Deep in the Forest

by Joyce Dingwell

  "It depends on where you are, doesn't it?"

  A minute went by. There was no joking from Madeleine now, no extravagant talk from Roger, and Selina was silent. No one took up their glass.

  "Cat got your tongues ?" Joel, who had finished :what he had to say, could have directed that to any-one, for he looked straight ahead. Presently he went

  on : "To relieve this unbearable tension I'll say something that I intended to say this afternoon, only I was sidetracked. It is, of course, to do with this property."

  "Tall Tops ?" It was Selina ... faintly.

  "Yes." A pause. "It's mine, you know."

  If he had made the announcement any other way, made a statement of it, a declaration, it could not have been more dramatic. But the casual, almost offhand information came like a sudden trickle of ice-cold water down your back on a hot day.

  "Yours?" It was Roger.

  "Yes."

  "That's why Nossiter could give Selina the exact amount ?"

  "Yes, that was the sum I paid Claud Whittier, plus the usual legal fees to the solicitor on top of it, of course. Claud wanted a round figure for Miss Lockwood."

  "It's a lot of money to pay." It was Madeleine. "But a very fair price. I'm not a fool, I would never let sentiment blind me however much I desired a

  place."

  "Sentiment ?" At last Selina found her voice.

  "No. Delete that, please," Iron Grant said harshly. "Get back to the amount. As I said, it was fair, and -I was satisfied. After all, Tall Tops covers a deuce of a lot of space. Good space. Good trees."

  "Trees," echoed Selina, and her voice cracked. "Quite right, Miss Lockwood, every tree for as far

  as you can see belongs to me. Every leaf on every tree. But not to worry, you have, or will have, your hundred thousand dollars."

  "You—you put Uncle Claud up to this !" she accused.

  "I did nothing of the sort. I always wanted more land, and I simply made him an offer and he accepted."

  "But why? Why? He knew I loved the place." "But he did, too, he loved it, I mean, so naturally he had to safeguard it."

  "Safeguard it ?"

  "From anyone else who might not love it as much." "As much as you love it ?"

  "Yes, as much as I love it."

  "But Roger loves it."

  "I'm sure," was all Joel Grant said blandly. After a while he drawled : "Surely you must have caught on when I made myself so much at home in the place. Do you think I would have done that if it hadn't belonged to me ?"

  "I don't know what you would do," Selina said. "I—I don't know what I'll do." She got up abruptly and ran into the garden. It was elf light but fast growing dark. She found the grey gum, but it was a case of groping for it with tears blinding her eyes. She threw her arms around it.

  Roger found her there. To her surprise he was not disconsolate, not—not wrecked as she was. That could mean only one thing, it must mean that without the prospect of Tall Tops there was nothing to keep them waiting any more.

  "We'll let him have it," she cried almost in relief.

  "It appears we have to," he reminded her.

  "I really mean we'll leave the mountain and start together as I said we would before you talked me out of it. We'll be married, Roger."

  "No," he told her slowly and very distinctly, "we will not ... not for three years. Then after that time we'll get married, darling, for then, my own Selina, we'll be able to buy Tall Tops back from him for ourselves."

  "What do you mean?" she asked.

  "I've watched Grant closely. I always have. He's like many unfinished men, and by unfinished I mean self-taught, non-degree men, he has the natural material in him, but, Selina, you need much more than that."

  "He's made a success of Redgum Ridge."

  "He's been lucky there. He hasn't used modern know-how, only his experience, and though he's got through, it's only been because he had a good run. No, my dear, you can take it from me that knowledge must win in the end. Listen to me, Selina, three years is not too long, not long to have each other and the place we love."

  "But how could we have it ?"

  "Simple, darling. Ironbark Grant might be able to run one holding, but never two. He would be incapable. I know his type. He'll be glad to sell."

  "But to us?"

  "Not many people can hand over a hundred thousand dollars."

  "But, Roger—"

  "Then we—I mean you, dear—will own Tall Tops. We will have each other and our dream as well."

