The Mutual Look

by Dingwell, Joyce

  `Well, why not? It's not given to everyone to amuse.' `You've made a fool of me, a clown!'

  'A very nice clown,' he assured her. 'Also, it's not every clown can raise a laugh wearing his ordinary face.'

  'Shall I paint it and get a bigger laugh?' she said bitterly.

  'Just keep it its English pink and white, Miss Sidney,' William said.

  `I—' began Jane, but it was all too much. Before a tear, which was fast welling over, fell on to Wendy's Pride's soft brow, she escaped. She heard his soft pursuing laugh, his assuring, 'Take it easy, no one will think twice about it,' as she shut the door behind her and went across to the big house.

  At dinner that night she found out he was wrong with his

  assurance, though she had expected that, of course.

  'Here comes Miss Moneybags,' greeted one of the boys. 'Can I put the fangs in for a loan, Miss Sidney? Something around two thou would do fine.'

  'Beats me,' said Harry at the canteen door, 'how they didn't see it was the boss bidding, too.'

  `He was right at the back and the attention, naturally' ... a flattering look which Jane in her present mood did not appreciate ... 'was on our girl.'

  There was more delighted laughter, and Jane decided she might as well join in. After all, her purpose had been achieved. Fair Honey remained on at Bowers.

  Only one person seemed unamused. Maureen did put on a smile so as not to be conspicuous, but there was no laughter there. It was because it entailed Jane, Jane knew. She knew also that she must have an understanding with Maureen.

  The chance came when Maureen had to consult Jane concerning a new diet for the foal in her care, for Billy Boy had got beyond a mere bottle.

  Jane had no doubt that Maureen had asked Tim first, and been referred to Jane, for there was a thinly-veiled reluctance in Maureen's voice as she told the senior strap-

  per how Billy Boy was looking for something else.

  Jane passed on her knowledge, knowledge learned in Little Down as well as Plateau. She advised Maureen to augment the new diet still with the daily bottle until Billy Boy wouldn't accept a bottle any more.

  `You'll know when that time comes,' she smiled, and the absence of a smile on Maureen's face decided Jane that here and now was her time.

  `Maureen.'

  `Thank you. I'll see to that new diet at once.' The younger girl turned away.

  `Maureen ' Jane repeated rather in defeat; how could

  you broach a subject to a back turned deliberately on you? But—Yes, Miss Sidney?' asked Maureen, and that `Miss Sidney' did it. It gave Jane determination.

  `You always called me Jane,' she said firmly.

  `Yes, Miss Sidney?'

  `Maureen, what's happened between us?'

  `Was there anything?' Maureen had turned right back again. Her eyes and her face were hard. She had a pretty, gentle little face, and the change in her expression grieved Jane.

  `Not strictly. I mean we weren't bosom pals, anything like that. For one thing, I was too old.'

  Maureen said fairly, `I've never thought of you in that way. I've thought of you the same as I think of Kate.' `You're referring now to my age, of course.'

  A pause, then Maureen said stonily : `Of course.'

  `If I've done anything to upset you, please believe it's been unintentional.'

  Silence.

  A little desperately, Jane went on : `I'm referring now to that time when I flew back from Fetherfell with' ... a pause ... `your fiance.'

  `He is not !'

  `He was then.'

  `I don't think he ever was. Not really. But please go on.'

  'You don't mind me saying this?'

  No. In a way I think the thing should be cleared up, the same as you think.'

  'Then I'll explain why I didn't come with Mr. Bower. There were two bereft foals, you see, instead of one.' Maureen said impatiently, know all that.'

  `So,' persisted Jane, came with Mr. Gair, and he ran out of fuel and we had to land in some valley.'

  know all that, too.'

  'Then,' said Jane a little helplessly, not knowing what else she could explain, 'you know everything.'

  'Not quite. Oh, I know it's all over between Rodden and me ... that is if it ever was on. Sometimes ... most times ... I don't believe it was.'

  'Maureen

  'And the strange part is I can't feel unhappy over it.' The girl looked challengingly at Jane, challenging her to look back. Jane did, and saw that Maureen was telling the truth.

