Catier's strike

by Corrie, Jane

  `We'll make one stop,' he said curtly, breaking, into her miserable musings, as he leant forward towards her side, an action that made her cringe away from him, but he seemed not to notice it as he felt for a catch on the dashboard in front of her, and finding it, brought a small flap down. `There's a flask of coffee in there,' he said, 'help yourself when you want it. There's some sandwiches, too. We're only stopping for gas,' he added perfunctorily.

  Sarah was neither hungry nor thirsty. She wanted nothing from this man, and with an angry gesture she pushed the flap back into position.

  `Suit yourself,' he said airily, then concentrated on his driving.

  For a while Sarah watched the road too, but as it seemed an endless red dirt track that seemed to lead further and further into the wilderness, she soon found herself being lulled into sleep. For a time she fought against it, fearful that she would eventually lean against the driver, then as the urge to close her eyes became too strong to resist, she compromised by turning her head towards the window on her side. If she couldn't stay awake then at least she could ensure that she stayed well away from the man who had become the bane of her life.

  It seemed no time at all before she was being roughly awoken, and her sleep-clogged senses became aware that they had stopped.

  They were in the courtyard of a petrol station, and Sean was climbing out of the Land Rover. `There's a powder room at the back,' he said harshly. 'Step on it. I want to be off as soon as we've filled up.'

  For a moment Sarah was tempted to stay put, but then sense got through. She didn't know how long they would have to travel before they eventually arrived, and as her mind became more active, it occurred to her that there might be a chance to use a telephone.

  At this stage of the game, she needed help badly, and she wasn't fussy who gave it to her. If only she could get through to the Daily, she thought, as she climbed out and went in search of the powder room.

  The brightly lit area made her blink until she had adjusted her vision, and looking at her watch she saw that it was twelve-thirty. There was

  always someone on duty in the news room, if only she could get to make the call.

  As she left the powder room, she was half surprised to find that Sean was not waiting right outside for her, just in case she made a break for it, but from what she could see from the dim lighted courtyard of the garage, it was in the middle of nowhere, and beyond it were pools of inky darkness.

  `Cattle country,' said Sean, looming up beside her out of the gloom. 'Hundreds of kilometres of it,' he added meaningly. 'Ready?'

  It was not a question but an order, and Sarah looked past him to the wizened old man who stood by the door of the paying in area, and who lifted a hand in salute. 'Day Sean,' he wheezed, before he disappeared from sight.

  Everything, thought Sarah unhappily, as she got back into the Land Rover, seemed to be conspiring against her. Even if she had got to that pay phone she had spotted behind the form of the old man before he had closed the door behind him, she wouldn't have been given the chance to make a call. Not if Sean Cartier gave the word. The man knew him, and he didn't know her, it was as simple as that.

  On their way again, she saw a difference in the road. It was no longer a red dirt track, but now appeared to be a small highway, the sort of road that eventually led somewhere, although where, she had no idea.

  She saw fences, too, that confirmed Sean Cartier's statement that this was cattle country, and she wondered if he owned a station. She

  knew that stations could be hundreds of miles apart. As soon as this thought came to her, she threw it out. What would he do with a station? His work took him all over the country.

  He was more likely to know someone who did own a station, and perhaps rent some land from him. Sarah sighed inwardly. She was back to that shack again. His very work would make him a loner, she concluded.

  By this time she was thirsty, and her thoughts went to the flask behind the flap in front of her. Even if she were to get it out, she couldn't see how she could drink the coffee, not at the speed they were doing, and the sudden lurches over rough patches in the road that they would go over now and again. She could ask him to pull up for a while, she thought, but she didn't want to ask this man anything, she told herself stubbornly.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Sean said abruptly, `We should be there in twenty minutes.'

  Sarah stared ahead of her, then her eyes went to the sky ablaze with stars that were bigger and brighter than she had ever seen. That was something else she had read in the brochures, she thought wearily. If only she had kept to her original plan and hidden herself away in the van, it would have been days before he would have found her, even if he had bothered to look for her.

  She recalled what he had said about her not being stupid enough to make contact with her paper and pass on what was apparently a state secret. He had been sure of that, and it underlined his real reason for denying her her liberty.

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  `I was coming back tomorrow,' Sean said, uncannily homing in on her thoughts. 'We'd have made this journey a little later. You could have saved yourself a trip to the Park. I'd have found you anyway—there was nowhere else you could have gone. As soon as I knew what time the van had left, the rest was easy. I didn't think you'd hang around seeing the sights, and I was right, wasn't I?' he added grimly.

  `I only wish I had!' Sarah declared vehemently. `At least I'd have had one evening in peace.' She stared at her hands. 'Mrs Pullman thought you'd gone on leave.'

  She felt Sean glance at her. 'And you hoped she was right?' he said silkily.

  Not at first,' she admitted unwillingly. But when I saw that you'd cleared the desk and taken all the notes with you, then I did.'

  `Couldn't take any chances, could I?' Sean replied airily, to Sarah's fury. 'I slipped up once with you. I'm not likely to do so again.'

