by Dorothy Cork
sible to tell him that Pat wouldn't really want her, and after a second she said ruefully, 'I guess there's something wrong with me, then, Jake, because most of all I want to do something useful—I really do. And—and I'm not a beauty. You've given me some lovely clothes, I've learnt how to make the most of myself, and I know I look a lot nicer than I did, but inside I'm just Ellis Lincoln.' She sighed a little. 'I really would like to get this job I've applied for. Besides, isn't work supposed to be an—an antidote for a broken heart?' she added with a wry smile.
`I guess it is, Ellis,' he agreed after a moment. 'And it could be you're wise. Maybe I'm just selfish to want a daughter.'
`You're sweet,' she said, and put her hand over his.
No more was said on the subject after that. They had dinner, and at ten-thirty the cabaret show began. Ellis hadn't realised it was a nude show, and for the first few moments she felt more than a little shocked. All those beautiful girls with their fantastic headdresses and their bare breasts
For some strange reason, she turned her head to see if the man in the velvet jacket was still there. He was, and he was looking not at the show but at her. Badly disconcerted, she turned swiftly away, and decided to put him completely out of her mind, and soon, because she began enjoying the show, she managed it. The sets and the lighting were lavish and dramatic and so were the costumes, and though it was the most sophisticated show she had ever seen in her life, it was not in the least vulgar, and the dancing and singing were really first class. Ellis supposed that with all that money coming in from the gaming tables, the management could
well afford a production where no expense was spared !
When it was over and the lights went up, some of the performers—though not the nude ones ! —came down to move about among the tables, and Jake told Ellis, `I'll see if I can persuade a couple of the members of the cast to come and join us for a drink. Would you like that?'
She nodded smilingly. As a matter of fact, she would just as soon have called it a day and gone up to bed, but it would be unkind to reject Jake's efforts to amuse her. He really put himself out to do that, and she watched him go down the steps to speak to one of the male singers, then disappear somewhere at the side of the stage.
Ellis sat back in her chair to wait for him. Drink waiters were hovering, a few people were leaving their tables, probably to go into the casino which stayed open till three or four o'clock in the morning. It had been fun staying here, she reflected, and it had helped a little to take her mind off her unhappiness, but this sophisticated life wasn't really for her. The late nights had exhausted her a little, probably because she wasn't sleeping well. Once she was alone with her thoughts, they were all too likely to go to Paul, and she would remember his kisses, his caresses—the murmured words that after all had meant so little
Unaware of it, she had been staring at a man who was coming towards her, and her nerves jumped and colour flooded her face as he stopped near her, his hand on the back of the chair that Jake had vacated.
`May I join you?' he asked her silkily, with a smile that bordered on a suggestive leer.
Ellis licked her top lip nervously. I'm—I'm waiting for someone.'
`Then let me buy you a drink while you're waiting,' he said, obviously not believing her. 'What would you like?'
`Nothing. I—I don't want a drink,' she stammered. He looked so determined she didn't know what to do, and helplessly she watched as he pulled out Jake's chair, then looked about for the drink waiter. Ellis repeated distinctly, though she was quailing inside, 'I don't want a drink, and that chair is—is reserved.'
Her words had absolutely no effect and she looked around her wildly for Jake but instead caught the eye of the man in the velvet jacket. He had risen from his chair and was coming purposefully towards the man who was pestering Ellis. She had no idea what it was he said to the other man, but it was certainly effective, for with a shrug, and without another word to Ellis, he took himself off.
Ellis looked up at her rescuer to thank him and found herself staring into eyes that were green and hard and mocking, and totally devoid of anything resembling sympathy, and she felt herself stiffen instinctively.
`Thank you,' she said indistinctly, discovering her throat to be suddenly dry, and added, reacting to his expression, 'You needn't really have bothered. I can—I can cope.'
He raised dark eyebrows that, unlike his hair, were untouched by silver. 'Well then, you can cope with me, now that we're alone,' he said dryly. 'We'll see how you make out.'
