by Gloria Bevan
He nodded. “A sixteen-foot outboard runabout. The twelve-foot dinghy in the other shed belongs to friends of mine. They leave their craft here and come up for a day’s fishing whenever they can take off from town.”
They were running on to firm white sand of a small bay. Wavelets were creaming in on the shore, receding and washing in again. Along the shoreline Angela could see the imprints of horses’ hooves. Ahead of them a cluster of sheep subsided contentedly in hollows in the warm wet sand. All at once Mark pulled to a stop facing the water. “You’re in luck today, Twenty,” he said softly. “Do you see what I see?”
“How do you mean?” She was far too much aware of his arm thrown carelessly around her shoulders as he pointed towards the sea to take in what he was saying. Over the excitement that quickened her pulses she forced herself to follow his gaze towards a graceful white bird alighting at the water’s edge. “That bird—”
“Not just a bird. Twenty. It’s something rare and rather beautiful. You might not come across one again in a lifetime.”
“What ... is it?”
“I can see I’ll have to take your education in hand, particularly in the matter of New Zealand bird life. That happens to be the white heron—the kotuku the Maoris call it. They used to weave the feathers, when they could get them, into the cloaks worn by their chieftains. The odd thing is that up to a few years ago no one could ever discover the secret nesting place. Then the scientific boys found it at last in one particular tree growing in a wilderness deep in the South Island.”
Angela’s gaze rested on the snowy egret. It stood so still it might have been carved from marble. “You’re not having me on?” She glanced up at him wide-eyed and once again that disturbing shaft of awareness shot through her.
“Honest! The Maoris have a saying about the sacred white heron. They call it He kotuku rerenga tahi, the traveller of a single flight.”
Impishly she smiled up at him. “Like me?”
He was silent for a moment. “Could be.” At something in the stem line of his jaw all the lighthearted happiness of the moment drained away. Too late she realised all too clearly his probable interpretation as to the purpose of her “single flight”. Oh, why must she always spoil the brief moments when they were in rapport by saying something stupid?
“Like to take a look around the point?” Once again he was coolly impersonal as he got out of the vehicle and came around to open the door. Together they strolled along the sand, then climbed over the low rocks at the end of the bay. As they rounded the point they came in sight of red and white painted poles, jumps, a brush barrier set up on the long stretch of sandy beach. Angela gazed around her in surprise. “Whoever would have expected to see a pony club away down here?”
Mark nodded carelessly. “This happens to be Susan’s number one project. She’s a keen show jumper and she started a district pony club earlier this summer. The local kids are terrifically grateful to her. They truck their mounts for miles to get here for meetings at the week-ends. They should be rolling along any time now.”
Unthinkingly Angela murmured, “I wonder why Susan didn’t have the pony club on her own property?”
“Thing is,” he explained, “we’ve got the stretch of coastline over here and the kids love to gallop their ponies along the beach. Believe me, it’s much more fun for them than the hillsides at home. It suits everyone fine.”
Especially Susan. Now what had made her think that? It could well be true that the young riders would prefer riding along the seashore to anywhere else. It could also be true that Susan happened to be very much interested in the owner of Waikare. With a sigh Angela thrust the thought aside. What was happening to her of late? She was becoming like so many other folk on the station, suspecting everyone of ulterior motives. And what had Mark and Susan’s relationship to do with her anyway?
“Here comes Sue now,” he was saying. “Would you care to stick around for a while and see what goes on? The rest of the club will be along any time now, complete with parents.”
She followed his gaze to two Land Rovers towing horse-floats that were approaching down the narrow path. “Thanks, but I’d better get back to the house. Doris is going to talk over a few things with me. It’s all new to me, this ordering stores on such a big scale.” It was as good an excuse as she could think up on the spur of the moment.
“You’ll soon get in the way of it,” he returned carelessly. All very well for the boss, he wasn’t faced with the task of coping with looking after a household at short notice.
Mark made no move to start the vehicle, waiting while the other Land Rovers pulled up on the firm sand. The next moment Susan sprang from the driver’s seat and came strolling towards them. Today she was impeccably attired in tailored riding jacket and jodhpurs, her blonde hair drawn severely back from her tanned face. She swung a black riding helmet from her hand. “Hi, Mark!” Her slightly condescending glance moved towards Angela. “Oh, I thought you’d have moved on by now with the rest of the gang.”
“No, I—”
“Miss Twentyman’s staying on at the house,” Mark informed her. “She’s offered to fill in while Doris takes off for the south to see her daughter.”
Susan opened her lips to speak, then closed them again. She appeared to be having difficulty in finding words. “S-staying with you?”
“That’s right,” Mark said pleasantly. “Temporary employment for her, a way out for us. Who’s complaining?”
It was clear that Susan was anything but pleased at the prospect of Angela staying on at the homestead. Before the other girl could say any more, however, a middle-aged couple strolled from the other vehicle to join them. Angela took in a spare kindly-looking man with the weathered skin of an outdoor worker and a woman with faded blonde hair who appeared to be an older edition of Susan. As introductions were made Angela could see that the middle-aged woman was puzzled as to where Angela fitted into the picture at the homestead. Her daughter’s voice, very clear, very cutting, enlightened her. “Angela’s been cooking for the shearing gang all week.” The arrival of a cavalcade of trucks, cars and floats at that moment made further conversation impossible. As Susan left them to get her mount from the float Mark said to Angela, “I’ll take you back to the house, then?”
