‘I don’t have family, either. But I have friends, and some happy memories.’
Paul’s grip on the rail tightened until his hands were bloodless. ‘Memories!’ The word might have been an oath.
‘You’re angry. I’m sorry.’
‘Injustice unearths many emotions.’ He clipped the words off.
‘From what you once told me, I’d say you have every right to your anger.’ She laid her hand briefly on his, adding, ‘But please don’t let your tragic loss distort your life. Buried anger twists people. It’s terribly damaging.’
He tore his gaze away from the sea and stood back from the rail, his smile fixed. ‘I refuse to be angry today. Today is for sunshine and laughter. Come, the bar is open. Let’s get a drink.’
For a few hours Elly completely forgot her responsibilities, stepping onto the sandy shores of Botany Bay ready to fling herself into whatever offered. As effervescent as a child, she clapped wildly at the circus performances, commiserated with the caged animals in the menagerie, then forgot their plight in the excitement of seeing a gentleman well in his cups mount one of the elephants and take it for a bathe in the sea. She dined on crab and drank champagne, and whirled around the great dance floor in Paul’s arms, the strings of coloured lamps, lit even in daylight, swinging dizzily around her, her feet trapped in the rhythm of the band playing on and on.
Late in the day, sated and light-headed from the music and dancing, Elly allowed herself to be led down through the groves of trees towards the beach, a wide curving horseshoe dwindling away south into sand hills already topped with sea mist. To the west the blue mountain range had darkened against a sky streaked in gold as brilliant as any to be dug from the soil and riverbeds. Elly walked right down to the edge of the shallow surf creaming in from the bay and raised her arms, letting the air lift and press her skirts against her body, rippling her hair, cooling her hot cheeks. Forgetful of time and place, aware only of a sense of repletion, she let herself drift.
The next moment she was in Paul’s arms being thoroughly kissed. Astonishment held her motionless, and the sudden jet of fire throughout her body, stunning her with its force. Afterwards she thought of it as a lightning strike, flashing along each nerve until her whole being vibrated with an extraordinary joy. Her mouth opened under Paul’s, its firmness and warmth such a delight that his intrusive tongue was made welcome. Elly shivered and clutched at his shoulders, giving herself over to her first collision with passion.
Paul raised his head, keeping a firm hold on her waist. She saw his confusion, echoing her own.
‘Elly... I didn’t know this would happen. Elly, what have you done to me?’
Her senses swimming, she couldn’t have answered him, even if she’d had any answer to give. She only knew that the pressure of his breast on hers, of his hand slipping down her back to hold her more firmly against his body, was necessary and right and vital to her happiness, increasing her longing to recapture the delirium his lips could create.
Never in her wildest imagination had she believed she would enjoy such an assault. Gazing into his green eyes, she saw golden flecks dancing there, growing larger, filling her vision as he claimed her mouth again. His fingers travelled down her spine, loosening buttons as they went, and her gown slipped, exposing her shoulders scorched by his caresses. Her hands were in his hair, letting the dark silky strands slip through her fingers in an intimacy both thrilling and frightening. She pressed his face to her breasts and heard him groan. Her hips arched against his, feeling the rigidity of his erection through the layers of petticoat.
She cried out, and his arms relaxed, then tightened again.
With a gasp he said, ‘Forgive me, Elly.’
She rested her head on his chest, the extraordinary excitement ebbing slowly, leaving her limp. She felt as though she’d passed through a violent storm, weakening her to the point where she could no longer support her own weight. Still held fast in Paul’s trembling grasp she tried to calm herself, feeling his heartbeat racing under her cheek and knowing that he, too, had passed through the same cataclysm.
Resting his cheek on her hair, he whispered, ‘I’ve never known such an upheaval in my life. What kind of force lies in you Elly, that you can tear a man’s control to shreds in one second and draw him irresistibly down into such a volcano – such un-dreamed of passion?’ His voice broke on the words.
She looked up shyly. ‘Is it like that for you? I never knew. No-one ever told me...’
Paul released his hold and drew back, but when she staggered he held her up and led her to a nearby rock. ‘Sit down Elly and I’ll button your gown. Don’t say any more just yet.’
