by L E Pembroke
‘Madeleine’s done an excellent job of interior decorating– Rose, too. I’m very comfortable there. Why not come over in the early evening and stay and have dinner with me? I can cook a bit.’
‘I’d love to.’ I was at last in a good mood. ‘Don’t worry about cooking anything special for me.’
CHAPTER 28
ANDREW
I remember how pleased I was when I received Tom’s letter asking me to work at Bellara. Not only did I want to meet up with my old friend but also the thought that I might meet Jen again excited my interest. I hadn’t forgotten the warmth that flowed between us on both occasions we met during the war. Of course, that was a long time ago, and the chances were that she had married.
To learn from Madeleine that Jen was not married, although considering doing so, and to an older bloke, was a disappointment. So I put Tom’s sister out of my mind and devoted most of my thoughts to learning the skills needed for raising sheep.
When Jen blew into the house that evening and rushed over to greet me, I experienced a pretty strong desire to take her into my arms. Impossible, of course; for all I knew she was engaged to be married. She soon confirmed, as Madeleine had said, that she was thinking about marrying some doctor.
I thought the circumstances slightly strange. Why would it take months to make that sort of decision? A girl either loved a chap and wanted to spend her life with him, or she didn’t. Anyway, I backed off. When Madeleine first told me that Jen was coming home for a short holiday, my anticipation was tempered by my knowledge of her situation.
I received mixed messages from Jen that night. I could see she was glad to see me (blind Freddie could see that). But later, when we talked together there was nothing there. I guessed she was thinking about her fiancé, maybe even worried that she’d been too impulsive and unthinking by leaving him in Sydney to meet me again. Perhaps she was even slightly perturbed by my presence in her life once more.
Then she changed again; wanted me to stay on after Tom and Madeleine went to bed, asked to see the refurbished cottage and enthusiastically accepted my invitation to come over for a meal the following night. Women can be confusing to a simple bloke, and that’s exactly how I felt that night.
*
She was there, sitting on the veranda, when I rode in. She’d tied her horse to the rail and brought him a nosebag. I was a little later than planned but made time to pick a few freesias from one of the paddocks for the dining table.
‘Welcome to my humble abode.’ I thrust the freesias into her hand and apologised for them, saying she’d probably prefer roses.
‘Not at all. I am fond of freesias – marvellous scent. I’ll put them in a vase.’
I showered and changed while she waited in the small main room.
When I returned, she was examining my books. She remarked ingenuously that she hadn’t read any of them and that she mostly read popular fiction, although she had read one or two of Dickens and Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. I had a hugely diverse library of books that included Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, several works of Dickens, Hardy, Kipling, H.G Wells and others. She said that she felt inadequate because she had so much to learn.
‘You shouldn’t. There’s plenty of time for you to become familiar with these books. My mother smothered me with books from the time I could first read. I’ve read them all over and over again. Why don’t you take one or two to start with? You might enjoy Henry James’ Washington Square; it’s not unlike some of Jane Austen’s books.’
‘I will; I’d like to.’
I didn’t want to spend the evening discussing books – that was the last thing on my mind. Nevertheless, I imagine knowing a person’s taste in books might reveal quite a lot about him or her.
At first, she didn’t give anything away and nor did I. Ostensibly, we were just a couple of casual friends having a meal together before going our separate ways. But I didn’t want to leave it at that. I wanted to know whether she was intending to marry her doctor. And, that’s what I asked, in an indirect way, while we were eating our meal.
She blushed. ‘How do I see my future?’ She repeated my question. ‘To be perfectly honest, Andrew, I’m not exactly sure. You know I am seeing a man regularly; Alistair is such a fine man. I know he loves me; he has said so often enough, although I can’t think why he does.’ She wasn’t fishing for compliments; she wasn’t that sort.
‘At all events, Alistair and I have marvellous times together. I suppose, for me, he is like a young uncle. There’s not a lot of – you know – excitement in our relationship.’
