A Complicated Woman

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Clive looked at the man’s wife, whose smile had dimmed. ‘Well, er—’

  ‘Ah, don’t worry about not wanting to make me look a fool. I’ve been called it before.’ Daniel glanced at Melinda, who put her tongue in her cheek. ‘I’m not ashamed to have walked away from it.’

  ‘He never really gave it a chance,’ Melinda told Oriel, seeing her husband’s failure as her own. ‘We hadn’t been there two years.’

  ‘However long I’d stayed I would’ve had Buckley’s of making anything out o’that dust bowl. I put some real hard yakker in but it just wasn’t to be.’

  ‘We were offered assistance,’ said Melinda.

  ‘Yeah, if I’d been prepared to show ’em me grocery lists to justify me need.’ The set of his face showed he was not about to suffer that humiliation. ‘Anyway, I’ve borrowed enough – so, I’m back at the sawmill where I should’ve been all along.’

  Melinda gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Don’t know what made him think he could be a cocky anyway. All that money lost.’

  Daniel remained firmly patient. ‘But we didn’t lose the house, did we?’

  ‘For what it’s worth.’ Melinda turned away from him to explain to their guests. ‘Got this bit o’ land cheap and we brought the house from the Mallee. Didn’t cost us anything, a mate helped us.’

  Oriel had gone to the window from where she could view the mountains and the beautiful Yarra Valley where eagles soared. ‘You’ve got a spectacular outlook.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s something, I suppose. There’s nothing much else to do here – not like when I lived with you and your mum ’n’ dad. We had some good times, didn’t we? How are they liking it up in a strange country?’

  After Oriel had given this information, there was a short pause, then Melinda brought her palms together. ‘Righto, I’ll get something to eat.’

  ‘No! We’ve come to take you on a picnic in the forest,’ announced her visitor.

  Melinda whooped. ‘Are we all going in your car? Cripes, I’d better get the kids changed. Er, can I ask what kind o’ tucker you’ve got?’ When Oriel told her, she added, ‘I’ll fetch a few things for the bubs then.’ After rushing round collecting a bag of essentials she and Daniel picked up a child each and followed the others beyond the picket fence to the car. ‘Can Orrie sit in the back with me?’

  ‘Yes, she can hold this as well.’ Cigarette in mouth, Daniel thrust eight-month-old Angus at Oriel, who disposed of her own tab end and accepted him gingerly.

  ‘Orrie doesn’t like bubs,’ Melinda laughed as her friend remained temporarily hampered. ‘Here, Alice can sit between us and I’ll take him off your hands.’ Planting Alice on the back seat Melinda allowed her immaculately dressed friend to take her place.

  ‘Will it be too draughty for them with the hood down?’ asked Clive, ever thoughtful.

  ‘Nah! Tough as dingo pups,’ vouched Daniel. ‘Come on, Melly, get yer bum in – oh, by the way!’ He turned to Oriel. ‘Jimmy Magee said I should pass on his regards if I see yer. Told me all about the job you offered him. Thanks for that – even if he did refuse it.’

  Oriel noticed Clive’s face, knew he wanted to ask who Jimmy Magee was. ‘Well, I suppose it was a bit of an insult—’

  ‘No, no, it wasn’t that!’ Daniel explained. ‘He needed a job where he could work on his own, gets a bit funny when he’s with other people. Well, you saw him at our wedding, he comes over a bit claustrophobic.’

  Oriel nodded. ‘He found a job anyway, that’s all I was concerned about.’

  ‘Didn’t keep it very long though.’ Daniel showed a hint of despair. ‘Just takes work where he can get it nowadays. Anyway he wanted me to pass on his thanks for your concern for him and the other blokes.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ Oriel felt Clive’s jealousy. He hated it when she even as much as waved to the soldiers when they drove past the Anzac Hostel. ‘Come on then, let’s go!’

  On the way along the winding dusty road through the forest towards Warburton she sat in the back seat answering Melinda’s questions about her domestic affairs, occasionally allowing her eyes to settle on the head of the man in front of her, studying Daniel’s tanned neck, the collar of his shirt, his yellow streaked hair fluttering in the draught. When it was her turn to listen she smiled and nodded and took deep inhalations of a breeze laden with eucalyptus, cleansing her senses. By the time they pulled off the road and stopped at the opening to a walking track her brain was purged of any troubles that she might have brought with her.

