Barra Creek

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Oh, Sally, please! Don’t get me in trouble,’ wailed Pru.

  ‘You don’t have to do anything. I just want you to smuggle some clothes out for me. I’ll tell Mum you’re borrowing some of my things for a party.’

  ‘What sort of clothes?’

  ‘Some riding gear. I’m going to his place in Oxford. I’ve never been there before.’

  ‘They’re sure to ask where you’re going.’

  ‘There’s a tennis tournament on in Oxford, it’s too far away for anyone to bother with. So we can just tell them I’m going to that and a weekend house party. Yvonne and Mum are going to tea to meet that boring Lachlan’s family. I think Mum smells an engagement in the air so she wants to check it out. For once the pressure is off me.’

  ‘Did you say you’re going riding? You haven’t ridden since your accident. How do you feel about it?’

  ‘I’m nervous. Sean thinks he can get me over it. Dad just keeps telling me to get back on Rani and get on with it. But I’ve lost my nerve and so has she. I don’t think I’ll ever ride that horse again.’

  ‘It’s nice of Sean to offer to help you. He is sweet.’

  ‘I wish my parents could see how nice he is. So what if he comes from a poor Irish family. He’s done all right.’

  ‘They think he’s a scheming charmer after your money,’ Pru said, giggling.

  ‘I don’t care. Come on, let’s get my gear.’

  Pru took the bag with Sally’s casual jodhpurs and riding boots in it to her house and hid it under her bed. On Saturday morning she handed it over to Sally who waved goodbye as she set off on the drive down to Oxford.

  Sean had ten acres there where he spent as much time as possible. His modest city flat was just for overnights during the week – and a convenient place to rendezvous with Sally. Mrs Mitchell need not have worried about them becoming too serious, because Sean relished his status as a single man about town. His greatest passion was his horses, which he rode in the yearly point to point. The property was lush and green, and the surrounding paddocks were bounded by old stone walls. Sean lived in the original stone cottage. This was how he thought of Ireland. But the reality had been very different for his struggling widowed mother. Sean was reinventing his childhood. Growing up he’d watched the squire trot past on his magnificent steeplechaser, seen the Hunt and field gallop across the countryside, and as a little boy hanging over a fence as they rode by, he dreamed of one day owning such a horse.

  Proudly he showed Sally around. ‘I’ve got the two hunters and they’re pretty good. It’s nothing like your father’s spread at Ashford Lodge, but I love this place,’ he said softly. ‘I wish I could be here all the time, but business pays the bills.’

  Sally was enchanted. The farm was small but attractive; he’d put a lot of work into it. On the nights he spent in Christchurch Sean had a neighbour feed the horses, otherwise he ran the place single handed. ‘What’s that horse over there?’ Sally pointed to a steel-grey gelding standing close to the stables.

  ‘Ah, you’ve spotted him. That’s Escort. Fifteen he is, pensioned off by the Trevallyn estate when the last of them, Mrs T, died. They didn’t want to sell him but preferred to find him a good home. He’s special.’

  ‘He looks in good shape. Trace clipped, hog maned, hasn’t been let go to seed.’

  ‘No, indeed not. You’ll like him, come and say hello.’ They ducked under the fence and walked to the horse, who calmly watched them, slowly chewing a mouthful of grass. Sean rubbed his neck, and the horse stretched a curious head to Sally who held out her hand, not moving forward.

  ‘He’s very calm, well educated obviously.’

  ‘Escort has impeccable manners. He hunted, is a steady jumper, never pulled away, would go on the bit but mostly he’s been ridden on a straight snaffle.’

  ‘Mrs T hunted?’

  ‘My dear, old Mrs T rode side saddle to the hounds almost to the day she died. Escort is the horse I let my city friends ride when they say they can ride when they can’t.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘So my re-education is with Escort, eh?’ said Sally.

  ‘When you’re ready. Let’s go inside and look around the house.’

  *

  In the late afternoon, Sean took Sally – dressed in her jodhpurs and boots – down to saddle Escort. She took her time getting to know the horse, aware that Sean was leaving them alone as he busied himself with the riding tack and saddling his own horse. Sally was surprised that her fear of falling had resurfaced and she hoped Escort wasn’t sensing her tension. But he stood patiently as she saddled him.

