It Began in Te Rangi

by Gloria Bevan

  Out in the soft scented darkness, the stars that formed the Southern Cross blazed in a night sky, and the pine-clad hills were a fretted outline against the sea. It could all have been so different, Maggie thought wistfully, if only...

  The night wrapped them around. Darkness, she knew, was her enemy; darkness and the enforced intimacy of the car. She stole a glance at his profile, outlined in the dim green glow of the dashboard. How stern he looked! Unconsciously she sighed. No doubt he was wishing it was Ann who was sharing with him the long drive back to Te Rangi.

  Just when the silence was growing unbearable to her, he put a hand to the radio and music, soft and muted, beat around them. Maggie, who felt her gaze drawn inexorably to the man at her side, forced herself to look out of the window, but there was nothing to be seen but the blurred shape of hills and, now that they had left the beach behind, a faint glimmer of light from an isolated farmhouse among its shelter belt of surrounding trees.

  Trying in vain to control the fast beating of her heart, Maggie shrank away from him as far as she could in the small enclosed space. Lights glowed ahead and she realized they were approaching a small township. That would be Dargaville. She remembered that after sunset the car ferry wouldn’t be in service and Danger would be forced to take the long way home. Home? She brought herself up short. If only it were!

  In silence they sped through the darkened streets and out on to the lonely country roads. Presently they came in sight of Te Rangi and soon Danger was pulling up at a farm gate. Maggie said quickly, ‘I’ll open it for you if you like?’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Lights glimmered from the old house as they sped up the rise towards Amberley. When they reached the motor sheds, Danger switched off the engine, then resting a hand on the steering wheel, swung towards her. Maggie faced his grave withdrawn look. ‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you.’

  Her heart gave a wild leap, but the next moment her excitement subsided. What Danger had to say to her would be nothing to be excited about. ‘Yes?’ she asked faintly.

  ‘I had a long-distance call today from New Guinea, from Chris,’ he said, still in that deadly quiet, controlled tone. ‘Thing is, Maggie—’

  She glanced up at him, eyes enormous in a pale face. ‘You mean they’re coming home earlier than you expected?’ She rushed on breathlessly. ‘That’s what you’re trying to tell me, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s about it,’ Danger drawled. ‘Next week, actually. Seems the job folded up all of a sudden and they want to get home, so—’

  ‘So you want me to go?’ Her voice was very low. ‘That’s it, isn’t it.’ She was twisting a strand of hair round and round her finger.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ Ice dripped in his tone. ‘You know you’re welcome to stay on—’

  ‘No, you didn’t say it!’ A wave of anguish engulfed her as the bitter thoughts rushed through her mind. Oh, she knew well enough what he was trying to get through to her! She could understand only too well the words he didn’t say. No doubt, she mused miserably, the news of his sister’s early return to Amberley had fitted in with his plans very well. But that wasn’t the real reason why he wanted her to leave here. He was angry with her, angry and disapproving. Hadn’t she sensed his cool contempt for her ever since that day at the Gap when he had found her in Colin’s embrace? That was when he suddenly changed towards her, became so cold and distant, his face set in those stern lines. Now he’d decided that she was to go, just like that! How could he be so unfair!

  The bitter injustice of his attitude, something in the closed dark face that she loved, damn him, drove her past endurance. ‘I know you want to get rid of me,’ her voice was husky with emotion, ‘now that the others are coming back! It’s not my fault,’ she rushed wildly on, her voice choked with tears, ‘that I happen to look ... like that other girl... that one that you—’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Even in the dim light she saw with a little shock of surprise that his eyes were blazing. ‘Who told you about that?’ She felt his clutch on her bare arm in a swift and savage pressure.