  'Then, Maureen, why are you like this? We were friends, instinctive kind of friends. You came to me.'

  'And you must have been laughing your head off !' wasn't. I was trying to know what to say.'

  'It should have been easy enough. Just four words.' Jane looked up at Maureen.

  'Four words concerning my ... our . . . ring. Just "I wore that once." '

  `Maureen—' How many futile times had she mumbled that, Jane thought in despair.

  liked you, Jane. I liked you very much. I would never have gone to Kate, who's a dear but immature, but I did go to you. Rodden is over—I just told you. There's nothing there, and, as things have turned out' ... what things? Jane wondered a little stupidly, for she felt stupid with regret for a friendship lost ... 'I'm glad. But you were different. I looked up to you. I—came to you. Oh, Jane, you needn't have deceived me like that.'

  `How could I have said "Yes, a lovely ring, Maureen, I should know, I chose it." How could I have warned you about Rodden? I mean, what happened between Rodden and me could have been entirely my own doing. I still don't know for sure, Maureen.'

  `Well, you'll have plenty of time, because it's all over so far as I'm concerned.'

  `It was over years ago with me. So why ... why must we perform post-mortems like this?'

  `It was your deceit,' said Maureen stonily. 'I needed you. I never had an older sister. I can't remember my mother, nor any aunts. You were just what I wanted. But you let me show you my ... our ... ring, and you let me come to you for comfort.'

  `Yes,' said Jane, 'and I'm sorry about that.'

  A silence came between them. Jane had apologized. She could do no more. She knew that time alone would bring reason to Maureen, and that there was no use trying to force matters now.

  `I'm glad, anyway,' she said inadequately, 'that we've aired the affair.'

  Maureen looked away, possibly ashamed of herself, but wisely Jane did not pursue the matter.

  `I'd try that diet on Billy Boy,' she told the younger strapper, 'it's working for Wendy's Pride.'

  `Yes, I shall. Thank you.' Maureen left Jane.

  It could have been much worse. Jane sensibly realized. Maureen could have made a scene. More important still she could have put down her end-of-the-affair with Rodden as Jane's fault, but it was no one's fault. Maureen had simply fallen out of love with him ... or had she only ever thought she had fallen in love? Recalling Maureen's frank eyes as she had said, 'And the strange thing is I can't feel unhappy over it,' Jane believed this could be true.

  Very soothing for Maureen, she accepted, once the indignation of being deceived by Rodden's former fiancée wore off, but no solace for Jane.

  Doing what she always had done in times of doubt, stress or simply needing comfort, had done in Little Down before Bowers, Jane went across to the stables to press her head against a silky shoulder, fondle a soft brow. It never failed. She decided to have a run out.

  Gretel was the only offering, unless she borrowed one of Bower's boys or girls. However, the mare liked blowing cobwebs away as much as Jane did, though Gretel's were only stable cobwebs when she would have preferred a meadow ... I must say a paddock, Jane reminded herself ... and Jane's were much more involved.

  Saddling up, sympathizing with Gretel's whicker of pleasure, the pair of them, a girl and mare, left the stud behind them for Plateau's inviting green flats.

  Gretel, as usual enjoyed every moment. She had never been a pernickety mare, Jane thought appreciatively, she did
not step with female fastidiousness as many mares did once away from familiar turf. Jane remembered riding her once around a chalk pit, imprudent, perhaps, but she had trusted Gretel not to tread on any crumbling edge. Not that there were edges on the flat ... not until you actually came to the edge. Jane glanced in that direction. She had taken Gretel down some of the more gradual cliff tracks and the pair of them had loved it. Well, why not again? She was in the mood for diversion and Gretel was dependable.

  `All right, girl, we'll go exploring.' Jane turned the mare down a path that looked as negotiable as the ones she had explored before. She was careful about that, she had no intention of being reckless.