“Thank you.”
They were moving away when Susan called imperiously, “You’ll be back, won’t you, Mark? I’m depending on you for some advice about the height of the jumps! And bring me some red paint when you come back, will you? There wasn’t a skerrick in the shed when I looked just now.”
“Can do.” He lifted a lean brown hand in farewell. As they climbed over the rocks at the point Angela had a feeling she wouldn’t be missed amongst the crowd of children and ponies milling on the sand.
It was after dinner that evening when Angela, standing at the sink, caught sight of lights approaching along the driveway. In the way in which one notices everything in an isolated district she peered through the window. A truck was followed by a second one, a battered old vehicle that even in the fading light appeared vaguely familiar.
Doris came to stand beside her. “That’s John and the mechanic bringing the shearers back. Poor John, he must have put in a long wait while Jack got the old wreck going again. What a waste of a day’s holiday! Still, they have to have transport, seeing they’re booked in at another shed in the morning!”
A short time later Angela answered the door to John’s knock. “Angela!” Relief and pleasure kindled his dark eyes. “If I’m not glad to see you! I thought you might have gone away somewhere and I’d never find you again!”
She laughed. “I’m not going, I’m staying right here until Doris gets back from the south.”
He sighed on a breath of relief. “Thank heaven for that! That’s the best news I’ve had today!”
“Come in—”
“No, no,” he shook his dark head. “Look, I’ve only a few minutes. A few minutes!” he groaned. “The others are getting their gear together, t
hen we’re all taking off for the next contract, two hundred miles north. Couldn’t we go someplace, a walk, anywhere,” his voice softened, “just so we can get to know each other a bit better? Wouldn’t it! I meet a girl like you and have to take off almost right away! I’ve just got to do something about it!”
“What’s wrong with out here?” Angela dropped down to a low coolie chair on the shadowed porch.
John perched himself on the railing. “If you prefer. You know something Angie, I don’t think you even know my name—”
“John?”
“John Travers.” His voice had a rueful note. “I’m just the presser to you, isn’t that right?”
Angela hesitated. She scarcely liked pointing out that she had scarcely thought of him one way or another.
“No different from any of the rest of the gang to you, eh?”
“Well, there is something different about you, but I can’t tell you what it is.”
“What would you say if I told you I’m a high school teacher by profession? Maths is my line. That I’ve just turned down a cushy job in town because I’m mad keen on living on the land—so keen I’ve sunk all my savings from heaven knows how long in a block fifty miles from here.” He sent her an anxious look, “Guess you’d think that was a crazy decision, taking on hard slog for years and years when you could be having it easy?”
“Oh no, I don’t think that at all—if it’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want, more than anything. That’s one reason why I’m working with the gang this summer. The money’s good and I need a lot more capital than I’ve got to buy farm machinery, put up sheds, clear and fence—it all takes money. Besides, the experience will come in handy for me. If only,” he said very low, “this shearing stint didn’t take me away from here, keep me on the move for a month or so yet.”
“But you said you need the money and the experience?”
She couldn’t fathom his long silence unless ... But he scarcely knew her, or she him. Hurriedly she said, “Well, I think it’s just fantastic, your having a stab at what you really want.” She smiled. “Even if it is a hut to sleep in and some sheep up here in the wilderness.”
He turned to face the darkening hills, staring out over the cleared sheep-dotted slopes. Lights from the homestead windows streamed out over smooth green lawns and from the long borders below wafted the scent of roses. “This isn’t a wilderness, Angie. This station is every sheep farmer’s dream. It’s one of the oldest homesteads in the north, and the most productive. Those big Moreton Bay fig trees,” his sombre gaze went to the massive trees black against file clarity of the sky, “they’ve been here ever since Mark’s grandfather got the land from the Maoris for a few blankets and axes, plus a musket or two. One day I’m hoping my place will be something like this.” He slanted her a wry grin. “A man can dream, can’t he?”
“I don’t see why you shouldn’t make a go of it,” she encouraged. The flush of the setting sun merged into pink and lilac, shading up to a clear translucent blue. She was thinking that Mark would be still down on the beach with Susan and the ponies. He wouldn’t be back to the house before dark, Doris had told her, but there was no need to wait dinner. He would have cold meat and salad when he came in.
“Angie!” She wrenched her thoughts aside, realising that all at once John was beside her, clasping her hand in a warm pressure. “You don’t know how different it would be if I knew I had someone to work for, someone who cared—” He broke off as lights beamed over the curving driveway and to the accompaniment of loud tooting a truck braked below. “If only I didn’t have to go,” he groaned. Suddenly in the shadows of the porch he was holding her close, whispering against her hair, “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me though. I’ll be back just as soon as I can. ’Bye, Angie!” His bearded chin brushed her face and she felt the quick pressure of his lips on hers. The truck driver was still holding his hand on the horn—was that the reason why she hadn’t heard Mark’s approach as he came up the steps on his way into the house? In the gloom she knew he couldn’t help but catch sight of the entwined figures and he’d think—what would he think? She wrenched herself free. “They’re waiting for you down there.”
