Dear Plutocrat

by Anne Hampson

  'I'll make a pot of tea,' decided Cherry practically, rising and putting down her sewing on the table. 'Kate's got a stew almost ready. We opened a tin of mutton, just for a treat.'

  Kate said, when Cherry had gone:

  'If you want to accept the post, Lin, then do so—please. Neither Cherry nor I will mind, although we shall miss you, that goes without saying.'

  Lin looked at her, hesitated a moment and then:

  'As I've said, I told James I'd consider it. But I'm fairly sure I shall turn it down.' Another slight hesitation before Lin said, glancing away in a pointed avoidance of her friend's eyes, 'I don't think it would be wise to see too much of James, and I couldn't avoid this if I were living in his house.'

  'I see…' The fading of Kate's voice provided the necessary evidence that she understood, and she said no more. Lin must make up her own mind about James's offer. Kate recalled that James had never looked at another woman since the death of his wife, and it was abundantly clear that his only interest in Lin was her suitability as a nanny-governess for his young daughter.

  It was a week later that Paul brought up the matter. James had been talking to him over the air and had expressed his eagerness to have Lin come and work for him.

  'He's becoming anxious,' Paul said. 'Have you any idea how Lin feels about going to work at Walden Downs?' He and Kate were alone on the newly-painted verandah, at the ends of which vines had already been planted. Lin and Cherry had gone off for a stroll, but Kate remained behind because she felt tired, having been digging all day, preparing a plot for the growing of vegetables. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon and Paul had come over to bring some cuttings he had promised Lin. This of course was only an excuse, as Paul came over to High Creek at least three times a week. And his interest in Kate grew with every visit, although as yet he had maintained a guarded attitude and in this Kate felt he greatly resembled his brother. The slow taciturnity of an Australian's speech seemed to be reflected in his character. Paul, she decided, was waiting for some sign from her, and then he would himself make some move. But Kate's thoughts strayed to Mark, whose attractions had remained disturbingly in her mind since the night of the shed dance. Yet without doubt it was Paul she liked better; it could not be otherwise since she did not like Mark at all. He was too superior in every way, too open with his contempt of women as farmers, too confident that one day he would have Kate meekly begging him to buy her holding. She supposed his plutocratic upbringing accounted for his character—to a certain extent, although Paul was not affected in a similar way. He was easy-going and friendly; he was ready and willing to help the girls, even if he did derive some amusement from their methods. He would have extended even more help had Kate allowed it, but she was far too proud to accept charity. Only yesterday Paul had offered Lin two chickens when he had talked to her across the fence. Kate had refused because Paul would not take payment for them.

  'Lin hasn't spoken of the appointment since the first evening,' Kate said at last in reply to Paul's question. 'She said she would consider it.'

  'Does it take all this time?' Paul frowned. Kate grasped that he was genuinely anxious that James should get fixed up with a nanny for his daughter. 'James seemed to think that Lin would let him know within a couple of days. The arrangement was that Lin would tell me her decision and I'd pass the message on to James over the air.'

  'I didn't know Lin had made that arrangement,' said Kate, her eyes wandering to the region of her land which was termed waste. The original virgin bush must have been rather like that, she mused, taking it all in and deciding, as always, that it had a beauty all its own. The eucalypts—of which there were over five hundred species—were well represented on Kate's land. There were the coolibahs and the ghost gums, these latter continuously shedding their barks so that they appeared to be pure white for most of the time; there were the river gums and a few mountain ash here and there. There were the whispering casuarinas, those lovely larch-like trees so named because the graceful green-grey foliage resembled the drooping feathers of the cassowary bird. Sand-blown spinifex abounded, and the delightful wattles that kept the bush bright in winter and spring. Dainty lemon-yellow blobs could be seen now, catching the sun and stealing its light so that the flowers themselves appeared almost to be illuminated. 'It isn't for me to say,' Kate went on as she heard the tiny sigh from Paul, indicating his impatience for some further information from her, 'but I gained the impression that Lin would not be willing to accept the post which James offered.'