Elly sat down. Her legs quivered and her breasts ached, sensitive even to the brush of fabric as Paul adjusted her gown. A sudden pain thrust deep in her loins, and she shivered. She wondered if she had started a fever. Then she turned her head and saw Paul’s strained expression, saw the hunger repressed, and knew she was indeed suffering from a fever in the blood which could only be assuaged in this man’s embrace.
‘For God’s sake, Elly, don’t look at me like that. Don’t hold your mouth as if waiting to be kissed.’ Paul abandoned the last button and turned his back on Elly to walk the few yards down to the water’s edge.
All her senses were heightened as she absorbed the sibilant sound of the surf, of the sand sinking back after Paul’s passing, of the leaves in the casuarina trees sifting in the wind. She heard a gull’s sharp cry and watched it float by on an invisible current, its breast like snow, its wings the colour of moor mist, its beak a dot of blood against the darkening sky. The harsh smell of the eucalypts blended with a wild honey scent from boronia and other native blossoms, and she breathed deeply, saturating her memory with the aromas of this moment, fixing them in amber, captured and to be held until she died. The rock beneath her was cold and hard, and she knew the time had come for her to return to reality.
Rising, she went to stand beside Paul, not touching him, drinking in the strong profile silhouetted against the sky.
‘Paul, we have to be sensible.’
He laughed, without amusement.
‘No, listen, my dear. We’re not heedless young ones to tumble headlong into love and think the world well lost for it.’
He took her face between his hands and watched the play of expression there. ‘Is it love, Elly? Is this overwhelming need and pain and joy what love really is?’
‘I... think so. Yes, I do think it’s more than an animal carnality which fills me with such delight and an urge to give more than to receive. Paul, I want to cradle your head, to show you sweet fondness, as well as passion, I want...’ She broke off.
‘Elly, I need you – to spend my life with you, caring for you.’
The tenderness in his voice moved her unbearably, yet her resolve stiffened. Gently she released herself, saying, ‘Do you, Paul? Or do you mean you want me to run your home, entertain at your political parties, be your help meet and give up my ambitions?’
‘I’m talking about loving and caring. I’m asking you to be my wife. And, yes, that would entail such things.’
‘And sacrifice, Paul. My sacrifice. Would you give up your ambitions if I asked you to?’
His brows rose and there was a twist to his mouth as he countered, ‘Would you, Elly?’
They stared at one another, Elly appalled at the swift dashing down from the sublime heights she’d just experienced, and at the knowledge that she’d done it to herself. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.
‘As am I.’
The torment shadowing his face made her want to take back her words, to tell him she couldn’t hurt him like this, that she’d love him forever, be whatever he wanted her to be. Instead she held his gaze steadily, imposing on herself the strongest, hardest discipline she’d ever had to employ. For she couldn’t be untrue to her vow, not so far into her quest. On the day her father died at her feet she’d made herself a promise which she would see through, whatever the per
sonal cost. There could be no room in her life for the kind of love she’d just awakened to. It was consuming. It would eat up her ambition and leave just the shell of the real Elly Ballard, which would be no good to her or to the man who wanted her.
‘It could never satisfy us to bring only half of ourselves to a marriage,’ she told him. ‘We’re so much alike, Paul, so centred on our ambitions. I must honour a trust, while you... you are driven by something more, a bitterness with its roots in your past, which you can’t relinquish. In such a climate our love would eventually be destroyed.’
He turned to stare out over the bay and she saw a tear glisten on his cheek. Yet all he said was, ‘I’m afraid you’re right, my love. You will always be my love, whatever else may happen.’
And you will always be mine, Elly said in her heart, but not aloud.
They walked back to the hotel in heavy silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A wave hit the wharf, shaking the planks beneath Pearl’s feet. Between the cracks she could see water, dark green and oily with tendrils of weed flapping around the piles just below the tideline. Backwash of passing ferryboats sent a fresh series of waves, rippling and slapping. The wharf shivered.