  Spreading their picnic on a flattened rock on the tranquil bank of Warburton creek, they enjoyed a leisurely half-hour by the gurgling ribbon of water, before entering the forest to wander amongst the filtered sunlight of giant tree ferns. Daniel took the lead, holding Alice’s hand, Melinda and the baby behind him. Next in line, Clive reached back to take hold of his wife’s hand, but she pointed out, ‘The track’s too narrow, I’ll just walk behind you.’ Out of chivalry he took up the rear and so, with him walking behind her, Oriel could pretend that he was not even there. For a time they fell silent, even the children. The air was very still, pierced only by the threatening buzz of an insect, a furtive scuffling in the grass or the peal of a bellbird. Salved by this awesome canopy of green, the soft carpet of the forest floor, the birdsong and the bouquet, she felt a tremendous uplift in her mood.

  With infants in tow it was not possible to maintain the trek for long and Daniel suggested they sit down to rest, checking the hollow log and long grass first for snakes. Oriel examined the skewbald bark of the log for dirt and flicked at it reluctantly before sitting down to imbibe the sound of tiny children romping with their father, the creek scrambling over pebbles and the sporadic whiplash call of a bird.

  ‘Hey, Ally!’ Melinda called the little girl to her. ‘Come and sing your song for Aunt Oriel.’

  But Alice seemed reluctant to leave her father, arms around his neck.

  ‘Go on Ally!’ When she refused to move, Daniel changed his expression. ‘I can hear a wolf coming. Listen.’ And he started to growl and make claws of his fingers. Understanding the game Alice giggled and backed away but not fast enough to escape her father’s tickling attack. Screaming with glee she begged him to put her down and promised to do as she was told.

  Positioned before the elegantly dressed lady the little girl immediately launched into a well-practised verse, her immature voice wavering occasionally but her blue gaze remaining steady on the woman’s face. It was not a particularly sad refrain and Oriel felt foolish that she could not prevent tears from springing to her eyes. When the song came to an abrupt end and the beaming child ran to throw herself upon the lady’s lap, Oriel was forced to blink rapidly to clear her vision, then gave Alice a hug, wondering what it was about her that so attracted this small child when she herself had no maternal urges at all.

  ‘She likes you ’cause you’re always smiling,’ Melinda explained without being asked. Oriel laughed self-consciously.

  Daniel agreed and caught his daughter up in a bear hug. ‘We’ll have to call her Smiler.’ Oriel glanced at him to indicate her pleasure but his attention was on Alice.

  ‘He has nicknames for everybody,’ said Melinda. ‘But I’m not telling you what he calls me.’ She grinned and went on to ask her friend for more information about the household appliances she had briefly mentioned before and without wanting to show off, Oriel listed them.

  ‘My oath! I feel really embarrassed at you seeing our place. You must’ve thought you’d walked into a real humpy.’

  ‘I didn’t at all.’ Oriel snatched another glance at Daniel, who never seemed to look her in the eye. ‘It’s a lovely little cottage. You’ve made it really comfortable.’ She hoped it did not sound too patronizing for it was not intended that way.

  ‘Dan’s done most of the work.’ Melinda smiled at her husband in an attempt to make up for her previous derogatory comments. Daniel returned a look of affection as he hurried to retrieve a venturesome baby from the long gr
ass. It was obvious to Oriel that despite the earlier contretemps they were devoted to each other. How she envied her friend.

  Clive spoke. She had forgotten he was even there. ‘Anyone want a cigarette?’ His offer was accepted. ‘I meant to bring the camera but I’ve left it in the car. Shall we wander back after we’ve had our fags and take a few snaps?’

  Oriel pulled on her cigarette, trying desperately to pretend that she and Daniel were alone. Ash formed, grew to an inch, fell to the ground as she automatically raised and lowered her hand. Eventually, feeling the heat of it against her knuckles, she dropped it to the forest floor.

  ‘You tryin’ to fry us alive?’ Daniel ground the smouldering tab-end deep into the earth, giving her a look of reproach. But when she offered blushing apology he forgave her with a grin. ‘Just don’t do it again.’

