Which made this man an intruder.

  `Did you want something?' she asked sharply.

  `No.' That was all he said.

  `Then I must ask you to leave.'

  Not before I ask you to tie those horses in the other direction ... that is if it's your job.'

  `It is.'

  `I'm surprised. Since when have strappers worn brocade?'

  It's a cheongsam I bought in ' Jane stopped in annoyance, annoyed at herself. What did it have to do with this man? 'You're trespassing,' she said instead.

  `I'm leaving at once. I merely stopped to look at the

  ship's arrangement, see what quarters they offered.' `If you've seen, will you please go?' she demanded. Not before you change that tethering.'

  `Why should I?'

  `Because,' he fairly burst out, 'the beasts are uncomfortable. For heaven's sake, can't you see that?'

  Jane looked and saw that obviously they were, though why they should be she did not know.

  `We're sailing, in case that fact hasn't reached you,' the man said, 'and the way they're tied, they're getting more than they should of the not inconsiderable swell. But perhaps pony high priestesses' ... pony high priestesses? ... `are unaware that a horse can be seasick. I assure you they can be quite dangerously so, dangerous because they don't possess the therapy of being able to retch.'

  She knew all that, Rusty had instructed her, but she still could not find words to defend herself. Pony high priestess, he had said.

  And then something was pushing aside Jane's wonder, her resentment. The ship was certainly moving, indeed, down here, moving quite unpleasantly. To her utter dismay and to the ruin of her new cheongsam, lane was now being sick. Thoroughly sick. At once the man tossed across an overall,

  and while she pulled it on he moved over to her, then propelled her to the door.

  I' change them around for you,' he said briefly. He took time to look her up and down. don't know whether that stuff cleans,' he added, 'but if it doesn't you can discard the soil and use the rest as rags. You always want rags.'

  She hated him for that, hated him for seeing her sick, for commenting on her now poor bedraggled little cheongsam, in short she simply hated him. Leaving the girl and boys in his hands, something a really responsible strapper would never do, ill or not, Jane ran back to her berth.

  Once away from the horses' quarters she felt much better. She regained her cabin, was relieved to find it empty, undressed, wrapped up the cheongsam distastefully and put it aside for disposal whenever convenient, then showered and put on fresh clothes.

  The chance to throw away the offending garment came at afternoon tea time. Instead of obeying the gong as the rest of the tourist class appeared to be doing, Jane hurried back to her cabin and picked up her parcel, regretting as she did so that her economy on account of Rusty had deprived her of a porthole; a porthole would have been very convenient just now.

  When she went up on deck it was to apparent emptiness. She lost no time in hurrying to a strategic position ... only to be beaten to the chosen spot in a very unnerving fashion. Two figures ... in her confusion at first Jane did not see they were children ... had run forward and before her horrified eyes were toppling over a figure. She could not see any details, but she sensed hair hanging down, a hat of sorts on top of the hair.

  `Stop at once ... what have you done ... Steward ! Purser ! Cap---' The last she uttered to the accompaniment of peals of laughter. Looking down to the sea she saw an old mop riding the waves.

  `You little fiends !' She realized now that the pair were quite young.

  As they still doubled up in mirth, she threw away her own evidence, then, relieved on two counts, one that murder had not been done, two that she had rid herself of the wretched cheongsam, Jane joined the laughter. She and David had staged larks like this, and anyway, she liked children.

  They seemed a little surprised at her participation, and looked at her with interest. Jane found herself looking back at them with equal interest. Twins undoubtedly, male and female version, but like as proverbial two peas.

  `Robert and Roberta,' they introduced themselves. `Jane,' said Jane.

  `Where are the rest of the people?' they asked. `Afternoon tea. Don't you pair like cakes?'

  `We're First,' they said unenthusiastically, 'and the only kids in First this trip. It's awful in First, just like a morgue. In Tourist you have a ball. Are you having a ball?'

  `
I only boarded at Singapore.'

  `So did we, but we sailed up. It was just as bad then. Why can't Father William book Tourist instead?'

  That had been Roberta, identical with Robert as to basin-cropped hair, sloppy joe, shorts and sandals, but slightly smaller and finer in build.

  `Because,' explained Robert, 'there are nine hundred Tourists but only a hundred Firsts, so Father William reckons there's all that less for us to drive mad.'

  `Do you drive people mad?' Jane asked.

  `Yes,' they said factually, 'we're indirigibles.'

  `Do you mean individuals or incorrigibles?'

  They could not remember, but they were agreed that it was something bad.

  `We have a bad name,' Roberta said.

  `That's true, and it's probably deserved.' This was Robert, more articulate than his twin. 'You see, we're unsettled. Our mother is doing a course in Paris, so Father William has to have us until we can go on to school. He's not very happy.'

  'But,' came in Roberta, 'he's going to be unhappier still.' They both went into peals of laughter again.

  'Show her,' Roberta urged Robert.

  'She could tell.'

  No, she's all right. She laughed about the body. Besides, she won't see Father William down here in Tourist, so she can't tell.' Roberta looked at Jane. 'You wouldn't tell, any-way, would you?'

  would tell about a real body, anything like that.'

  'It isn't, it's a passport—Father William's passport. We've put a photo over his photo. Wait till he has to show it!' They doubled up again.

  On Roberta's prompting, Robert took out the passport. 'It's all right,' he reassured an alarmed Jane, take good care of it. Look.' He showed her the usual document, only where the likeness should be, a likeness ... if such a likeness could be like to anything ... of something else.

  `It's an artist's impression of the Yeti, the Abominable Snowman,' Robert said proudly.

  Jane tried to look severe, but the dripping whiskers and long black teeth undid her. Again she laughed.

  `See,' the pair rejoiced, 'she's one of us. Why aren't you in First?'

  'The usual reason,' Jane said, wiping her eyes. 'And after this' ... looking at the passport now being carefully returned to Robert's pocket ... can't say I want to better myself. You two are