by Gloria Bevan
She caught him up sharply. ‘You don’t need anyone here then, after all?’
‘Not need anyone?’ He turned towards her that incredulous blue stare. ‘You’ve got to be joking. You know, Miss Sullivan, I just can’t tell you—’ He broke off. After a moment he added, as if speaking to himself, ‘And not a single reply to the ad.’
Maggie however had caught the muttered words. ‘Well,’ she pointed out cheerfully, ‘there’s me!’
He turned away, stubbing the ash from his cigarette in a heavy glass ashtray that was already overflowing on to a low table. ‘That’s right.’ There was a faint ironical smile at the corners of the firm mouth. ‘There’s you. I guess I’ll have to give it to you straight. You see, Miss Sullivan, you’re not exactly—well, what we were looking for. Mrs. B. did say something about someone coming tonight about the job, but I didn’t quite expect—’ He ran a harassed hand over thick black hair. ‘Look, did you really study that ad of mine?’
Her wide ingenuous smile met his quizzical gaze. ‘Of course I did! At least—’ All at once she remembered. That missing portion of the advertisement that had been torn away before she could read it. At the time she hadn’t considered it important, but right at this moment she’d have given a lot to know what was printed in those first two lines.
‘Hold on!’ He leaped to his long length and strode towards an untidy pile of newspapers that cascaded over the end of a sideboard. ‘Could be it’s still around. Hey, it is!’ Triumphantly he opened up the page in question and she followed the gesture of his well-shaped tanned hand to a column headed Home Farm Helpers.
Swiftly her gaze ran down the list of insertions until she found the one she sought. Heavens! No wonder he had been so surprised to see her here. Middle-aged woman wanted, it said. Experienced. Sensible. Able to drive car an advantage.
All the same, she wasn’t beaten yet. Not by a long way.
He needed her help desperately. One glance around the untended room proved it. Fragments of earth and crumbs were scattered over the unswept carpet, the curtains could well do with a vigorous shaking to dislodge the dust, and she suspected that the sticky pink object adhering to a chair arm to be a half-sucked lollipop. Yet he appeared determined not to give her a chance to prove herself. What was the matter with her, she wondered, that he had taken such an instant and unreasoning dislike to her? Well, not quite instant. She remembered that first involuntary, intent glance, then wrenched her thoughts away.
‘The way things are around here at the moment,’ he was saying, ‘it would be a bit too much to expect anyone as young as you to take it on. Not fair to you! Three kids, and all the household chores thrown in! If Mrs. B. had stuck it out things would have been a whole lot different. You’d have had plenty to do in giving her a hand, seeing to the kids’ correspondence lessons, all that stuff. But hang it all, if she couldn’t make a go of it...’
So that was it, Maggie reflected. The older woman had given up the job in despair, run out on them. It must have been the children who had made Mrs. Barrington’s position intolerable. Or could it have been the man facing her with his stern implacable look?
‘Sorry, Miss Sullivan, but the idea’s out!’ He made an expressive downward gesture with his hands. ‘You can see how it is?’
‘No, I can’t,’ Maggie returned with spirit, wishing that she had arranged her dark hair in any other way rather than these silly childish-looking plaits swinging on either side of her face. An upswept topknot would have been much more dignified in the circumstances. ‘If it’s household experience that you’re thinking about,’ she said brightly, ‘don’t give it another thought—’
He glanced up with interest and she thought: Good. At least he’s prepared to listen to me. That’s a start.
‘You’ve been doing something in the domestic line?’
She would have liked to make answer that she happened to be a qualified teacher of domestic science in a girls’ high school, or maybe a cookery demonstrator employed by a firm marketing electric ranges. Even a home helper in the city would have served, but it was no use, the habit of truth was too strong. Besides, she had a suspicion that she would need to be very convincing indeed not to be caught out by those all-observant blue eyes.
So she tossed the stupid plait with its confining rubber band back over her shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Actually,’ she said lightly, ‘I’ve been working in an office,’ adding quickly, ‘but I can cook and look after children, if that’s all you’re wanting.’