  'You think that's final?'

  'I'm not sure, Paul, simply because Lin herself has not said anything one way or another. She's probably still considering the matter, but, as I've said, I have a feeling that she'll turn it down.'

  'Pity,' he commented after a pause. 'It would have benefited James to have Lin, and she herself would also have benefited.' He smiled faintly and with a hint of apology, but added, 'The money would have been useful.'

  'True,' Kate agreed, but felt impelled to add, in view of what she knew, 'However, the main thing is that Lin should be happy.'

  'Happy?' with a return of his frown. 'Why shouldn't Lin be happy with James?'

  'I haven't suggested that she wouldn't be happy,' Kate returned quietly, and with patience. She paused then before adding, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, 'There's nothing to be done, Paul, until Lin makes up her mind.'

  'No, I see that. James will be very disappointed if she refuses his offer.'

  Kate said nothing and for a while the conversation became light, with—Paul asking the usual questions about High Creek and smiling when Kate said they were settling in fine and feeling quite content now that the house was more comfortable.

  'It's surprising what you can manage with improvisation,' she added with a sort of defiant indignation because of the twinkle in Paul's eyes and the faintly humorous shake of his head. 'For example, the other day we found what appeared to be an old broken bench; it was underneath a whole lot of rubbish in the outhouse. When we'd scrubbed it and fixed the legs we realized it had once been the window seat which was missing from the sitting-room— If you remember we mentioned the supports that were still there?' And when Paul nodded, 'Well, we padded it and covered it with a piece of the curtain material we had over, and now you should see it. It's lovely!' And it was. The three girls were well and truly proud of themselves for rescuing the window-seat, as the room had never seemed quite right without it.

  'You managed to fix it yourselves?' inquired Paul, still amused.

  'Why,' demanded Kate, suddenly quivering, 'do men always assume this infuriating attitude of surprise when a woman does a simple task which would normally be done by a man? We aren't completely helpless, Paul!'

  His blue eyes opened.

  'My… a temper! I would never have thought it!'

  'Not temper but indignation. It's this aggravating air of superiority which men assume that makes me so cross!'

  He glanced at her strangely.

  'I'm not aware that I've ever assumed an air of superiority,' he returned, still watching her.

  'Perhaps not, but your brother has—!' The response was flashed out before Kate had time to think and now she stopped, a hand automatically creeping to her mouth as if even now she would retract.

  'You dislike my brother excessively,' commented Paul after a small and inexplicable pause.

  'We haven't got along, you know that,' she answered in a rather subdued tone. 'I shouldn't say things like that, though, not to you.'

  'Mark's a great guy, Kate,' he said, his eyes straying to the boundary fence running between her land and that of High Creek Downs. 'When he wrote telling you of the pitfalls and drawbacks he meant well, I can assure you of that.'

  She nodded, surprising him as she said:

  'I realize that now. But naturally at the time I felt he was merely trying to put me off.' She hesitated, colour rising in her cheeks. But with a shrug she continued, 'I thought I owned a very large cattle station, remember, and we
—all of us—decided that it would practically run itself.'

  'A station like High Creek Downs run itself,' he echoed, raising his brows. 'Kate, my brother works harder than any man I know!'

  'He knew of my mistake,' she said, by-passing that. 'If he'd only acted differently on my arrival we might have made a more promising start, and I would most certainly have listened to any advice he had to offer—we all would.'

  'He discovered your mistake when it was too late to prevent you from coming here.'

  'I admit this. But once I was here he could have acted very differently. He actually enjoyed my making a fool of myself.' She was aware of her heightened colour, half wishing the subject had not come up, and yet at the same time finding that it relieved her feelings to talk about it, which was strange, since the memory of her embarrassment only served to breed more.

  'I must admit that Mark is a little like that,' came the rather surprising acknowledgement from Paul. 'If someone defies him then he's quite likely to punish them.'