“Don’t I know it!” His tone was urgent. “You’ll be here for a while yet, Angie?”
“About a month.”
“I’ll manage something. See you!” The next minute he was running down the steps and hurrying along the path towards the waiting truck. She watched him climb inside, then the vehicle turned and soon the winking red tail light vanished around a curve of the path. If only Mark hadn’t come up the steps at that particular moment. What was he thinking? That she allowed any man to kiss her on the briefest of acquaintance? She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter what he thought of her, that it couldn’t be much blacker than the opinion he already held of “Martha’s friend”. Nevertheless, she turned aside on a sigh.
As she moved along the passage she was aware of Doris’s excited tones as she answered a ring on the telephone. “I’ll have to find out. Will you hold the line, please? Mark—”
He came strolling towards her and Angela caught the wistful note in Doris’s tones. “It’s the Auckland airport on the phone. You know how I told you they were too busy with school holiday traffic to let me have a booking until early next week?—well, something’s happened! They have a cancellation for one on the night flight. Mark, do you think—”
Angela found herself listening for the deep quiet tones. “No problem. Tell them to reserve you that seat!” He glanced down at the watch on his tanned wrist, “That is if you can fling some gear into a suitcase and be ready in ten minutes flat!”
“Oh, I can! My things are all packed ready and I’ve only got to change my dress!” Flushed and radiant, Doris turned back to the telephone to confirm the booking, then flung a hurried glance over her shoulder to Angela. “There’s some washing out on the line that I need! Be a dear and bring it in for me, will you?”
Angela fled out of the door and into the darkness of the dew-wet lawns. She was only just in time she thought as drops of rain splashed down in the grass. At that moment a peal of thunder rolled over the hills and a shaft of lightning threw into relief the giant Moreton Bay fig trees. Even before she could gain the shelter of the porch her hair was damp and a second flash illuminated a dark and menacing sky. Hurrying up the steps, she all but collided with Mark on his way out to the garage. He paused to throw a casual glance over his shoulder.
“You may as well come along too. Twenty, if you’re not doing anything else. You’ll be company for Doris on the run, through.”
“Me?” She stared up at him in surprise. “Thanks all the same, but I—”
“Why not?” His glance went to the inky-blue sky, heavy with the threat of impending rain. “Looks like we’re in for a wet trip, a real summer storm by the look of that sky. We only get one or two in a season and when we do they’re really something—violent thunderstorms and lightning. This one has all the signs of being a real electrical storm before the night’s out—” He threw her his lopsided grin and she caught a hint of challenge in his tones. “Feel like trusting yourself to me on a rugged trip back from the airport?”
The words of protest somehow died on her lips as something else took over, the dangerous “something” that undermined all her defences. She said, “I’ll get my jacket.”
“Don’t trouble to dress up,” he called as she turned away. “We’ll drop Doris at the airport, then push off for home. She’s used to the trip. As far as she’s concerned it’s an annual event. That’s why she was so down in the mouth about having to miss out this year.”
Angela paused, a teasing note in her voice. “You mean, a baby every year?”
“Just about, plus other eventualities. Not that Doris needs an excuse for getting down south every summer. If she hasn’t got one she manufactures something.”
Angela laughed and hurried inside. All at once for no reason at all she was fee
ling ridiculously light-hearted. In her room she hummed a bar of melody as she ran a comb through her hair, touched her mouth with lipstick and snatched up her wind-breaker.
Fast as she was, Doris had been even quicker, for when Angela entered the lounge room the older woman was already waiting there, an unfamiliar figure in a crisp blue crimplene suit, on her feet neat dark shoes in place of rubber thongs.
Her fair hair was covered by a chiffon scarf and she carried a light raincoat over her arm. “Oh, hello, Angela! You’re coming too? That’s marvellous! Now I must check to make sure I’ve got everything. Money, glasses, gifts for the boys, pink knitted outfit for the new baby. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.”
“Right!” Mark came into the room and picked up her suitcase. “We’re on our way! I asked Angela to come along just too for the ride.”
“I’m so pleased,” Doris said happily. “On the way she can tell me some more about London.”
“But I’ve told you just about everything I can think of,” Angela protested. For Doris, nostalgic for a city she had left so long ago, plied Angela endlessly on the subject and never tired of hearing of changes in various districts or of entertainments offering in the theatres.
“Nonsense, I’ll never ever hear enough of London!” As they moved towards the door she said, “Now I don’t want either of you staying at the airport to see me off. Planes are often late getting away and you won’t be home until morning as it is.”
“What in the world—?” Jill, strolling into the room at that moment, eyed Doris in amazement. “No one told me you were taking off from here tonight.”
“She didn’t know herself,” Mark explained, “until we got a ring from the airport a few minutes ago offering her a cancellation on the night plane for Christchurch.”