The Mutual Look

by Dingwell, Joyce

  `You thought ' he said, then laughed.

  `Why not?' Words came at last, only not the off-putting words Jane had searched for. She had wanted to close the subject, or at least change it, but now she was continuing it instead. 'You had them in your care,' she accused indignantly, 'they called you Father William.'

  'My name is William. In case you've forgotten, it's William Bower.'

  `I hadn't forgotten. But why Father William?'

  `You should have asked them that yourself.'

  `I did,' she recalled unwillingly. She recalled, too, the answer. Roberta's answer. ' "William's his name," the girl twin had reported, "and once he said he'd kick Robert down the stairs." ' Jane also recalled, this time from Robert, that a bucket of water had been strategically placed.

  So Father William was not their paternal parent but their second cousin. Jane worked out the relationship laboriously.

  `Lewis Carroll,' she heard herself murmuring aloud. `From the sound of him once as beggared by kids as I am,' William Bower inserted.

  `I wouldn't say that.'

  `Miss Sidney, you're not being asked to say anything.' `Only do something '

  `Yes, teach them to swim ... only we're not finished with Father William yet, are we? Let's get the thing straight.'

  `You mean your guardianship of your second cousins?'

  `Is that how it goes?' he asked admiringly. No, I didn't mean exactly that, I meant your fool conclusion.'

  don't think it was foolish. You had them with you on the ship.'

  `Where evidently you didn't associate the three of us as belonging.'

  `And you have them now.' She ignored the interruption. `Surely anyone would conclude then that you were their parent.'

  He was leaning across the desk to her. He did not speak for several moments, and every moment built up a curious nervousness in Jane. She could not have said why, but it was all she could do not to get up and run out of the room. He could be very frightening, this Father William of the children's, no wonder they obeyed him on the double.

  `Look at me,' he ordered at last, but Jane looked anywhere but at him, 'look at me, then tell me if that is the sort of arrangement you think I would have in my married life.'

  don't know what arrangement you'd have. I don't even know if you're married.'

  `Then I'm not. Also I would have things very differently. My youngsters would be with me, and so, by heaven, would my wife.'

  `Why are you telling me this?' she asked.

  `Because you have the presumption to associate me with a position like this.'

  `Is it that important?'

  `You appeared to think so before.'

  meant,' she corrected herself, 'is it that important that I should be told so forcibly?'

  That stopped him a moment. Then he said in a rather surprised voice : 'Yes ... yes, it is.'

  He was staring at her. She felt it. It had to be feeling, for she was not looking back at him. She found she could not look.

  `What kind of talents have the children's parents?' she tried to divert.

  He permitted diversion. He said, 'They paint. Dorothy does portraits, Gareth landscapes. They're both good. And that's not just someone who doesn't know art but knows what he likes talking, critics who do know are agreed that the two Courtneys—'

  `Courtneys?' she echoed.

  `You've heard of them?'

  `Of course. I think most people have.' Dorothy Courtney with her exquisite child studies, Gareth Courtney with his vigorous canvases had reached the European scene as well as the scene in Australia.

  `Then I'm to look for talent in the children?' Jane said with enthusiasm.

  `No.' She glanced inquiringly at him. 'Not essentially. They're adopted children. You might remember I said the owners, not the parents, of the brats. There were none forthcoming of their own, so they adopted this pair. Gareth, my father's sister's child, and his wife Dorothy felt in their absorbing life that they must give out as well as take in.'

  `That was good of them.'

  `As well as gifted, they're good people. This branch of the family' ... he made a gesture to himself ... 'must rely on the goodness, I'm afraid, for I have no talent.'

  The stud?' she asked in all seriousness, for to her way of thinking a stud was much more than the usual occupation.

  `Only requires a pair of strong hands.'

  She did not comment. She was thinking suddenly and sharply of his 'love is ten cold nights in a paddock', and the quiet manner in which it had touched her.

  `It must be hard for the children having their father and mother away,' Jane said a little breathlessly, afraid she might voice those other thoughts.