She parted her lips to protest, but without any regard for her wishes he pulled out Jake's chair and sat down opposite her, then turned and summoned the waiter.
`What are you drinking?' he asked her with a lift of his brow.
`Nothing,' she said icily, reflecting she had merely exchanged one unwelcome companion for another.
She saw his mouth quirk. He told the waiter, 'A Dubonnet for the lady with ice and orange juice, and a Scotch for me,' then returned his attention to Ellis, and, in particular, to the bracelet glittering at her wrist. Instinctively she removed her arm from the table where it had been resting and then wished she hadn't. It looked somehow guilty, and she raised her hand to touch her hair.
He said appreciatively, 'Real sapphires. Quite a nice little gift to receive before dinner—or even after it.'
She bristled at his obvious implication—but of course she had known what conclusions he had drawn about her and Jake before. She had told herself she didn't care then, but somehow it was different when someone was sitting face to face with you and as good as telling you he thought you were immoral. She tossed up between a casual, Yes—it is nice, isn't it?' and a strong desire to tell him to mind his own business, and the latter impulse won.
`I don't know quite what you're suggesting,' she said distantly, 'but I think you have a nasty mind, and I wish you'd mind your own business. I—I didn't invite you to join me.'
`I don't have a particularly nasty mind,' he said calmly, 'but I happen to be a realist. As for invitations —your eyes have been throwing them around very generously tonight. And a display of female charm is an invitation in itself at any time.' His greenish eyes moved from her face to the smoothness of her shoulders and the swelling curve of her breasts beneath the soft stuff of her gown. Then he leaned forward and looked intently into the blue of her eyes, his shoulders against the light broad and intimidating. 'Your boy-friend's
too old for you,' he said flatly.
Ellis gasped and stifled a retort as the drink waiter set two glasses on the table, and though she had not meant to touch hers, she raised it to her lips and took a long swallow to cool herself down before she said frigidly, 'You're—you're insufferable! And for your information, Jake's not—he—he happens to be an old family friend.'
The sensual mouth curved mockingly as he picked up his Scotch.
`That sounds like a bedtime story to me. I've watched you together—his eyes were clambering all over you like a bee bumbling about in a flower cup full of honey ... What are you going to tell me next? That it's your twenty-first birthday and he's giving you a good time because you're a poor little orphan with no one to love you?'
Her cheeks flamed, more at the way he was looking at her than at what he actually said, and she stammered confusedly, `I—I am an orphan, and he's giving me a good time because ' She stopped and swallowed. Next thing she'd be telling him about Paul and her broken love affair, and heaven knew what interpretation he'd put on a confession like that. She tried again and told a blatant lie, surprising even herself. 'As a matter of fact, this bracelet happens to be a—an engagement present.'
An unguarded flash of surprise lit the cynicism in his eyes, and he looked over his glass at her ringless left hand.
`An engagement present of such quality—but no engagement ring. Looks like somebody's slipped up.'
She had, he meant, of course, and she improvised swiftly, 'I don't have a ring yet because—because it's only just happened today—
over the telephone. My
fiancé lives on—on Flinders Island. I'll be joining him there in a day or two—I'll get my ring then.'
That, she thought with a small feeling of triumph, appeared to have put him in his place, for he said nothing more until he'd finished his whisky. Then he commented thoughtfully, 'I wouldn't have imagined you were Flinders Island material. Have you been there?'
`Not yet. But I've read something about it.'
`I wouldn't mind betting there's a shock in store for you. It's hardly like the Casino Hotel, you know—it's the other end of the earth, in fact.'
She shrugged indifferently. 'I happen to like quiet places.'
His lips quirked. 'That's just a little too hard to believe. Well, here comes the old family friend, so I'll leave you to his tender care.' He rose to his feet, bowing slightly, and Ellis noticed for the first time how big and powerfully built he was. Then before he sauntered away, he told her mockingly, 'We'll meet again, without a doubt.'
