Walkabout Wife

by Dorothy Cork

  to feel at her ease. She thought she was going to like the Shaws, and besides, she was happier altogether than she had been when they'd set out this morning.

  Mickie showed her to a bathroom—old-fashioned but spotlessly clean—where she could wash up.

  `Join the men in the living room when you're ready. Don't worry about me—I've got everything under control in the kitchen.'

  This house, Edie thought again, as presently she dried her hands on the guest towel Mickie had provided her with, had once been Drew's home. Drew She hadn't yet had time to think back to the new slant his proposition had given to their situation, but now she felt again that small surge of happiness and hope. It wouldn't take them long to get to know each other better, seeing they were so definitely attracted to each other physically—and she was glad he had said that. It was a strange situation. They had to pretend to the Shaws that they were married—and they were going to pretend to each other that they weren't. They were going to forget that. Was it going to be as difficult as Drew imagined? Well, they would soon find that out. Tonight— Strangely, she felt full of excited anticipation.

  After she'd finished in the bathroom she followed her nose to the living room, one end of which served as a dining room. There were just the four of them and dinner was very simple—roast beef and vegetables, queen pudding and cream, and a big pot of tea to follow. Mickie asked about Mrs Wilson and told Drew laughingly that he was lucky he still had someone to have his dinner ready for him when he came home in the evening. Then the men talked about cattle and Edie, even though she knew she should be interested and was, only half listened. Her mind was on other

  things—on Drew. She enjoyed her dinner, relaxing in the easy atmosphere, and feeling thankful there had been no awkward questions to parry.

  When dinner was over, the men got up first. They were going out to some paddock in the jeep, and Drew came to lean over Edie and kiss the back of her neck with a murmured, 'I'll see you later, darling.'

  It was the first time he had ever called her darling, and even though she knew the words, and the gesture, were for the benefit of the others, she still felt a thrill run along her nerves. Quick colour came into her face as across the table she caught Mickie looking at her just a little bit speculatively. Well, wouldn't anyone be inclined to speculate about so hasty a marriage? And what, she wondered, if anything, had Drew told them about her? She finished her second cup of tea, then in a kitchen that was not so modern as the one at the main homestead, she helped her hostess with the dishes and they talked a little.

  `It's a good set-up at Dhoora Dhoora now,' Mickie remarked presently. 'Are you happy with the new kitchen—and the way Drew's had the inside bathroom updated?' She stopped rather abruptly and turned aside to put some dishes away in the cupboard. Edie had the feeling she was embarrassed and wondered why.

  She said lightly, 'Everything's surprisingly modern. I never would have expected to find such comfortable living conditions on a rather remote cattle station. There's not much more one could want, is there?' she finished, reflecting it was as well Mickie didn't know that, whatever the state of the homestead, Drew Sutton's brand new wife just might not have to put up with it for more than a very few weeks.

  `Not much,' Mickie agreed with a little smile. She

  dried her hands on the kitchen towel. 'Let's go out to the side verandah. We deserve a rest and a cigarette, don't you think?'

  Edie agreed that they did. She had begun to feel vaguely uneasy, and she wondered how long the men would be and how she would deal with any personal questions Mickie might ask. After all, she was bound to ask some questions—such as how long she and Drew had known one another and where they had met, she thought nervily.

  But Mickie didn't ask any of those embarrassing questions. She remarked, as they both relaxed in comfortable old cane chairs, their sandalled feet resting on the verandah rail, 'It's really great you've come over today. We've been here four years now, and I think Drew's a great guy, so naturally I was dying to know what you were like.'

  It would have been normal to say something like, 'I hope you approve of me,' but that sort of remark didn't fit this peculiar situation and Edie just couldn't say it. Instead, she said awkwardly, 'I suppose you were—surprised when we got married.'

  `Sure we were surprised,' the other girl admitted. `Drew hadn't said a word—I don't think he'd ever mentioned. you. I hope you won't take it the wrong way if I admit I prayed you'd be a bit special—just for his sake.'