‘You can?’ He raised a sceptical black brow.
‘Well, it’s not my fault that I’m a bit young,’ she pointed out reasonably. ‘I can’t help not being middle-aged, can I?’
‘Oh, don’t think I’m complaining, Miss Sullivan— Look, you seem dead keen on getting this particular job—’
‘Oh, I am! I am!’ Maggie cried impulsively. ‘If you only knew what it means to me—’
He shot her one of his piercing looks. ‘I still don’t get it. What made you pick on this place, miles from anywhere?’
‘But that’s just what I liked about it!’ To her chagrin she felt the hot colour creeping up her cheeks. ‘You see, I happen to live in Hamilton and this was the furthest away.’
‘Running away, Miss Sullivan?’
He had caught her neatly. ‘You—could put it that way.’ This seemed to be the day, Maggie thought bitterly, when she spilled out her innermost thoughts to a complete stranger, but what did it matter? After tonight she would never see him again. Nervously she loosened the silk scarf at her throat that had all at once become uncomfortably constricting. She heard her own voice say huskily: ‘It was just that Colin ... we were engaged, you see ... and then, at the last moment, he married someone else ... my best friend—’
‘There’s no need to let me in on your private affairs,’ he broke in briskly. ‘It’s just too bad that—’
‘You mean that I’m too young! But it won’t matter! The thing is that you need someone to help out and I’ve come for the job! What difference does it make how old I am? Why,’ she hurried on, warming to her subject, ‘lots and lots of ads for household help say they have no objection to unmarried mothers—’ She stopped short in some confusion. What was she saying? ‘And anyway,’ she rushed on, ‘you did say in the Herald that you had no objection to a child—’
His dark head jerked upward. ‘You mean—’
‘Oh yes,’ Maggie said, ‘I meant to tell you before, but you didn’t give me a chance. You see, I’ve got Pete. I’ve just got to bring him along too,’ she went on with feeling, for the man seated opposite her was looking stern and withdrawn once again. Perhaps he didn’t want Pete here on the station either. After all, she was well aware that farmers had objections to horses grazing on their property, chomping up precious pasture lands. ‘He doesn’t eat much,’ she said pleadingly. As he made no answer but continued to regard her in that queer, thoughtful silence, she went on: ‘And he’s no trouble at all! Honestly, you wouldn’t know he was around. Intelligent too. You can tell just by looking at him. He’s got that sort of face, kind of alert-looking. He understands every word I say. I’d have brought him along with me today,’ she ran on, ‘but there happened to be a truck coming through here tomorrow and I thought that would be near enough.’ As she took in the harsh lines of his face, her voice faltered. ‘I know it sounds silly, but I just couldn’t bear to leave him behind. He’s one of the family. Besides, he’d miss me so much and I thought that you ... wouldn’t mind.’ His tight-lipped silence was making her feel more and more nervous and she rushed on in a flurry of words. ‘I couldn’t leave him. He keeps losing his shoes all the time, even brand-new ones, and running off when you try to feed him. You know? Just for the fun of it! Of course I know that he’s only teasing, but strangers don’t understand—’
‘What the devil,’ he broke in roughly, ‘are you talking about?’
She stared back at him with astonished brown eyes. ‘I told you. My horse—P
ete.’
‘You told me!’ The stern lines of the deeply-tanned face relaxed and he broke into laughter. Maggie found herself laughing with him, but deep down she was thinking: Surely now he won’t mind about my coming. It seemed, however, that she was mistaken.
‘I’m sorry,’ he was saying regretfully, ‘but it has to be “no” to both of you.’
She was too disappointed to care that from behind the folds of the long velvet curtains at the window came a peal of muffled laughter. The next moment her companion strode towards the landscape windows and jerked the curtains aside, revealing three shamefaced-looking children. A plain thin little girl of about nine years, a freckle-faced boy a year or so younger and a smaller boy with a mop of curly fair hair and an angelic face.