  'It's the first time it's happened, though Gareth and Dorothy sometimes go solo. I suppose,' he had the grace to submit, should keep their talents in mind when I say it wouldn't happen to me.'

  So he was on to that again, that masterful head-of-the-family act.

  'But then,' he went on, would never choose an artist.' No,' she agreed, incensed, 'you would consider all things beforehand—as in a stud.'

  'Of course. Surely, as a strapper, as someone among horseflesh, you're not examining me on that? You must have learned from my uncle the necessity of acquiring desired qualities in a brood mare, the opposite desired qualities in the sire. For instance, a long-backed mare should be crossed with a heavy-ribbed stallion, and

  was speaking,' Jane broke in, `of you, not your business.'

  'Then I, too,' he said coolly, 'would know what would be advisable for me to take on, what wouldn't be.'

  'Don't you mean whom?' Jane corrected.

  told you I was without talent,' he came back, 'as well as being unartistic, my grammar shows holes. I'm no man of words.'

  Yet—love is ten cold nights in a paddock, Jane thought. No,' William Bower went on, 'my type would need a more basic mate than an artist.'

  'A dairymaid, perhaps,' Jane said flippantly.

  'Admirable. A country girl would be a very advisable choice. Only' ... a pause ... 'never a stud variety.'

  She had not been looking at him, intentionally not looking at him. But now ... angrily ... she did. He stared intentionally back at her, and for some reason she thought of old Rusty and his 'mutual look'. This look was the very opposite to that. She waited.

  `Rodden Gair,' William Bower reminded her in a low voice.

  'What about him?'

  `You tossed him, didn't you?'

  `No, I—'

  `Oh, we all know you put it in fancy words, but you showed Rodden where to go.'

  `Is that what he said?'

  Ile didn't say anything. He just came back, and a month later a ring came back. I expect he should be grateful at least for that.'

  `You've only half the truth. I was coming, but Melinda

  `You threw him over,' he said factually.

  `All right, if you want it like that.'

  `How did you want it?' he came in. 'As dedication? As work first? "I want to come," the pony high priestess intones, "but " ' William Bower laughed scornfully. `So,' he concluded, 'no female strapper for me.'

  `And yet you're devoted to your work,' she baited.

  He reddened slightly. `It's just that to me. Just work.'

  `But work close to your heart,' she suggested. 'The "girls" and the "boys".' She quoted him, not caring if he reddened properly now from the embarrassment he had shown before. He was a very male male, she thought. "Love is ten cold nights in a paddock," ' she added triumphantly.

  `Trust a female to store that up !' he came in acidly.

  didn't store it, the words struck a chord in me, because

  once I'd spent ten plus one. Her name was Stately Lady.' `Not Melinda?' he said like a whiplash.

  `You store up things, too, don't you, Mr. Bower.' There was a pause, a long one.

  Then : 'In a stud, the nearest to you is the vet,' William Bower said quietly. `Rodden was my vet. When he returned from England he was a broken man.' He tapped at his pipe.

>   Jane looked at him helplessly. There were many things she could have said, but she could see he had closed himself up; you cannot explain to a shut door. She wondered what Rodden had told him, but she did not wonder about Rod-

  den's attitude; he always had been a master of attitudes, she knew that now.

  `I sent him away,' William Bower announced factually. When she did not question him, he explained, 'Married staff here move into the flats.'

  `Yes, I saw them.'

  `One was to have been for Rodden and his English wife. I couldn't have him staying on here to pass each day by what might have been his haven.'

  The falseness of Rodden infuriated Jane. She took it out on William Bower. She said deliberately, 'When do the violins play?'

  `You're a very cold, collected, calculating young woman, Miss Sidney. You stayed behind in Surrey because to leave might have endangered the handout you anticipated eventually from my uncle.'

  Rodden had been long before that, she had never anticipated anything, Rusty's gift had been a complete surprise, but all at once Jane felt too tired to fight back.