  There was something wrong somewhere. Surely if Roger loved her, really loved her, he would be thinking of nothing else.

  Perhaps she would have said so, but at that moment the leaves in the big grey gum stirred in the evening breeze, and one of the branches seemed to reach up to entangle the young sliver of new moon.

  No, Roger was right. She could not leave this place. It was worth scheming for, waiting for, so long as in the end she . . . and Roger . . . were here. Here together. And yet, and she said so unhappily to Roger, it appeared that she would still have to leave Tall Tops. For three years, anyway, until she could claim her money, then buy out Iron Grant.

  "No, darling, after you left us something came up. Grant himself suggested it. He wants me to stay on. Obviously he doesn't like me, but he does seem to have a sneaking respect for my work."

  "But what happens to me? Do I disappear? Do I take a world trip or something? But I couldn't do that until I got my money, so what do I live on for three years ?"

  "You stay here, too."

  "No !"

  "But you love it."

  "And hate him."

  "I put that wrongly, sweetheart, I should have said `But you stop here and love me'."

  "Yes, Roger," Selina gulped.

  "Then there's something for you, too. Give it a hearing, anyway, and Sellie, if you can, answer Yes. Please, Sellie, for us."

  "For us," she agreed, "that is if it's not too—too—"

  "Come up and hear it," he pleaded. He led her back to the house.

  Madeleine and Iron Grant still sat on the verandah, although it was quite dark by now, the dark of tall places, where, when the moon came up, you felt you were already halfway there to pluck it down. Also, the trees gave out so much oxygen you became a little heady with it. The tang of leaves, sap and moss caught sensuously at you. The velvet of the shadows touched you.

  Oh, Selina thought, I can't leave it.

  Iron Grant began at once. He used no preamble.

  "I've told you that Tall Tops is mine, so we needn't go over that again, over the why and the wherefore, I mean." He took out his pipe. "What I want to talk about is my plan for the place. It's this : I want it to go on as it is right now."

  "You mean—you won't be living in it ?" It was Selina.

  "Haven't I a place of my own ?"

  "Yes—but—but otherwise why did you buy it ?"

  "Because there are some fine valleys and some

  wonderful heights, some promising afforestation." "I was meaning—the house ?"

  "Now that," said Joel Grant, tapping the pipe, "is something altogether different."

  Selina waited ... the three of them waited, but the sleeper cutter simply worked on his pipe and offered no more.

  Distastefully Roger said when at last it appeared

  that Grant would not broach it : "And Tall Tops' overseer, Mr. Grant ?"

  "You'll stay. Claud Whittier had nothing against your work. A few personal ideas of his own as to how he would have done it, perhaps, but nothing serious."

  "Thank you." Roger's voice was thin.

  "Miss Lockwood, too, will stay on. I like the idea of the school—I said so before. Also, I want the house kept as it is now."

  "Very well." Selina's voice, too, was thin.

  Madeleine broke a little silence.

  "That only leaves little me," she complained plaintively. "I know I'm only a visitor, not official, but—"

  Joel Grant turned quite amiably on her. For a ster
n man, thought Selina, it was astonishing how kind and tolerant he was to Madeleine.

  "Waiting for me to give you your marching orders, eh? Well, my dear" ... my dear! "I'm not. From the look of you" ... his eyes travelled up and down the lovely woman ... "you would have a lot of know-how in a house."

  "If you mean," broke in Madeline, alarmed, "cooking and all that—"

  "No, I don't. I mean dressing a house up."

  "Interior decorating ?" Madeleine glowed.

  "Yes. I have up there a big shell with nothing in it. That's an exaggeration, of course, it's 'furnished, but it could do with a finishing touch. Many finishing touches."

  "Oh, I'd love that, Joel."

  "You can come up during the day, then."

  "Come up ?" she queried.

  "Well, you're not stopping there," grinned Iron

  Grant very meaningly, "not until I make up my mind, madam."

  "As to what ?" Madeleine grinned back.

  "We'll see." The big man rose. "I'm going home now. It's been a big day. A big day, too, I would say, for our heiress." He looked deliberately at Selina.

