The Rouseabout Girl

by Gloria Bevan

  Her glance took in the sprinkling of older men with their leathery skins and calloused hands. With them were their wives, middle-aged, smiling women who were chatting with friends and evidently enjoying one of the rare social occasions in the district. Children were sliding up and down the grease-slippery floor. For the rest, there seemed to be a preponderance of young men, sun-weathered, athletic-looking types who were no doubt employed around the area as farm workers, shepherds and stockmen. It seemed to Lanie that tonight everyone for miles around had come to the dance—except Paula.

  ‘Tell me,’ all at once she became aware of a feminine voice cutting across the buzz of talk and laughter echoing around the big shed, ‘who is she? The girl in front of us with the Rangimarie crowd? Must be one of their visitors they have to stay for a week or so. I mean the one with the cute little face and the dimples.’

  Lanie winced at the description of herself. And she with her topknot and all! She had hoped that pulling her hair severely back from her face would lend her some small degree of sophistication, but now ... Was she never to grow away from that childish image?

  ‘Didn’t you know? But of course you’ve been away from here for a while.’ Lanie was so irritated by what she had unwittingly overheard concerning herself that she was scarcely aware of a second feminine voice. Now the words carried clearly in her direction. ‘She’s the new temporary cook who’s filling in at Rangimarie while Edna’s away overseas.’

  ‘A cook?’ Voice number two was incredulous. ‘A girl like that? You’re having me on!’

  ‘It’s true! Jard and his dad brought her back with them from town.’

  ‘Now that I can believe, but the other...’ The voice changed to a wistful note. ‘Fresh blood in the district! She’ll have lots of partners tonight. Funny, she doesn’t seem to have a boy-friend with her. She’s so pretty too.’ Voice number one was avid, gossipy. ‘But she did have a boy-friend when she arrived here, quite a serious relationship it was too. Paula happened to be right there at the homestead when it happened. She saw the whole thing and she told me all about it. Elaine, the girl’s name is. Seems she was all set to be married to this city guy, they’d worked together at the same office and had known each other for ages. Then Elaine came to work here. She wanted employment on a big station, Paula told me, and she said the reason wasn’t hard to find. Anyway, this fellow from town followed her down here almost right away, drove all through the night to get here, and guess what? She was quite beastly to him, Paula told me, after he’d come all that way just to see her. She told him right away that the wedding plans were off!’

  The other voice sounded younger, more innocent, the words tinged with bewilderment. ‘But why would she do that, all of a sudden? Just because of the new job?’

  ‘Not the job, stupid! Can’t you guess? The man! The wealthy guy who owns Rangimarie! Paula told me that anyone could see what her game was. Not that she wouldn’t be wasting her time, of course, when Jard and Paula—well, you know what I mean!’ The speakers moved out of earshot, but Lanie had already heard enough, more than enough. She felt sick. It had been bad enough to have had Trevor voicing those crazy insinuations about her coming here to work for purposes of her own, but Paula ... How could the other girl spread such lies about someone she didn’t even know? A dismaying thought ran through her mind. Had others here tonight besides herself been aware of the carrying tones of the unknown speakers?

  At that moment, through the tumult of her thoughts, she became aware that all heads were turning towards the entrance as Paula swept into the big shed, a stunning figure in her low-cut gown, its clinging folds accentuating her slim figure.

  She was running across the intervening space to greet Jard. ‘Darling,’ she cried delightedly, ‘you came!’ Laughingly, she raised herself on tiptoe to twine her arms around his neck, then she kissed him full on the lips. There was a ripple of laughter from the onlookers and she swung around with a mischievous wink. ‘I’ll let you into a secret!’ For no reason at all, Lanie felt her heart plunge. ‘If I hadn’t chanced to ring up Rangimarie a while ago and found that he’d already left for this dance, he wouldn’t have got himself that kiss!’ Lanie’s heart steadied. ‘He had no idea that I was back home after my last trip. Just one of those stupid misunderstanding's,’ she ran on, ‘but everything’s all right now.’ Her smile, Lanie was forced to admit, was really something. ‘Isn’t that true, Jard?’ Her voice was a caress. ‘I’ll—’ the words trailed .into silence and her glance froze as she caught sight of Lanie’s small figure all but hidden among the crowd. The next minute she had recovered herself. ‘Listen!’ She was laughing up into Jard’s face, ‘They’re playing our tune. Remember?’ From the makeshift stage the musicians, a pianist and two young Maori guitar-players, had broken into a melody and the foot-tapping rhythm pulsed through the big shed. ‘Let’s start things moving, shall we?’