  `Yes,' she said recklessly, 'I did just that. I'm sorry about Rodden. Evidently he suffers more in retrospect; he wasn't what I call a broken man when he left me. Also he appears to have recovered. Maureen is wearing my—wearing a similar ring to the one I returned.'

  `Rodden is vetting at one of my smaller satellite studs over at Fetherfell, across the Divide. On my advice he took out his flying licence, and I've provided him with a small plane, so he can visit Maureen as any ordinary suburban man can visit his fiancee.'

  `Maureen is that, then?'

  `She is.'

  `That's very nice,' Jane said. Now can we return to what you wanted to see me about?'

  The swimming,' he nodded, allowing the closing of the subject. 'Pending the release of your first consignment in several weeks, instead of making ordinary strapping your

  way of earning your keep, you can keep an eye on the twins.'

  'Will the parents agree to that?'

  'They'll be very pleased,' he assured her. 'They don't usually both leave home together, but this time Dorothy was asked to do a course in Paris, and Gareth was finishing a client's order in Singapore. I took the kids across to see their father for a break for all of us. Only' ... feelingly ... 'it wasn't. I never considered Paris except as too unsuitable for nippers like them. But' ... feelingly again .. . 'Paris couldn't have been worse for me.'

  'Nor for them. They were bored up in First.'

  'There were fewer people to drive mad in First,' he said back. 'School had been arranged, but it fell through, or at least the school the parents wanted. So there was nothing for it than to be inflicted. If you can ease that infliction for several weeks ...'

  'You dislike children, don't you?' She looked at him pityingly.

  Vis a matter of fact in my unguarded moments I like them.'

  'Why must moments be guarded?'

  'Because of people like you,' he said at once, 'people ready to pounce, ready to remember and relate back.'

  'Boys and girls,' she recited slyly, 'ten cold nights in a paddock. I promise you I'll remember just as well when you're unguarded over Robert and Roberta.'

  'Only them?' he asked unexpectedly.

  She looked at him in surprise, but whatever had impelled him to speak like that had left him. He looked back, and except that there were steps on the verandah outside the look would have gone on, that odd uncalculated look ...

  Someone knocked, and, at William Bower's call, came

  in.

  'Miss Sidney, this is my present Bowers vet. Tim Harris. Tim, Jane Sidney.'

  Jane turned to a stocky but well-proportioned young man

  eyeing her with unconcealed approval. The hand that took hers was strong and friendly, and she grasped his back in the same manner. He seemed nice, she thought.

  `It's Sovereign Gold,' Tim said to his boss, 'that old chronic hoof condition is playing up again.'

  William Bower turned to Jane. 'Sovereign Gold has good connections. I had hopes of the colt proving himself as a top-class stayer this year. He's galloped brilliantly on occasions, but failed just as frequently.'

  `It sounds rather like it might be pedal-ostitis,' said Jane, remembering an instance at Little Down, and the inflammation of the pedal bone that one of their boys had suffered.

  Tim was looking appreciatively at Jane. 'You're so right. As soon as there's pressure on the hoof, Sovereign is in severe pain. We've taken more X-rays. Perhaps you'd like to see them, Miss Sidney, see Sovereign.'

  `Oh, I would !' Jane stood up.

  She followed the vet to the door, rather relieved to be finished with Bower, but before she reached the verandah William Bower's voice stopped her.

  `You left this, Miss Sidney.'

  `Excuse me,' Jane returned.

  The man was standing at the table. He did not offer anything, and she realized he only had called her back to say something.

  `He's even more vulnerable than Gair,' he said coolly. She followed his trend, and flushed with indignation, but before she could speak, Bower went on.

  `I wouldn't want Tim hurt, too. And you do rather

  gather vet scalps, don't you?' An unsmiling smile.

  `Yes, Mr. Bower,' she said, 'they're my favourite scalps.' `No boss's scalps?'

  `I've only had one boss, and he was elderly.'

  `You must try a younger variety.'

  `And be scalped myself?'

  `Miss Sidney, you read my thoughts.' He nodded car-

  lessly as she turned to join Tim again.

  But he did come to the door to call out to his vet.

