by J A Scooter
Elizabeth sat in the rocking chair while Jennifer flopped beside Peter. She gently lifted his arm around her and leant against him. With her hair against his cheek and her soft hand in his, Peter sneaked a kiss.
The family noticed his action.
“Cut that out! Stop it! Will you stop attacking my sister?” A rumble of mirth from Andrew heightened Peter’s confusion. “Hey, Dad, protect your daughter. Make her sit over here!”
Smiling broadly, Andrew threw a cushion on the carpet at his father’s feet.
“Stop teasing your sister.” Elizabeth came to their defense. Obviously pleased by the interaction of her twins, her face glowed with happiness. “Leave your sister alone for once.”
“But I’m only protecting her from this Sydney ruffian.” Sounding hurt and very serious, Andrew added, “The first time I met him he was rolling around the floor with Sis. God only knows what he was trying to do with her.”
Flying out of Peter’s arms, Jennifer began battering her brother with a cushion.
“You’re a brute. You haven’t changed one bit.”
Trying to grab her, Andrew retaliated, but as he rose to the attack, Jennifer shrieked and fled back to the protection of Peter’s arms. With her arms around Peter, she buried her head in his lap like a little girl, believing she was safe.
“Can we have some music, Elizabeth? Perhaps it might calm these savages.” Eric’s laugh told them he was enjoying his children’s game.
“I’m just too lazy to play tonight. Besides, I want to talk, so it will have to be background music.” Elizabeth was queen in this house and they were all her minions. “You’re the guest Peter, what would you like?”
Peter was speechless, wondering how to reply. He didn’t know their taste in music and if they were like Ted and Bob his choice would just make them all groan.
Tentatively he began. “Well,” he paused.
“You might be surprised at the range of our music, Peter.” Elizabeth’s tender look of acceptance gave Peter the confidence to continue.
“Well, if you have Mozart’s aria, ‘Non piu andrai’...”
He stopped.
Andrew hissed through a groan, “Oh, my God. Not another one. Mum has a friend.”
“Oh, good.” Elizabeth swept to the far wall, which Peter believed was rich paneling of polished Australian Silky Oak. Part of the wall swung open to reveal extensive audio equipment.
“Elizabeth loves her music.” Eric explained, and his eyes shone with adoration. “You’ve made a friend.”
As Elizabeth walked to the equipment and bent to adjust the machine, again Peter marveled at the similarity between mother and daughter. Not only had Jennifer inherited her mother’s striking features, highlighted by her auburn hair, but also she had the same graceful walk.
The opening bars sounded. As Peter listened to the familiar music, it reached deep into his soul and he began to stroke Jennifer’s hair lightly, bending close to sing softly in her ear. “Now my days of philandering are over...” he began. As the music continued, he moved into Italian.
Jennifer sat up and softly kissed him. His mood, affected by Mozart’s music, had affected her too.
A soft cough brought them back to the present. Elizabeth was watching them closely. “I knew music appealed but...” The quiet tinkle of her laughter told Peter of her feelings for her daughter.
“There, I told you she was misbehaving.” Andrew tried to imply even more.
Jennifer curled her body into Peter’s lap like a kitten.
“Your voice is well trained and your Italian is impeccable. We must talk later as you must have such a lot to tell us,” remarked Elizabeth. She had overheard Peter’s soft singing to Jennifer and with a change of heart led him to the piano. “I’m sure Jennifer can spare you for a few moments.”
Her fingers lightly danced across the keys, bringing Chopin into the room. She patted the piano stool, insisting that Peter sit beside her. “Jennifer told me you have two favorite hymns. I’ll sing the soprano and you assist me by singing baritone.”
Peter glanced at Jennifer as if begging her to save him, but she just grinned at his beseeching look.
The opening bars of Cwm Rhondda rippled off the piano and Peter opened his chest and started, “Guide me, Oh Thou Great Jehovah,” with Elizabeth’s voice soaring above his. When the piano accompaniment ceased, Peter was away, deep in his mind. Ignoring the silence, he continued in Welsh.
