It Began in Te Rangi

by Gloria Bevan

  ‘Of course you could!’ Maggie argued. ‘You could give it a go! Why not?’ She pressed her advantage. ‘I thought that last watercolour you did was super.’

  Philippa considered the matter, grey eyes thoughtful, ‘I might do another one, a better one if I have time,’ she added loftily.

  ‘That’s the idea!’ It was a small triumph, Maggie told herself, but it was. something that she’d succeeded in capturing the child’s interest. ‘Got any paper?’ she asked. ‘Good thick stuff, I mean?’

  Philippa nodded, excitement lighting her grey eyes. ‘And I’ve got something else too! Some super new tube paints that Uncle Danger gave me for my birthday, just before you came!’

  ‘Well then,’ Maggie urged, ‘what are we waiting for?’ She moved away, thankful, that at least Philippa’s acceptance of entering the painting contest was a move in the right direction. At the door she paused, arrested by the high childish tones. ‘But I won’t have any horses in my picture!’

  ‘No horses,’ Maggie agreed, and turned away to hide her smile. She went out of the room before the conversation tamed to more personal channels and she lost the slight victory she had gained.

  That evening after the children were in bed and Mrs. Wahonga returned to her own cottage to tender to the needs of ‘my boy Hone’, Maggie sat alone in the subdued light of the lounge room. As was his custom in the evenings, Danger had come into the room for only a few minutes in order to view the daily news items flashed across the television screen. She couldn’t help thinking that he looked quite distractingly good-looking—freshly-showered, wearing a crisp dark gold shirt and fawn slacks and in his eyes a warmth of expression that made it seem all the more strange that he appeared almost to avoid being with her. Yet the way he looked at her at times, almost she could imagine ... with a start she realized where her random thoughts were leading her. Remember, Maggie, she scolded herself, that you’re employed here as a temporary housekeeper, nothing more. So far as she was concerned Danger was no more than her employer, or was he? She wouldn’t mind betting, though, that if it were Ann who happened to be here at the house tonight he would forget all about those stuffy old account books of his!

  As if in answer to the thought the door bell at the front entrance shrilled through the room and Maggie leaped to her feet. Evidently Danger too had caught the sound and they went up the long hall together.

  ‘Hi, Danger, how are you? Hello, Maggie!’

  She recognized Tony’s light pleasant tones and in the dim glow of the overhead lantern caught a glimpse of Ann and a heavily-built young man with wide shoulders and a countryman’s shy smile.

  In the lounge room Ann dropped down to a low seat, the light forming a halo of her short fair hair. To Maggie the other girl appeared oddly unfamiliar out of the shirt or jeans or jodhpurs in which she was accustomed to seeing her. Maggie couldn’t help thinking that Ann’s yellow linen frock was at least an inch too long and the sleeveless armholes exposed those too-muscular upper arms. But a sheep-farmer’s wife needs well developed muscles, she reminded herself, someone who’s capable of lending a hand around the farm should the need arise.

  ‘We thought we’d come over. It seemed a long time—too long,’ Tony added softly to Maggie. ‘Seems a year at least since I saw you.’

  ‘Yesterday?’ She laughed and turned to find Ann at her side. ‘Oh, Maggie, I almost forgot—’ Ann smiled, showing prominent teeth. ‘This is Jim—Jim Blakey. He’s got a run over the range, but he manages to make it over to see us once in a while. When he gets lonesome, I guess. So we brought him with us. Jim, Maggie.’

  With old-fashioned courtesy the big man stooped over her, extending a huge, work-calloused hand. Maggie rather liked this quiet young man with the steady grey eyes. She said smilingly, ‘Are you really all alone on your farm?’

  He gave her a shy grin. ‘Sure am.’

  ‘And you do get lonesome sometimes?’ she queried gently. The next moment she regretted the light words, for it was clear that this personal question had the effect of putting him in an agony of embarrassment.

  ‘I—don’t mind.’ She had to strain to catch the muttered words.