  Sean walked over leading his horse. ‘It’s a pretty walk down the road, my land curves around to the right there. I have a couple of hedge jumps and a water jump. I also jump the stone walls. But we’ll just meander today, okay?’

  She nodded and turned towards Escort. ‘He’s very calm. How’s he react to mounting?’

  ‘He’s used to being mounted from a box for the side saddle so nothing fazes him. Up you go.’ Sean held out his cupped hands and she put her foot into them and he hoisted her into the saddle. Escort didn’t flinch. Sally’s mouth was dry and she tried to tell herself this was ridiculous, but she felt like a novice. Sean caught her mood.

  ‘Sal, it’s understandable you should feel nervous. You took a bad fall. This horse is used to everything, he’s totally trustworthy. Just relax, we’re not rushing anything here.’

  She nodded and he mounted and led the way through the gate onto the narrow gravel road.

  In the late sunlight, long shadows fell over the landscape of old trees and neat paddocks. The only sound was that of the horses’ hooves and the occasional call of a settling bird. Sally felt her body relax, her enjoyment of being on horseback, the only way to appreciate the countryside, reviving again. Between herself and the mature kindly horse she felt that sense of bonding that she’d never been able to explain. It was the sense of touch, the feeling of strength and power beneath her, the instinctive swift understanding and response to commands that always made her feel a part of the horse. Sean rode beside her, glancing at her, and saw her body language soften as she fell into the rhythm of the walking horses.

  ‘Want to trot a bit?’ he asked.

  Escort had a smooth gait and Sally could imagine the elderly Mrs T in her long skirt, seated side saddle, as Escort lifted his feet and head, holding her steadily aboard.

  Sean began to chat about his friends to distract her so Sally didn’t notice that they’d swung into the big paddock. Sean’s horse Fellow broke into a light canter, but Escort waited for the instruction from Sally. She squeezed her thighs and lifted the rein, and Escort smoothly moved into a canter, which was more comfortable than a trot, and Sally rejoiced again in the sensation of feeling one with the horse. Then before she knew it a low hedge was in front of them and they sailed over it with ease, never breaking stride. Sean glanced back at Sally and she gave him a thumbs up and urged Escort to catch up and overtake Fellow.

  And so she led the way, guided by Escort, taking the water jump without a splash, sailing over a hedge fence topped by a rail. It was an easy course, but it was what she needed – a steady, quiet knowledgeable horse she trusted and a gentle ride with no mishaps.

  They passed another pair of riders who lifted their crops but Sally paid little attention. She didn’t know anyone in the area and assumed no one knew her. By the time they returned to the stables she was flushed and exhilarated. She swung out of the saddle and hugged the grey gelding who nonchalantly accepted the spontaneous gesture. As Sean dismounted and came to her she flung her arms around him.

  ‘Thank you, thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me.’ He patted Escort’s rump. ‘A good horse is a gift. All you needed was a little connection with a horse again. You’ll be right now.’

  ‘Thanks, Sean. You’re a darling. Dad’s not going to believe it when I go out on the Hunt next week.’

  ‘Better not tell him how you got yo
ur nerve back.’ He grinned.

  ‘Maybe I will, just to show him you did what he couldn’t.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a wise idea. Come on, I have a good bottle of wine and the fire ready to light. Let’s make the most of the short time we have. I’m going away next week for a month to Australia and Japan on business. And I’ll miss you.’

  Sally’s elation faded slightly. Why couldn’t her parents see what a nice man he was?

  Looking back, Sally was always grateful for that very special weekend with Sean.

  On the following Monday evening events exploded and she felt she was on a roller coaster of excitement, disappointment, frustration and trepidation.

  Her mother and father had called her into the drawing room. Garth Mitchell had his arms folded; a bad sign. He spoke first.

  ‘You have been out with that man again. Against our express wishes, Sally.’

  ‘Oh? Who says?’ Sally tried to brazen it out.

  Her mother dismissed her remark. ‘Goodness me, my girl. Old friends of your father down there in Oxford saw you, and told your father today. They know that man. He’s considered a bit of a lady killer. Not our type.’

