They kept nervously close, but they never cried out to Jo. There were a few whimpers of frustration, of weariness, weakness, pain, but that was all. They also must have been as frightened as Jo was, wondering if that rustle of disturbed leaves meant more than a breeze through the trees, that twig falling, that faint brushing, that whispering, those odd movements, wondering if—
‘We’re coming out,’ Jo said. ‘The fox is just ahead in the clearing. Quiet, everyone!’
She made them stand very still for a long moment. Her eyes had become accustomed to the dark now and she was scrutinising the place very thoroughly. After two long sweeping looks, two double checks, she nodded to Dicky.
Understanding, he nodded back, and raced silently across to the fox.
He was there much longer than Jo cared about, and she was planning to leave Amanda minding Sukey while she joined him when the boy came back.
‘It’s all right now. I’ve untied it.’
‘Untied it?’ she queried.
‘He’d fastened it this end so as to be sure he could get away after he—’
‘Yes, Dicky,’ she forestalled. ‘When I nod, all of you run to the fox and get on. Dicky will operate. Look, I’m nodding now.’
They broke free of the forest and ran to the little lift and climbed in. Dicky pulled some gadgets, and they began to rise.
Under ordinary circumstances a trip up the cliff in the dark of night would have been spine-chilling, it was dizzy enough by day when you could look around, pinpoint yourself, but blind like this was far worse. Yet now there was no room for fright, only for relief, and they were relieved. When they reached the top, Jo explained, they would make for the tents, and Stanley and the men would look after them.
Like the height they must be now, it was a heady thought. Amanda heaved a little sigh and wondered once more where the map had gone to. Dicky said: ‘Phew, I’m glad that’s over!’ Sukey clapped her hands.
But only one clap was heard. The second, if Sukey got that far, was drowned in the sudden sickening, swaying halt of the flying fox.
Quick as lightning, Dicky pulled on the rope, and, seeing the strain in his face, Jo pulled with him.
‘He’s come after us,’ Dicky panted, ‘he’s trying to bring us down!’
‘Hold firm,’ Jo said.
But to herself she thought: Hold firm for how long? He’s bigger, stronger and he has an advantageous position.
He has the pull of the ground. We’re up. The fox moved down a few inches.
‘You help, too, Amanda,’ Jo ordered.
They stayed poised there for several minutes. Sometimes they even gained a little. More often they lost.
Then the man below began swaying the contraption. He would jerk it one way, then jerk it the other way. Twist it round. It was a horrible sensation.
‘We’re birds in a nest,’ tried Jo desperately. ‘We’re used to this.’
‘Birds,’ echoed Sukey.
There was no interference for a while, and Jo looked narrowly at Dicky.
‘Can he—’ she asked, and he understood.
‘Yes, there’s a sort of track up.’
‘Then perhaps while he’s climbing we can make it to the top.’
‘It’s fast,’ said Dicky. ‘He’s got it anchored down again.’
They looked fearfully at each other, and they could look now, for the moon had come up. Not much of a moon as yet, and they could not see far, but huddled together as they were, each could see each, they could identify Jo, two sisters, one brother. But nothing else. Not, for instance, that darkness on the cliffside, and whether that blob in it was a rock, a bush, or—
‘Hush!’ Jo said abruptly.
She did not need to tell them twice, they were all looking towards the cliff face with her now, listening to that slither, that scrape of a shoe coming at them.
Coming nearer. Coming closer. Here.
Still they did not cry out, not even Sukey, and Jo could have kissed them for it ... and Abel said afterwards he could have, too.
For it was Abel. He said so quietly over the space between them and the flying fox. He said: ‘It’s Abel, and I’m not putting on the flash because I don’t want to be seen, not yet. Stanley is with me. He’s standing right behind me. I want you to sway the fox inward, and when I lean over and take you off in turn I want you to help me all you can by keeping very still. Are you ready?’