  Edie coloured deeply. 'I suppose you mean because —because things didn't work out for him before,' she suggested, thinking of Deborah Webster.

  Mickie gave her an odd look. 'You do know, then? I wasn't sure, and I wasn't going to mention it, of course—'

  `Oh, it's all right—Drew told me,' said Edie, rather surprised, and reflecting a little painfully that Drew

  must still be carrying a torch for his lost love.

  `It's like him to have told you, of course,' Mickie said musingly. 'He's that sort of person, isn't he ?— very straight, very honest ... I hope you don't have any guilt feelings about it.'

  Guilt feelings? Edie stared at her uncomprehendingly, but Mickie was looking out at the garden and before Edie could say a thing she went on in a very decisive voice, 'In my opinion he and Laurel deliberated far too long before they got engaged.'

  Edie almost died of shock. She scarcely heard what Mickie said next—something about Laurel spending two or three months of the year at Dhoora Dhoora.

  `What?' she heard herself say vacantly. Somewhere inside her mind everything had gone black. Drew and Laurel had been engaged. She couldn't believe it. When had it happened? And why had he said nothing about it? He hadn't been honest at all—he hadn't been straight, she thought wildly, thinking of that room at the homestead where there were still clothes belonging to Laurel Clarkson—where the scent she used still hung in the air. When had the engagement been broken? It must have been recently—very recently. She felt quite faint as she leaned back in her chair.

  `What?' Mickie was echoing, sounding puzzled. 'Oh, you mean about the three months. Well, Laurel's a schoolteacher, so she has these long holidays. Didn't you know?'

  `No, I didn't,' Edie said faintly. A million questions were burning holes in her mind—and she couldn't ask any of them, because she'd said Drew had told her about Laurel. How long had they been engaged? When had they broken it off? Who had broken it off?

  `Drew never gave us a clue everything wasn't going

  along smoothly,' Mickie went on, apparently quite unaware of the turmoil in Edie's mind. 'Then one day he told Dame that Laurel was going to Ireland to visit her godmother—his aunt Anne, you must know about her —and that the engagement was off. I was really surprised—I just didn't know who to be sorry for or what to think when Dame told me. I'm sure I'd have blurted out. questions I had no right to ask if it had been me Drew told, but you know what men are like. Dame just listened and minded his own business and said nothing, and of course that's really the best thing to do. The only thing that bothered both of us was—' She broke off suddenly and bit her lip, on the point of mentioning that rather peculiar will of Philip Sutton's, Edie realised, and not sure if she would be letting the cat out of the bag if she did so. Well, that was one thing Edie knew all about ... Mickie finished rather lamely, `Well, we didn't know about you then, you see.'

  `No, I suppose you didn't,' Edie agreed dryly. She gathered that Mickie must imagine Drew had met her, fallen in love with her, and broken off his engagement to Laurel Clarkson, and she wondered what the other girl would think if she knew the truth. If she asked an outright question she would have to make up some lie, she thought distractedly. But to her relief the conversation moved on to safer ground, away from Drew and Laurel and beginnings, and presently Edie was talking about nursing and her life in Sydney.

  Mickie, it emerged during the next half hour, was a country girl and had just left school when she met Damien Shaw at a picnic race meeting on t
he property he was managing at the time.

  `I was riding in a race where all the jockeys were girls,' she recalled with evident enjoyment. 'I had a rather nasty fall and Dame—he's had masses of experi-

  ence patching people up in the outback—he came to see if I was dead or only damaged, and that was how we met. Romantic, wasn't it? I'd broken a couple of ribs, actually, and I stayed at the homestead for a week. By that time, neither of us wanted to say goodbye. We got married a month later. That's five years ago now, and we're just about perfectly happy.'

  Just about. There was a slightly sad note in her voice as she said that, and Edie wondered if it was because they had no children. Though there was plenty of time for that, surely—Mickie must be only about twenty-four.