  ‘Don’t waste any sympathy on him—Thanks, mate,’ Tony accepted the drink Danger was offering him, then dropped down at Maggie’s feet. ‘He doesn’t have to be on his own! All he needs to do to fix things is to find some nice girl and ask her to marry him. Thing is, he’s too darned shy to ask anyone—’

  Beads of perspiration gathered on his weather-roughened forehead as the young farmer made an effort to control his obvious embarrassment. ‘I—I—’

  ‘Oh, leave him alone, Tony!’ Ann seated herself on a chair, swinging a bare tanned leg. A plain girl, Maggie reflected, nose too large, hair in need of shaping and thinning, and yet there was about her something honest and direct and likable. The sort of girl who would be a wonderful mate for such a man as Danger. She would understand exactly what he was talking about when he discussed farming details with her. The thought was somehow depressing and pulling her wandering thoughts together, she turned to find Tony at her side, his pale eyes alight with a warm expression there was no mistaking.

  ‘Something queer’s been happening to me lately,’ he was saying under cover of the laughter and talk echoing around them, ‘I can’t seem to fight the feeling! It’s you, Maggie! Ever since that day up at the Gap when I first met you, I can’t seem to get you out of my mind—’

  She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. ‘You haven’t got enough to do over at your place—’

  ‘Not enough to do!’ he echoed incredulously. ‘If you only knew—’

  ‘Well then, maybe you’ve got Jim’s problem. Evidently there are so few girls living around the district that when someone new comes along, wow! They can have themselves a ball!’

  He shook his fair head. ‘You’ve got me all wrong, Maggie. Can’t you see what I’m getting at? I—’ He broke off as Gavin and Mark, freshly shaven and wearing cool white shirts and linen walk shorts, strolled into the room.

  Mike carried his guitar. ‘Hi, folks!’ Seating himself on the floor, he plucked idly at the strings. ‘I’ve been putting in some practice,’ he went on. ‘A little number specially for you, Maggie.’

  ‘A Maori love song,’ Gavin put in, ‘not one of the well-known ones, though. Hope you haven’t come across it before, Maggie.’

  ‘How could she?’ Ann inquired bluntly.

  ‘Don’t forget,’ Danger said, ‘that Maggie’s a city girl. Or was,’ he added smilingly.

  She threw him a swift surprised glance, but he was regarding her with that faint hint of amusement in his glance that did things to her, like making her want to retaliate in some way. A flare of anger surged through her. What right had he to label her like a ... a grocery in a supermarket, when actually he knew nothing about her! Ann too, seated on the arm of Danger’s chair, leaning close in an attitude of unconscious intimacy. They were laughing at her, both of them!

  The plaintive notes plucked from the guitar strings fell across her turbulent musing and she recognized the Maori melody—a love song, one that she had many times sung on a concert platform in another part of the country. She was even aware of the English translation as well as being conversant with the Maori lyric, understanding as did few Europeans the significance of the action dance that accompanied the song. An ancient race having no written language had passed on through the generations their customs and culture in age-old chants and lilting melodies that could shake the heart.

  How little they really knew of her, any of them! Why, right up to the time when she had left the East Coast, Maori farming neighbours and their families had been her friends. Hadn’t she even joined the members of a local Maori concert party, taking the place of one of the group who had fallen ill on the eve of a tour planned throughout the district? Wearing a traditional costume of flax woven in conventional patterns of red, white and black, a small jade image swinging from her slender neck, she had enjoyed being a p
art of the moving feast of swaying flax skirts as the concert party performed their action dances, the beat sustained by the twirling poi on its long string. The small flax balls had long been lost, but she would never forget the plaintive melodies or the rhythmic movements.

  ‘Actually,’ she thrust up her small square chin and looked Danger straight in the eye, ‘I happen to know that song rather well.’

  She realized with wicked satisfaction that he was regarding her in some surprise, his dark head with the black sideburns bent attentively in her direction. ‘You do?’

  ‘That’s right!’ Her quick smile flashed. ‘My Maori friends on the East Coast taught it to me, ages ago. They showed me how to do the action dance too!’

  The look of astonishment that crossed Danger’s face was such an unexpected victory that it went to her head and without stopping to think, she had kicked off her scuffs. Rising to her feet, she stood for a moment motionless, with arms extended. Then, dark eyes lighted with a glimmer of mischief, a half smile curving her lips, she moved with quivering wrists and swaying hips to the movements of the action dance. Her voice, low yet clear, took up the melody in the soft Maori syllables. In her short-short frock of scrolled tan and white pattern, tanned skin and long dark hair falling around her face, she could have been a Maori maiden herself, so fluid and effortless were her rhythmic movements.

