by Gloria Bevan
`Jewellery?' Scott turned the car down the winding slope in the wake of lighted cars ahead. 'Oh, the stock-pin, you mean,' He laughed. 'Okay, I guess. She said she'd be wearing it at the next Hunt anyway.'
A vivid sunrise touched the distant peaks with flame as the car turned in at the homestead gates, and soon Trudy, changed into serviceable slacks and sweater, was laying the table for breakfast in the shadowed dining-room.
She was lifting a great slab of bacon from the refrigerator in the kitchen when a sound made her turn and she swung around to see Scott, dark, virile, his working shirt open at the neck revealing the deeply tanned chest. And he was looking at her ... looking at her.... Her hands began to tremble as she picked up the long, razor-sharp knife.
`Hey, let me do that!' He strode towards her. But Trudy, the blood singing in her ears, was too quick for him. She mustn't allow him to affect her in this way. Wasn't she only staying on at Elsmore in order to prove to him that she didn't need his advice — or help? Even when it came to so trivial a matter as the slicing of the breakfast bacon?
`I can manage,' she said in a muffled tone, and began to slice vigorously.
The next moment the knife slipped sideways, the blade gashing deeply between finger and thumb. Dimly she was aware of blood spurting over the bacon and bench — blood everywhere. A wave of faintness overwhelmed her. Then through a red mist she came back to consciousness. Only it couldn't be consciousness, because she was in Scott's arms, possessed of a heavenly feeling of unutterable content. His face, concerned and anxious, was above her own. Voices came and went.
`The doctor - quick! I think she's cut a tendon.'
`Get the first-aid kit!'
`I'll take her to her room—'
The voices receded. The dream faded.
When she awoke, she lay motionless, trying to fight her way through the confusion that clouded her senses. She still wore her yellow sweater, her slacks. Yet she was in bed in her own room. Then memory returned, bringing with it the remembrance of last night's party. She'd come home. Home? Back to Elsmore, she corrected herself carefully. Then she'd begun to prepare breakfast. And then ... she withdrew her bandaged hand from beneath the blankets, and recollection came rushing back.
Had that other dream been real too? That Moment when Scott had held her in his arms? The moment when he had forgotten to be stern and forbidding and had appeared oddly distraught.
Scott. Why did her mind always return to him? And all at once, like the crashing of a chord of music, the answer came. The answer that she had known all along . . . only she had refused to allow herself to face it. She'd pushed it down, down, so that she wouldn't need to admit the truth.
The fact that she was hopelessly, deeply in love with Scott Ballantyne! She had told herself that she had detested him, that the stirring of her emotions, the sensation of awareness that had flooded her, even at their first meeting, was merely antagonism. While all the time - all the time—
She couldn't stop the tears that filled her eyes as she faced the truth at last. She didn't want to leave Maketu - ever. She was irrevocably, hopelessly in love, for the first time in her life, with a man who was nothing more to her than her employer, a man, moreover, who was in love with someone else.
So this was love, this anguished longing for some sign, some assurance that one's feelings were reciprocated.
It came unbidden, unsought. It sneaked up on one, even disguising itself as antipathy, so that one had no defences, no warning even, until it was too late.
`You awake, Trudy ?'
That well-known voice! Quickly she struggled upwards, dashing away the tell-tale tears with the back of her hand,
pushing the tousled hair back from her forehead.
`Oh, Scott!' With drowned, blue-green eyes she glanced upwards to the face now so infinitely dear. 'What - time is it?'
He dragged up the small chair, straddling it with long legs and grinning companionably. 'Five o'clock . . . I thought you were still dead to the world. How are you, anyway?'
`I'm quite okay.' She avoided his gaze, fearful that something in her expression would betray her feelings. He was so perceptive, and he must never guess how she felt about him. `I've had quite enough rest for one day.'
`You're wrong, you know! I realize,' he sent her a smiling glance, 'that you don't like taking orders around here, but all the same, no getting up today. We can manage.'
