by Judy Nunn
He knew that the woman was travelling to Cooma – he’d heard her ask a porter on the platform. He’d already been seated in the carriage when he noticed her through the window – it was difficult not to. Perfectly proportioned, she carried herself proudly and her short-cropped fair hair framed a face that was strikingly handsome. She was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
‘This is the train to Cooma, isn’t it?’ she’d asked.
‘That’s right,’ the porter had said, ‘leaves in three minutes,’ and he’d opened the carriage door for her.
‘Allow me.’ Rob had taken her case and lifted it up onto the overhead rack.
‘Thank you.’ Her response had been polite, but she hadn’t smiled. Then she’d sat, her hands folded in her lap, and stared out of the window, even though the train was still stationary. She hadn’t initiated conversation and Rob had felt awkward, although he’d understood. Such a woman would invite the attention of men; she obviously considered it necessary to present an aloof exterior. But it was disconcerting nonetheless.
Now, as the train picked up speed, they both maintained their gaze through their respective windows, but Rob sensed that the woman, like him, was not really seeing the outside world. She was in a world of her own, he realised as he watched her in his peripheral vision. In fact, she was so lost in her thoughts that he was able to risk the odd glance before guiltily returning his eyes to the suburbs whizzing by.
Ruth wasn’t being intentionally rude to the pleasant man who had helped her with her suitcase, but having now embarked on the final leg of her journey, she needed time to think. She concentrated her attention on the smudgy stain on the carriage window, thankful that the man respected her privacy and was not attempting conversation.
What would she do when she got to Cooma? She hadn’t really made any plans beyond reaching the Snowy Mountains of Australia. She would try to find Samuel, yes, but he’d believed her dead for over eleven years. His life could have taken many a path – he may even have remarried, she told herself. Just as she was no longer the girl he’d once known, Samuel, too, would have changed.
Ruth had thought of her husband a great deal over the past three months since she’d discovered he was alive. She remembered the love that they’d shared, but she did not pin her hopes on that love’s survival. She had become too practical, too hardened: life held no romantic miracles, and she expected none. But finding Samuel had given her fresh purpose – or perhaps simply something to do, she thought; ‘purpose’ had become an empty word. Her search for Samuel had, however, brought her to a new country. Perhaps it was this country that held the answer. Who could tell?
Her attention was distracted beyond the carriage window’s smudgy stain. They were out of the city now, they had been for some time, but she hadn’t noticed. And the vista was breathtaking, rugged rocky ridges towering over huge valleys of native forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. Ruth thought she’d never seen a landscape so vast and majestic.
‘How beautiful,’ she said, leaning forward in her seat to gaze out at the grandeur.
‘Yes, isn’t it.’ Rob was relieved that she’d spoken at last.
‘The trees almost look blue from here,’ she marvelled.
‘It’s the eucalypts,’ he said. ‘The oil from their leaves lends a haze to the air, and from a distance the forests look blue.’
‘Eucalypts?’
‘Aussie gum trees, indigenous to this country. There’re hundreds of varieties.’
‘And the oil from their leaves lends a haze to the air,’ she said, thinking how pretty it sounded.
‘Yeah, so I believe, and in the right atmospheric conditions and from a distance it makes the trees look blue.’ He felt himself relax. She wasn’t really aloof at all, he told himself, and she couldn’t help being beautiful. ‘You’re going to Cooma, aren’t you? I heard you ask the porter.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘It’s a beaut town, you’ll like it.’ He wondered why she was going to Cooma, but he didn’t ask. Her reply had been pleasant enough, but he’d sensed that the walls had gone up again. ‘Of course there’ve been a lot of changes with the Snowy.’ Eager to continue the conversation, he was about to explain the Scheme to her, but she nodded.
‘The Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Scheme, yes, I know.’ Ruth had made enquiries in Sydney about the Snowy Mountains. Thousands of migrants had been employed there, she’d been told. And Samuel would be one of them.