`I hope not,' she breathed, but she didn't think he heard her.
Jake had two members of the cabaret cast with him, and he looked pleased with himself. He sent Ellis a questioning look, motioning with a slight gesture of his head towards the man who had been occupying his seat and was now making his way to the exit.
Ellis murmured with a strained smile, 'It's all right, Jake,' and then Jake introduced the two dancers, Sherry and Michael, and there was a bit of business about finding a larger table. Champagne was ordered, and for the next hour or so Ellis did her best to be light hearted and gay and to make herself good company so that Jake would be satisfied his treatment was effective. At least that man was not there to stare at her and draw
his evil conclusions, she thought, and that in itself was a help.
`You've enjoyed yourself tonight, haven't you, darling?' Jake said with satisfaction after the little party of four had split up. Sherry and Michael had gone and she and Jake were in the casino, his arm lightly around her waist. 'What about trying your luck at one of the tables?'
Ellis shook her head. 'No, thanks, Jake. I'm ready for bed.' She stifled a yawn smilingly. 'I'm not used to all this social life, you know.'
`Well then, so long as you're not going to lie awake thinking of that fellow
`I won't,' she assured him. 'I'll be asleep the minute my head touches the pillow.' To her relief he accepted that, saw her to the elevator, and kissed her lightly before she stepped into it.
Later, in bed, she did lie awake—thinking of Paul as she always did, remembering his kisses, the excitement of being with him. For a while she fantasised about what might have happened if she had looked then as she did now—had owned all those pretty, glamorous clothes. They'd have been safely engaged before Jan came back—she wouldn't be here in Hobart in her present dilemma. She'd never have thought about working for a farmer on Flinders Island, never have written Steve Gascoyne that letter.
Her mind wandered back to the night she had decided to write and offer to come and work for him. Paul had come to dinner that night, but as Jan's guest, not hers. Ellis had cooked the meal, as she always did, the main course being a particular favourite of Paul's—curried prawns, which Ellis made with cream and green peppers and ginger, and all sorts of delicate flavourings. Afterwards, alone in the kitchen, she had washed up
the dishes while her uncle, who had his office at home, did some work and Jan and Paul sat in the softly lit sitting room, listening to music.
Ellis knew better than to go and join them when she'd tidied the kitchen. Instead; she went out for a long walk, feeling very lonely and heartsick, and wishing she could run away. When she came back, Paul's car was still there, and she went straight upstairs to bed. But she found it impossible to sleep and at somewhere around two o'clock she had got out of bed and gone restlessly to the window. She saw Paul's car in the drive, and the soft rose glow of light falling through Jan's bedroom curtains, and she drew back, somehow shocked and full of despair. She had gone back to bed to lie rigid and sleepless. Paul had never come to her room—never ever suggested he should. And she wouldn't have allowed it—much as she loved him. Oh, never in a million years ! She was too, unsophisticated for him, she had thought bitterly. Now he had forgotten her—he thought only of Jan.
Ellis had felt as if her heart would break.
Then, gradually, her thoughts had moved from herself and her wretchedness to Steve Gascoyne, the man whom Jan had jilted so heartlessly. Was he now feeling as bereft and lonely and unhappy as she was, alone on his sheep station?
Some mad impulse added to the sheer inability to sleep made her leave her bed again, switch on the reading light, and sit down and write him a letter. It had come to her almost without conscious thought that they could help each other, she and this farmer. She could never make up to him for the loss of Jan, just as he could never make up to her for the loss of Paul, but as they were both in the same situation they could help each other. She was desperate to get away from her
uncle's house and the torture of seeing Jan and Paul together. A week with Jake would not be enough, she knew she couldn't come back here. And he—he would surely be only too grateful to have someone to look after his house, to cook for his shearers and so on, from what Jan had said.