`Nonsense! It's only a cut, and on my left hand. My own fault—'
`No!' The lines of his face were so stern that for a moment Trudy braced herself for a lecture on her carelessness. 'Mine! My fault entirely.'
She could scarcely believe her ears. Scott, acknowledging himself to be at fault! It was incredible.
`Yours?' she echoed blankly.
He nodded grimly. 'You don't know this soil - or the danger of tetanus. Especially when there are horses on the property.
`A cut tendon is bad enough, heaven knows, but if tetanus had set in - a kid on the next farm died that way. What I risked in not getting you to have the injections against tetanus when you first arrived here—'
But she couldn't bear the tenderness in his voice. She could stand his ridicule, disapproval even, but not pity. Not from him.
`Well, no doubt I've had a shot now,' she put in, in a tone she tried to make brisk but which emerged unaccountably slurred. `So that should keep me going for a while.'
He turned towards her with the old, disarming grin. 'Bet you don't know which day it is!'
Trudy searched her mind but her thoughts were in a tumult and all she could think of was Scott, so near.
`Saturday,' she said at last.
His challenging glance held her. 'It's exactly a month today since you arrived at Elsmore. We had an agreement. Remember?'
Did she remember? Trudy flushed painfully.
`I have to hand it to you,' the man was saying. 'Made a great job of it all. You'll stay on, of course?'
No doubt he was endeavouring to cheer her, by telling her that he approved of her efforts, by asking her to stay.
And then something clicked in her mind. He was asking her to remain here. This then was the moment she had worked for, planned so assiduously. For this she had struggled to master skills hitherto unknown; attacked tasks which she would never otherwise have attempted. And she had done it all — successfully. Well, more or less.
Now had come her opportunity to humble him, to repay him for all the verbal encounters she had lost. Her chance at last to even up the score.
`Well?' his eyes were searching her face.
The sense of anguish was overwhelming. She would stay, because just to see the beloved face, to hear his voice, was something. Even though it was hopeless . . . hopeless. . . . She turned away from the bitter-sweet nearness of the compelling dark face.
`I'll stay,' she whispered.
`Great! That's all I wanted to know!' He rose to his long length and moving towards the window, watched a light aircraft skim over a nearby hill and glide down towards the grassy airstrip. 'Better go and see about that supper. Could make an early start tomorrow, if the wind drops and it looks like it. Take care!'
Turning on his heel, he left the room, and Trudy, who would have banished him from her mind for ever had it been possible, instead found herself straining to catch a glimpse of the tall dark figure who went down the path below a few moments later. He was whistling a half-forgotten refrain —the haunting Maori chant.
`Why did you not, when first we met, Set about undoing our affection?
It will not cease, this love of mine... This love of mine.'
Was it only for her that the poignant words were fraught
with meaning? Was it possible that Scott — cared? A wild hope sang in her heart.
`Feeling better?' Sharon's light voice broke across her random imaginings. 'My goodness,' she set a tea tray down on the bed cover, `if you didn't give us all a fright this morning! Luckily the doctor had just got back from Diana's party too — he hadn't
even undressed. So he got here in no time at all! But you should have seen Scott's face! Anyone would have thought you were dying! He was so steamed up about the tetanus danger. But the injection took care of that, and then the doctor gave you another shot that made you sleep most of the day. Like the tea?'
`Lovely. It was good of you to make it.' Although the tray was tastefully set with the finest of china and decorated with a single crimson hibiscus blossom, the tea itself was colourless and spattered with floating tea-leaves. But to Trudy it was the most welcome drink she had ever tasted.
`It's a wonder I could think of anything, I'm so excited. You'd never guess what's been happening!' Sharon ran on happily. The most fabulous news! Everyone's in on it except you — even Terry. He rang this morning wanting to get in touch with you — "something important", he said. But Scott wouldn't let you be disturbed.
`It's Wilf ! He's coming back to Sydney! I got the cable from him today. Seems the trouble that's been bothering him is due to the intense cold and they don't want to risk keeping him on through the wintering-over period. So they're flying him back in a few days ! And he wants us to be married right away! I'll have so much to do — but isn't it marvellous!'