The sound of polite clapping brought him back to reality and Elizabeth put her hands out to him, taking his hands between hers. “Jennifer said you were accomplished, but that really was something special. Thank you.”
Peter shrugged, trying to explain, but Jennifer joined him and put her arms around his neck, determined to make her family realize the depth of their affection and demanding they accept Peter.
Looking up at her daughter, Elizabeth gave a secretive smile as she commenced playing a Strauss Waltz. It seemed natural for Peter to stand, to swing Jennifer into his arms and begin swaying to the music. Jennifer’s eyes closed and she let her body melt into Peter.
He was floating in ecstasy until a deep voice broke into his thoughts.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Father and daughter began waltzing.
“Help me make the coffee.” Andrew ordered Peter into the kitchen.
The evening was ending - an evening such as Peter had never experienced - a family evening of fun, music, warmth, laughter and love.
Peter woke the next morning and lay still with eyes closed and his breathing rate unchanged. His years of jungle living could not be shaken off as he lay listening carefully to the sounds of gentle tapping at his door.
He heard the sounds of someone placing a tray on the bedside table and he knew by the soft footfalls a woman was standing beside his bed. Knowing that Jennifer was in for a shock, he lay still, as he grinned into his pillow, and waited until she was in easy reach so he could grab her.
Repeatedly the woman tugged at Peter’s arm but he lay still. When he was sure she was close, he shot his hand out towards her and made a grab, rolling over as he did so and pulling her on top of him, down onto the bed to share his pillow.
There was a loud shriek as he wrapped his arms around her.
Gasping through her laughter Elizabeth informed him, “I’m not Jennifer,”
That laugh brought goose bumps to Peter’s skin. His eyes sprang open with horror. He was looking directly into a face close to his - not into Jennifer’s eyes but instead into Elizabeth’s, crinkled in amusement as she laughed at his discomfort.
Breathless, she tried to sit up a little. “So that’s why Jennifer went off early to fetch the horses. She knew that she’d be running a risk coming in here.” Elizabeth laughed as she struggled to her feet, straightening her dress and patting her hair back into place.
The grin on her face showed that she was forming her words for a message to the men on the tractors. Her eyes twinkled as she thought, ‘Guess what! This old girl’s still got it!’
Peter felt his confusion heightened by a wave of embarrassment sweeping over him.
Disregarding his stammering apologies, Elizabeth continued. “Sit up. I have breakfast for you.”
While Peter ate, Elizabeth sat at the end of the bed prattling on about everyday farm trivia while keeping a motherly eye on his plate. She refilled his cup and fussed over him as though he were an invalid. When he finished, she was no longer able to contain her curiosity.
“Won’t your family miss you? Jennifer says you’ll be here until the New Year.”
Peter answered in surprise. “I have no family, Mrs. Blake.” He was sure that Jennifer would have explained his circumstances.
Smiling, she patted Peter’s hand. “You can tell me a little about it when you’re ready. And please call me Elizabeth.”
As Peter felt the gentleness of her touch, he knew that now was the time to speak. His heart didn’t sink and there were no tears as he informed her that his
parents died in Malaysia while his father was serving in the RAAF. He didn’t reveal any details and as he spoke, he found an inner peace as he communicated with this gracious and understanding woman. He spoke rationally and there was no anger and no hurt.
Allowing him to talk freely, Elizabeth didn’t pressure him for more information of his background. Satisfied with his revelation, she returned to the kitchen with the empty plates.
Finally, Peter wandered downstairs along corridors trying to follow the sounds of voices. At last, he was on the verandah at the rear of the mansion.
Jennifer was holding the reins of two horses and talking with her mother. Her tan, form-hugging jodhpurs, tan riding boots and a delicate cream blouse were very stylish.
Behind her, some magpies were strutting around completely oblivious of the two black and white male huskies that growled warningly at Peter.
“Ignore them,” was Elizabeth’s advice. As she talked, she continued feeding pieces of meat to the two kookaburras on the verandah rail.