‘You mean passion?’
She coloured again and mumbled, ‘Something like that, I suppose.’
Strange how a young woman can go through nursing soldiers for four years and still be unable to discuss feelings.
Changing the subject entirely, I began talking about the town and some of the people I’d met since coming to the Central West. I was also thinking about what she had said. Obviously, she wasn’t in love; there was therefore no reason I should hesitate. I was interested – aroused – by her. I didn’t want to keep our relationship at a superficial level.
Later, I said I’d ride back to Bellara with her. It was a nice night, I remember, and already, as we slowly walked the horses along the road, I was aware of a growing connection between us, an electric charge that said more than words.
‘How about tomorrow night, Jen?’
She quickly responded. ‘Yes, I’ve been thinking I’d like to do it again. I’ll cook this time and drive over with the meal.’
When she had stabled her horse we walked together up to the house. I placed my arm casually around her shoulders. She didn’t pull away. I left her at the veranda steps, jumped onto my horse and set off for home at a canter.
CHAPTER 29
GENEVIEVE
I spent most of the following morning in the kitchen. While crumbing lamb cutlets and making an apple pie, there was only one thing on my mind and that, of course, was Andrew. Although never over-confident about my cooking prowess, I was determined that he would enjoy my meal at least as much as he enjoyed Rose’s efforts.
Madeleine looked into the kitchen. ‘That’s right, darling. Nice to see you have your priorities right. “the way to a man’s heart”, you know.’
‘Oh, stop talking rubbish, Madeleine.’ I blushed and got on with shelling peas.
At five o’clock I piled all the food into my car and took off for what I hoped might be a romantic evening. I was quite determined that I wasn’t going to think about Alistair that night.
When I arrived, Andrew was drenching in the yard close to the house. Watching him bending over the animals, his arms strong, brown and stringy, holding the sheep steady, I knew immediately that my feelings hadn’t been deadened by my experience of war. I felt a compelling desire to have those arms envelop me. The feelings welling up within me nearly choked me, making me feel both weak and susceptible.
‘Thanks, Genevieve. Dinner was delicious.’ He pushed his dessert plate away.
‘Yes, it wasn’t too bad for a change. I guess Rose would have done better; she’s the expert.’ Why did I say that?
Unwisely, he replied, ‘We all have our strengths and weaknesses, Genevieve. I suspect you are much more of an outdoor girl than Rose. You’d rather play tennis than knit, sew or cook.’
Feeling somewhat put out, I said that I was rather unskilled in housewifely duties; I hadn’t had much time to practise and admitted I’d rather spend a day drenching sheep than coping with a bundle of ironing.
‘I don’t think you are unskilled at anything, Genevieve.’
The evening turned out to be an anti-climax. We were both, because of Alistair, endeavouring to keep the conversation at a rather impersonal level. Later, standing beside the car he said, ‘What about tomorrow?’
Funny how I can remember word for word our conversations during that week. Madeleine and I were going into town in the morning, but I thought we’d
be home by mid-afternoon. I said I would come over then and give him a hand. If that suited him.
‘You know it suits me.’
*
The next afternoon, I arrived on horseback while he was repairing a fence down near the creek that formed the western boundary of the property. I left my horse with his, foraging among the sweet grass under the willow trees. I could see he needed help. ‘You should have asked Tom to give you a hand.’
‘I know that now; just thought I might be able to manage.’
‘Too difficult for one person. I’ll help; it won’t be the first time.’
I pulled at the post. He tautened and tied the barbed wire. Seeing him, tanned, concentrating, sweat running down his face and wet patches showing on the back of his shirt and under his arms, again I had an almost overwhelming desire to let the post go, rush over to him and snuggle up to his damp, lean body. I turned my face away just in case my expression revealed my thoughts.
