Brett's face had become inscrutable. 'Natter, natter, natter!' he snapped at Catherine.
Lisa met his eyes and noted their intangible expression. 'I'll be ready in five minutes,' she told him coolly as she went to her room to collect her shoulderbag, woollen cap and gloves.
A short time later she sat beside him in the silver-grey Holden, and as the car sped westward along a country road bordered by high prickly boxthorn hedgerows she was filled with a quiet contentment. The sun was shining and she was alone with Brett. Previous hurts were wiped from her mind.
At the same time she feared that Catherine's rather frank innuendoes might have put him into a dour and defensive mood for the rest of the day. However, a swift glance at his profile revealed a half-smile hovering about his finely chiselled lips, and she was relieved to see he appeared to have shaken off his former frame of mind that seemed to simmer with irritation.
Actually the sight of the half-smile puzzled her. Could it mean that he too was feeling a surge of inner satisfaction? And could this be because of her own presence? Oh no, Lisa, she told herself firmly. That would be too much to expect. Your own delight in being with him is going to your head, so try and think straight. Get a grip on your senses.
It was these thoughts that made her ask, 'Have you a special reason for making this trip? Is it part of your Search and Rescue work—perhaps checking tracks?'
`No.' He sent her a brief smile. 'Have you forgotten I said I'd take you to Dawson Falls? I like to keep my promises.'
Disappointment drenched her spirits. Of course, she might have guessed it wasn't her company he wanted, it was his own ego that had to be satisfied. 'I quite understand,' she murmured quietly.
The dark eyes sent her a sideways glance. 'You do? What, exactly, do you understand?'
She smiled whimsically. 'That you're doing what you said you'd do. You're proving to yourself that you're a man of your word.'
Brett made no attempt to deny the fact, but kept his eyes on the road ahead, until suddenly they were confronted by the stone walls flanking the southern entrance to the Egmont National Park. Beyond it stretching a winding tunnel of towering trees, their roots lost beneath the dense foliage of thick undergrowth, while on the left the ferns clinging to the high bank hung to lap each other like layers of folded wings.
The road became steeper as it followed its ever upward grade, and then, unexpectedly, Brett pulled aside into a wider area that formed a parking bay. 'We can see the falls from here,' he said. 'We're still below three thousand feet and the Tourist Lodge is only a short distance further on.'
They stepped out of the car into the cool air and walked towards a netting and rail fence for Lisa to have her first view of Dawson Falls. A feeling of awe gripped her as she gazed down at the rounded tops of trees growing below, then across the natural amphitheatre of purple-grey rocky cliffs to where the water bubbled and frothed along a narrow stony bed before gushing over the edge.
Brett said, 'It's the Kapuni river. At this place it drops sixty feet, then continues its way to the sea.'
She shuddered. 'I'd hate to fall over the edge!'
He took her arm, holding it in a tight grip as he looked down at her. 'Do you imagine I'd allow you to go near it?'
Her heart leapt at his touch, but she managed to ask calmly, 'Who was Dawson? Why are they called Dawson Falls?'
`Thomas Dawson was a Post Office official who devoted all his spare time to exploring the mountain. He found the falls in and encouraged the clearing of a camp site nearby.'
`But surely the Maoris knew of the falls before Dawson?'
`Of course. To them the falls were known as Rere-a-Noke, or the Falls of Noke. According to legend he was a man running from the enemy, and it's said he hid from his pursuers by standing behind the falls.'
`Then they shouldn't be known as Dawson Falls,' she protested. 'I much prefer the Maori names.'
`At least we can agree upon that point,' said Brett as, still holding her arm, he led her towards a track that left the road to wind between trees. Again they looked down on the foliage below and then across the amphitheatre to where the bush-covered hills were divided by the river's stony bed.
Lisa pointed upstream. 'Isn't that a bridge crossing the river?'
`Yes—we'll take a walk across it later. In this area there are paths winding all over the place, some of them quite steep. But now we'll go down below to the riverbed.'