Rob felt like a bit of a dill. Of course she’d know about the Scheme, he thought, she probably had a job lined up through the SMA in Sydney; he was sure she was a migrant. Her English was perfect, but her accent was slightly stilted. He liked her voice.
‘You’re going to work for the Snowy, are you?’
‘No, I hadn’t planned to.’ She’d planned nothing beyond her search for Samuel, but it occurred to her that it was a good idea. She would get herself settled first so that she wasn’t a burden to him. ‘But I think perhaps I shall look for a job,’ she said, ‘that is, if I can find one.’
‘Oh you won’t have any trouble,’ he said. ‘There are tons of jobs going around Cooma and the work camps. I’m Rob, by the way,’ it was time for introductions, he thought, ‘Rob Harvey.’
‘Ruth Stein.’ She offered her hand and they shook. She hadn’t intended to get into conversation; she usually avoided situations like this. The icy reception she offered men who approached her always cut them off at the pass. But there was an engagingly genuine quality to Rob Harvey, and she was interested in learning about her destination.
‘So tell me about the Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Scheme,’ she said. ‘What exactly is it?’
‘It’s the biggest engineering and construction feat this country’s ever undertaken.’ Rob was relieved to no longer feel like a dill. ‘A river’s being diverted from its path to the sea and channelled through tunnels beneath a mountain range,’ he said impressively.
‘Good heavens.’ She was certainly as impressed as he’d intended her to be, but she was also a little mystified. ‘For what purpose?’
‘Irrigation of the dry interior,’ he said, ‘and the harnessing of hydro-electric power.’ Rob warmed to his theme as he described the principles of the dams and power stations. Her questions were perceptive and her interest rewarding. As they talked, he forgot to be in awe of her beauty. She was an intelligent woman whose conversation he was enjoying.
‘And I’ve heard that the Scheme employs principally migrant labour,’ she said.
‘In the main, yes,’ he replied. ‘There was a shortage of local labour after the war so the government brought out thousands of migrants.’ He gave a laconic grin. ‘The Europeans outnumber the Aussies on the Snowy now, and it’s the best thing that could have happened all round, I can tell you.’
‘Why is that?’
‘The Europeans have found a new life here, and we’ve found that ours isn’t the only way to live. We can be a pretty parochial bunch, us Aussies.’
She found him a most interesting man. He looked and sounded like the quintessential Australian, or rather the way she’d pictured a quintessential Australian might look and sound. He was lean and fit with the weathered face of one who’d lived in the sun, and he spoke with a lazy drawl. Yet there was a worldliness about him. The contradiction was not unattractive, but there was a self-consciousness to it, as if he wished to disguise his obvious intellect beneath a casual masculinity. She wondered if other Australian men were like that; she hadn’t really met any – in the few days she’d been in Sydney she’d kept to herself, wandering about the city, taking in the beauty of its harbour.
They were beyond the leafy Southern Highlands now and she looked out at the dry and rolling hills. The country itself seemed a series of contradictions.
‘What an ever-changing landscape,’ she said, not realising that she’d voiced her thoughts out loud.
‘You wait till you get to the Snowies and the Monaro.’ He was gl
ad she was again inviting conversation; she’d gone silent for a while and he’d felt that he might have been talking too much. ‘You’ll see more landscapes there than you can shake a stick at.’
She smiled at the quaintness of the expression.
It was the first time she’d smiled, and he was once more struck by her beauty. He wondered about her background. Where was she from? Why didn’t she smile more often? But he asked no questions; it was obvious that she didn’t want to talk about herself. So he talked about the countryside instead, finding a lyricism he hadn’t known he possessed. He wasn’t sure why; he wasn’t trying consciously to impress her. Perhaps he simply wanted to welcome her; she was a newcomer to Australia, and she seemed to him very lonely.