After the job was done, he suggested we have a mug of tea. I said I’d love it and began gathering the kindling while he cleared the site for the fire and produced the billy, mugs, tea and sugar from the saddle bag. He tossed a handful of tea into the boiling water and a few moments later filled a mug and handed it to me.
‘I’ve always loved billy tea.’ I told him how before I moved to Sydney I used to ride out with food for my father and we had our morning brew together. I didn’t want to talk any more about my past, still wanting to know more about his. ‘I remember you once telling me that for years you were passionate about soldiering. If you don’t mind my asking, why did you give up your career?’
He hesitated before replying that although for years he had thought of nothing but soldiering, after France he knew he no longer wanted to remain a soldier. ‘Difficult to be precise about what changed my mind.’ I could tell he just didn’t want to talk about anything associated with the war. Instead, he said he’d never been happier since he came to Bellara. He pondered about this state of mind; wondered whether it was a form of escapism: animals versus people, trees and pasture versus city streets and buildings. ‘Whatever it is, I can’t see me ever returning to a permanent life in the city. This war has affected hundreds of thousands of people in so many different ways, and I doubt the world will ever again be as it was when we were growing up. In my case, all I want is the peace and quiet of living on the land.’
He wanted to know how easy or difficult it had been for me to settle down after all the excitement and drama of my life in the war. How did I feel about country life now?
I spoke about the excitement of going to Sydney when I was eighteen. ‘But that was nine years ago. I’m a different person now and occasionally think I wouldn’t care if I never returned to the city. With me, it’s not cities or country that matter; I think it’s everything to do with friendship and relationships.’
We finished our tea in silence. I think we were both aware of growing sexual tension between us. Andrew scuffed out the fire with his boot. ‘Come on, let’s get back.’ He put his arm around my shoulders as we walked over to the horses. He stopped, turned me towards him. As I looked into his penetrating grey eyes, his arms enveloped me as he bent his head to kiss my lips.
We didn’t talk after that. Both mounted our horses and rode back to the house. I wasn’t seeing him that night. Madeleine was having a few people from town for dinner, and I’d promised to help her prepare. I probably wasn’t very good company. I couldn’t get Andrew out of my mind. The thought of our bodies close together and his firm lips pressed on mine inflamed me. I couldn’t think about Alistair, I went to bed with only Andrew on my mind.
*
The following day he took the afternoon off, and we rode out to Mount Canobolas and the cherry orchards, although the fruit wasn’t yet ripe for picking. We ate a picnic I had prepared, although neither of us had much of an appetite. We sat side by side, our backs leaning against a tree, Andrew’s arm resting loosely around my shoulders. We kissed again and again. When I felt his nearness I was weak with desire, and I knew for certain that I would never marry Alistair. It was Andrew I wanted, not only his sexual love; I wanted to spend my life with him. I pressed closer to him.
*
Madeleine planned to try to make a special dinner the following night. It was Andrew’s birthday, and she said, ‘You make a birthday cake, and I’ll do the main course. I wish Rose was back. Cooking two special dinners in three days won’t be easy; I’ll have to spend the weekend in bed recovering.’
Rose was having a week away with her aunt in Bathurst. Madeleine asked me what I thought would most appeal to Andrew.
‘He enjoyed the cutlets I did the other night,’ I replied, ‘or Tom might kill a chicken.’
‘And who will remove its feathers and things? No, thanks. We’ll have cutlets. You prepare them, and I’ll cook them. Sometimes I yearn so much for fresh Scottish salmon.’
‘Bad luck, Madeleine, the only salmon in Australia comes in tins.’
‘Don’t I know it.’
Madeleine was grinning like a Cheshire cat during that dinner. Nothing was burnt, and she could see very well that her plans for my future were working. She was confident of the outcome. I suppose one couldn’t fail to see that Andrew and I had eyes only for one another.