  A little silence fell and by rights, Edie should be filling it with the story of how she and Drew had met, but she didn't, 'And presently Mickie said briskly, 'I'm going to make a batch of scones; the men will want something when they come in. I guess you won't be staying late—Drew will want to leave well before dark. It's not a good track to follow at night—too much chance of breaking an axle. I wish I'd suggested you should stay the night, when Dame rang through. That would have been fun, wouldn't it?'

  Edie's smile was forced and colour rushed to her face. She and Drew couldn't possibly have stayed the night—they'd be expected to share a room! She said confusedly, 'Oh, we—we couldn't just now. Drew 'she's fairly busy —

  Mickie's eyebrows went up and she said laughingly, `Come on now, Edie—Drew's the boss, he can delegate the duties. And at this time of his life— Anyhow, he's taken a day off to bring you over here, hasn't he?'

  `Not really. I mean, Damien wanted his advice about —about some cattle or something, didn't he?'

  `Oh, that was just an excuse, and Drew knows it.' Mickie was still smiling. 'I'd been nagging at Dame

  because I wanted to meet you, and he kept saying we shouldn't intrude because even if you hadn't gone away, you were on your honeymoon. Then we heard you'd been out at the muster camp, and I said if the men had met you then I was jolly well going to. So Dame gave in ... Anyhow,' she concluded, getting to her feet, 'I'd better get moving and make those scones. You stay here and have a little doze if you feel like it. This heat is trying and you look a bit weary.'

  Edie flushed again, but she didn't protest that if she looked weary it wasn't for the reason Mickie probably imagined. All the same, she elected to stay on the verandah rather than go into the kitchen. She had a lot to hide—and as well, she had a lot to think about, and Mickie had no sooner disappeared than her mind returned to the disturbing information she had been given—that until very recently, Drew had been engaged to Laurel Clarkson.

  It was strange she should learn it only now, and on the very day when Drew had more or less said they should review the terms of their association. Naïvely, she'd thought there was hope for her. Now she wondered if he were still in love, not with Debbie, but with Laurel. Staring unseeingly across the garden, she visualised the laughing face of the girl in the coloured snapshot—a girl who stood confidently between two men, each of whom had his arm around her. One of whom had loved her enough to ask her to marry him. Drew.

  Edie felt a pain in her heart. Who had called the engagement off? Mickie thought it had been Drew—because he'd met and fallen in love with Edie. Edie knew better—and she was certain it must have been Laurel. It suddenly occurred to her that it had been for Laurel that he'd had the bathroom and the kitchen renovated,

  that the new curtains and soft furnishings in her bedroom had a special significance too.

  Her headache was back in full force and she leaned back exhaustedly in her chair and closed her eyes against the afternoon glare. Oh God, it was all so clear now—the reason why he'd put that ad in the paper, the reason why he wasn't interested in a real marriage. It was his face he was interested in saving, not Laurel's. And she, Edie—if she'd had any inkling that he was still in love with another girl, a girl who still existed, who wasn't way back in his past like poor dead Deborah, she would never have allowed herself to become so emotionally involved with him, or to respond the way she had to his passionate advances.

  And she'd certainly never have proposed to him what she had this morning.

  She was unutterably thankful at least that Drew had promised not to take advantage of the fact that they were married. She moved uneasily in the cane chair. They were to get to know each other better before they made any hasty decisions ! Well, she thought bitterly, she knew him a whole lot better right now. She knew that he hadn't been honest, he hadn't been fair. He'd only pretended to give her all the facts that night in Narrunga. He'd explained with such apparent frankness why he needed a wife—but he hadn't explained that the reason why he was in such a predicament was because he'd just been jilted. She should have felt sorry for him, but she didn't. She felt betrayed. She felt as shattered as if she had some real claim on him and had discovered he was unfaithful to her.

  What a mess it all was! Edie's head ached and she wanted to weep. All her happiness had gone, she didn't trust him anymore and she didn't want to get to know

  him better. When they went home tonight, she'd lock herself up in her room—she'd keep so far away from him it would be nobody's business. He'd get from her exactly what she'd contracted to give, and no more.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHEN Damien and Drew came back, it was almost dark.