Ruth liked the way he talked. He wanted to share his passion for his country, and she thought how good it was to hear someone speak about their country with a passion that was not possessive. They had spoken about Israel with passion, she remembered, but it was always accompanied by the rancour of ownership. ‘This land is ours and we will not share it,’ they’d said. They’d killed those who had wished to share it.
Samuel had made a good choice, she thought as she listened to the Australian; he had been wise to come to this country. Rob Harvey had said the Europeans had found a new life here, and she hoped that had proved so for Samuel. She wondered if perhaps Rob Harvey knew him. It was quite possible – Rob worked for the Snowy, he was a site engineer, he’d said. But she would make no enquiries until she was settled. She would not intrude upon Samuel’s new life until the time was right.
‘Well, that was a quick trip,’ he said as the train pulled into Cooma. It was late afternoon and there were now others in the carriage, from various stops along the way, but he’d barely noticed them. He hefted her suitcase down from the overhead rack.
‘Thank you, Rob,’ she said as they stepped out onto the platform. ‘I’ve enjoyed talking to you very much.’
Still no smile, but he could see that she was genuine. In fact, he wondered how he could have found her aloof – there was not a shred of artifice about her; she appeared quite unaware of her beauty.
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked, signalling a taxi.
‘I don’t know, I haven’t booked in anywhere. I thought I’d just …’
‘I’ll take you to Dodds Hotel. It isn’t the classiest accommodation in town, but it’s a family-run pub and they’re nice people. They’ll look after you there.’
The taxi pulled up and he piled her suitcase into the boot, along with his rucksack.
‘Really, it’s not necessary …’
‘Course it is, I’m not leaving you here on your own. Besides, the train was early, I’m not being picked up for another half an hour yet.’
The train hadn’t been early at all, and as he opened the taxi door for her he looked around for the Land Rover – it’d arrive any second. Lucky wouldn’t be driving it as he usually did – he had taken a couple of days off to go to Sydney with Peggy and wouldn’t be back until Tuesday – but Karl Heffner was due to collect him. Karl had spent the weekend in Cooma and was going to drive them back to the work camp.
The taxi pulled away from the kerb just as Rob saw the Land Rover turn into the station courtyard. Sorry, mate, he thought, you’ll just have to wait.
He booked her into Dodds, personally introducing her to Rita and Bob, and as Bob Duncan carried her suitcase upstairs, he scribbled a couple of addresses on the notepad Rita had given him.
‘There you go,’ he said, tearing off the page and handing it to her. ‘That’s Kaiser’s offices here in town and the other one’s the Snowy Authority headquarters. Give them both a burl and mention my name – one of them’s bound to come up with a job.’
‘Thank you, Rob, you’ve been very kind.’
‘No worries,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to settle in.’ As she started up the main staircase, he slung his rucksack over his shoulder. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he added as if it were a casual afterthought, ‘I’m coming into town next weekend, meeting up with a mate for dinner here at Dodds.’ It was a lie, but he wasn’t sure if she’d agree to go out with him alone. ‘Perhaps you’d like to join us?’
She hesitated, and he realised that the invitation hadn’t sounded right at all.
‘There’ll be another lady present,’ he hastily added, ‘my mate Lucky’s just got himself engaged.’
She remained hesitant, and he thought that perhaps a cosy dinner with another couple had sounded a bit too intimate.
‘There’s always a good crowd at Dodds on a Saturday,’ he said hopefully, ‘I could introduce you around, you’d get to meet some of the locals.’
He was a nice man who was trying too hard, she thought. She could tell he was interested and she didn’t wish to encourage him, but he’d been so welcoming, she also didn’t want to appear rude.
‘I’d be delighted, thank you.’
‘About seven o’clock then, I’ll meet you here in the lobby.’
She nodded and smiled.
The smile was only one of common courtesy, he realised, but at least it was a smile.
It was four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon, and Lucky and his team were just coming off the day shift when Rob Harvey arrived. In their grimy overalls and hardhats the men were gathered around the huge tunnel entrance lighting smokes and chatting while Lucky marked their footage up on the blackboard. He wrote it with a flourish, and they all gave a cheer – they were well ahead of the graveyard shift who’d knocked off at eight that morning.