They began the sway, and the third inward swing removed Sukey from the fox. She was promptly handed to Stanley. Amanda was next. Then Dicky. Then Jo.
But when Jo got off, Abel retained the fox long enough to climb on to it himself.
‘What are you doing, Abel?’ Jo asked in panic.
‘I’ll tell you when I get back. Stanley will take you up to the camp. Wait there. Understood?’
‘Yes, but Abel—’
‘Understood?’
‘Abel, he’s down there. He might—he could—’
‘Might he? Could he? Well, we’re going to see about that.’ Abel began manipulating the ropes.
‘They’re anchored,’ Dicky called.
‘They’re not now. I think he’s found the climb up a little too severe. See you soon.’
In the fitful light of the moon, Abel disappeared.
There was nothing for it but to follow Stanley. Silently they trudged to the top, then along to the camp where the men had made cocoa. But not even cocoa could cheer them, hungry though they were after going without an evening meal, anxious about Abel.
‘Don’t worry about Jam Label,’ advised one of the men, trying to brighten them up.
‘Yes, old Under the Table always lands on his feet,’ said another.
‘His name is Abel,’ Dicky said coldly, and if she could have found it in her to do so, Jo would have reminded Dicky that once he had said the same.
The men winked at Jo and she tried to wink back, but it was not much of a wink. If the children were worried, then she was sick with concern.
It seemed hours, yet actually, she was told afterwards, it was all over in a very short time.
‘And no bloodshed,’ Abel grinned.
For it was Abel who told Jo. They were back at Tender Winds by then, and the children, absolutely exhausted, had gone to bed.
‘How did you manage it?’ Jo asked Abel. ‘What did you say to him? It was him, I expect.’
‘Him,’ Abel said. ‘It was simple. I gave him a map.’
‘You what?’ she gasped.
‘I gave him the map that Mark Grant gave to Amanda, and Dicky, the sneaky little thief, watched Amanda conceal, and duly stole and passed on to me.’
‘But why would he do that?’
‘Because men,’ said Abel, ‘have a better brain than women, they can see further.’
‘The rest of it, please.’
‘You have it, Josephine. The fellow came originally for the map and he got it.’
‘You gave away the children’s rights!’ she gasped.
‘I doubt whether it would have come out like that at court. The two Mark Grants had been partners, you know.’
‘You’ll let him grow rich where he should be poor.’
‘Believe me, he is poor. Very poor. He has no family, and that’s poverty. But we’re going too fast, it’s not family time yet, it’s the map. Yes, I gave it to him ... but only after I’d ascertained that it was worthless.’
‘Worthless?’ she queried.
‘A little came out of the digging, but only very little, and there’ll be no more. The fellow might win some agate or topaz or jasper, but only chance gold. Come-on gold, they call it. It sends men digging their hearts out for nothing at all.’
‘How do you know all this?’ asked Jo.
‘I made it my business when our wise Richard handed me a map. Armed with the map, a geologist and I—’
‘A geologist?’
‘Oh, yes, I had to be quite sure. Well, we found the place. It’s worthless, as I just said. But that’s for him to find out
for himself.’
‘And come racing back here for shut-up money. Yes, that’s what he called it. Shut-up money for not saying the children are his.’
‘Oh, no,’ Abel grinned, ‘he won’t come. I tried the hair of the dog on him. I’m a great believer in that, remember? Well, not exactly hair of the dog, but in a way the same. I not only went along with him, I offered him the kids he had threatened to take. I said he had to have them quick-smart, that we’d had our fill.’
‘You took that risk?’
‘I took no risk with a man like that.’
‘You didn’t know he was a man like that.’
There was a pause. ‘Have you ever bathed these kids, Josephine?’
‘No. Amanda is too big and Sukey won’t let me. Abel, why?’ Her eyes were piteous.
‘Dicky helped me with the truck once. Like man like boy, he, too, took off his shirt.’ Another pause.
‘Oh, no!’ Jo whispered.