  Selina said : "Not that yet."

  "No."

  He nodded to each in turn, then went down to his car.

  They sat on in silence, until Roger, too, rose. Despite the fact that his clothes were impeccable as ever, somehow he seemed crumpled. Madeleine, getting up as well, had lost her gay mood.

  "We haven't had supper," Selina said.. . but said it to herself. Roger had crossed to his overseer's villa and Maddie had gone to her room.

  Selina stared out into the darkness, dark, that is, except for necessary lights, for power was used carefully up here since they were dependent on their own plant. If only, she thought hollowly, I could forget inheritances, forget money. Forget tomorrow. Why, oh, why can't I stay at now ?

  No, not now. Now is almost as bad as tomorrow, because it is full of the waiting for tomorrow. I wish, Selina thought finally, I was back at yesterday.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BUT you could not live in yesterday when you were surrounded by children. Children never remain static, all the time they are growing, expanding, becoming seven instead of six, or nine instead of eight, becoming different small identities, since children alter with the years.

  Selina reluctantly admitted this and accepted today

  but she still would not think of tomorrow. Tomorrow was three years away when officially she could marry Roger as well as collect her inheritance. It all sounded very neat and tidy, just like Roger... but was it something of the heart ? That was what fretted Selina. I'd like, she thought, unreasonably and unpractically, for someone just to say to me : "Marry me now."

  But Roger didn't say it.

  Joel Grant did, though. He must have been in earshot when she grumbled her thoughts aloud, he was often at her—at his—house these days, and he said at once :

  "I will marry you now."

  "Do you always overhear ?" she demanded crossly. "When it's said in an overhearing voice."

  "I never meant it to be."

  "Well, I meant my response. The inheritance, or lack of it as it would be in such an instance, wouldn't dismay me."

  "Naturally, when you're in a different category, when you have more than enough already."

  "So," he ignored, "damn tomorrow and marry me now."

  She knew he was baiting her, but nonetheless she carried on with the ridiculous topic.

  "I wouldn't marry you if—"

  "Spare me the rest. I've heard it all before. It runs ... 'if you were the last man on earth'."

  "Oh, so you've had your share of rejections." "Frankly, no. You, if you reject me—"

  "Of course I'll reject you !"

  "Will be the first. But I have read time-honoured replies by heroines in books."

  "Those kind of books would be novels."

  "Then novels."

  "You read novels !" she jeered. "I only expected treatises on trees."

  "I know all that gen already."

  "Self-taught !"

  "Exactly, Miss Lockwood." He gave a challenging grin. Presently he asked : "Why the bellyache ?" "What do you mean ?"

  "The whinge, The whine."

  It was no use trying to deceive this man, so Selina did not try.

  "I'd decided not to think of today nor of tomorrow but to live in yesterday."

  "And you find you can't ?"

  "You try it with children !"

  "I'm glad you brought up the subject of children. You're to have another one." As she raised her brows, he proceeded : "We have a new man at Tall Tops."

  "You mean you have."

  "I'm corrected." He bowed. "The fellow is a Ukrainian, name of Anton Wolhar."

  "Yes ?"

  "He's a good forester. Not just a good worker but a good woodsman. You don't turn anyone down like that."

  "Why should you turn him down ?"

  "Because he brings a child with him."

  "His ?"

  "Not exactly. He married only recently in Sydney. A Polish widow with an eight-year-old boy, Ignace." "Yes ?"

  "There was a tragedy. A car ran off the road on to a pedestrian walk and killed the new wife at once. Anton and the child, who were walking with her, were untouched. Now Anton is here at Tall Tops to work. He has brought Ignace."

  "I see no difficulty in that, in fact I think it's a wise move on Mr. Wolhar's part. He'll be doing work he understands and will not have to cook his meals and the boy's meals as he would have to in a city, for I think you would categorise him as a bachelor, Mr. Grant, and so eligible for bachelor services." By this Selina meant the big mess where an extremely good German cook saw that the unmarried foresters of Tall Tops were well nourished.