Ellis didn't remember afterwards exactly what she had written in a rather long and rambling letter, but the gist of it was their reciprocal need of each other. She told him she would be in Hobart and asked him please to write to her at the Casino Hotel, and promised she would fly to Finders Island the very moment she heard from him.
Disappointingly, and incomprehensibly, she hadn't heard from him. But perhaps tomorrow—
Ellis turned on her side and determinedly closed her eyes. She simply must get some sleep ! But, annoyingly, into her mind drifted an image of that man in the cabaret room with his green eyes, his tanned face, his horrible mind. She certainly didn't want to think about him, and she banished his face determinedly. He was one person she never wanted to see again—and if she were unlucky enough to come within sight of him in the hotel tomorrow, she would turn her back and walk the other way. She was quite determined they wouldn't meet again, despite his parting words.
Somehow or other Ellis fell asleep at last, but she woke late the following morning. Jake always breakfasted in his room and rose very late, seeing he stayed up till all hours of the night, and he was not around when at last she went down to breakfast in the Coffee Shoppe. She chose a table by the big windows that looked out on Sandy Bay, and as she ate she tried not to worry about what she was going to do with her future.
Breakfast over, she went hopefully to the foyer to see if there was a letter for her from Steve Gascoyne.
Nothing again. She bit her lip in vexation. Surely she'd have heard by now if he were interested. She was beginning to think that in his bitterness he might have torn her letter up when he discovered she was a cousin of Jan Webster's. She had felt so sincerely that she could help him—but perhaps he'd already found a housekeeper. In which case, it would have been polite of him to let her know.
Jake came down to the foyer a few minutes later, and they spent the rest of the day together in Hobart.
`Do you realise this is the last day of our holiday together?' Jake asked her. 'And since you haven't heard from your farmer, how about thinking again of coming back to Adelaide with me? I'm going to miss you, you know, Ellis.'
It was certainly tempting while she was feeling so deflated, so lost, but it would be the easy way out and life, Ellis thought, was not meant to be easy. Not if it was to be worthwhile. She knew there was more satisfaction to be had out of struggling for happiness than out of taking the line of least resistance, the easy way that didn't lead to a really personal goal. Besides, there was Pat. So she told Jake affectionately, 'I'll miss you too. But I'm a working girl at heart, Jake darling, and I'll find something to do. If I don't, I promise I'll come to you.'
After they'd lunched at the Ferntree Tavern, Jake was all set to go o
n another shopping spree, but Ellis firmly refused and suggested instead that they should take a car and drive to the top of Mount Wellington, so often shrouded in cloud or mist but today standing out indomitably against a clear blue sunny sky. She
rather suspected that it wasn't quite Jake's cup of tea, that he enjoyed the bustle of the city, but for her there was immense pleasure in looking down from the top of the towering mountain on to Australia's second oldest city—small but beautiful—spread out on the two shores of the Derwent River.
She felt considerably more cheerful somehow when they returned to the hotel towards evening.
In her room in the tower block, she showered and reflected with satisfaction that she had got through the day without encountering that—that green-eyed monster again. Now there was only tonight left—and dear heaven, she was going to have to come up with some sort of story about what she planned to do when Jake left in the morning. Otherwise he would probably refuse to leave her here.
Emerging from the shower, she towelled herself dry and slipped into a pale blue dressing gown. She reached for the Mercury, that was delivered to the room each morning, and sitting down she ran her eye anxiously over the positions vacant column. 'Live in on farm—help with housework and children—motherly woman,' she read. There was nothing, really, and the mad idea entered her head that she might see if there was anything available at the hotel—perhaps in one of the shops on the mezzanine floor. Not that she fancied that sort of a job, but
Someone knocked on her door, and when she opened it Jake was there. They were dining in the revolving restaurant tonight and he looked very handsome in his dark suit, white shirt and plain wine-coloured tie.
`May I come in, Ellis? I'm getting worried about you with nothing arranged and I don't want to spoil your dinner discussing it. The fact is, I simply must go tomorrow—I've promised Pat I'll be there for some