She was startled, looking at the drop. 'Down below?' she echoed.
`Don't worry, there are steps.'
He led her farther up the rising road to where a track branched off into the bush. It zigzagged back towards the falls, then descended by steps to the riverbank where the water roared and thundered as it fell into a pool surrounded by large and small boulders, all worn smooth by the passage of time and winter floods. Spray was flung to dampen the myriad
ferns growing in the cracks and crevices of the walls, the constant moisture making the smooth boulders slippery.
Brett held Lisa's hand as they wandered about the stony area, and although she did her best to appear nonchalant the pressure from his fingers seemed to send an electric shock into her body. At one point while stepping from boulder to boulder she almost lost her balance and would have fallen but for his quick action in flinging an arm about her waist.
He looked down into her face as she leaned against him, and for one joyous moment she imagined he was about to kiss her. Her breath quickened as his head bent and his lips drew near to her own—but suddenly he released her firmly yet with care. 'Watch your step,' was all he said.
Lisa bit her lip and turned away, fearful that he might read the disappointment in her face.
But he was glancing up at growth on the walls behind them as he said, 'It's time we were making our way up again. You'll find it'll be more difficult than coming down.'
This proved to be a fact—nor had they made much progress before her legs were aching and she was out of breath; but the next instant his arm was again about her waist as he half dragged and half carried her to the top.
`Thank you, Brett,' she gasped as they reached the less strenuous pathway, but already he was striding ahead of her, making his way towards the road.
It didn't take long for him to reach the car, where he stood waiting with the passenger door open for her. She took her seat gratefully, and after a few minutes of negotiating the remaining bends of the upward grade they reached the Tourist Lodge.
Brett parked the car beside several others already in the area. 'You can see we're not the only ones up here,' he said. 'There are always people tramping
about the paths during the weekends ' He paused
abruptly to look back at one of the cars.
Lisa watched him, a question in her eyes, but he made no comment until they reached the front door of the rambling timber-built Tourist Lodge. He stood still for a moment and glanced about him, but all he said was, 'I'll make arrangements for us to have lunch here, then we'll take a walk up to Wilkie's Pools.'
`Is it far?' she asked, not really caring how great the distance was so long as she was with him.
`About half an hour. The gradient isn't too difficult.'
They turned their backs to the lodge and passed several buildings as they walked towards an opening in the bush which gave access to various routes. Brett indicated the main track leading up to the summit, and several smaller ones branching off to the river.
He described many of the principal landmarks, and as she listened to the sound of his deep voice Lisa realised that this was Brett's kind of country. It was untamed and remote—and a little like Brett himself. And because she loved him she longed to be part of it, to know it as well as he did and to tramp at his side through the bush.
At one clearing she stood still to gaze up at what was known as the Shark's Tooth jutting against the sky from the eastern side of the summit. Woul she ever get near that pointed, sharp-edged rocky formation? It would take real mountain magic to bring
about that particular miracle, she thought.
The well-defined path climbed along a narrow ridge, in places skirting steep drops that fell down to the stony bed of the river. Overhead the lichen-covered boughs stretched across to become entwined in a tangled mass of twigs and foliage, and as the higher altitudes were reached the mountain-growing trees became smaller and more scrubby or stunted.
Brett paused at a place where the track branched to
twist down to the riverbed. 'This is where we cross to the other side. Give me your hand.'
Wordlessly she held out her hand. His grip on her own was firm, and for one moment she imagined she saw a message lurking within the depths of his dark eyes. But that was all it was—imagination—because the next instant it had vanished and they were stepping over the water, moving from large smooth boulders to flat slabs of rock.
On the far side the track continued between a growth of tall scrub at river level until it again merged with the river where a further crossing of boulders led to Wilkie's Pools. However, before they could be negotiated a surprise awaited them.
As they moved round a bend in the path they came face to face with two people who walked towards them. Lisa gave a small gasp as she recognised Paul, and she knew that Brett's eyes narrowed as they took in the sight of the girl hanging on his arm.