  `The lady has had a long day, Tim, a rather eventful day. Don't keep her too long.' As with everything that Willam Bower said, it sounded a suggestion but was really an order. Tim did not seem to mind being ordered, however. He promised to look after Jane, and they went off.

  Sovereign Gold was in the paddock where the trouble had taken him. Jane examined the pedal bone and confided a few things that Rusty had done to Silver Bell. Rusty had been no vet, but he had had a lot of experience ... and a lot of success. Tim listened attentively, and Jane recalled how Rodden had smiled thinly and patronizingly over the old man's wisdoms. Tim was entirely different. She liked him, too, liked his friendly approach, liked his manliness. But ... stepping back a pace, and Tim looking up questioningly, and a little disappointed ... she must watch her step with William Bower's eyes on her.

  `I'm sorry, Tim, but it's been a long day.' It had been a very long day, she could hardly credit it was only one day. But then they had berthed in the early a.m., and flying made minutes of miles.

  At once Tim was apologizing, taking her over to her digs.

  Jane went up the stairs at once, deciding to skip dinner, even though she wanted to meet the rest of the stud. She passed Maureen in the corridor, and the girl flashed her a bright smile. She can't know, Jane thought. I hope she doesn't know in the future. There's always a tension, a distrust in a situation like this. The thing to do is not to meet Rodden because Rodden is the only way Maureen can find out. I don't think William Bower would tell her, he sounded quite fond of Maureen. She seems a very reasonable child, too, but no girl wants another girl's ring.

  She showered ... the second time since she had come to Bowers she shrugged under the spray ... came out, got into a gown and made a cup of tea.

  She didn't finish it, though, she was too weary. She

  hoped she was not too over-tired to sleep. At first sleep did elude her, and then she was drifting. She was saying : 'Love is ten cold nights in a paddock,' then changing it to eleven in a meadow.

  An English meadow. With Rusty. Not an Australian paddock with cold, efficient, estimating, enigmatic William Bower.

  'Father William,' she mumbled. And slipped off.

  It was bright daylight when she opened her eyes. She wondered drowsily what had aroused her at this particular moment, she felt there had been a
little noise somewhere. Something attracted her attention at the window, and she saw it was a sheet of paper with badly printed letters :

  HURRY UP.

  She smiled, but wiped the smile off as she crossed to the window and saw the twins on the roof top above her dangling down the sign. Luckily, she thought, feeling with William on this occasion, the roof was a flat type.

  'Hurry up!' They repeated their printed message.

  'You shouldn't be there!' she shouted.

  We wouldn't if you were up.'

  'You're taking us down the valley,' said Roberta. 'Father William says so,' called Robert.

  'You're bad children, you could be killed!' she scolded. 'Everyone can be killed. The window could drop down on your head.'

  'Robert could drop on it,' Roberta said admiringly, admiring her brother's greater daring in leaning over.

  Quickly Jane stepped back, and at the same time saw the note. That was what must have awakened her, the sound of the note being pushed under the door. She took it up.

  'Dear Miss Sidney, Apropos our discussion [apropos! So he was not entirely adverse to words ! in the garages you'll find a small car for your use. Ask Donnelly. I have no doubt that a stablehand can drive a car as well as ride

  a horse. If not, we must think of something else. Please be careful, I have every wish to return both minors in a sound state. Careful for yourself as well, though I doubt if I need remind you of this, as you would know, as I do, that a forfeited fifth share would only benefit me, which should be sufficient incentive for you not to take risks. There's only one track, so you can't lose the way. Harry will pack a hamper. Don't forget towels. Have a bearable day.

  W. Bower.'

  She put the letter down, dressed as quickly as she could between crossing to the window to see if the twins were still intact, then she ran down the stairs to the canteen, collected a hamper that William Bower must have ordered, and emerged to find the children waiting for her.

  `We thought you'd never come. Did you bring your swimming togs?'

  `Yes. Did you?'

  Their skips and whoops proclaimed that they had. The three of them crossed to the garages.