  It proved a pretty way. It edged round outcrops of rocks and entanglements of trees. Some of the trees met each other high above them to form a green arch. Once horse and rider passed a little stream singing down the valley, and Jane found a scoop of water from which Gretel enjoyed a long drink. If she had practised what she had practised on her previous explorations, and that was to go so far but no

  further, nothing would have happened. She and Gretel would have returned refreshed—and minus a few cobwebs —to the stud.

  But, about to retrace their way, something between the trees caught Jane's attention. It was well below them, so for caution's sake should have been resisted, but the huddle, or cluster, or closer settlement of something, Jane could not have said what, intrigued her so much she felt she could not climb up again until she found out what it was down there. Gretel's whicker of disapproval, too, should have put Jane off, for all horses have a tremendous sense of the unknown, but Jane chose to call Gretel lazy, and pulling on the rein she impelled the unwilling mare further along the track. Not, some minutes later, that you could call it a track any longer. Someone had been here, you could see that from the bent bushes, but it was not a path even in the faint way that the other paths had been, it was practically nothing.

  Several times Jane lost even the bent bushes, but, peering between the trees, she could still glimpse the huddle. It was a kind of get-together of rough logs, she saw, probably a crude humpy, as she believed these bush shelters were called here. Yes ... peering closer ... it was a humpy, a shack, a shanty. It would be the place the twins had visited the day that John had taken her to the eucalyptus distillery and they had sauntered off. Well, she would do no visiting. She was about to turn the disapproving Gretel back to the track proper when she saw a figure coming out of the huddle, and, not wanting to be seen herself, she climbed down from Gretel.

  She looked between the leaves of the trees. John had spoken of this occasional bush visitor as an old man, but this man definitely was not. Then Jane was recalling Roberta as saying also on that occasion : 'Not so old.' She wondered

  Deciding she had looked enough, Jane turned to see a fed-up Gretel disappearing through the bushes.

  `You bad girl!' Jane gave pursuit.

  She did not know how she lost sight of Gretel, one moment the mare was rounding a bend and the next moment, Jane having gained that bend, there was simply no mare there. Nor at the side. Nor behind her. Nor anywhere. Gretel it seemed had vanished into air.

  Now Jane did what she knew, but temporarily forgot, a walker in a new territory must never do : she plunged into the bush without first marking herself by some bend of the track, some peculiarity of a tree. Within moments, within yards, from the path, she was lost.

  She pushed through tanglewood to find a small stream running down the valley—the same rivulet she had met earlier, she wondered, where Gretel had found a scoop from which to drink?

  Its waterbells tinkled louder further down the gorge, which meant it must hasten its pace to leap somewhere, probably it became quite precipitous, so Jane turned back. If she could climb a tree she might be able to pinpoint herself, even find that lean-to in the bush and make her way towards it, but all the trees around soared straight and sheer for many feet, and even then did not offer any accommodating branches until much nearer the top. They were essentially valley gums, and reaching up to the sun.

  She walked an ... though stumbled would have been a better word. There was not the slightest semblance of any path now, in fact there was nothing at all but dark green undergrowth, sage green bush and trees, trees, trees.

  She must not panic. That could be fatal, she knew, she could go around in circles, exhausting herself, confusing any rescuer ... if rescue came. She presumed that Gretel would find her way back as most horses did, but she was remembering, too, that Gretel was a new chum, as she was, and could take hours to do that. By then it would be dark, and any search would have to be delayed until the morning. The thought of spending the night in this unfamiliar bush dismayed Jane so much she forgot her determination to

  think and act calmly, and began pushing through the tanglewood again, this time with abandon.

  A sharp scratch from some thorny bush pulled her up sternly. She took stock of herself. She was scratched, blistered, tired, and ... if she thought about it ... hungry. She had cut her knee, though she could not recall doing it, a twig had ripped her blouse, she had slightly but painfully turned an ankle. On top of everything she felt giddy, light-headed, unreal. Also she felt afraid.

  She found a smaller rock outcrop and sat down. It was hard to force herself to do it, every impulse in her urged her on ... and out. But on, she knew now, was not necessarily out, not the way she had gone so far. She tried to think rationally, plan reasonably, look around her and assess and consider. But every stir in the bush set her nerves pounding, and when a lizard came over the rock in search of sun she gave a little scream, jumped to her feet and ran wildly forward again.