  Edie by then was in a quiet turmoil, with Mickie hovering round and murmuring happily that they'd have to stay the night—and making plans for following up the scones with a good filling meal. She interpreted Edie's quiet moodiness as an indication that she was worried something had happened to the men.

  `They'll turn up,' the other girl said cheerfully. `They've probably got so caught up talking cattle and beef they've forgotten the time—and us ! I promise you nothing's happened to them. They weren't going all that far and if the car broke down completely—well, they've each got two legs, they're big and strong and all the rest of it. I'm going to make up a bed in one of the spare rooms anyway. Then when they come home we'll all be free to have a good old get-together. I've a really pretty nightie you can borrow, too,' she added cheeringly, 'and there are plenty of toothbrushes in the store, so you won't want for a thing.'

  Completely unconvinced, but trying not to show it too much, Edie followed her into the house.

  `Don't make up the bed yet, Mickie,' she insisted. `Really, I'm sure we shan't be staying. Drew's got a lot of things to do—'

  Mickie snapped her fingers gaily. 'Oh, Drew can take time off on his honeymoon. Everyone will understand. And at any rate, you just can't drive home in the dark.'

  Edie gave up protesting, but when a moment later she heard the sound of a motor, she hurried back to the verandah. Drew would have to see it her way—they couldn't stay here overnight and that was that. Not unless they had separate rooms, and to ask for that was going to take a lot of explaining !

  `Well, I don't care,' she thought, 'Drew will have to explain it away somehow.' Or else he would have to say they must leave straight away. That would be easiest.

  `What kept you so long?' she heard herself ask sharply as the men came up the steps.

  `I guess it's seemed like a thousand years to you, Edie,' said Damien with a good-humoured laugh, and Drew put his arm around her shoulders and tried to pull her against him. She resisted strongly and knew 'he was both surprised and displeased, but she didn't care.

  `Edie's been worried sick,' said Mickie, coming out to join them at that moment. She paused to receive Damien's kiss, then went on lightly, 'I really think she was picturing you both lying dead under the blazing sun, or something like that. What happened to you anyhow? We expected you back ages ago.'

  `Oh, we ran into someone who was in a spot of bother,' Drew told her, and Damien put in, 'Bring out a few cans of beer and we'll tell you the whole story. We'll have a wash and a brush up and join you on the verandah in a few minutes. How will
that do?'

  `But—' Edie began, and then stopped.

  `But what?' Drew asked. His grey eyes met hers and she felt a tremor run through her even while she stared back at him. There was something in those eyes she couldn't read. It had always been like that. What was it? The fact that he was still in love with another woman—a living breathing woman, someone he thought about every time he held Edie's body in his arms?

  She said weakly, her breath catching, 'Shouldn't we be on our way home, Drew? It's late—'

  `It's too late, Edie,' Damien put in. 'But don't worry, Edie, Drew and I discussed that on the way home and you're staying the night. Aren't they, Mickie?'

  `Of course,' Mickie agreed. By now she was beginning to look distinctly puzzled by Edie's unwillingness to stay the night. 'I'll get that beer.'

  They all began to move inside, but Edie put out a hand and caught Drew's arm.

  `Drew—'

  He turned and looked at her enquiringly, but to her relief the others went on, and she said hurriedly, keeping her voice low, `Drew, we can't stay the night—you know we can't. Sharing a room, a—a bed—'

  He looked down at her quizzically. 'Oh, come on now, Edie, you'd rather we broke an axle—or our necks —driving in the dark. Is that it?'

  No, of course not. But—but surely there's some way that's safe—if you don't take those short cuts—'

  `If there's a way then I don't know of it,' he said a little impatiently. `I'm afraid you'll just have to make the best of it, Edie.'

  Make the best of it! Her face went pale, and her nerves suddenly snapped at the prospect of sharing a bedroom with him. 'You mean you'll make the best of