  ‘Someone ... I forget ... Mrs. Wahonga, I think. Does it matter?’ Trembling, she realized that this time she had gone too far, but a desperate recklessness drove her on. She was leaving here anyway, he couldn’t stand the sight of her, so what did it matter? What did anything matter any more? Wrenching herself free of his grasp, she rushed blindly on. ‘Not a suitable person to have care of the children, that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’ Before he could make an answer she flung at him: ‘Just because when I happen to have friends, when anyone shows the slightest interest in me, like Tony ... or Colin ... you disapprove. Oh, you don’t say so,’ she whispered, ‘but all the time, all the time...’ Her voice trailed despairingly away and with a gesture of hopelessness she pushed the dark hair back from her forehead. ‘You just don’t care how I—’

  ‘Don't care!’ Roughly he pulled her towards him, then his kiss blotted out the world in one wild rapturous moment and sent the stars in the night sky tumbling wildly around her in a blaze of heady excitement. Only for a moment, then she fell back as suddenly he released her. Dazed, shaken, trembling, she looked up to see his eyes, dark with an expression she couldn’t read, but there was no mistaking the hateful satirical lift to the firmly cut lips.

  ‘Why not?’ he said on a breath. So he’s shaken too, she thought in surprise, in spite of himself. She heard his voice through the tumult of her thoughts. ‘You let other men kiss you. Those—friends of yours!’

  There was no mistaking the ironic twist to the firmly-cut lips, and Maggie’s heart plunged wildly. He was mocking her, as usual.

  ‘Oh! You—’ She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, then a wave of anger such as she had never known she was capable of surged through her. ‘You don’t know anything about me!’ She was fumbling with the door catch and the next moment she swung the door wide and leaped to the ground. ‘But you needn’t worry!’ She turned to fling the words over her shoulder. ‘You won’t have me on your mind or your station much longer! I’ll go just as soon as you like!’ She was hurrying over the long grass.

  ‘Maggie!’ She could hear him calling. He sounded as domineering, as hatefully sure of himself, and of her, as ever, but this time she was determined to ignore him. Let him call. She wouldn’t take the slightest notice. ‘Come back here!’

  ‘Like fun I will!’ She heard a car door slam and quickened her steps. Now she was running along the darkened pathway, but it was useless, those long legs could easily outpace her, and she knew it.

  Swiftly he caught up with her, stopping her headlong rush. ‘Maggie, don’t feel that way—’ He was so close she could have put up a hand to touch the lean dark face she loved—had loved, ‘Forgive me, Maggie. No hard feelings. Let’s part friends.’

  She wanted none of it, especially had she no wish for friendship, not with him.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ She flung herself around and darting swiftly beneath his detaining arm she rushed blindly up the steps and towards the door that Mrs. Wahonga had thoughtfully left ajar. Another minute and she was inside the lighted hall, but she need not have hurried, she told herself, for Danger hadn’t followed her in after all. Deep down, in some tiny traitorous corner of her mind, she almost wished he had.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Somehow Maggie managed to get through the long night, and if the tears ran unheeded down her cheeks, what did it matter? But in the morning she knew that it did matter. Her image stared back at her from the mirror, heavy-lidded brown eyes burning in a colourless face. Whatever happened she mustn’t let Danger see her like this. That was the one thing she had left out of the wreckage of all the high-handed confidence with which she had begun this new life, that Danger didn’t suspect ... Don’t let him guess, she prayed, and feverishly began to apply make-up that added a flush to her wan cheeks. But what if, at the breakfast table, her faintly clownish appearance betrayed to the children’s quick eyes her lavish use of make-up and they drew D
anger’s attention to her appearance? Well, she would just have to risk it, hoping that this would be one of the days when he left the homestead long before she was awake, to work in the far hills of the station, to return after dark. By then surely she’d be able to get a better grip on herself, for right now her hands were shaking so that she had difficulty in applying her lipstick.

  When she reached the breakfast table she was relieved to find only the children there. She realized at once that Danger had already informed them that she would be leaving within a week, so that was one ordeal she didn’t need to face. Funny though, she reflected forlornly, as the excited chatter echoed around her, how the news of their parents’ arrival had filled their minds to the exclusion of everything else. It was as if she had already gone out of their lives. But what else could you expect? she asked herself over a deep sigh. She was only a fill-in, after all, and that went for Danger too. Someone to look after their comfort, someone even perhaps to have a light love affair with, until the real love took over. Only Mark seemed to have a thought for her. He was staring at her, a spoon of breakfast cereal suspended towards his mouth. Maggie could almost see the thoughts passing behind the wide, candid eyes. ‘When Mummy comes, aren’t you coming back here, Maggie?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Not—ever?’