‘Oh, yes.’ Abel’s knuckles showed white in his big brown hands.
‘You don’t think Grant will alter his mind?’
‘He’ll never alter his mind. He’ll never return. He’ll never claim them. It’s up to you now, Josephine, to get back to your one out of three again.’ A pause. ‘You don’t look as pleased about that as I thought.’
‘There’s a problem there, too,’ Jo said.
When he did not ask her, she told him. Well, it had to be told some time, and if she did not tell it, the children would.
‘They’re under a misapprehension,’ she gulped.
‘The kids?’
‘Yes. Amanda was in an extremely nervous state, almost hysterical. He had come on the scene.’
Abel nodded grimly.
‘When Amanda said she must keep the map to keep all of them together, I was so touched that I—’
‘Yes?’
‘I said map or no map they would never be parted, there would never be one out of three, there would be all three.’
‘Yes?’
‘She didn’t believe it, not of Gavin, so I—’
‘Yes?’ repeated Abel.
‘I said you,’ Jo blurted, ‘you and me.’
‘Humph,’ was all Abel said. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ he added drily. ‘I presume you’ve already told Gavin.’
‘No. I’ll tell him in the morning.’
‘Yes, I’d do that,’ advised Abel very carefully, ‘before he tells you.’
‘What are you saying? Abel, what are you talking about?’ ‘About you and Gavin. I believe that is our topic now.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I’m just tipping you off, Josephine, because I don’t want you to go into a fury. My advice is to get in before he does. You’ll feel much better if you do.’
‘Abel,’ said Jo quietly, slowly understanding, ‘tell me what you know.’
‘Only that Erica rang me recently, in fact just before I went to Sydney.’
‘It was—?’
‘Herself and Gavin. I hate hurting you, Josephine’ ... he looked mock-sad, a sadness through which a grin soon broke through ... ‘but she and Gavin have fallen in love. Briefly if cruelly it appears that for Gavin it’s not you any more.’
‘Nor Erica for you?’
‘She never was,’ he assured her.
‘But were you for her?’
‘In a way, yes. She was fed up with this father of hers, the same as I was with mine. Fond enough of them, I suppose, but still occasionally wanting to strangle them.’ Abel grinned again.
‘When my own bane lost a wager to Erica’s bane, the odds were me for a husband for her (hopefully so, of course, introductions, persuasions, the advantages of matrimony, all that). Well, Erica thought: Why not? It could be worse, and at least I’d escape. So she came up here after me. But instead Gavin happened ... two pairs of eyes met ... the rest.’
‘And what about the two troublesome fathers?’ asked Jo.
‘Troubles are temporarily over. They joined forces in a big bet and it came off. They’re now on a world tour, no less,’ Abel laughed.
‘Tours end,’ Jo pointed out.
‘Yes, but with Gavin at the controls there’ll be little trouble, and Gavin has already declared that he’ll take that over. In a way he would have been good for the children. They’re still frequently objectionable.’
‘Also frequently lovable,’ said Jo. She added: ‘And loved. That is, Amanda and Dicky. I’ve never won Sukey yet.’
Abel yawned rudely. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters. You see, I love her. Once you said it was all only in memory of Gee, and it might have been in the beginning, but now it’s not. I love those children.’
‘Dear, dear, a pity when you’re going to lose them, not just two of them but all three.’
‘Abel—’ she began.
‘But it has to be, hasn’t it? For you were only soothing Amanda when you said what you did, weren’t you?’ He was looking at her sharply, but Jo did not look up to see.
‘And being a gentleman,’ Abel continued, ‘and I am, Josephine, I will understand how fraught you must have been to have told the child such a lie.’
‘I—’ she began.
‘Poor girl, you’ve had a rotten time, haven’t you? I’m rather exhausted myself. Shall we call it a day? If we don’t we’ll be Calling it a night instead. It’s almost three.’
‘Three?’ Jo said blankly. To herself she was crying: ‘All three gone ... no, four, really, because Abel will be gone as well. No, that’s wrong. Abel stays here. I’m only here because of his goodwill.’