  'He was very mean over the fence,' she muttered, veering the subject and immediately feeling foolish for doing so. The question of the fence was past history—or should have been.

  'In the ordinary way Mark would have had it repaired, but once again he was punishing you.'

  'He was just the opposite with David Gleaves, apparently.'

  'I don't quite know what you're getting at—'

  'He'd have mended the fence for him.'

  'There wouldn't have been any need. David's animals always grazed our land. His hens were cared for by Mark's men and he had a pig or two at times—just for his own use, of course—and this was fattened over at Mark's place, along with his own.'

  For a long moment Kate fell silent, thinking of what Cherry had said about Mark's having in all probability provided the old man with food.

  'Your brother appears to have been very—kind to David Gleaves.' She glanced sideways at him, wondering if he had noticed the hesitation. If so he chose to ignore it as he said:

  'He would have been kinder, but like you, the old man was proud. He liked to think he was making the place pay and in consequence he refused any offers of help from Mark. However, Mark did manage to do a lot for the old boy, seeing that he never went short of the essentials of life. This place—' Paul flicked a hand over his shoulder. 'Mark would have made it comfortable, but David was so set in his ways that he wouldn't have anything changed. Mark once sent a joiner to see to the window frames and doors, but the old man sent him away. He was so used to the draughts that he couldn't feel them, he said. And in any case he'd lived to a great age so they couldn't have done him much harm.'

  Again Kate fell silent, conscious of an obligation to review her opinion of Mark Copeland, and stubbornly thrusting it from her, seeing him only as the supercilious owner of the property over which she had made such a fool of herself.

  Ten minutes later Paul eased his long body out of the chair and stood up—so like his brother in build as, with the same air of languid grace, he moved towards the verandah steps. The sun was beginning to sink, away over the khaki and green hills in the far distance.

  'Would you care to come over to my place for the afternoon tomorrow?' he asked as Kate rose from her chair. 'You haven't been in the house yet and I'd like you to see it.'

  She said, after a tiny pause:

  'You mean all of us?'

  Paul shook his head.

  'I mean you,' he said, and for a long moment Kate hesitated before finally agreeing to his suggestion. 'I'll come for you,' he said, glancing across Kate's land and lifting a hand to wave as the other two girls, having finished their task, came strolling towards the house.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was almost four months since the three girls had arrived at High Creek, their optimism damped as they stared at what appeared to be no more than a shack—a shack that would surely fall down should the wind blow on it. Yet they had made something out of practically nothing. The white paintwork shone and the flowers were growing all around the immediate vicinity of the homestead. Bright curtains stirred at the open windows; the furniture gleamed from polishing and hand-made 'rag' rugs covered the floors. Outside, vegetables grew; the hen-coop had been repaired, the calf was healthy and the two cows giving plenty of milk. But money was a problem since what they had received for the car, though most carefully handled, had very soon gone.

  Paul in his anxiety to help had suggested one of the girls take a part-time job at Cunya River Downs. Kate sensed immediately that he wished her to go, but she became guarded. Her feelings for Paul had in the beginning strayed somewhat from the path of mere friendship, but gradually she had owned that gratitude had influenced her. This she realized when, on her visit to his home, Paul had shown some small but significant signs that he would like to cultivate a more intimate relationship than that of friendship. Cleverly Kate had managed to extricate herself, as ever recurring was the image of Mark and the way his personality had affected her on more than one occasion. So in the end it was Cherry who accepted the post, the big homestead car coming for her every morning, driven by one of the station hands, and bringing her back about two o'clock in the afternoon. The girls at first were doubtful about any of them accepting the job, concluding that it had been created especially on account of their financial straits, which must have been obvious to Paul all the time. But after Paul had convinced them that he really did require extra help his offer was accepted. Cherry's work was what she had previously prophesied it would be—that of cooking for a large number of hungry men.

  'She said that was where she'd eventually be, in the kitchen,' Lin had said with a laugh when on her first day Cherry had returned and told them what she had been doing all the morning.