  As the last plunk-plunk of the guitar died away she paused, flushed and smiling, conscious of the enthusiastic applause that was echoing around her.

  ‘That was great!’ Tony cried, moving towards her and clapping loudly. ‘More! More!’

  But her eyes had flown to Danger and for a long moment he held her gaze in an unreadable look. Was he surprised? she wondered. Or appreciative, or disapproving, or what? She couldn’t tell.

  ‘Good for you, Maggie! I bet,’ he added in his offhanded way, ‘that you haven’t a clue as to what the words mean.’ And that, Mr. John Know-it-all-Dangerfield, she thought triumphantly, is just where you’re wrong! Aloud she said quickly, ‘Oh, but I do! My Maori friends—’

  ‘Well then—’ His bright gaze challenged her and as Mike’s work-roughened fingers plucked at the strings, once again Maggie fell into the swaying movements of the action dance. The poignant words of the age-old love song came unhesitatingly to her lips as in her own tongue she took up the haunting melody.

  ‘I shall not again

  give you my hand

  For you may turn the other way

  and secretly jeer at me.

  When I look at you

  you turn your face away

  But in your heart, dear

  I know you ... love ... me.’

  As the lilting notes died away, some impulse she couldn’t define made her avoid Danger’s glance. Breathlessly she waved aside the chorus of pleas for her to continue with her impromptu entertainment. Someone set a disc spinning on the radiogram and the next moment the insistent beat of pop music pulsed through the room. As Danger rose and began to push back the carpet, exposing smooth polished floorboards, Tony caught Maggie’s hands in a firm clasp and drew her to her feet. Then they were moving to the rich, glorious tones of John Rowles, the New Zealand singer, Maggie’s short frock flying around her.

  All at once excitement shot through her, for Danger was striding purposefully in her direction and taking her in strong arms, he bore her away into the pulsing beat. For a second she was aware of Tony’s look of open-mouthed astonishment, then she forgot him, forgot everything else in the world in a sense of heady elation. She couldn’t tell how long the dance lasted. She only knew they were moments snatched out of time. Knew too that she was strangely shaken, aware of Danger’s closeness, the faint smell of tobacco and shaving lotion, the strength of his arms around her.

  Suddenly it was over. Danger left her to go and speak to Ann. No doubt, Maggie mused uncharitably, they had some pressing farming problem to discuss that couldn’t wait. Jealousy was a failing that she had always prided herself on being free of, until now. She could scarcely take in what Tony was saying, for her gaze kept straying towards Danger, his dark head bent attentively towards Ann. She was glad when the making of coffee gave her an excuse to leave the room.

  Tony followed her into the kitchen, helping her to arrange the pottery beakers on a tray. ‘You see, I’m quite domesticated.’ He grinned. ‘It’s a matter of having to be when you’re used to flatting in town.’

  The phone was ringing in the hall as she passed carrying a tray and Danger came to answer the call. ‘Sorry,’ she couldn’t help but hear his deep tones as he spoke into the mouthpiece, ‘but I’m afraid you’re too late. The position’s been filled.’ Replacing the receiver, he turned towards Maggie. ‘Let me carry that—’ He took the tray from her and they went to the lounge room where they sipped coffee and listened to the latest overseas recordings that Tony had brought with him.

  It was late when at last Ann moved towards the door. ‘Well, I guess it’s an early start in the morning.’

  Maggie went with Danger to see the others off and while the group gathered in a knot on the moon-flooded verandah, Tony snatched her hand. ‘Maggie! What are you doing at the weekend?’

  She smiled her pixie smile. ‘I told you, I’m a working girl Remember?’

  ‘But damn it all,’ his whisper was urgent, ‘Danger must let you off the chain sometimes! Oh, hell—’ He broke off on an exasperated breath as Danger himself moved towards them. ‘See you again, Tony!’ he said, and the younger man had no course but to turn away, sending Maggie a wry backward glance.

  Jim, standing at the back of the group, moved forward to extend his hand towards Danger. ‘Thanks a lot!’ Maggie realized that she had all but forgotten the big man. Poor Jim, he was a type of man who was fated to be overlooked.

  Tony’s last glance as he went reluctantly down the steps was for Maggie, but she was saying goodbye to the others and didn’t notice. Ann seated herself behind the wheel of the big car, the engine revved up and a moment later the vehicle swung down the winding drive.