She got up and stumbled along the hall to her room.
‘Goodnight,’ Abel called.
Not one out of three, Jo was still thinking, the whole three. All three—and Abel.
‘Goodnight,’ she called back, and went to her bed and cried as she had over Gee, in pain and hopelessness.
When she came out in the morning the breakfast was on the table.
‘I gave Abel his in bed, I was bringing you yours but you were asleep. Now you’ve spoiled it all and got up,’ Amanda said reproachfully. She carried a tray to the table. Beside the coffee there were two flowers.
‘When penguins like each other,’ Amanda said, ‘they put a pebble at their mate’s feet. Did you know Dicky was in love with you? That’s why he put this flower. I wouldn’t let him put a pebble.’
‘I’m too old for Dicky,’ Jo protested.
‘Yes, I told him that, I said you’d be deteriorated by the time he was twenty.’
Jo gulped but decided to pass that over.
‘There are two flowers,’ she observed.
‘The other’s from me.’
‘You can’t be in love with me.’
‘I just love you,’ Amanda said simply, and the two of them cried happily into Jo’s coffee.
That left Sukey, Sukey and-—But Jo dared not think beyond Sukey.
She ate her breakfast and told Amanda she had done enough and that she, Jo, would do the dishes. She was putting the plates and mugs into the drainer when she felt someone beside her. It was Sukey with a tea-towel.
‘I know how to wipe up,’ Sukey said.
‘Yes, dear, and you can cook toast.’
‘But now I’ll wipe up and we’ll talk.’
‘That will be nice. Start talking, Sukey.’
Sukey took a deep breath and did.
‘What’s heaven like? Have you a picture of it? Are there curtains in the angels’ houses? I think your sister would like curtains. Do angels’ nighties have extra holes for their wings? Do men angels shave? Would Mark? Can you ring heaven and ask to speak to an angel? Is there a phone there? Would your sister answer? I was sorry about your sister, she was pretty.’
‘Yes, Sukey, Gee was very pretty. Prettier than I.’
‘She was, too,’ agreed Sukey, wetting the edge of the towel with her tongue and then pursuing a stain round the rim of a cup. ‘But
you’ll do.’
Jo put down a dish. She did it very carefully, otherwise it would have fallen and smashed in her pleasure.
‘Will I do, Sukey? Will I?’
‘Oh, yes, you’ll do. Can I go now, Jo? I’ve done enough.’
‘Yes, darling, you’ve done enough.’ Jo watched her leave, then she fairly raced along the corridor.
‘Abel,’ she cried, running into his room, ‘Abel!’
‘Beat it, I’m only half-dressed, Josephine.’ Abel was glowering at her from the other side of the bed.
‘She likes me—Sukey does. Well, it looks like that. She says I’ll do.’
‘Such love talk,’ he marvelled. Then he stopped. It was a long pause. ‘Want to hear the rest?’ he asked.
‘What rest?’
‘The rest of it all. I like you, too. In fact you’ll do. But what about you?’
‘You mean do I—’
‘Yes, Josephine, I mean just that.’
‘Then I do, too. Oh, Abel, Abel!’
She had run to him. The half-undressed part of him was his big bare chest, and she could feel his heart beating. She wondered ecstatically if he could feel hers ... if he knew there really was only one beat between them, that two hearts beat together.
‘Get out while I put on my clobber. I’ll be with you in a jiff.’ Abel kissed her and gently turned her towards the door.
She joined the children in the garden, and when he came out and stood on the verandah he looked down at them and knew he had before him all a man could ask.
There they waited, his own four winds ... more winds yet to come, he smiled to himself. His four tender winds of spring, summer, autumn, winter, of all his seasons ahead. From here to eternity, his sweet and beloved elements. Amanda, Dicky, Sukey and—
And Josephine, his most tender wind of all.
The Tender Winds of Spring Page 17