  ‘Not ever.’ She tried to push aside the surge of pain.

  ‘Is that why you don’t want your breakfast?’

  ‘No, no, of course not.’ She managed a shaky laugh.

  ‘I don’t want you to go away!’ Mark shrieked, banging wildly with his spoon and scattering cereal in all directions. ‘I won’t let you!’ The tears spurted from his eyes and between tears and laughter herself, Maggie gathered him close.

  ‘You can’t have everything, you know,’ Ian reminded him, when at last Maggie had managed to calm the small boy.

  ‘That’s right,’ Maggie agreed over a heavy heart, thankful that Mark’s grief had served to divert from the children her own lack of appetite.

  Suddenly she leaped to her feet. ‘I’ve got to ring and find out how Tony is this morning—’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Ian said quickly. ‘Danger rang the hospital before you came out and they told him that Tony’s much better. Danger said to be sure to let you know that Tony can have visitors this afternoon. Gee, I nearly forgot to tell you.’

  ‘Thank goodness he’s all right.’ As she sank back in her chair she reflected that her employer evidently believed her to be emotionally involved with Tony. Well, that was all right with her too. Let him think what he liked—so long as he didn’t suspect the truth.

  ‘Hey, Phil,’ vaguely she was aware of Ian’s voice, ‘forgot to tell you something too. There was a letter for you in the mailbag yesterday. I stuck it amongst all that junk on your dressing table—’

  ‘A letter—for me?’ Jumping down from the table, Philippa was already half way to the door. When she reappeared even Maggie, fathoms deep in her own heartache, was conscious of the radiance of the small face.

  Philippa glanced up from the typewritten sheet she held in her hand. ‘Guess what?’ she breathed incredulously. ‘I’ve won it! I’ve really won it! The sketching contest, I mean. The judges say so in the letter.’

  ‘They must be blind,’ Ian said disgustedly, but his sister ignored him and held the letter towards Maggie. ‘You read it!’ The childish tones were warm with an unaccustomed friendliness. ‘You made me go in for it! If it hadn’t been for you I wouldn’t even have tried—’

  Scarcely aware of what she was reading, Maggie scanned the printed lines. ‘They’re enclosing a cheque, they say,’ she murmured. ‘It must be still in the envelope.’

  ‘What’s a cheque?’ Philippa looked puzzled.

  ‘Money, you nit!’ her brother informed her. ‘Give it here if you don’t want it!’

  Small fingers shaking with excitement, the girl drew from the envelope a small printed slip. ‘Ten dollars!’ She stared down at it unbelievingly. ‘All of my own, to spend!’

  Ian made an attempt to snatch it. ‘Of all the greedy—’ But Philippa evaded his hand. Her grey eyes glowed as she turned back to Maggie. ‘I’ll do something for you if you like. Something you wanted me to do awfully, before—’ Maggie brought her heavy thoughts back as from a distance. ‘The only thing I wanted was for you to have a ride on the Saint,’ she murmured unthinkingly.

  ‘That’s it! That’s what I mean! I don’t mind doing it now, just once, before you go. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’ she asked anxiously.

  Maggie nodded. Why was it, she wondered through the fog of misery clouding her senses, that things you wanted only came to you when you were no longer interested in them; when you had ceased caring whether you had them or not? She wrenched her mind back to the excited small girl at her side. ‘Are you quite sure you want to?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Philippa pushed the wispy brown hair back from her small face. ‘Just once, so that I can tell Mummy that I did what she told me to.’

  All right, then. We’ll go down to the paddock just as soon as I’ve cleared away the dishes.’

  ‘I’ll help you!’ This was a new Philippa, eager, wildly excited and friendly, whom Maggie scarcely recognized as the sulking child of the past few weeks.

  Presently Maggie, followed by the children, went to the harness shed and while Ian carried the saddle, she tossed sheepskin and bridle over her arm, then they went down to the paddock where the horses were grazing.