  'Yes, but she believed it would be on my station,' with a tinge of bitterness from Kate. 'I still have qualms of conscience about that mistake.'

  'Then you shouldn't,' said Cherry mildly. 'We're all happy, so why should there be any regrets?' Cherry had been engaged to help Susan and Tilly, two lubras who worked all the time in the kitchen, and when Susan was taken ill and was confined to bed Lin also went over to Cunya River Downs to help, soon being in her element, for Paul had shown her a horse and told her to ride just whenever she wished. She could ride back and to to work if she liked, he said, and this was exactly what Lin did.

  With the employment of both girls money could be spared for land improvement and buying more fowls and calves, but naturally Kate's work became much harder, both inside and out, but she did not mind in the least. As Cherry and Lin had said, they were all in this together and both work and money were shared. And indeed the money was a boon. Apart from its usefulness on the holding itself, it provided the girls with a few comforts which in turn resulted in the complete contentment which in itself furnished the incentive to remain permanently at High Creek. How Mark was taking this new state of affairs Kate did not know, but sometimes she wondered if he secretly resented the help afforded to the girls by his brother, despite his assertion that Paul was his own master. Mark never revealed any added animosity, however, and when another of the graziers gave a shed dance and the girls were invited, Mark gave Kate as much attention as any of the other women present—except of course Harriet, with whom he appeared to be exceptionally friendly.

  Lin and Cherry were over at Cunya River Downs and Kate was busy with the housework when Mark Copeland called at High Creek with some papers appertaining to the property. They had been given to him some time ago by David Gleaves, who asked Mark to keep them safe. All they referred to was the region of waste land, which at some time had been purchased separately from the main property. They should have been deposited with the solicitor, but Mark had completely forgotten he had them. They were unimportant, he told Kate, and added that David Gleaves had the idea that they were important. He had ridden over, on the proud chestnut gelding which was now tethered to a tree a short distance from the homestead. Taking the papers, Kate thanked him and after a small hesitation
invited him to sit down, although she half expected him to refuse and immediately to leave. But he took possession of the chair offered, stretching his long legs out in front of him and placing his hat on another chair. His eyes wandered around the bright and comfortable room, but his face was a mask and Kate was left guessing as to what his reaction might be. The transformation must have hit him forcibly though, she thought, going on to ask if he would like a cup of coffee. He accepted this too, much to her surprise, saying it would be welcome as he had missed smoko at his own place.

  She went into the kitchen, which originally had had a dirt floor. The girls had bought cement when in town, brought it back in the car and, after much time spent in trial and error, had eventually managed a fairly smooth floor. This had received several coats of dark red paint and now, with a large rush matting centrepiece, it looked extremely attractive. It could be seen from where Mark was sitting and as Kate turned to the cupboard to take out the coffee she saw that his eyes were fixed upon it, but as his expression retained its mask-like quality she was still left in the dark as regards his thoughts. Perhaps they were merely derisive as mentally he compared her homestead with his own, the lovely Regency manor, stately and mellowed, which she had for one brief hour so foolishly believed to be hers. Thoughts such as these naturally brought the colour rushing to her face and she waited a few minutes before re-entering the sitting-room, the tray of coffee and biscuits in her hands. Mark's eye lifted from his contemplation of the garden outside, neat and weed-free and fringed with desert-oaks. He noted her colour, still heightened a little, before his eyes moved over her figure, taking in the tender curves and shapely legs and ankles. She put down the tray on a small table which she then moved towards him, keeping her head averted because of the keenness of those narrowed blue eyes and because of her own appearance which was far from tidy since she had been washing clothes and cleaning the bedrooms before beginning on the kitchen and finally preparing the home-grown vegetables for the evening meal. She had been about to go outside, to carry water from the bore-trough to the garden when Mark had ridden up and, slipping his feet from the irons, had tethered his horse and strode with those long yet easy strides towards the house.