Inside, Pearl shivered too. This was the moment when she set off alone once more, with just her wits against the world. Beside her a small steamer with bright red paddle-wheels and white superstructure bobbed like a child’s toy, tugging against the ropes bound around the bollards. It had an eager air about it, as though anxious to be on its way, as she was, at last, on her way to find Li Po.
She had left the hospital early, to avoid emotional farewells. The break should be made cleanly, she thought, like a knife-cut. Detachment focussed the mind, gave it a calm background to work against; and to create detachment one must be alone, without ties of relationship, or even friendship.
Elly Ballard had achieved this admirably, with her total focus on her ambition. However, Jo-Beth remained a puzzle, professing to believe that fate could be changed by will alone and her dead lover returned to her, even while she accepted the homage of her military admirer. She might have come from a distant star, with her outlook on the world so opposite to Pearl’s. Jo-Beth had only recently learned what it was to fight for survival. Raised in a cushioned environment, she had this soft underbelly, an invitation to the rippers and kickers of the world. How long would she endure her present circumstances before having to accept Ethan Petherbridge’s death? How long before she escaped back to family support in Boston, or into marriage with someone who would take care of her?
Dismissing these perplexities, Pearl picked up her canvas satchel, a present from Elly, as well as the stout boots peeping incongruously from beneath her padded trousers.
She’d go aboard now, grateful for the ticket up river to Parramatta, a parting gift from her friends. From there she would find a cart crossing the Blue Mountains to Bathurst.
‘Pearl, wait! Don’t go yet.’
What seemed a carriage-load of nurses tumbled out onto the wharf and ran towards her, while from another direction two men pounded up from the Customs House waving their hats and hallooing. Pearl hesitated, flushed to the hairline, unsure whether to be delighted or distressed.
J.G. reached her first, puffing like leaky bellows and forced to lean on a bollard to fan himself with his hat.
‘You might... have let a fellow... know… the departure time.’
Pearl frowned. ‘I gave Elly your watch to return to you. I told you I would not sell it.’
‘Be damned... to the watch. You’ve been avoiding me, girl dear.’
She fixed her gaze on the striped waistcoat moving rhythmically on his heaving chest. ‘Sit down before you fall down, you silly man. You should not have run so hard.’
Paul, only two steps behind, shook his head at her.
‘Ungrateful girl, when he simply wanted to say “God Speed”. It’s why we all came.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Jo-Beth rushed to envelop Pearl’s slight frame in a hug. ‘You wretch, to slip away like that.’
The two trainee nurses, staunch admirers of Pearl, nodded shyly in the background.
Pearl set her teeth. She would not be the victim of her emotions. She would stay in control. Her eyes suspiciously bright, she scanned the faces in the group, seeing the love and goodwill there for her.
‘Thank you. I did not want to trouble anyone...’
‘Trouble!’ mocked J.G.. ‘Girl dear, it’s a lying tongue you have in your pretty little head. You wanted to slip away on the quiet, keeping to yourself, as ever. Well, we’re your friends and we won’t allow it.’
‘Hear, hear.’ Elly surged forward to kiss Pearl’s cheek. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with us, my dear. We need you, even if you think you don’t need us. Also, we expect to have regular news of you, wherever you go.’
Jo-Beth beamed as she handed a small parcel to Pearl. ‘This is for you. I hope you find it useful.’
Unwrapped, the gift was revealed as a hinged sweet-tin which, when opened, emitted a strong eucalyptus aroma. ‘It’s an antiseptic grease made up to a recipe I found in the dispensary. Very useful for cuts and abrasions and for colds when rubbed on the throat and, oh, all manner of things.’
Pearl couldn’t trust her voice. Handling the tin as if it contained emeralds, she put it in her satchel alongside the medical kit, food and linen. The paddle-steamer gave a toot, making them all jump, and steam poured from the funnel.
Paul thumped J.G. on the back, almost knocking him off his feet. ‘She’ll leave any minute. Go on, man.’
J.G. drew his thin frame erect, bowed, then presented Pearl with a folded sheet of paper. ‘A parting gift from the two of us, girl dear. It’s a mere sketch, but the best we could put together. Maybe it will help you.’