The man’s expression was thunderous. ‘Out, all of you! Back to bed—fast! Do you hear? And don’t let me ever catch any of you at that trick again!’
‘We won’t, Danger! We won’t!’
The children in their night attire scuttled wildly towards the door, obviously relieved that the presence of the strange girl in the room had saved them from a more painful retribution.
‘Kids!’ He sounded exasperated. ‘My sister’s family,’ he explained. ‘Chris and her husband happen to be geologists. They get around the world quite a bit. This time they’re off for a stint in New Guinea, but they wanted the kids to stay here with me and finish out the school year by correspondence. Mrs. B. offered to keep house for me while they were here. She’s known Chris since she was a kid. It was Mrs. B. who taught Chris to ride—they’re both crazy about horses.’ He sighed and looked away. ‘Seemed a great idea at the time, but the minute the others took off—well, Mrs. B.’s health isn’t the best. She’s not young and I guess she isn’t used to kids. Never had any herself. Thing is,’ his voice was grim, ‘the kids are staying put here until Chris and Bob get back at Christmas, no matter what!’ His considering glance rested on Maggie’s small eager face. ‘Trouble is when Mrs. B. decided to call it a day she put that ad in the paper for someone else, but I didn’t expect—’
‘A helpless twit like me,’ Maggie couldn’t resist putting in...
‘I was going to say,’ he went on, disregarding her interruption, ‘to get any replies to the ad. You don’t, up here in the never-never.’
Yet he still wouldn’t consider her for the position. He was quite determined on that point. The chilly look in the blue eyes seemed almost, incredible as it seemed, as though he were steeling himself against her. Or was it that he really was concerned more with her welfare than his own convenience? She said quietly, ‘You won’t consider me for the job, then?’
‘Afraid not, Miss Sullivan.’ Rising from his chair, he crossed the room and opened the doors of a large cocktail cabinet that stood in a corner. He spoke over his shoulder. ‘But that’s no reason why you shouldn’t join me in a drink. What’ll you have? Gin? Sherry? It’s a local brew, but not too bad.’
‘Thank you.’ She accepted the wineglass he extended towards her.
‘Sorry,’ he dropped down into the depths of the big wing chair opposite, ‘but it’s out of the question. Not to worry, though. There are swags of farmers all over the country who would jump at the offer.’
‘But not you?’
The moment the words were out she regretted them. What could have possessed her to make such a personal remark?
‘That’s right,’ he agreed, and she glanced away from the mocking light in his eyes.
Maggie took a sip of wine, her gaze roving over the big room. The funny thing was that he really needed her! One only had to glance around the place to see how much it lacked a woman’s care. The torn curtains, a half-eaten crust lying beneath the sideboard. And those children ... in that one lightning glimpse she had taken in the little boy’s grubby hands and feet, the girl’s uncombed hair and torn nightgown.
A thought crossed her mind and impulsively she leaned towards him, the words tumbling from her lips.
‘If it’s—I mean, my being here with just you and the children ... what I’m trying to say is,’ she stumbled wildly on, ‘that if that’s what’s troubling you—’ Catching a glint of laughter in his eyes, her voice trailed unhappily away. All right then, she thought hotly. Be amused! I don’t care! Aloud she murmured: ‘I only thought...’
‘There’s no need to concern yourself on that score, Miss Sullivan,’ the cool tones struck a chill in her heart, ‘seeing that the position isn’t likely to arise.’ A sudden unexpected smile transformed the stern lines of the dark face. ‘Unfortunately.’
‘I see.’ She set down her wineglass on a low table at her side and turned to gather up jacket and bag. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time, then.’ Rising to her feet, she glanced up at him. ‘Here’s hoping,’ she said in a low voice, ‘that you have better luck with your ad next time. Someone who’s at least fifty-five. Someone who won’t—’ But she couldn’t long sustain that mocking gaze and the stinging words she had been about to fling at him died in her throat. She turned away. ‘Well, I guess...’