Rob greeted the others who called ‘G’day boss’, and then he drew Lucky to one side.
‘Are you and Peggy having dinner at Dodds this Saturday?’ he asked; he knew that the two of them often did.
‘Yes, with Pietro and Violet – there’s a band booked to play and we’re staying on for the dance.’ Lucky presumed Rob was tying up the transport into town; it was customary for them to liaise about transport.
‘Oh. Right.’ Rob hadn’t anticipated the band, or the young couple whom he barely knew, and he was aware that the request sounded strange. ‘Would you mind if I joined you?’
Lucky was surprised. Rob Harvey was a man’s man. He didn’t go to dances, he shared a beer with the blokes in the bar.
‘Why not,’ he said. ‘The more the merrier.’
Rob decided that he’d have to come clean. Lucky was looking at him curiously, wondering why he’d choose to be such an odd man out.
‘Well, actually, I’ll have someone with me.’
‘Ah.’ Lucky grinned as the penny dropped. Rob Harvey had found himself a woman.
‘Yeah,’ Rob admitted a little self-consciously, ‘I met her on the train from Sydney, and I thought I could do with a bit of back-up, you know?’
‘Sure,’ Lucky said, ‘we’re meeting in the lounge around half-past six,’ and he left it at that. He could have ribbed Rob Harvey, but he didn’t. He had the feeling that, for all his acute intelligence and his confidence in the workplace Rob Harvey was shy and insecure when it came to women.
It was on the dot of seven that Ruth walked down the main staircase to where he was waiting in the lobby; he’d been there a full five minutes.
‘Hello, Rob,’ she said.
She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and he was aware of the glances from several men who’d just walked through the front doors. He felt shockingly self-conscious; she was actually too beautiful, he thought, and it made him uncomfortable.
‘G’day, Ruth.’ They shook hands. ‘How’s your week been?’ He couldn’t think of anything better to say.
‘I found a job right here in Cooma,’ she said, ‘with the Snowy Mountains Authority. I’m to teach English to migrants, and it’s all thanks to you.’
She’d put him at his ease in an instant and he thought, as he had when they’d got off the train, how surprisingly free of pretension she was.
‘That’s good,’ he said, ‘I’m glad.’
‘Yes, so
am I. I’m glad I came to Cooma. I like it here.’
As they walked through to the main lounge, Ruth told him about her new job. She had to undergo the standard government medical clearance, she said, but that shouldn’t take more than a week, and then she could report for duty.
‘I’ll be working with psychologists too,’ she said, ‘as an interpreter. Interviewing migrants with problems, helping them settle in. I’m really looking forward to it.’
He wondered again at her background. She obviously had excellent qualifications. Where did she come from? Where had she studied? But now was not the time to ask. Ahead, at a table in the centre of the lounge, sat Lucky and Peggy with the young Italian and his wife. Rob took a deep breath. He wasn’t looking forward to this – he was not one for social chit-chat. He would far rather have talked to her on her own.
‘That’s my mate, Lucky,’ he said, indicating the table, and he took her arm as they wove their way through the lounge.
But Ruth had seen him the moment they’d stepped through the doors. Samuel. His arm around a woman, and plainly in love. There was nothing she could do. She was on a trajectory through a crowded room in a place called Cooma, and she was about to collide with her past.
‘G’day, Lucky,’ Rob said. ‘This is Ruth. Ruth, this is Lucky and his fiancée, Peggy, and this is Pietro, and …’ Rob faltered embarrassingly – he’d forgotten the name of the young Italian’s wife.
‘Violet.’ It was Peggy who dived in to save the day, wondering why Lucky hadn’t.
‘How do you do,’ Violet said, her hand outstretched.
‘Hello, Violet.’ Ruth shook hands with all of them. ‘Hello, Lucky,’ she’d left him till last.