  Grateful for any crumb that he might cast at her, even his rebuke, she smiled and rose, brushed at the seat of her dress and joined the procession back to the car where she posed before the camera alongside Daniel, Melinda and the children.

  ‘Look out – jumping jacks!’ Between clicks of the shutter, Daniel grabbed the children and hurried everyone away from the colony of acrobatic ants to a safer spot where a further length of film was exposed.

  ‘Clive, you’d better get your face on one before they’re all gone!’ Melinda ordered her husband to take over the photography.

  Several more ensembles were snapped. Then Daniel inspected the camera. ‘One left.’

  The owner took repossession. ‘Give us it here then, Dan, and you stand between the girls.’

  Taking a stance before the giant creamy trunk of a mountain ash that soared three hundred feet to the sky, Oriel felt Daniel’s right arm snake round her waist, felt his hip against her middle, his shoulder against her face, the heat and scent of his body…

  And then it was over. Clive was replacing the Kodak in its case and saying, ‘We’d better call it a day before the mozzies come out in force.’

  It had been a wonderful Sunday and Oriel did not want it to end, hoping to extend her time with Daniel by asking if her friends would like to come to dinner at the hotel this evening.

  ‘Don’t think we could get a babysitter at such short notice,’ was the reply.

  ‘Tomorrow, then,’ she persisted.

  Melinda looked keen. ‘I’m right to go but Dan won’t be back till next weekend. S’pose you’ll have went by then. It’s too far for him to travel to the mill every day so he has to bach up there through the week.’

  Oriel’s hopes were shattered.

  ‘’Sbeen a great day, though, thanks for taking us, mate.’ Daniel turned back to include Oriel in his gratitude. ‘You too, Smiler. It’s good for Mel to have her friend back. She’s really missed you.’

  Oriel noticed the reflection of her own dazzling smile in the car mirror and marvelled at how she could produce it when feeling so desperately sad inside.

  * * *

  Monday dawned to a feeling of emptiness for Oriel, yesterday’s euphoria totally expunged by the thought of having to endure the rest of the week with Clive.

  It must have been a difficult week for him too, being presented with her lacklustre expression day after day, for on more than one occasion he suggested that she spend some time alone with her friend if she preferred to, and he would go fishing.

  ‘Clive’s a good bloke, isn’t he?’ said Melinda, whilst the two of them were eating the cakes that Oriel had bought for them that afternoon, two flies zizzing overhead. ‘Letting you spend all this time with me. Nice-looking too.’

  Oriel raised one eyebrow to denote that she did not consider him to be so.

  ‘Oh, he is. It’s a pity he isn’t called Maguire, though. I got used to pretending I had a rich sister.’ For a period after Melinda’s wedding both girls had held the surname Maguire. ‘Mrs Widdowes, eh? Does Mr Widdowes have any faults? He doesn’t seem to.’

  ‘Oh, not many.’ Oriel felt disloyal mentioning Clive’s habits. Even though they annoyed her she blamed her own irritable nature.

  ‘Strewth, Dan’s got loads.’

  ‘He seems all right to me.’ Oriel used a finger to brush icing sugar from her upper lip, then lashed out at a fly that tried to settle on her cake.

  ‘You want to try living with him – Ally, Angus stop that!’ The children were wrestling over a hairbrush.

  Embarrassed by her own thoughts, Oriel blushed to the roots of her hair, then covered her discomposure by wafting at her face with a hand. ‘God, it’s hot today, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sorry we’ve got no fans – I said, stop fighting!’ Melinda leaped up and slapped both children hard, causing them to break into howls.

  Even though she had no wish to bear children of her own, Oriel was soft-hearted and tears burned her eyes.

  Her friend noticed and looked uncomfortable. ‘Sorry, but they’re little mongrels when their father isn’t around. When you gonna have one, then?’ She sat down to finish off her cake.

  The blue eyes blinked. ‘I don’t want any.’

  ‘What about your husband?’

  Oriel flinched and shrugged, wiping her hands with a handkerchief.

  ‘You’re really lucky to have him, you know,’ opined Melinda.

  Oriel nodded. Yes, she was lucky having such a generous man. Why, then, did she not feel it?