‘Just a minute.’ He was at her side, a look of concern flickering in his eyes. ‘You just can’t take off like that! Where, would you go, anyhow, at night, on these roads? Nearest place that you could put up for a night is at least a hundred miles further on over the hills, and with all this room here going begging—’
Oh, he could afford to be pleasant to her now, she thought crossly, so long as he wasn’t forced to put up with her company or her cooling for three long months. She brought her mind back to the deep tones.
‘Where did you set out from?’
‘Where? Oh, Hamilton.’ It seemed ages ago, instead of just this morning.
‘Wow!’ he whistled softly. ‘That’s a hell of a long trip to take to be turned down flat at the end of it! You’d better put up here for the night. Believe me,’ his engaging grin was difficult to resist, ‘I know this country. Deep gorges, oneway bridges and all the rest of it. No city lighting on these roads. It’s fairly rugged territory, whether you go on over the hills or take the route back by Panua. No place for driving at night if you don’t know every inch of the road. Garages are miles away and if you strike a spot of trouble with the car you’ve had it! Why not get a good night’s rest here and carry on in the morning?’
Maggie hesitated. Weary and disappointed, with a dreary sense of let-down, she had no heart to continue along the winding hill track. Neither did she wish to return by the route she had come, taking the endless miles back until she could find suitable accommodation for the night, for she had noticed that there was none in the old hotel at Panua. All the same she had no intention of staying the night in his home, not after the way he had flatly refused even to consider her offer of household assistance. Thank heaven she had no need to depend on him for a night’s lodging. The way she felt at the moment, still smarting with humiliation, it would be intolerable to be beholden to him for hospitality.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ she murmured, ‘about stopping. It’s kind of you to ask me, but—’
‘Right! I’ll go and collect your gear from the van.’ He was half way to the doorway when she ran after him, laying a hand on his bronzed, muscular arm, and once again that inexplicable magic flashed between them.
Maggie pulled herself together. ‘Don’t bother. I’ve got the inside fitted up like a caravan for sleeping, so I’m quite comfortable.’ And independent of you, she congratulated herself.
He nodded gravely. ‘If you insist.’
They strolled side by side along the long passage and when they reached the door he stood watching her as she went down the steps and opened the door of the van.
‘Good night, Miss Sullivan.’
She turned. ‘Good night.’ On an afterthought she flung over her shoulder. ‘I don’t suppose you mind my being parked here at the end of the verandah for the night?’ He deserved it, she told herself, the way he had treated her tonight. But after all, he had the last word.
�
��Not at all, Miss Sullivan,’ he returned pleasantly. ‘You stay right where you are. You couldn’t have chosen a better spot! Right under my bedroom window where I can keep an eye on you!’
Lips pressed firmly together, Maggie pretended she hadn’t heard. Closing the door of the van, she dropped to the bunk bed and began to take the rubber bands from her plaited hair. The shining dark mass cascaded over her shoulders and absently she picked up a comb and ran it through the long strands. Of all the infuriating men she had ever met! She couldn’t understand him at all! So clearly in need of her services, yet refusing to consider her for the position, simply because she happened to be under fifty years old. It wasn’t fair!
Presently she stripped off suede jacket, frock and undergarments and climbed into short cotton pyjamas. In the narrow bunk she lay still, hands crossed behind her dark hair, as she went back over the events of the day.
Maybe it was just as well that she wasn’t staying on at Amberley, she mused, for her own peace of mind. It might be better if he did find his widow lady or his middle-aged housekeeper or whoever it was that he wanted in the way of feminine domestic help. There was something about him, something forceful and compelling that was definitely disturbing. He was undeniably good-looking too in a tough suntanned sort of way. And that ridiculous name of Danger. Danger!
Her last thought before sleep finally overtook her was an uncharitable wish that he would have even more pressing problems with his ready-made family. Like measles. She only hoped that the three children would catch the infection all together. No, better still, that they would go down with the complaint at three weekly intervals and he’d forced to nurse each one, single-handed.