Hester bursts into tears. ‘You won’t have to destroy her, she’s already done it to herself.’ She looks up sobfaced. ‘Joe, I beg you. This is Meg’s last chance. We’ve got to hide Jessica, if only for another three weeks, please!’ ‘Three weeks? Why three weeks?’
‘Meg, she’s not like Jessie — she’s always on time with her monthly. Her bleeding. If she doesn’t bleed we’ll know she’s pregnant.’
‘And then what?’ Joe asks, still not understanding. Hester looks fiercely at Joe. He recognises it is the same look she had when she banished him from her bed eighteen years before, a look in her dark eyes that brooks no refusal. ‘If she’s pregnant we’ll take her to Sydney and make Jack Thomas marry her.’ She glares defiantly at Joe. ‘I’ll not have both my daughters branded whores!’ ‘Oh, Jesus, what will become of us?’ Joe says, more to himself than to his wife. Looking up at Hester, he says slowly, ‘Woman, I know this is of your making. You and your daughter. I pray that Meg ain’t pregnant to Jack Thomas — that what you done isn’t forever on our conscience.’
‘Then you agree?’ Hester demands to know. Joe nods wearily. Hester straightens up and wipes her hands across her apron, now the picture of resolve. ‘Joe, Jessica mustn’t know about Meg and Jack, not until she sees Meg’s pregnant for herself.’ Joe nods again. ‘And she can’t be about when Jack comes over to say goodbye to us — it may give her a chance to speak to him.’ Hester looks at Joe, her eyes narrowed. ‘Besides, he’ll want to know what the marks are on her throat.’
Joe ignores this last remark. ‘So? What are you saying, woman?’
‘We can say the doctor kept her in hospital in Narrandera. He knows you took her in to see him and that she wasn’t well.’
‘Nah, he’s gotta go to Narrandera to report to the recruiting office and then catch the train to Sydney. He’ll want to see her — they’ve been good mates a long time. She’ll just have to stay in her room when he comes over on Sunday.’
‘No, Joe, you know how stubborn she is. Even if we lock her in, she’s just as likely to scream out, shout to him. The way she is, she could do anything.’
Joe looks down and scratches his head. ‘She could go down to the hut, I s’pose. You know the little corrugated iron humpy down by the creek. Boundary riders used it when this was part of the Great Peter’s Run. It’s still in good enough nick — nothing but tin and a dirt floor, but the weather don’t get in too much.’ Hester looks puzzled. ‘You mean lock her up?’ ‘I could, though there’s no door. I guess I could make one. Take a good part of the day, though. It’s a mile off — she won’t be heard by anyone if she shouts and I’ll fetch her back after Jack’s gone.’ Joe can’t believe what he is saying to his wife — that he could do such a thing to Jessica.
Hester is immensely pleased with the idea and claps her hands. ‘We’ll tell Jack she’s had to go to Wagga — something to do with Billy Simple’s trial, some paper she has to sign for the court that they didn’t tell her about at the time.’
‘Nah, won’t work. Jack’ll be suspicious that I let her go alone, him knowing she isn’t well and me having gone with her before.’
‘Better still then, you go with her. Stay with her in the stockman’s humpy. With you there to keep an eye on her, she won’t try to escape to see him. We’re going to need a place where she can hide in the next few months. Can you fix it up a bit? Maybe she’ll have to stay longer than a day or two at times.’
And so it is decided. Hester and Meg will be left alone to say goodbye to Jack Thomas when he arrives on Sunday for his last home-cooked dinner. They are to eat early so he has plenty of time to ride into town and arrive before nightfall. Jack has joined the New South Wales Light Horse, his uncle’s regiment.
On Sunday morning early, Jessica, distraught that she’s not to be allowed to see Jack and bid him farewell, has left with Joe for the old boundary rider’s hut. Joe hasn’t tried to deceive her, but he’s made a deal with her. She won’t be sent away from home, won’t be banished, if she’ll agree not to try to see Jack again.
Joe tells her he wants to make sure the boundary rider’s hut is still good for storing winter hay against the rain and she can help him make a door. They’ll also look at the fences while they’re gone. It’s not the usual Sunday work but Jessica knows that he wants her to be well away from the homestead.
Joe hasn’t found it easy to convince Jessica to stay away from saying goodbye to Jack. ‘Why, Father?’ she asks him. ‘Is it because I’m pregnant? But Jack doesn’t know!’ She looks down at her belly. ‘He can’t see nothing. I’m not gunna tell him — I already gave you my word.’