  ‘I went down for a tennis tournament and met Sean and he invited me riding.’

  Her father did a slight double take. ‘You were riding?’

  Sally seized the opportunity. ‘Yes. It was Sean who let me ride his horse that got me through my nerves. Thanks to him, I’m all right.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ Her father was noncommittal and turned his back, pouring himself a sherry.

  One for Sean, thought Sally.

  ‘That is not the point,’ said her mother stiffly. ‘The fact is you lied to us, you involved Prudence in the deceit, and you went against what you knew we had forbidden.’

  ‘So, what’s the big deal? C’mon, Mummy, Sean is a gentleman, he respects the same things you do –’

  ‘Don’t you dare associate me with that . . . that gypsy. We don’t know his background, what sort of family he comes from. I don’t know what tales he has spun you – a gullible young girl – but I imagine he comes from very poor and common stock. He is too old for you, he’s in trade and he has little money. He has no prospects whatsoever,’ snapped her mother.

  It was on the tip of Sally’s tongue to retort that Sean was a great lover, a good rider and a heck of a lot of fun. That is what he had going for him. But she knew that would not be appreciated. She decided to play the gullible-young-woman card and her father, surprisingly, came to her rescue.

  ‘I’m really very pleased to know you’ve regained your confidence. However, the situation has reached a point with this fellow, so your mother and I have taken matters into our hands.’

  Dozens of questions flashed through her mind, she was fearful for Sean. ‘What does that mean?’ asked Sally, trying not to show her nervousness.

  ‘We’re sending you away. On a trip,’ declared Emily.

  Sally burst out laughing. ‘Send me away and everyone will gossip. You know what they’ll be thinking.’

  Emily Mitchell blanched slightly. Girls from good homes who became pregnant were sent away to ‘visit relatives’ or ‘have a holiday’.

  ‘You’re not going to be on your own. And most people would consider you to be extremely fortunate,’ said her father. ‘The SS Oronsay is sailing to London – we’re buying you a ticket. Consider it an early twenty-first birthday present.’

  Sally couldn’t help the surge of excitement that ran through her. She’d always wanted to travel to Europe and explore the world away from the stifling conservatism of her home and family. ‘So who’s going to be the chaperone?’ She prayed it wouldn’t be her boring Aunt Frances or stuffy cousins.

  ‘Seeing as you have involved Prudence in your misdemeanours, initially against our better judgement we have agreed that she go with you. We were disappointed in Pru but I believe you misled her as much as us. Therefore we are assisting with her passage on the understanding that she will be a steadying influence,’ Mrs Mitchell explained. ‘Her mother will make it very clear to her how she is to behave and what the consequences will be if either of you get into any trouble.’

  Sally almost started laughing again. Poor Pru, no matter what she’d promised both sets of parents, Sally knew she could manipulate and bend Pru to her wishes. And Pru would probably have agreed to anything for this trip – though she’d miss her boyfriend. Of course it would make her more attractive to his family. Girls went abroad for that final polish before settling down. Sally lowered her head, pretending to mull over this news while her mind was racing, wondering if Sean could meet her over there. They could go to Ireland together – how romantic.

  ‘So what do you have to say for yourself, young lady?’ prompted her father.

  ‘Thank you, Daddy. And Mummy. When do we leave?’

  She saw the relief in her parents’ eyes as they assumed the lure of this great trip had pushed thoughts of Sean to the back of her mind. ‘In a few weeks. You’ll fly to Sydney. Prudence’s brother will come down from Brisbane to see you both. We have good friends in Sydney, with daughters your age. They have kindly agreed for you two to stay with them,’ said her mother.

  ‘They have a holiday house too, don’t they?’ added Garth, to make the point that these friends were quite well off.

  The girls talked endlessly about the trip. Although sad at leaving their boyfriends, they were eager to see what, and who, was out there on the other side of the world.