  She glanced towards his hard profile. He was not talking about classified information, she was certain. He had made a fool of himself over her, in the same way that he thought his cousin Don had.

  All this was just an exercise to satisfy his bruised pride. He was still certain that she had known of his connection with Don, and had played him on the same line, confident of her success. According to his biased thinking, she had had plenty of experience at the game.

  Suddenly the road, more of a track now, branched off, and Sean's strong hands swung the wheel over sharply as they took a bend.

  All Sarah could see was a dim light in the distance that got steadily brighter as they approached. It was a porch light that partially lit a covered verandah that ran the length of the building.

  It was a building, and not a shack as she had imagined, and she only hoped that this would turn out to be their destination, for although most of the structure was in darkness, it gave the impression of roomy accommodation. On the other hand, it might be the homestead of the owner of the property.

  If this was the case, and it must be getting on for two in the morning, it was hardly a suitable time for a call, and Sarah was quite prepared for them to sail right by.

  In the event, Sean swept right up to the homestead, and a partially relieved Sarah found her belongings, that had been unceremoniously dumped in the back of the Land Rover at the start of their journey, now thrown back at her.

  At this moment the homestead door opened and light spilled out on to the front area, and Sarah saw a profusion of flowering shrubs at the base of the verandah.

  She saw something else, too, that was there one minute, and gone the next. An apparition in a long white nightshirt that had appeared as soon as they had drawn up in front of the house, and disappeared with amazing rapidity as she got out of the Land Rover. For a startled moment Sarah wondered if she had seen a ghost.

  A few minutes later, however, her fears were dispelled by the appearance of a small stout

  Chinese, now hastily dressed in checked shirt and dark trousers, smiling and nodding a welcome as he relieved her of her case.


  `Lin, this is Miss Helm. She's staying a while with us. Put her in the back room. She'll be helping out with the chores,' Sean announced haughtily, and his look forbade any comment from the astounded Chinese, whose slant-eyed look went perplexedly from his boss to Sarah, then with a little polite bow, he murmured, `Missy follow me,' and proceeded to lead the way to wherever her quarters would be.

  Sarah was only too pleased to leave Sean Cartier's presence. She felt a burning resentment at the introduction. How dared he? He had made it quite plain from the start that she was a nobody and was being made to pay for her keep by helping out with the chores.

  From the little Chinese's expression on learning which room Sarah had been allotted, she gathered it would be little more than an attic. Servants' quarters, no doubt, but she didn't mind that. She was only too relieved that she would not be living in close proximity with that detestable man.

  After walking down a passage and turning right at the end, they eventually came to the room. She could almost feel the embarrassment of the small manservant as he indicated that they had arrived.

  The room was much as Sarah had expected. Small, and sparse. The single divan had a worn-looking coverlet on the top. An ancient-looking home-made dressing table, and a rickety chair, that stood on worn lino, completed the furnish—

  ings. It was the sort of room given to casual labourers, working their way from station to station; even so, it was better than Sarah's lurid earlier imaginations of the quarters she would find herself sharing with Sean Carder, and she was not complaining.

  While she was taking in the room, Lin was opening the drawers of the dressing table and taking out sheets and a pillow case, with which he proceeded to make the bed.

  `I'll do that,' Sarah said hastily, now beginning to feel embarrassed. 'I'm sorry you've been put to such trouble.'

  `No trouble,' Lin replied in his sing-song voice, but he let Sarah carry on with making the bed. 'Missy come to the kitchen when ready. Lin make hot drink and maybe food if hungry,' and with a little swift bow, he left her.

  After she had made the bed, Sarah searched for the bathroom, hoping that one had been provided for the servants' quarters, and that she wasn't expected to use a tap in the yard.

  She felt travel-stained and incredibly tired, which was not surprising considering how far she had travelled that day, and gave a sigh of relief when two doors down from her room she found a small bathroom with shower.

  As in her room, there were only the bare essentials, but there was a mirror that she was able to use to smarten up her appearance. She was determined not to let things get her down. It could have been much worse, she told herself, before going to find Lin and the promised hot drink.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AFTER the initial uncomfortable opening of her acquaintance with Lin, Sarah was soon put at ease by his gentle manner.

  It was plain that he was somewhat confused by her presence, not to mention his boss's attitude towards her, but being the gentleman he was, he accepted the situation as it was presented to him.

  Only once did his natural curiosity make him ask her a question, and that was on that first night while Sarah sat sipping delicious coffee, and tucking into equally delicious small sandwiches that he had prepared for her.

  `You take something from boss?' he asked, his brown liquid eyes sympathetic, and not accusing.

  Sarah, in the act of swallowing the last of the sandwiches, stared at him, her fine brows raised in amazement. 'Of course not!' she said indignantly, although, she mused, if there was such a thing as stealing one's pride—No,' she repeated, half to herself, 'it's not as simple as that.'

  Lin surveyed her silently for a moment, then nodded his head. 'You steal something,' he said enigmatically, and that was the end of the matter as far as he was concerned.

  Thief or vagabond, it made no difference to Lin, Sarah discovered as time went by. He treated her with the same respect that he would have treated the woman of the house.