  * * *

  The remainder of her year was a period of stagnation, the only highlight coming in December with her first chance to vote in a Federal Election. Here, there was echo of Oriel’s own discord, the country showing its disapproval of the way the Government had handled all the various disputes since the war and thereby robbing the Nationalist Party of its majority. With the Country Party holding the balance of power, Prime Minister Hughes was now facing a coalition with Earle Page, a man he had so often ridiculed.

  Despite not fully understanding the system, Oriel was firm in her views that this present Government was not fulfilling all the promises it had made to returned servicemen, and showed pleasure upon reading the results of the election in the morning newspaper that Clive handed over as he made ready for work.

  ‘I wonder what Daniel thinks. He’s a fan of Billy Hughes.’

  Clive was tart. ‘Well, I for one’ll be pleased to see the back of that bloody little dictator. There’s more people in this country to consider than soldiers, you know.’

  Oriel bit her tongue and changed the subject to discuss the coming Christmas, though her heart was far from merry.

  The festive season brought the usual round of parties with Clive’s relatives and friends, and a fleeting visit to Yarra Junction, which left Oriel feeling emptier than ever. At the birth of another New Year she pulled the traditional wishbone with Dorothy and made the passionate plea for some miracle to happen that would make her into the kind of wife that Clive desired. It did not work. In February, shortly after the resignation of Prime Minister Hughes in favour of Stanley Melbourne Bruce, Clive’s grandmother died.

  Oriel had never experienced the embrace of a grandparent, had no inkling of how deep was her husband’s bereavement. The commiserations she offered were sincere but lacked real empathy, and Clive reacted accordingly.

  ‘The funeral’s on Thursday,’ he told her. ‘There’s no need for you to come if you don’t want.’

  Oriel interpreted this to mean that he did not need her, an indication of what a sham her marriage was, and so took him at his word. Her absence from the funeral was to reinstate her unpopularity with Thora. Indeed, other members of the family thought she was strange too, though they did not say so to her face. Deeper she descended into misery, existing on sporadic visits to her friends, both of whom seemed to be happy in their marriages. Melinda and her husband came to visit, bringing news that she was expecting a third child.

  Clive and Oriel’s second wedding anniversary came and went without celebration. The months rolled by into another winter and they began to spend even less time together. Clive ha
d readopted his boyhood habit of attending football matches on a Saturday afternoon just, it seemed, to get away from her, and Oriel did not care.

  Today’s wintry weekend began the same as any other. Clive made ready to depart for work, dealt a meaningless peck to her cheek and announced, ‘I’ll be going straight to footy after I finish.’

  Oriel would usually have simply nodded but this Saturday morning she blurted from her place at the sink, ‘I thought I might go and see Mel, take her a few things. The baby must be almost due.’

  From the doorway, he turned an unsmiling face to look at her, and picked his nose, his tone dull. ‘If you want. I’ll go and have tea at Mum’s. What time will you be back?’

  ‘Not sure, but not late.’ She continued washing the pots.

  ‘Mm, have a good time – although I suppose you will seeing as I’m not going with you.’

  When he had gone Oriel, in buoyant mood, went to change, put on fresh make-up, tucked a few things in a bag then after checking she had enough for the second-class fare, left the quiet house to travel the electrified route to Flinders Street Station, where she would meet the noon connection to Warburton.

  On a hiss and a burst of steam the engine shunted into action, squeaking and grinding out of the city, through densely populated suburbs and on towards the fertile flood plains of the Yarra Valley, maintaining its leisurely pace – too leisurely for one whose heart threatened to burst with impatience.

  Two and a half hours after boarding, rolling stock appeared on the line bearing vast quantities of timber, and Oriel knew that she had at last reached Yarra Junction. The train jerked to a halt. First to the door, Oriel hardly felt the blast of chilly air and was out of the station in no time, her hurrying legs reflecting the Saturday afternoon activity of the town. Fresh-cheeked boys rushed in and out of stores, delivering boxed orders to the carriages that lined the road. Verandahs heaved with shoppers. Ignoring all, she skipped across the busy road and onwards, glancing at her watch as she hurried up the rise away from the town. Clive would be at footy now. Dismissing him from her mind she smiled in anticipation as Melinda’s cottage came into sight through the trees.