She stared at the paper through a blur, gradually distinguishing the markings. It proved to be a roughly drawn map of the established goldfields, with tracks, distances and useful information on transport, stores and accommodation. To a prospector it would be worth a good deal. She wondered how the men had obtained it and at what cost. Meeting J.G’s eyes, she saw their merriment quenched, for once, by an unaccustomed sadness. But it couldn’t be. Her going would only lose him a sparring partner, not even a friend. She deliberately shifted her gaze to Paul. ‘Thank you, both. It will be a great help.’
The steamer gave another warning toot. Pearl thrust the map in her pocket. ‘Thank you all my good friends. I’ll think of you every day. Goodbye.’ She turned and leapt up the plank onto the deck.
The others crowded forward to the edge of the wharf as seamen untied ropes and removed the plank. Almost imperceptibly a gap widened between wharf and vessel. The great wheels began to turn, paddles flashing wetly as they dipped and rose, churning the oily green water to foam. The engine thundered, a shudder rattled through the body of the ship as it slowly turned towards the west.
Oblivious of gulls screaming overhead, of wind pulling at her braid, Pearl stood watching the wharf and the group of people on it dwindle into a formless blob on the horizon.
~*~
Elly moved briskly back to the carriage, avoiding Paul’s eye. ‘Come along, ladies. I’m uneasy with Nurse Jenkins in charge, even for an hour.’
As a voice hailed her, she glanced around to see Captain McAndrews hurrying along the wharf, dressed in full regimentals, his brass buttons and braid enough to shame the day.
Whipping off his cap, he bowed. ‘I’m sorry to be late. I’ve just come off duty and hurried away as soon as I could. I see I’ve lost the opportunity to farewell Miss Pearl.’
His face was too well-bred, Elly told herself. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? He was a race horse, all nose and teeth, and probably inbred as well, like most sons of the aristocracy. She never had admired waxed moustaches. But in a moment she regretted her peevishness. The Captain couldn’t sense her anxiety. Nor should he be blamed for placing his duties as a governor’s equerry before his personal desir
es. She gave him a warm smile as Jo-Beth greeted him composedly.
‘Good morning, Captain. Yes, unfortunately the boat has left and we shan’t see Pearl for a long time, I fear. Let me make you known to these ladies and gentlemen.’
While introductions were made Elly tried not to tap her foot, avoiding looking at Paul, although very aware of him only yards away. She thought she would always know when he looked at her, by the tingling in her skin as if caressed. It was so hard to be resolute when nature fought against her, reminding her that she was young, female and responsive to males. To a particular male, whose lips crooked in a half-smile evoked an immediate response in her heart whenever she thought of them; whose wit and intelligence ignited a spark in her mind – usually one of opposition, she admitted. Indeed, the argument was half the pleasure.
She felt so alive in Paul’s company, the complete Elly, as she was meant to be. But it was not to be. She had made her decision to devote all her time and energies to the battle for nursing. The opposition was so great, the work so draining, and Paul didn’t really understand. He could not accept that her undertaking might be quite as important as his own. In his heart he thought her eccentric, and so, despite their love, the gulf between them could not be bridged.
She sighed and paid attention as the Captain, with a sideways glance at Jo-Beth, issued an invitation to the ladies to take a light luncheon at a nearby hotel.
Elly firmly refused him. ‘We have work to do, gentlemen.’ Letting the implication that they did not work hang delicately, she then smiled to take away the sting. ‘Also, we must not keep you from your affairs.’
The three men exchanged glances of mutual solidarity and took their leave. They set off down Pitt Street, dodging the heavy delivery drays and carts of produce on the way to the markets. Street vendors shouted above the clatter of hooves and wheels as a stream of cabs, omnibuses and private vehicles joined the throng. Cries of “pigs trotters”, “fresh rabbits”, “muffins new baked”, mingled with the shrill voices of urchins earning a penny by sweeping crossings or holding horses. A man passed by with a basket balanced on his head calling "Water-cresses, Water-cresses” and a dustman rang his bell on his rounds collecting rubbish from the shop yards.
A HAZARD OF HEARTS Page 20