She was little more than a teenager whose make-up was rather heavy, and whose long blonde hair hung over her shoulders.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PAUL grinned widely as the distance between them became less. 'Hi there—surprise, surprise!' he exclaimed with forced gaiety, yet without the slightest sign of embarrassment. Nor did he bother to introduce his blonde companion.
Brett remained cool. 'As you say—surprise, surprise. Correct me if I'm mistaken, but didn't you have other arrangements for today? I understood you and Mary were going to Stratford for lunch.'
The blonde giggled, glanced at Paul, then looked at the ground.
Paul was unabashed. 'Oh, that. Well, yes, I believe something about lunch at Stratford had been mentioned—but only vaguely, you understand.'
`Mary was anything but vague about it,' snapped Brett.
`Oh well, you know how it is.' Paul sent a glance towards the girl, who simpered at him in a fatuous manner. 'Other things are apt to crop up.'
Brett's mouth thinned to a hard line as he eyed the girl with distaste. 'Obviously.'
Over and over again, Lisa thought to herself. She felt most indignant on Mary's behalf, but was not surprised to discover that Paul had let her down. He hadn't changed at all—not one scrap.
Paul edged further along the path, making it clear he had no wish to remain and prolong the conversation. `So long, you two—we'll be on our way,' he said breezily as he took the girl's arm and drew her in a leisurely manner towards the crossing stones in the river.
Brett was silent as they walked along the path
towards the slabs of flat rock leading to the pools. His expression had darkened to a scowl and it needed little imagination for Lisa to guess that his mind was filled with Paul and the girl who had clung to his arm in such a possessive manner.
At last, as though making an effort to push the couple from his mind, he said, 'These pools are not what they were when Wilkie found them. Erosion and shifting river stones have wreaked havoc and caused them to lose size and depth.'
Lisa took her cue. 'Who was Wilkie?' she asked, thankful that he was ready to consider another subject. Sift sat down to rest on a large dry slab and he sat beside her, their closeness seeming to be the most natural thing in the world. She was also conscious of his shoulder within inches of her face, and only with difficulty did she resist the temptation to lean her cheek against it.
`Wilkie?' Brett said absentmindedly. 'He was a farmer who explored whenever the chance presented itself. Most of the tracks were cut by those pioneer climbers, all of them anxious to reach the summit, and each one declaring he had an appointment at the peak.'
He lapsed into silence and Lisa guessed his thoughts were again with Paul and the girl. Confirmation of it came when he turned to her and said with something of an appeal in his voice, 'Tell me, Mary did say that Paul was taking her to Stratford—or did I just dream up the whole idea? No, don't bother to answer that question,' he added harshly, 'I know damned well I didn't imagine it.'
`Nor did Paul deny he'd had an arrangement with Mary,' Lisa pointed out.
`Then what the hell was he doing up here with that—that girl?' he exclaimed in exasperated tones.
She sighed. 'I think it's fairly obvious—at least it is to me. He changed his mind because he preferred to do something else. If you don't mind, I'd
rather not talk about him.'
He turned to face her. `Ah, so it got you on the raw, did it? The sight of him with that girl shook you?'
She gave a short laugh. 'Not at all. My days of being shaken by Paul ended a long time ago, as I've already tried to tell you.'
`I still can't help wondering if you've got some sort of feeling for the blighter,' he said moodily.
`Then you can forget it,' she snapped, irritated that he was ruining their pleasant moments together.
`And I'm still wondering if you came here to find him.'
Her patience vanished as she glared at him. 'Can't you understand that if I'd wanted to come chasing after Paul it wouldn't have taken me three years to make a start on the project? Friends in New Plymouth would have soon told me exactly where to find him.'
`Yes, I suppose that's right. Okay, I'll believe you.'
`Thank you. That's good of you.' Her tone was scathing, then she added as a thought struck her, 'You don't appear to know very much about women, Brett.'