Joe sighs heavily. ‘I trust you, girlie, but your mother don’t. She told you herself you couldn’t see him.’
‘Because of Meg?’
‘You know it is, Jessie.’
‘But that were just for the last week. To see if Meg could catch him. This is his last day. Father, I may never see Jack again! Can’t I just say goodbye? That can’t do no harm to Meg.’
‘I’m sorry, Jessie. I promised your mother,’ Joe says tight-lipped. ‘Please? No more, I’m not gunna argue with you. What’s done is done.’
Jessica thinks her heart must surely break. How she aches to see Jack just one last time. Just to have him standing in front of her, to touch his hand, feel it clasped in her own. To kiss him no matter how briefly. To breathe him in, remember his smell. Hear him laugh. Rub her hand up his forearm and watch the thick blond hair through the gaps between her fingers. She remembers how she once told him it looked like the wind passing through late summer grass. If she can have just one moment to look into his blue eyes, just long enough so she can remember him, fix his dear face clearly in her mind until he returns to her.
‘But he’s my friend!’ she says desperately. Joe can see she’s terribly upset and is fighting to hold back her tears. Jessica hasn’t cried since they got back from the doctor, and after that first evening in the kitchen. Or, at least, she hasn’t let them see her weep. ‘Whatever will Jack think of me if I don’t say goodbye, Father?’ she pleads one final time.
‘We already took care of that, girlie. You and me has had to go to Wagga urgent, some papers to sign about the trial that was forgotten to do when we was there.’ Joe looks at his daughter, not unkindly. ‘He’ll understand, Jessie. He’ll know it wasn’t your fault, that you’d be there to say goodbye to him if you could.’
‘Will you give him a letter from me, then?’ Jessica asks. ‘He’ll at least expect a letter if I’m supposed to have gone away. He knows I wouldn’t let him go without saying goodbye!’
Joe sees the sense in this. ‘Orright,’ he says slowly, knowing he’ll have to leave the letter with Hester who will see to it that it never gets delivered. ‘But you must let me read it first.’
‘No!’ Jessica says suddenly. Despite all that’s happened she can’t believe Joe doesn’t trust her. Then, realising she’s over-reacted, she adds, ‘I wouldn’t read your letter, Father.’
‘Then you must promise me you won’t tell him about what’s happened to you.’
Jessica looks up at Joe, her clear”green eyes showing she is hurt. ‘Father, I already told you, I won’t tell him about my baby. I give you my word.’
Jessica tries to deny the weakness she now sees in Joe.
She’s seen it before, though she’s always thought the bond between them was something that couldn’t be broken — that, in the end, he’d always take her side. Now she’s no longer certain, no longer sure she can depend on him. Joe is becoming an old man and, more and more, giving way to his wife. Hester is now pulling the strings with most things. Jessica knows Hester will read the letter, so she can’t put nothing in it about her love for Jack.
Their love for each other. Nor can she tell him she will wait for him — that no man will ever take his place in her life. She will be forced to write a letter stiff and formal, not revea
ling her true feelings, simply expressing her friendship. Hester and Meg have her trapped, and Jessica’s heart is filled with despair.
It is at that moment, when Jessica promises him that she won’t talk to Jack about her child, that Joe too feels total despair — feels he has broken from his youngest daughter forever. He believes Jessica when she says she won’t speak to Jack about her child. She’s never lied to him. Up to this moment he’s still harboured some hope in his heart that Jack may be the father, that the opportunity may all have come about when he and Jessica went for one of their walks after a Sunday dinner. Joe’s imagination is limited, but he’s told himself that if Meg and Jessica both have a child of Jack’s and Jack marries Meg, then Jessica’s child will be took care of. He understands that Jack may prefer Jessica. They’re long-time mates, of the right age, and so why not, he argues to himself. It’d be natural enough. Gawd knows, the two o’ them are well enough suited. But now that Joe knows for certain Jessica won’t tell Jack about her baby, it can mean only one thing. She isn’t carrying his child. Jessica is pregnant to Billy Simple and Hester is right about her.
Hester and Meg cook up a storm for Jack’s farewell Sunday dinner. It’s a roast leg of lamb and a rump roast of beef, with the sideboard stacked with tarts, pies and cakes enough to feed an army. The homestead smells deliciously of roasting meat and baking by the time Jack arrives on horseback around ten o’clock.