  As Paula and Jard took the floor, a hush fell over the chattering crowd. Lanie, watching with the others, thought that Jard appeared relaxed and apparently unconscious of the intricate steps his feet were performing. Paula was following his lead. In her figure-hugging red dress with its long floating sleeves, she resembled, Lanie mused wistfully, a scarlet-winged butterfly. Paula’s eyes were sparkling and clearly she was enjoying the adulation of the onlookers.

  ‘Gee, I’m so sorry I’m late!’ The low contrite masculine tones fell on her ears and she swung around to find Mervyn at her side. Something in the expression of his steadfast brown eyes, or maybe it was the warmth of his smile, eased a little the chill sense of let-down that had been with her since the moment when she had found herself to be an unwilling witness to the malicious rumours that Paula had circulated around the district concerning her. She became aware of Mervyn’s remorseful tones. ‘The old bus let me down, refused to co-operate about starting, tonight of all nights! Been waiting long?’

  ‘Not long.’ Lanie endeavoured to concentrate on her companion, but she couldn’t seem to wrench her gaze from Jard and Paula who she could glimpse through the maze of swaying figures who had now joined them on the dance floor.

  ‘I scarcely recognised you.’ Mervyn's appreciative gaze swept Lanie’s petite young figure and small dimpled face. ‘Let’s not waste time,’ he suggested smilingly, and swept her on to the dance floor that was now a scintillating, moving mass of colour.

  When at last the pianist lifted his hands from the keyboard, Lanie was flushed and breathless. Mervyn led her from the dance floor, then almost at once the music resumed its rhythmic beat and before she realised what was happening, she found herself whisked away by Brent.

  ‘I didn’t see you anywhere near,’ she commented in surprise as they moved to the intoxicating tempo, ‘where were you?’

  ‘Waiting and hovering, hoping for a chance of a dance with you!’ he grinned. ‘I knew I wouldn’t have a hope in hell if I didn’t do something about it!’

  Strangely enough, she mused some time later, as things turned out it was the truth. Whether because of the novelty of an unfamiliar face at the back-country dance or because tonight men far outnumbered the girls, she couldn’t tell. She only knew that she was in such demand as a partner that before long even Mervyn’s good-tempered face wore a baffled expression. ‘Why,’ he groaned, ‘did I have to pick on the most popular girl in the place to want to dance with?’ Before long, however, by circumventing two bronzed young farmers who were bearing down in Lanie’s direction, he managed to approach her side in the nick of time.

  It was only during the space between numbers from the band when Brent, carrying his guitar, mounted the makeshift stage, that she found time to catch her breath. ‘You have to be tough to go to these country dances,’ she told Mervyn laughingly. ‘They seem to be non-stop.’

  His dark eyes held a twinkle. ‘Do you mind?’

  She laughed. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Me neither, not when I’m with you!’

  There was a sudden hush in the buzz of conversation echoing around th
e room as Brent plucked his guitar and his voice, the sort of voice, Lanie thought, that could do things to your heart, took up the melody.

  ‘I am a shepherd

  With the stars for company.’

  There was a haunting quality in the ballad, Lanie thought. It told of the long silences of the bush, of the loneliness of months spent in the isolation of a hut in remote country, far from human habitation. Or could it be his voice that touched her, she wondered, as Brent sang to the tempo of his throbbing guitar.

  There was a lively lilt to the melody and before long everyone was joining in the foot-tapping chorus. In response to enthusiastic applause, Brent sang again and again until at last he left the stage to the accompaniment of stamping and calling from the audience.