He shook his head slowly. 'You're right. They're a pack of sealed mysteries to me. Perhaps I've spent too much time tramping about the mountain.'
`Perhaps you're in love with the mountain instead of with somebody who's real flesh and blood,' she said bitterly, then immediately regretted the words.
Fortunately he ignored them as his thoughts appeared to have switched back to his sister. 'As for Mary, I'll shake the living daylights out of her if she dares to mention Mason's name again!'
`That would be a grave mistake,' Lisa pointed out. `It would simply throw her straight into his arms. Personally, I think she needs to see Paul in his true colours for herself, just as I had to.'
`Oh? How did it come about?'
She was silent, wishing she could tell him about
Maggie Simpson, but the thought of breaking her word to Paul, despite his faults, went against the grain. Nor did she feel inclined to lay bare the details of her own humiliation. 'I'm afraid I can't tell you anything about it,' she said with cool determination.
`But you will,' Brett declared with some force.
Her brows rose. 'Really? What makes you so sure about that?'
`Because I'll wring it out of you. It's something I want to know, and I intend to find out,' he told her harshly.
She was amazed by the vehemence in his voice. 'II can't see that it's any business of yours.'
`Correction: I'm making it my business. Right, shall we go? Have you seen enough of these pools?' He stood up abruptly as though wishing to get right away from the place.
Lisa scrambled to her feet. 'Yes, thank you, I've seen plenty. You sound as though you regret bringing me here. I suppose it's because you saw Paul with his latest interest.' Then, as they made their way back towards the river crossing, she paused to lay a hand on his arm. Looking up into his face, she pleaded, 'Please, Brett, don't let Paul spoil our day. It was so pleasant until you laid eyes on him. After all, it's better for you to know the truth.'
He looked at her intently, but all he said was, 'I'm hungry. Let's go back to the Tourist Lodge for lunch.'
The walk downhill to the Lodge took less time than Lisa had expected, but this was not surprising, because Brett's long legs carried him over the ground so rapidly she had to almost run to keep up with him. He retained
a silence which she respected, knowing he was mulling over the problem of his sister and no doubt considering what he should do about it.
On reaching the Lodge she decided to give him a short time to himself, so she made her way to the ladies' where she washed her hands and ran a comb
through her hair. When she emerged she noticed an open door leading to an outside veranda, and, wandering through to stand on it, she was confronted by a vast panoramic view of sea and land that disappeared into a haze of distance.
Suddenly she was startled to feel Brett's two hands on her shoulders. He had come unheard through the door behind her, and now the firm pressure of his grip made her throat tighten. She turned her head slowly and was relieved to find that his expression had become more amiable, then a sharp breath escaped her as he bent his head to press his cheek against her own.
`Sunrise is the time to stand on this veranda,' he murmured. 'Golden rays shoot up into the sky and the land looks as if it's in a dreamtime of mists and shadows.'
`You've been here at sunrise?' she whispered, fearful of breaking the spell of his touch.
`Of course.' The admission came quietly.
`But not always alone?' A stab of jealousy caused the words to slip out.
`Definitely not alone.' He gave a short laugh, straightened his back abruptly and removed his hands from her shoulders as he added, 'The bedrooms are just along the corridor. Most people who stay here come out to see the sunrise, and the veranda can be crowded. Shall we go to the dining room?'
Lisa followed him meekly.
Lunch was a delicious meal of smoked eel followed by cold venison and salad. Their table near the window gave an uninterrupted view of the peak with its broken terrain of deep snow-filled gorges, sharp ridges, outcrops of rock and deceptively smooth faces. She gazed towards it longingly, watching the few wispy clouds that gathered to partly hide it from sight before drifting on to leave it clear again.
Brett patted her hand. 'I can see the look in your eyes!' he teased. know the peak's calling to you, but
you can't go up there today. It takes at least four and a half hours' climbing from here—not that I'd take you at this time of the year. It's a summertime climb.'
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