The kookaburras banged the meat on the rail as part of their ritual to kill their prey then swallowed it. The meat gone they looked inquisitively up at Elizabeth with the unspoken request for more.
“The pups are jealous of you as they consider their job is to protect Jennifer and me. You’re also a stranger.”
“Pups? My god, I don’t want to tangle with them, when they are fully grown.” Peter was quick to reply.
“They’re two house pups, the latest acquisitions to my children’s menagerie and the birds are part of the wild, free-flying ‘aviary’ they have developed over the years. I think every free-loader for miles around comes here for a meal.”
“Even this Sydney-sider eh?” After the episode in the bedroom, Peter tried to relieve the tension. “That was a wonderful meal last night and this free-loader is in no hurry to leave.”
Jennifer’s laughter at her Mother’s confusion brought the birds to an attentive standstill. The magpies and kookaburras seemed uncertain, trying to decide whether they should laugh or carol with her.
Ignoring his quip, Elizabeth continued, “Heaven help any of the work dogs that try to come into the yard. This is the pups’ territory.” Then noticing a large black cat stalking the pups she laughed. “That’s when Smooch allows them any peace.”
Peter knelt and held out a hand very low to the ground. The pups tried to ignore his friendly overture but it was too much for them and they approached to get their chests rubbed.
As Peter stood and walked towards Jennifer, they walked beside him still uncertain whether to accept him as their friend.
Jennifer backed away still turned towards him, keeping the horses between them. “I’m so worried,” she exclaimed. “You must still be suffering from the explosion. You need your eyes tested. You can’t tell the difference between Mum and me.”
Her twinkling eyes and laughter showed her enjoyment of Peter’s embarrassment.
“Come on. I’m about to show you around the property. Your horse is quiet and the saddlebags are full so you won’t be uncomfortable or starving this morning. We’ll walk the horses so your ribs won’t cause you any pain.”
Jennifer had barely ceased speaking when Peter turned and fled, leaving two bewildered women looking at each other.
In the kitchen he sliced an apple into four pieces before returning to take the reins and feeding the horse the tidbits of apple as he quietly stroked its neck. Only when satisfied that the horsed would accept him did he adjust the stirrups as though he was born to the saddle. With absolute disregard for the twinges of the pain in his ribs, he swung himself onto the horse.
Elizabeth could only grin as she observed Jennifer’s dismay at Peter’s ability, obviously born of much practice.
“Come on slow coach! Race you to the shearing sheds!” Peter didn’t wait for Jennifer to mount up but was off in a cloud of dust. The quiet horse showed a speed that Jennifer had never known.
Eventually, he waited for her to catch up.
“You’re definitely a big black bugger - the worst kind. I get you the quietest horse I can, thinking you would be horrified at riding a horse, but what happens? You ignore the pain. You’re in the saddle and off before I can even get my foot in the stirrup.”
Slowly, with Jennifer as guide, they toured the shearer’s quarters, stockmen’s housing, shearing shed, sheep yards, machinery sheds, smoke house and barns. She led him to a distant paddock where two tractors were at work cutting alfalfa.
The moment the horses were tethered Jennifer unpacked the saddlebags to lay out a meal of sandwiches, iced water and fruit.
Peter tried to grab her but she easily evaded him with a teasing comment.
“You just behave yourself. Mum told me how you pounced in your bedroom this morning. You’re a sex fiend I think. If I’m not around you pounce on my mother. Poor Mum. You’d better start running before Dad finds out.”
The arrival of the tractors interrupted further conversation between them. There was the squawk of a two-way radio from one of the tractors and Peter heard a distorted voice saying the lunches would be there soon if they hadn’t already arrived.
Jennifer’s men-folk had come for their meal.
Peter could only marvel at the way the family had accepted him but Andrew quickly jolted him back to reality.
“Hey, Peter, this is Jennifer. The other woman is Elizabeth, Jennifer’s mother. I’ll have to purchase you some glasses before breakfast tomorrow.”
Andrew knew. Eric knew.
Peter just wanted to disappear into the scrub.