  Soon couples gathered once more on the dance floor and Lanie’s pattern of popularity as a partner was repeated all over again. It seemed, she thought with some amusement, that every unattached male in the woolshed tonight wished to compete for a dance with ‘the new girl from Rangimarie’. Everyone, that was, her steps faltered and she missed a beat, except Jard. Although why she should want him to partner her was beyond her comprehension except, she mused, as a means of taking her revenge on him. It wasn’t as if they even liked each other. Why should he care about her when, had the matter been left to him, he would not keep her for a day in his employ? Besides—unconsciously she sighed—he had his Paula. Paula who had partnered him for all but one of the numbers when he had appeared on the dance floor. Lanie knew, because she had been keeping count, just as a matter of interest of course she told herself. Unconsciously she lifted her rounded chin. Even if he should ask her to partner him on the dance floor at this late hour she would take great pleasure, she vowed silently, in turning him down. Not that she need have concerned herself, she thought wryly a long time later when the hours had fled by and it was almost dawn. Lanie's face was flushed with exertion and her topknot was all over the place when at last the musicians rose from their seats on the makeshift stage to announce the final dance of the evening.

  From the other side of the shed Mervyn was striding purposefully in her direction, but at that moment a tall figure appeared at her side and a vibrant, peremptory, familiar voice said, ‘Mine, I think!’ Before she had time to catch her breath, let alone tell him exactly what she had in mind, she found herself caught up in his arms. It would be waltz music, she thought faintly, that was throbbing from the guitars—a romantic, old-fashioned waltz to the tempo of an old ballad, Beneath a Maori Moon. Then she lost sight of her surroundings in the wild sweetness that flooded her senses. Jard was holding her firmly and closely, their steps matching as perfectly as if they had danced together many times. He was a faultless dancer and her own feet seemed to have wings. The crescendo of excitement mounted inside her, the world around her fell away and there was only she and Jard together, together, enmeshed in a golden web of melody.

  When at last the music died away, Lanie felt as though she were coming back from somewhere far away. Jard took her back to join the group from the homestead, and as the band struck up the rousing notes of Auld Lang Syne Lanie, still in her private dream, linked hands with someone, a moment later she realised it was Mervyn’s hand she was clasping, then the loud and enthusiastic singing filled the air.

  Still under the influence of that last waltz, Lanie joined in with the others. Then suddenly, across the room, she encountered Paula’s baleful glance. The other girl’s lips were compressed in an ugly line and there was such a torrent of hate directed towards her that Lanie came back to reality with a rush. The singing had come to a rousing finish and now the human chain was breaking up and farewells were being said. All at once she realised that Mervyn was tugging at her arm. ‘I had to share you with the whole world tonight,’ he complained. ‘Tell me,’ she caught the note of urgency in his tone, ‘when can I see you again?’

  ‘I don’t know—soon, I guess,’ she murmured vaguely, her attention concentrated on Jard and Paula. The other girl was clinging to his arm and smiling up into his face. What were they saying? Lanie wondered.

  ‘What a pity that Jard had lumbered himself with the rouseabout girl tonight’?

  The next moment she became aware that Jard was weaving his way through the crowd towards her, and she half expected him to suggest that she return with the rest of the staff who would soon be driving back to the homestead. Mervyn’s urgent tones scarcely penetrated. ‘Lanie, will you listen to me? There’s a show on next Saturday at Hamoana, not too far away. I could take you.’ Jard had been intercepted, she saw, by a noisy young man, but he was still bound in her direction. She scarcely realised what she was saying.

  ‘Give me a ring tomorrow,’ she told Mervyn abstractedly, ‘I’ll have to ask Jard—’

  ‘On a weekend? For Pete’s sake—’ he broke off as Jard’s tall figure bore down on them and with a low ‘See you,’ Mervyn moved away. Lanie scarcely noticed his going.

  ‘Lanie?’

  ‘Yes?’ She held her breath, oblivious of the crowd surging around them, aware only of Jard. This was the moment when he would tell her that he was taking Paula home and Lanie would need to make other transport arrangements.