  Maggie leaned over the verandah rail, watching until the winking red light vanished around a bend in the curving pathway.

  Beneath, the sweeping lawns were flooded with silver. A full moon, riding high in the sky, made the scene almost as bright as day. It was very still. Somewhere in the dark hills around them a sheep coughed, the mournful notes of an owl echoed close by. More-pork ... More-pork.

  She was very conscious of Danger, smoking silently at her side, and in an effort to combat a growing sense of dangerous intimacy she rushed into speech, giving voice to a question that had niggled at the back of her mind all through the evening.

  ‘That phone call, that one you took tonight—I was going up the hall and I couldn’t help overhearing. It was someone else applying for the housekeeping position here, wasn’t it?’ Without waiting for an answer she rushed nervously on. ‘Why did you tell them that the position was filled?’

  He didn’t answer for a moment and she turned to see his dark strong profile. Then he tossed his cigarette into the bushes and swung around to face her. ‘Well, isn’t it?’

  ‘I—had the idea,’ Maggie’s voice was very low, ‘that I was only here until—well, until someone else turned up to do the job.’

  ‘You want to stay, though, don’t you?’ He put a hand under her small square chin, tilting her face upwards until she was forced to meet his inexorable look. ‘Don’t you?’ Before she could guess his intention he had caught her close, she could see his eyes, dark and brilliant, then his kiss blotted out everything as a dizzying sense of rapture swept her senses. It took her some moments to realize that she was clinging to him.

  His low vibrant voice did things to her heart. ‘Still want to get away?’

  She could scarcely speak for the tumult of her senses. A pulse beat in her throat. ‘I—’ The spell was shattered as she became aware of a frantic childish voice. ‘Maggie! Maggie!’ She drew herself free as a small pyjamaed figure rushed, towards h
er through the open doorway and hurled himself into her arms. ‘I couldn’t find you anywhere! I thought you’d gone away and were never coming back!’ Mark was still choking back sobs as Danger picked the small boy up and bore him back to bed.

  And now it was Maggie who was wakeful. Still aflame with a kiss that sent her senses spinning, she tried to control her whirling thoughts. A light kiss, no harm done. No harm! Be honest, Maggie! You know quite well that nothing will ever be the same again here at Amberley, not for you! And I can’t leave ... the children ... they depend on me. At least Mark does, and he’s little and helpless and needs me quite desperately.

  Besides, how am I ever going to leave if Danger puts every other applicant for the position off by telling them that he’s already suited? He’s suited! He doesn’t act as though he is, avoiding me, shutting himself away in his office each evening, yet emerging the moment that Ann enters the house!

  It was a kiss of expediency, she told herself, of course that was all it was! A selfish way for Danger to get her to stay on here and the awful thing was, she pummelled her pillow helplessly, that she knew she didn’t want to go from here, ever. Deep down where it mattered she knew that the children were not the real reason why she didn’t just cut her losses and run. At last she faced the truth. She was in love with John Dangerfield, deeply, hopelessly, and he regarded her as little more than a not-too-incapable employee! If only she could banish him from her mind, but try as she would she could think of nothing but his strength and tenderness, the ironic gleam in the blue eyes—eyes that could soften and darken at the most unexpected moments—the curving sensitive lips ... A longing that was half pleasure, half pain surged over her. She mustn’t think of his kiss.

  With a deep sigh she made a determined effort to wrench her senses back to some sort of sanity. So long as he didn’t guess her feelings for him maybe she’d be able to get through the next few weeks—somehow—until the time came for the children’s parents to return. But she knew that really she had no choice but to stay, even though being with him, hearing the deep tones, meeting his amused glance, was a bittersweet anguish against which she had no defence. Only she must never again allow herself to be too near him. She might be ‘just Maggie’, but she couldn’t take his light lovemaking. With her it must be for real or not at all, and there wasn’t much doubt, she mused forlornly, as to which category she belonged. He was in love with someone else, someone more suitable in every way to be the wife of a busy sheep-farmer. With Ann he was at ease, talkative, relaxed, whereas with her ... With a stab of pain she remembered his amused grin: ‘Oh yes, there’s you, Miss Sullivan!’ Besides, she didn’t happen to remind him of someone whom he much preferred to forget!