It is too early yet to eat and he’s barely climbed down from his horse, tied it to the post rail and given it the feed bag Joe’s left out, when Meg comes tripping down the front steps wearing a hat. She suggests they go for a walk before dinner.
‘Shouldn’t I say g’day to your folks ... t,o Jessie?’
Jack asks, surprised.
Meg grasps his arm, a look of concern on her face. ‘Oh, Jack, it is such a terrible shame. Jessica and Father can’t be here, they’ve had to go to Wagga.’
‘Wagga? Why’d they do that?’ Meg can see Jack is disappointed.
‘The trial, Billy Simple’s trial—they forgot to sign some papers when they were there. He can’t be hanged unless they do,’ she adds dramatically. ‘They couldn’t stay, it was government orders to be there first thing tomorrow.’ Meg smiles. ‘Jessica says to say goodbye, Father also.’
Jack is silent for a while, then looks up slowly at Meg. ‘Just goodbye? She didn’t leave a letter or anything?’
Meg dances gaily ahead of him then, turning, says, ‘Why heavens, no! Jessie doesn’t much care for writing.’ She walks back to Jack and, reaching up, places her hands on his shoulders. Standing on tip-toe, she kisses him on the cheek. Then she takes Jack’s hand. ‘Come, a walk will do your appetite the world of good. I’ve baked all the things you like.’
Jack stops, pulling Meg to a halt. He releases her hand. ‘Meg, about the other night .. .’
‘Oh, Jack, it was so lovely, us being alone.’ Jack looks down at his riding boots. ‘It’s just, well, I don’t know what come over me.’
Meg stands in front of him and puts her hands on her hips in a show of pretended exasperation, then she sighs prettily. ‘Jack, if you’re trying to say you’re sorry, please don’t. It was my way of saying goodbye.’ She pauses, a frown on her pretty face, her lips now formed into a pout. ‘You’re not angry with me, are you, Jack?’ Jack looks up in alarm. ‘Angry? Of course not.’ ‘And I made you happy, didn’t I?’
Jack nods, knowing he is being cleverly led away from what he wants to say. ‘It was lovely, Meg, it’s just -’
‘That you feel you shouldn’t have taken advantage,’ Meg interrupts. ‘Well you should have, Jack, I wanted you to.’ She grabs Jack’s big hand in both her own and brings it to her lips. ‘Jack Thomas, you’re the first man I’ve ever loved and I’ll never love another. What happened to us was beautiful.’
Jack feels trapped and can think of nothing to say.
‘Meg, you’re pretty and all, but the war ... I’m off to the war. Anything could happen.’ Jack scratches his head. ‘I, er ... wouldn’t want you to think .. .’
‘Think what? That you’re obliged to me?’
‘Well, yes,’ Jack says gratefully, ‘it wouldn’t be right to make plans, not knowing what the future will hold.’ He puts his head to one side. ‘It’s uncertain times ahead, Meg.’
‘Of course I’m not making plans. What plans? I’m not your wife, Jack.’ Meg laughs lightly. ‘Not your missus with a brat hanging onto her skirt, seeing her old man going off to war.’
Jack gives a wry grin at Meg’s description. ‘Too right!’
He’s grasped at Meg’s pronouncement like a man drowning. ‘It would be wrong to make any commitment. I don’t want you to think what happened is, well, like ... a betrothal.’
Meg gives Jack an indulgent smile. ‘These are modern times, Jack. Queen Victoria is long dead.’ She tosses her head back. ‘But, there you go, you’re not married to me and I have no children clutching at my skirt.’ Meg loosens the ribbon on her hat sufficiently so that it falls from her head and rests on the back of her shoulders. She squints slightly, adjusting to the bright sunlight. ‘What happened between us was so lovely.’ Her eyes glisten with sudden tears. ‘Oh, Jack, it was the first time for me and I shall cherish it all the days of my life.’ She pauses and draws right up to him, staring into Jack’s blue eyes, her lips pursed invitingly.
Jack tries hard to conceal his relief that she doesn’t expect him to marry her. ‘Meg, you’re a grand girl, a true sport.’
Meg smiles and draws back. The tears of a moment before seem to have disappeared as quickly as they’d first appeared. Plucking at the sides of her skirt, she does a pretty little curtsy in front of Jack. ‘Why thank you, kind sir.’ Then straightening, she says, ‘Now shall we feed the gallant soldier?’ ‘But aren’t we going for a walk?’