  Little jobs were found for her, but they were only menial tasks, just something to keep her occupied, she noted. The only real assistance she was allowed to give him was in the preparation of meals. He was a first rate cook, and Sarah was fascinated by the stock of herbs and culinary aids in the larder, and had asked Lin to teach her the art of cooking.

  She had nothing else to occupy her time. Sean Cartier had kept his distance. She did not see him for the first three days since he had brought her to Wallaby Ridge—the name, she had since learned, of the homestead, that was once a cattle station, and had now been taken over by a neighbouring station, the Cartier family holding on to the homestead.

  All this Sarah had been told by Lin, who had worked for the family since he was seventeen, and that was many years ago,. judging by the little man's wrinkled skin.

  Although Sarah had not seen Sean, she knew he was there, his quarters being mercifully over the other side of the large homestead, and of course, by the preparation of the meals. She learned which were his favourite dishes, beautifully prepared and served by Lin, and she found time to wonder how he put up with the rough and ready fare served to him in his various excursions into the wilds.

  Four days after she had arrived, the homestead had a visitor. Sarah, busy chopping up mint, had not heard the car draw up in front of the homestead, but Lin's sharp ears had, and as it was close to lunchtime, and visitors in that part of the

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  world were rare, all operations for lunch were suspended on the likelihood of an extra place being laid, or several extra places, depending on the number of visitors.

  A few minutes later, Sean entered the kitchen, and Sarah, with her back to the door, and in the act of washing her hands at the large chromium plated sink unit, spun round at the sound of his voice.

  She might have been Scotch mist for all the attention he gave her; his orders were for Lin to prepare another place in the dining room for his visitor.

  Sean had totally ignored Sarah's presence, but not so his visitor—a tall elegant woman, raven-haired, and a beauty to boot, who frankly stared at her with dark assessing eyes, and who stood behind Sean, and now walked forward. 'How are you, Lin?' she asked in a husky voice, although her eyes never left Sarah, standing by the sink with a small flimsy pinny round her small waist that Lin had unearthed for her, and now beginning to resent the marked attention she was getting from the woman. 'Long time, no see,' the woman went on, obliquely addressing Lin.

  Lin's polite reply was hardly finished before Sean ushered the woman out of the kitchen, in a manner that told of his annoyance at the woman's intrusion. He had clearly not invited her to follow him.

  Lin smiled, and nodded sagely. 'That missy mad on boss,' he said in his sing-song voice. 'No like other missy,' he added with a wicked grin. `She'll be back,' he stated, in his inimitable way, as he set to the task of providing an extra lunch.

  `Does she usually come to the kitchen?' asked Sarah, wondering if there was a chance for news of her incarceration getting to the outside world, and therefore a chance for liberation.

  Lin shook his head. 'Why she want see old Lin?' he asked simply, and Sarah's hopes began to rise. The woman had known that Sarah was there, that much was obvious, and in all probability was at that very moment trying to discover her identity.

  Sarah's brows creased in thought. But if she knew that she was there, then surely she knew who she was! Then she had the answer. 'So that's it!' she said half to herself, but Lin heard her.

  `So?' he said, waiting for her to enlighten him.

  `It must have been the garage man,' said Sarah. `We stopped just before we got here,' she added, by way of explanation, which wasn't very enlightening, but Lin understood, and nodded.

  `Old Joe talk too much,' he commented. 'Boss not like that,' he shook his head. 'Old Joe up for high jump,' he added, and this time gave another of his knowing nods.

  Lin's confident prediction that Pauline Cook, the woman who, according to Lin, was 'mad about the boss' would be back pr
oved a nonstarter, and Sarah could only assume that Sean, in his usual highhanded way, had made certain that she wouldn't.

  Sarah had no idea what excuse he had given for her presence in his home, but whatever it was, she was sure that Miss Cook would not believe it, and would not let it rest at that.

  Like Lin, Sarah was confident of another visit,

  if not the next day, then the day after, and she wondered if she could contrive to have a few words with her. A jealous woman could be of invaluable help, particularly in this instance, she thought. Once her mind was set at rest against the possibility that Sarah was after her man, Sarah was sure that she would have an ally in assisting her removal from the homestead in the very near future.

  In the event, by the time several days had gone by, and no sign of Miss Cook had appeared on the horizon, Sarah's hopes began to fade, more so because Sean was absent from dinner on at least three occasions, and was, according to Lin, paying his respects to the Cook Station. Colin Cook, Pauline's father, had taken over the station from the Cartiers, and built himself a homestead over the ridge some fifteen miles away.

  Sean Cartier was making doubly sure of keeping Pauline away from the homestead by spending his time at the Cook station, Sarah conceded bitterly, as she tucked into Lin's delicious stuffed shoulder of lamb, with buttered potatoes and tender green beans.

  Most of her evenings were spent now in either playing Chinese Checkers with Lin, or reading the books Lin provided her with from the homestead library. Sarah's province remained in the servants' quarters, and she had no wish to explore further for fear of meeting Sean and receiving another sneering reference to her `snooping'.