  The Mitchells’ friends, the Chapmans, met them at the airport and drove them to their red brick mansion on the Hawkesbury River at Wisemans Ferry. Sons and daughters of the Chapmans and their friends swept the girls along in a social whirl of boating parties, water skiing, sailing and picnics. Pru’s brother Denton, who worked for a boat designer, arrived ten days later having brought a grand Halvorsen cruiser down to Sydney Harbour to be chartered. The partying stepped up with nightclubbing at Chequers, dining at Pruniers, cruising through notorious Kings Cross, seeing the glamorous show at the Latin Quarter nightclub, shocked to discover the girls were boys. During the day they hung around Balmoral Beach, Mosman and Neutral Bay. They were invited to the eastern suburbs to watch the first sea trials of the yacht Gretel, which was making the first serious challenge for the America’s Cup.

  They were moving in serious social circles which Sally and Pru were able to describe in letters home to their mothers, knowing they would approve. They spent as little time as possible at Wisemans Ferry, as Mrs Chapman had become tight lipped and disapproving, considering them all out of control – her own children and their friends were as party mad as Pru and Sally.

  Escape came when Denton suggested they all meet up in Surfers Paradise where he had to pick up a boat and sail up north. Surfers Paradise was iconic – known as the place for honeymooners, soporific sunshine and the first bikinis. Holiday makers flaunted their suntanned bodies on golden beaches bordered by holiday units and glamorous hotels built in Hawaiian style. The air smelled of sex and suntan oil.

  As a group they stayed at The Beachcomber Hotel, drinking in its beer garden where waitresses wore coloured raffia ‘grass’ skirts with bikini tops and plastic leis. Sally and Pru giggled endlessly at how their mothers would consider it all very low class, tasteless and cheap. There were no plans other than where to swim, where to eat, and what to wear. The girls bought sunfrocks and brilliant print silk shirts at Helen’s Casuals and gold handbags and sandals from the Riviera shop. Everyone flirted and laughed, and New Zealand, parents and boyfriends Sean and Gavin seemed far away.

  One morning, Sally found Pru sitting on the bed in their hotel.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Pru shook her head and covered her face in her hands. Her shoulders started to shake and Sally realised she was crying. She sat down beside her and took one of her hands. ‘Pru, what is it?’

  ‘Nothing’s happened.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You kno
w. No lady in red. I’m late, Sal. Real late.’

  ‘Oh, gawd. Pregnant? Who, when? My God, you didn’t tell me you were sleeping with anyone.’ Sally was miffed she wasn’t privy to such details. They’d promised to share everything.

  Pru looked askance at her friend. ‘Who do you think? I’ve only been with one person. What do you think I am?’

  Sally quickly tried to think of ways out of this dilemma – take a hot bath and drink gin with caraway seeds? Castor oil? Vague remedies she’d heard whispered for situations like this. But she knew she couldn’t suggest such a thing to her friend, who so adored her handsome rich boyfriend. ‘Gavin? Well, that’s all right then.’

  ‘It was only once. Before I left and we knew we’d be apart so long. He said it’d be all right . . .’ Pru dissolved again. ‘It’s not all right. What am I going to do? The trip and everything . . .’

  Sally was practical and calming. ‘Listen, you two are almost engaged. I just know he is going to propose when we get back. I thought he might have before you left, but he probably wanted you to go and have a good time. You’d better write to him today. He’ll want to get married straightaway, you know, before you show, his family being so la-di-da. Then you can go overseas for your honeymoon, come back pregnant and live happily ever after.’

  Pru stopped crying and looked hopeful. ‘You think so? Oh, I feel so much better. But, Sal, what about you?’

  ‘Don’t you want me as your bridesmaid? I can go on the next boat.’ Sally hugged her. ‘Come on, you write that letter. And we’ll go into town and look around the shops.’

  ‘Hey, what do you think?’ Sally in a skin-tight dress of fuchsia lace twirled in front of the mirror outside the dressing room.

  Pru, sitting on a red velvet chair, cocked her head. ‘I don’t know, Sal. I’m confused now, you’ve tried on so many.’

  The saleswoman tried to be helpful. ‘What colour theme have you chosen for the wedding party?’

  Pru looked at Sally, who giggled. ‘We’re still deciding. Okay, we’ll go and think some more. At least we’ve got the wedding dress!’