  As they came near, Pete glanced up. He turned his big ungainly head inquiringly, then gave an affectionate whinny. Before long Pete would be missing the company of his mates in the paddock, Maggie mused sadly, but not so much as she herself would miss—Stop it! she scolded herself. It’s no use. It never was. Opening the gate, she strolled towards the perfectly proportioned white horse. The Saint eyed her warily for a moment, but he stood quietly enough as Maggie slipped a bridle in his mouth and flung sheepskin and saddle over, then bent to tighten the girth. He stood motionless, flicking the flies away with his long silky tail, as Maggie gave Philippa a leg-up to the high back. Even through her own turmoil of spirit she noticed the look of nervous apprehension that tensed the childish face, the rigid grip of small hands on the reins. The Saint appeared so docile, and yet—For a fleeting moment the thought came to her that perhaps Phil had been right about the thoroughbred. There was a mean look in those wild eyes and flaring nostrils. Or was she too imagining the danger? Certainly the horse appeared to be quiet enough. Nevertheless—‘I’ll put him on a leading rein if you like,’ she offered.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Philippa said through clenched teeth, ‘Mummy wouldn’t like that. It wouldn’t be the same. I’ll have to ride him my own self.’

  Pushing away a faint twinge of apprehension, Maggie stood watching as the white horse with his high arched neck and dancing gait, moved up the grassy slope.

  Philippa’s triumphant tones floated back to them. ‘Look at me! I’m riding him!’ she called over her shoulder. The next moment her mount broke into a trot. Then it happened. Before Maggie’s horrified gaze the horse stumbled and taking fright, reared high. A doll-like figure came flying through the air. Still rearing wildly, the white horse galloped away, tufts of earth flying up from his hoofs, but the young rider lay still where she had fallen, a crumpled heap on the grass.

  Running to kneel at her side, frantically Maggie gazed down into the pallid face of the unconscious child. ‘Wake up! Phil! It’s Maggie!’ A flood of relief poured through her as the eyelids fluttered open and gradually the child’s eyes focused. A small moan escaped the pale lips. ‘My arm...’ Only then did Maggie realize that Philippa’s arm was lying beneath her. The small girl winced with pain as Maggie, with all the gentleness she could muster, lifted Philippa to her feet.

  ‘Where am I?’ The look of alarm that widened the grey eyes faded and an expression of relief took its place. ‘I rode him, didn’t I, Maggie? I rode the Saint! I can tell Mummy! I wasn’t scared, w
as I?’

  ‘Not a bit,’ Maggie assured her. ‘Phil, do you think you can get up? I’ll help you.’

  Carefully the child got to her feet, still rubbing her arm. ‘Wow, it hurts!’

  ‘Try not to bend it.’ As Maggie helped Philippa towards the gate, Ian held up a length of twisted wire. ‘This is what the Saint got caught in. It was hidden in the long grass and he didn’t see it. No wonder he reared!’

  Slowly, the other two children unusually subdued, the little party made its way back to the house.

  Although Maggie had dreaded the thought of Danger’s return for the midday meal, in another part of her mind she was conscious of an enormous sense of relief at the sight of his red tractor flashing down a hillside near the homestead. Not knowing whether or not to seek medical advice for Philippa, she had kept the child lying quietly on a couch in the living room, a stack of comic papers at her side. ‘I won’t have to do any school work today, will I?’ Philippa begged.

  Maggie kept her glance averted when Danger came striding into the room. She was thankful that the children, all speaking at once as they rushed to tell him of Philippa’s success in the painting contest followed by the accident on the Saint, saved her from having to give him the news herself.

  ‘You really made it up on the Saint?’ he grinned down at Philippa. ‘Just in time too! Good on you!’ He dropped down at her side. ‘What’s all this about a sore arm? Let me have a look! Does it hurt when I move it like this?’

  The small girl shook her head. ‘Not much.’

  ‘Or this?’

  ‘Only a teeny-weeny bit.’

  ‘Not much wrong there.’ Maggie winced at the remoteness of his tone as he turned to her.