Jennifer hurled herself at her brother and they rolled and wrestled on the rug until Eric intervened.
“Andrew behave! Jennifer sit with poor Peter. I think he wants to disappear, so hang onto him so he doesn’t run away.
Eric’s eyes twinkled in merriment as he asked if breakfast had been enjoyable. He was lying back with his head on his well-worn dusty hat as he began teasing Peter.
“Peter, we all know what happened this morning and have been laughing ever since. We have radios in the tractors and Elizabeth could hardly tell us what happened for giggling. I believe you brightened up her day immensely.
“I’d have given one hundred dollars to see the look on Elizabeth’s face this morning and double that to see the look on yours, Peter,” and he couldn’t continue for laughing.
Then he paused and tried to control his laughter before continuing, “In fact, I think tomorrow you’ll be on a tractor and I’ll do the grabbing.”
His belly laugh was so loud that a small mob of kangaroos lounging in the shade jumped to their feet and bounded away to safety. The dogs that had escorted the horses lay quietly, not deigning to give chase.
“I watched you coming across the paddock and you have a good seat. Not the first time you’ve been in the saddle. There’s a lot of you to be explained and I’d bet a few quid you have an intriguing story to tell. Perhaps, later, when you’ve rested you might tell us the tale.”
Peter looked skywards his head in Jennifer’s lap as if asking for strength. Knowing this family had to know his complete life story, his thoughts raced. There could be neither omission nor concealment of any of the darker sides of his life.
His mind hammered the message that he had no option if he wanted to be part of this Blake family as Jennifer’s husband. No matter how strong the chance of rejection would be, he knew this daunting task was his.
Both Eric and Elizabeth had asked enough questions to show their concern about the mystery of his background.
Unaware of Peter’s anxieties, Jennifer re-packed the saddlebags and slowly led the way back home while her dad and brother returned to the tractors. On their return, Jennifer watched Peter gingerly dismount and realized that he had over-taxed his body. “Now it’s time you had a rest. I’ll run a soothing hot bath for you to relax in and perhaps then you’ll rest until dinner.”
The next day Andrew caught up with Peter in the stables. He saw Peter walking
very carefully down the far end, obviously making closer acquaintance with some of their work mounts and equestrian horses.
“Grab a shovel and muck the horse-shit out,” he called out. “You’re not to laze around like that! Don’t know what’s got into you.”
Peter just stared at him holding his sore ribs. “Bull-shit,” he spluttered, trying not to laugh.
“Yeah, that too.” Laughing, they strolled out into the sun.
Peter did nothing during the following days but rest. He found pleasure in Jennifer’s company and in getting to know her family.
No one would allow him to lift a finger. Even Andrew was solicitous although his excuse, “If Jennifer saw you helping me work she’d be a wildcat,” was delivered with a merry twinkle in his eye.
Each day confirmed Peter’s decision not to leave the farm without the one thing he wanted since he first met Jennifer, but it was as though she knew of Peter’s decision and wasn’t going to make it easy for him, as he wasn’t destined to see her alone.
Day crowded upon day and every time he found her, she was either strangely aloof or busily talking to her mother.
Feeling shut out and impatient with his idleness, Peter wandered into the machinery shed and found the engine of a bulldozer in pieces. He couldn’t help himself and began opening the boxes of spare parts on the workbench. He went missing for hours as he gravitated more and more to the machinery shed where he tinkered with the engine.
Jennifer believed he was upstairs resting until one evening she met him as he was walking back from the shed and sniffed loudly. “What have you been up to this time Peter? You smell like a diesel motor. Where have you been? You told me you were resting.”
With hands on hips, she barred his way demanding answers. “Don’t touch me with those greasy hands. Go and get cleaned up then tell me what you have been doing.”
Over the evening meal, Jennifer resumed her questioning and Peter had to beg Eric’s forgiveness.
“Eric I’ve been bored lying around or being entertained for days on end. I wandered over to the machinery shed and saw a diesel motor there waiting to have parts fitted. It was too much for me and I just tinkered for a bit.”