`Wonderful!' Trudy agreed. 'You'll be leaving here soon, then?'
`Oh yes,' the gay, inconsequential voice ran on. 'I've got a plane booked for the day after tomorrow. I'll leave from here in the morning — My goodness, I've got to fly! I promised I'd run over to Terry's place, just to say good-bye. Won't be long! 'Bye!'
But it was much later when Sharon's high heels tap-tapped along the porch, and Trudy wondered at the dragging footsteps — Sharon, who inevitably hurried everywhere with light, quick steps.
Now she stood in the open doorway, a grimace of a smile
parting her lips.
`What's wrong?' Trudy glanced up, apprehension in her eyes. Some instinct made her add quickly: 'It's Terry, isn't it?'
Sharon nodded. Her small face was pale and there were traces of tears in the smudged make-up around her eyes.
`He's gone,' she said in a flat voice. Dropping wearily down on the bed, she added on a long sigh, 'It was this morning -just after he rang you. He took the car and went out. Didn't say where he was going. Didn't say anything. His mother said he looked sort of - queer. He went right past her without speaking and got into the car and drove off.'
`The car? But he couldn't drive!'
'He can, now that the plaster's been removed from his leg. And then, early this afternoon, Mrs. Page had a telephone call from a farmer who'd been out looking for some wandering stock and had come across Terry's car. You know the old road that no one ever uses now they have the by-pass? The one by the river? Well, the car was there, by the bridge, but there was no sign of Terry. And that's when his mother began to get concerned. You know how tense and nervous she is? And she was telling me that he's not very strong or stable. There'd been some trouble along these lines once before. She was afraid that - well, it might be the same thing all over again.'
`But he'll turn up again,' Trudy said, with more conviction than she felt. Probably he'll be home any time now.'
`No.' Sharon shook her golden head. 'You see, he left a letter.'
`A letter?'
`Well, an unfinished note, really.' Sharon avoided Trudy's inquiring gaze. 'Just a few words. Something about,' her voice was very low, 'If I can't have the girl I love—' The words faltered into silence.
`He must have been crazily in love with someone.' Trudy spoke her thoughts aloud.
`Yes.' Sharon's look was half defiant, half rueful. 'I never dreamed,' she went on in a sudden rush of words, 'of him going overboard for me! And never letting on. Not until today, when I told him over the phone that I was going back to Sydney to get married in a day or two, and he suddenly sounded all hoarse and sort of queer. He kind of jerked out, "You can't go! You can't go!—" He started talking so strangely.
And all of a sudden I knew—But honestly, before that, I never dreamed of such a thing! Heavens, I haven't known him that long! And he never gave the slightest sign. If I'd realized the way he felt I'd have stopped seeing him right away, but I hadn't an idea! I just thought I was helping him along with transport and all that, taking him in to the hospital for treatment. You know? Looking back now, though, I can see that right from the day we met . . . just little things, I didn't take any notice at the time. And the way he used to look at me ... sort of worshipful and despairing all at once. It made me feel - I don't know - sort of uncomfortable. I should have guessed then. If only I hadn't been stupid enough to tell him about that quarrel between Wilf and me! He must have been hoping all the time that we wouldn't make it up, that I'd - that he and I—' She broke off and lit a cigarette with nervous fingers.
`Oh, it's too ridiculous for words!' She inhaled swiftly. `You see, when he knew that he hadn't a hope in the world -when it finally got through to him that Wilf and I were planning to get married quite soon, he - well, I guess he just -couldn't take it.'
`But that's dreadful!' Trudy gazed at the other girl with wide, horror-stricken eyes. 'He must be in a frightfully disturbed state of mind - anything could happen—' She threw back the bedcovers. 'I'll go over right away. Maybe there's something I can do.'
`No, no,' Sharon's voice was low and distressed. 'Don't go! They don't want to see you!'
Trudy stared at her bewilderedly. 'But why?'