  ‘Ready to hit the road?’ A hand laid on her arm, he was escorting her through the throng amid a chorus of goodbyes and parting quips, then they were outside where brilliant stars spangled the intense darkness of the night sky. Jard saw her seated in the Land Rover, then moved around the vehicle and slid into the driver s seat. ‘This time we’ll make sure we won’t collect their dust!’ he grinned, his teeth white in the dimness. Then he switched on the headlamps and she glimpsed the rest of the party from the homestead, who were climbing into their cars. The next moment he set the heavy vehicle in motion, deftly weaving a route between the lighted cars, trucks and Land Rovers, then with a swing of the steering wheel they were speeding up the dark track. Soon they were turning into the main road, the sharp turn sending her lurching against him. At that moment it happened all over again, the wild sweet elation of just being here alone with him. She couldn't help it, it was the way he affected her, and so long as he didn’t guess the riot of feelings his nearness evoked in her she was safe.

  Just then they swung around a hairpin bend in the opposite direction and once again she found herself thrown off balance. Before she could right herself he threw a steadying arm around her shoulders. Any driver would do the same, Lanie told herself over the wild confusion of her senses. She made an effort to shift back to her own side of the seat, but the strong pressure of his arm drew her closer and she let herself relax against his tough hard nearness that she found so difficult to resist. She caught his low chuckle. ‘It’s a bumpy ride, you can do with a helping hand!’

  They sped on along tree-shadowed tracks, the arc of the headlamps sweeping over ferns and bush overhanging the roadside.

  Once the brilliant orbs of a possum, trapped in the glare of the lights, flashed out of the darkness to disappear in a tangle of undergrowth. It was a silent drive, but it was a happy sort of silence, Lanie mused in deep content laced with excitement. She wished the drive could go on for ever while she nestled close to his heart, his arm thrown around her shoulders. And then she had to spoil it all. Stupid! Stupid! Why did she have to say to him, ‘I guess it was a bit hard on you and Paula, your being lumbered with taking me home with you tonight’?

  Now the silence was ominous, charged with emotion. ‘Not at all,’ he countered harshly. Chilled by his hard tone, she stole a glance upwards and even in the dim light of the dashboard she glimpsed the betraying anger in his tightened features. He was furious with her for daring to intrude on his personal life. She could have kicked herself for spoiling everything. Her restive movements as she attempted to free herself from his grasp only made his hold tighten, and at last she ceased to struggle against his confining arm. She lifted her head from his chest. ‘Why did you bring me?’ She said the first thing that came into her mind. ‘I could easily have gone back with the others
, or Mervyn?’ There, it was out! The question that had niggled at the back of her mind since last night when he had insisted on escorting her to the woolshed dance.

  ‘Why did I insist?’ The cool cutting note in his voice warned her that had she been looking for compliments she was in for a disappointment. ‘Because as you’re in my employ,’ he said flatly, ‘I’m responsible for your welfare. Do you understand?’

  ‘No, I don’t!’ Danger signals were flashing all around her but some devil of perversity drove her on. ‘I’d have been quite all right with the others.’

  ‘Better with me!’

  ‘That’s what you think!’ she flung at him angrily, and now at last she was free of his confining arm. ‘Anyway, Mervyn would have saved you the bother of being lumbered with me. I’d have been safe with him—’

  ‘You reckon?’ His laugh was brief and humourless. ‘He’s a great guy, Mervyn, and there’s only one thing against him. He happens to have crashed up more cars than anyone else in the district, and that’s when he’s only around at holiday times!’

  ‘I still don’t see,’ Lanie muttered resentfully, ‘how it can worry you about what happens to me. I know,’ she added in a low throbbing tone, ‘how you feel about me.’

  He must have caught the barely audible words. ‘You don’t know!’ Something in the harsh tones warned her that once again he was furious with her for venturing into forbidden territory. With a turn of the steering wheel he sent the vehicle off the road and crashing through a low bush towards a cleared track among tall manuka trees. He switched off the headlamps of the Land Rover and turned towards her, his voice dangerously soft. ‘Shall I show you?’