I had been at Bellara for six days. On Sunday we played tennis in the afternoon, although we didn’t see one another later. Each day I knew I was falling more deeply in love. The thought scared me a little when I remembered how it had been in the past, all those years ago when I’d been such a fool of a girl. Two things that did bother me were that Andrew hadn’t mentioned the future except in terms of his farming plans and that he hadn’t told me he loved me, although he behaved as if he did.
That evening Madeleine asked me what my plans were. She said she needed me at Bellara; she needed someone with her because she might have the baby early and didn’t think she could rely on Tom. She was terrified she would go into labour in the middle of the night and Tom, with one arm, would have to deliver their child. She thought he’d probably leave her alone and rush over to Andrew for moral support. She added that Tom was always visiting Andrew and doubtless preferred his company to hers.
‘That’s not true. Tom adores you.’
‘Well, he has a funny way of showing it.’
I agreed. Tom had never been good at revealing how he felt, but I thought he’d get better in time. I said I believed Tom would be a loving father and husband – in time.
‘Would you like to put money on that, Genevieve? I’ve made up my mind. If you can’t help out I’ll probably go to Sydney for the birth. I know you can’t just chuck your job to be nursemaid to me, Genevieve, but I have the feeling Andrew is very keen on you and if he proposes, you will come back for good, won’t you?’
I didn’t really want to say how much I wanted him to propose to me, that I was scared to think about it in case he didn’t. But I couldn’t help myself. ‘Actually, Andrew behaves as if he’s keen on me, but so far he hasn’t said he loves me. I can’t wait around much longer; I’m feeling awfully unsure of myself, Madeleine, and guilty about Alistair.’
She scoffed. ‘Stop worrying about Alistair! You know you don’t love him. On the other hand, I suppose we shouldn’t be unrealistic; you’ve only been here a week. Andrew’s probably waiting until he can get to Sydney to buy you a whopping diamond ring.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes, of course I think so. You’d better go back tomorrow, see your bloke, get it all over and done with, and come back as soon as you can.’
I wasn’t looking forward to ‘getting it all over and done with’. I knew that was going to be one of the hardest things I had ever had to do.
CHAPTER 30
ANDREW
That Monday morning, while shaving, I was making plans. Jen had only been here for a week or so; nevertheless, I decided there was little point in waiting much longer. I was sure of my feelings. I was, by nature, cautious when
it came to making life-altering decisions. What army bloke isn’t? However, I knew I wanted to marry Jen and was equally sure that’s what she wanted, too. Why be conventional, why hesitate?
I’d just turned thirty. Wasn’t it about time to begin a new life – life with a loving wife – so different from the one I’d led during the last few years? I was certain she would soon terminate her relationship with her doctor. I felt sorry for him and knew it would be hard for her, but a marriage without love – how could it ever work?
I badly wanted to take Jen to my home. I was certain my mother and the girls would be drawn to her instantly, and while in Sydney I’d get a ring and we’d make plans for our wedding. I didn’t have the slightest doubt that that was what would happen in the very near future.
*
A knock on the door; strange, not yet eight o’clock. Patting my face dry with my towel, I opened the door. ‘Rose! What are you doing here? Anything wrong?’
She giggled, seemed nervous. ‘No, nothing wrong, Andrew. I know it was your birthday the other day, and I’ve brought you a present. I wanted to catch you before you left the house. Can I come in?’
I wasn’t buying that. Of course I was aware that Rose was making a play for me, had been from the moment I arrived. I felt sorry for her. What a lonely life she’d had, bringing up a child on her own for the last six years. Rose was a pretty woman and generous-hearted. She’d make someone an excellent wife – but that someone would never be me, and I was not allowing her into my house. I closed the door behind me. ‘Bit of a mess in there. How did you get out here so early?’
She said she came with Jack the postman; that she’d arranged it last week. ‘I told Tom’s wife that I wouldn’t have to be picked up on Monday.’
Rose stood at the doorway, with a demure smile. ‘I thought you might drop me over there later. Anyway, here’s your present.’ She handed it to me and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I hope you like it.’