`Because - because—' Sharon's glance slid evasively away from Trudy's questioning eyes. 'There's something I haven't told you. You see, they were all gathered at the house this afternoon when I got there. It was a sort of family conclave -the aunts and uncles, Terry's parents, his brothers, and -Diana. When Mrs. Page produced the note that she'd found in Terry's room after he left, Diana said straight away that of course it was you who Terry was in love with. She said she's known about it for ages and told Scott, and he'd tried and tried to get you to break things off and stop seeing Terry, but you wouldn't. And I—' Trudy had to strain to catch the muffled words, 'I let them think that—' She stopped short
at sight of Trudy's stricken face. 'Don't look like that! As if -as if it mattered! I mean, it can't make any difference to you what they think. But me - don't you see? It means everything! My whole future! Mine and Wilf's. The wedding plans— There'd be no wedding if Wilf got the slightest whisper of all this. I told you what he's like. Nothing would make him believe the truth, that it was all in Terry's imagination, that I knew absolutely nothing about his feeling for me - until today!
`But with you - it couldn't really matter to you! You do see how it is, don't -your
In one blinding flash realization flooded Trudy of what Diana's lie had done to her.
It couldn't be happening like this. Everything she had begun to hope for - dashed away in one cruel blow.
She opened her lips to refute the lie, to argue the matter. But what was the use of trying to refute the accusation? Her word against Diana's The damning evidence of her constant association with Terry. Even today, his known attempt to contact her on 'a matter of importance'. If only she had been able to speak to him then, perhaps all this wouldn't have happened. Above all, Scott's warnings to her on this very subject. The thought of Scott and Diana discussing her and Terry was almost more than she could bear.
The knife plunged deep in her heart and the brief shining happiness drained away.
Yes, I see.' Trudy's voice was a whisper.
`I'm sorry - truly I am.' Sharon spoke from the doorway.
Not until the door had closed did Trudy allow her mouth to pucker. Then she turned her face to the wall and the tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks.
CHAPTER TEN
ALL through the following day, Trudy tried to tell herself that it was absurd for everyone to panic, simply because Terry had abandoned his car in a deserted spot. Probably at this very moment he was making his way home. Sensitive, easily hurt, it wasn't like him to cause anyone needless anxiety. He was gentle and kind. He must turn up again soon.
He must!
But when, by the next morning, there was still no news of the missing man, Trudy's spirits sank lower.
Silent and sick at heart, she forced a smile to her lips and lifted a hand gaily in farewell as the car that was taking Sharon out of her life turned in the driveway.
Trudy hoped that her refusal to accompany the other girl to the airport, together with her own strained appearance, would be attributed by Scott to her recent injury. But the thought of being forced to make polite conversation with Sharon during the long journey over the hills was unendurable, and the. prospect of the long return drive, alone with Scott, was more than she could face.
For what hurt her almost beyond endurance was the steely coldness in Scott's glance. It was clear beyond doubt that he had been only too ready to believe the cruel gossip that Diana had spread around the district. But of course, Scott would not doubt such a story. Hadn't he repeatedly warned her about that very eventuality? She had thought him arrogant, masterful, but nevertheless fair-minded. But she'd been wrong about him. Apparently he was only too pleased to find his opinion of her confirmed — or so he imagined.
The days followed one another in a haze of anxiety. Trudy's hand was healing quickly, but she didn't dare risk infection by working in the garden. So she cleaned out cupboards, tidied wardrobes . . . boring chores that at any other time she would have postponed indefinitely. All the time her ears were strained. Every ring at the doorbell would stretch her taut nerves; each peal of the telephone set her heart thudding. Maybe this time ... But it never was.
She was caught in a trap of her own making, and there
was nothing she could do to vindicate herself. Only wait . and hope.
Of Scott she saw little. He was engaged in the seasonal work of moving the sheep in distant pastures, leaving the homestead early and returning late in the evening. Somehow Trudy contrived so that she was never alone with him. If only she could so conveniently arrange matters in the case of her own traitorous heart!