‘Never mind that now. We have an array of fine dishes fit for a general in command waiting for you.’ Meg laughs again. ‘I confess, Mother and I have been cooking for two days.’
Jack grins, hugely relieved at the outcome. ‘Goodo! ‘ I’m starving hungry, lemme at it.’ He turns towards the homestead steps but Meg pulls him back.
‘You have to pay for your dinner, Jack.’ Meg puts her hands behind her back and, closing her eyes, tilts her head towards him, her lips slightly parted as she offers them to him.
Jack bends down and kisses her lightly on the cheek. Meg’s eyes open wide in alarm. ‘No, Jack, I want a kiss from a soldier going to war! A kiss to remember!’ Her arms now come out to embrace him and Jack is obliged to receive her into his own. Then he bends and kisses Meg on the mouth. He can feel her warmth against him, she smells of some light perfume and her lips pressed into his seem soft as rose petals. But all he can think of is Jessica. Of kissing and holding sweet, lithe Jessica in his arms.
At dinner Hester and Meg make most of the chatter as Jack tucks into his food. He’s never been known for his conversation at the table and it’s usually only Jessica who can get him to talk much beyond the usual courtesies. But today he seems unusually bereft of words. The talk outside with Meg seems to have quietened him down completely and Hester realises how much Jessica adds to his presence when they’re at the table. Meg thinks it’s as if Jack has come to get something off his mind and having done so, has more or less exhausted his daily allotment of words. His responses to the bright words she and Hester banter about are only barely polite, though, thankfully, his lack of words is not matched by a poor appetite and he digs into his food as though he hasn’t eaten for a fortnight.
‘Best food I’ve ever had, Mrs Bergman,’ he ventures at last. ‘I’m full to bursting, like a cow in the lucerne paddock.’
Hester smiles. ‘Don’t thank me, Jack. Thank Meg, she cooked most of it. A young woman should know how to cook well, don’t you think?’
‘I’ll say!’ Jack now turns to Meg. ‘Great tucker, Meg. Thank you.’
<
br /> ‘And how to take care of a large house,’ Hester continues. ‘Though with only the four of us and this place only a cottage, she doesn’t get much of a chance to show off her homemaking or culinary skills. Joe and Jessie are plain eaters both.’
‘Well, I don’t suppose I’ll eat like that again in a while.’ Jack grins and thinks for a moment. ‘The two girls couldn’t cook for toffee, my mother neither. Come to think of it, Mrs Briggs, our cook, isn’t too good either — meat and potatoes and steamed puddin’ left for us cold of a Sunday.’ Jack grins at the memory. ‘Bloody steamed pud, never want to taste another mouthful.’
At the unexpected mention of Ada Thomas and Jack’s two sisters, Hester and Meg grow silent. But before they can speak, Jack continues, unaware of the shock he’s caused in the two of them. ‘I miss the fighting. They were always fighting, shouting at each other.
All three of them. There was always someone crying.’ Jack looks over at Hester. ‘You wouldn’t think you’d miss that, would you?’
Hester sighs. ‘Such a terrible tragedy, Jack. You poor boy.’
‘Jack, will you have another cuppa?’ Meg asks suddenly, hoping to lift the conversation to a brighter note. Jack shakes his head. ‘Mrs Bergman, I know what I’m going to say I shouldn’t. But I’m going off to the war ... and who knows? I want to say something about Jessica and Billy.’
Meg stretches out and touches the back of Jack’s hand. ‘There’s no need, Jack. You don’t have to say anything.’
‘No, no, I want to. I couldn’t maybe have said this in front of Jessica, but now she’s not here I can — I must.’ ‘Do you mean all the talk about what happened at the courthouse in Narrandera?’ Hester asks hurriedly. ‘There’s no need, Jack. It’s idle talk, you know how country people are. They love a bit of gossip. We haven’t taken it seriously.’
‘No, not that, Mrs Bergman. What the newspapers said after the trial, how Jessica stuck up for Billy. The newspapers reckon she’s had a nervous breakdown, saying she’s, well, you know, around the twist. Saying no one in their right mind could stick up for a murderer when he’s done what Billy did to my mother and sisters.’ ‘Jessica’s been under a great strain, Jack. She’s not been well. Please don’t blame her for defending Billy Simple,’ Hester says softly. Then, almost pleading, she adds, ‘Meg is very different to her sister, they’re chalk and cheese.’
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