  "No, no trouble there, but trouble for you." "How do you mean ?"

  "Young Ignace speaks no English. He also, as is to be expected, speaks no Ukrainian. Any communication between Ignace and his stepfather has only been brought about by close association and much gesticula-

  tion. But you, Miss Lockwood, will have to start off from scratch."

  "Poor little boy," said Selina softly. She added : "Poor man, too."

  "Yes, it was Anton's first marriage, and I think he was deeply in love. But he can speak English, if disjointedly, so can talk with those around him, release some of his feelings. The child is all alone."

  "He won't be for long. Children never are." "This means you don't object ?"

  "Of course I don't object. Ignace must come along tomorrow."

  Ignace didn't come, but Selina did not worry. She knew that the little boy, shut up in an un-understanding world, must take his own time.

  She told the other children about Ignace, but they were not very interested, they were more interested in his stepfather.

  "Mr. Wolhar," said Shelley with awe, "is carving a tree."

  "It's a blackbutt," went on Michael, knowledgeable, as the child of a woodsman should be, when it was trees.

  "You must come down and see it, Selina."

  They all went down to see the tree, and since Anton Wolhar had worked an early shift, he was there himself, with Ignace. Ignace immediately hid in some bushes, but Anton good-humouredly ignored his stepson and told Selina about the tree. He was chipping a totem into the solid trunk because he liked doing things like that and because it entertained Ignace. Later when Ignace did not need entertaining, at least he could look at the tree and say with pride : "My

  stepfather did that," because what Anton had chipped and carved was an old Polish ancestor.

  "My dear wife told me about Svantovit, who was worshipped one thousand years ago in her country. The name means 'He Who Can See the Whole World' and there must be four faces on the tree looking on four quarters. Later Svantovit should hold a bull's horn, and my dear wife said that after wine was poured into it, if it remained until the following year, the year would be fruitful." Anton touched his carving with pride.

  "Mr. Grant very kindly has approved of me doing
this," he said, "not just to help me forget some of my sadness, but to help the boy. For this totem is early Polish, and this boy is Polish." He smiled at Selina. "Ignace must be proud of that as I was proud of my dear wife."

  "It's fine," applauded Selina sincerely, and, seeing Ignace's small nose pushing out of a bush, she said : "Ignace must come up to the verandah tomorrow. I can't give him lessons, but he can be with the other children, play with the little ones' sand box and blocks, look at the books."

  "I will tell him that—oh, yes, we can tell each other things. But speak properly? Not yet."

  Ignace came shyly the next day, and fitted in quite well at first. But he was eight, not four, and after a few hours on the sand tray and at the blocks, he became bored with such baby pastimes. He waited until small Lucille had finished a castle, then he scrabbled it down, he let Bobby build a tower, then removed the bottom block.

  "Please don't, Ignace," called Selina.

  Ignace, who must have understood Selina's tone if not her words, did another awful thing. He took the big, very beloved teddy bear . . . every pre-school class must have a teddy bear ... and hung him on a tree upside down.

  "You're a bad boy," reprimanded Selina.

  Ignace smiled angelically back at Selina.

  Still, it could have been worse, Selina thought, seeing both hands of the clock at twelve. She dismissed the class.

  But alas for Selina's 'worse'. Though Ignace appeared to have been absorbed by the smaller children's sand tray, blocks and bear, he was a very intelligent eight-year-old and the frustration of seeing other girls and boys working with pencils and paper where he was excluded filled him with a futile rage. What he needed was a migrant class first, but how could he know that, and who, up here at Tall Tops, could tell him ? could teach him ?

  He had been watching Selina enclosing the class's papers in the Government envelopes to be sent down to the State Correspondence School for correction. Suddenly he ran across and grabbed them from Selina, then bolted.

  Selina bolted after him. This was a serious matter. The Correspondence School expected the papers to come in at a certain date, they would ask questions when they did not. If the children did them again, they would feel it an unfair chore, tell their parents, and their parents would object. Selina's only hope was to get the papers before Ignace tore or burned them up.