  Undergrowth stopped her once more, so she came back, but not to the outcrop and the lizard, for all that, too, had gone. Only the baffling tanglewood remained. I'm lost, hopelessly lost, Jane knew, and unable to think even now, she gave way to helpless little sobs.

  After that she stumbled on, stumbled back, walked entirely without plan or reason. She was crying openly and she let herself do it. If I exhaust all that, she thought, I might be able to make some sense at last.

  It happened that way. Utterly depleted and exhausted, she began walking in a more restrained manner, looking where she went instead of sttunbling blindly through her tears. And it was then she saw the humpy once more, the small huddle between the trees. She saw the man she had seen previously ... or had she? This man seemed younger, taller, or was her imagination playing tricks with her? She had no opportunity to check up again, for the man went back into the shelter.

  It didn't matter, anyway, she simply had to get down to

  that shack and tell her story. All her prior distaste at meeting the hermit, for only a hermit would live like this in the bush, had left her now. She needed human contact, then a direction home.

  She hurried down, always keeping the little clearing in sight. Then at last she was on it, sliding the final steep slope to the crude lean-to of bushes, roof of several iron sheets, sapling walls.

  `Is anyone there?' she called breathlessly, and heard a movement in the humpy.

  The man came to the door and Jane stared in disbelief. It was Rodden.

  Afterwards Jane knew she must have lost contact for a few moments. She could recall pitching forward, being caught in Rodden's arms, but then nothing more until she opened her eyes and found herself in the tiny dark hut. Still in Rodden's arms.

  `This time I could make something of it, couldn't I?' Rodden's lips twisted in a crooked grin.

  `No!' Jane said it definitely for all her weakness, and the man nodded.

  `I know, Janey.' He released her and got up. 'There's nothing there. But at least' ... ruefully ... 'you needn't have scotched me with Maureen.' He had left her now to go to a Primus stove to pump it and put on some water to heat. She saw him take out lint, adhesive tape, scissors, a needle that he proceeded to sterilize.

  `Are you going to mend me?' she asked.

  `Yes. You don't deserve it, but I am.'

  `I didn't d
o anything against you as regards Maureen, Rodden, it was entirely her own decision. Anyway, wasn't that what you wanted?'

  `Only if I couldn't have you, Jane, and perhaps had I known—'

  `Known what?'

  `Known for sure that Maureen was to inherit a penny or

  two come the age of twenty-five, because it was being

  mooted around. But I didn't know.' (Evidently, thought

  Jane, he did not know of her own improved financial state.)

  She said in disgust : `Rodden, you're nasty !'

  `I have to be nasty. I had the misfortune of landing poor parents. Oh, they educated me, and I won scholarships, but a man needs more of a boost than that. I want my own business, Jane, I don't want always to kow-tow to a boss.'

  `Is that really why you renewed your friendship with me? Because of what Rusty gave me?'

  `Partly,' he admitted, 'though still something persisted from that first time. I was a fool, Jane, I wanted the handout that Bower gives all his employees on marriage at Plateau, quite a considerable one; no doubt he likes to play the benevolent squire. When you've had nothing all your life things like that count.'

  `They do to you. They counted, anyway, more than I did.'

  `Not really, but I didn't realize that until it was too late. I was attracted by Maureen, she's a pretty little thing, and that inheritance rumour was being mooted around even then.

  `Then you came. My real love plus a positive income, not one falling due reputedly at twenty-five.'

  `Rodden,' said Jane again, 'you're quite impossible.'

  `But at least I'm honest.' The kettle had boiled and he was pouring the water into a bowl, adding some salt. He worked efficiently, but then he was a qualified vet. He came across to Jane with the bowl, a towel, the rest of the equipment.

  I'ye got OUT from Bower. I suppose you knew that?' `How would I?'

  `I imagined you might be chummy.'

  `We're not.'

  `Well, I have to go. Some other underling post, no doubt.'