A Thousand Miles Away

by Dorothy Cork

  He stopped talking as a flock of galahs rose in a flurry of pink and silver from the middle of the road, and Farrell glanced at him thoughtfully. He said ‘we’ and ‘us’ so naturally. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to share a caravan with him, however, and she was a little surprised he seemed to take it for granted they were going to stick together. Did she want to stick with Mark? She didn’t really know. She didn’t want to be on her own, of course, and Mark was pleasant, easy to get on with, but—

  Farrell gave up and rather lazily shelved her thoughts. She would deal with all that when she had to...

  It was just on dark when they reached Port Hedland. Farrell was tired, and somehow she was disappointed. The town didn’t attract her, she didn’t have a feeling of welcome—and yet she had heard guests at her father’s hotel speak glowingly of the place, or the easygoing camaraderie there. Mark found the motel and she waited wearily in the car while he went to see if they could book in. When he came back he told her, ‘Only one vacancy—a room with twin beds. Is that all right with you? It’s cheaper that way anyhow—twenty-eight dollars for a double, twenty-two each for single rooms.’

  Farrell bit her lip. It would be just for one night, of course, but—

  ‘Well?’ Mark insisted. ‘Do we take it or don’t we? It’s up to you—only remember accommodation’s pretty hard to come by here. D’you want me to ask to use the phone and see if I can get reservations somewhere else? I’ll give it a go—’

  ‘Oh, don’t bother, Mark—it’s all right. Tomorrow—’

  ‘Tomorrow we’ll make an early start and look for work,’ Mark said. He grinned at her happily and got into the car. He drove to the parking area, then got their luggage out.

  ‘Don’t you have to go back to the office and book in?’ Farrell wanted to know.

  ‘I’ve already done that,’ he said off-handedly. ‘I knew you wouldn’t have any objections, Farrell.’

  ‘But I might have had,’ Farrell thought, and wondered if she had made a bad mistake.

  Their room was a big one with two beds, a refrigerator, facilities for making tea or coffee, a modern shower room and toilet. And it was air-conditioned. When Mark had brought the luggage in he went into the bathroom, then emerged and told Farrell, ‘I’m going along to the bar for a drink. I’ll see if I can pick up any info about the work situation. I’ll see you in the dining room in about half an hour.’

  ‘All right,’ Farrell agreed.

  When he had gone, she unpacked her toilet things and night attire. Then she showered, and got into a creamy silky dress, patterned with clusters of tiny red and black flowers. Mark was very tactful about getting out of her way, but she didn’t feel very happy about sharing a room, even though she was somehow convinced that she was perfectly safe with him. She was pretty sure he would have signed the register as Mr. and Mrs. Smith, but after all, what did it matter?—except her father would have a fit if he knew. So he just wouldn’t know. Anyhow, she could look after herself, she wasn’t a fool.

  The dining room was attractive and the food was expensive, but it was good. They both chose seafood, and followed up with fruit salad and cream.

  ‘What did you find out about work?’ Farrell asked over the coffee.

  ‘Not much. But it doesn’t sound too hopeful. I get the feeling I wouldn’t like to work here, anyway.’

  Farrell frowned. ‘It may be just a matter of getting acclimatised. I suppose there’s an employment agency—or we could look in the local paper,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘Sure, we’ll do all of that—we’ll give it a go.’

  He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Everything was going to be all right, she was sure of it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After three days, neither of them had found work. Farrell’s lack of qualifications didn’t help, and Mark didn’t seem easy to please—or so Farrell gathered.

  Meanwhile, at fourteen dollars a day each, plus meals, Farrell’s money at least was running out too fast for her liking, and she didn’t want to bother her father for more in too much of a hurry.

  ‘I reckon we’ll move on,’ Mark said that night. They were still at the motel, and Farrell had gone to bed. Mark, who had been talking to someone in the lounge, had come in ten minutes ago. He always gave Farrell plenty of time to get herself ready for bed before he came in, and always, as he had tonight, he undressed in the bathroom. She was grateful to him for this, for it made the situation acceptable and gave her a feeling of confidence in him. Now, in briefs—he didn’t wear pyjamas and with a towel around his neck, he stood at the mirror combing his longish dark hair which he washed every night. Though his body was slim, he had good arm and shoulder muscles, but his chest, which the towel partly covered, was marred by some ugly scars. Farrell had never seen those scars till they had come to Port Hedland, for she and Mark had never swum or sunbathed together and whenever she had met him on the beach he had been wearing a shirt. She had uttered a little half-smothered exclamation of shock when first she saw him stripped to the waist.

  ‘Oh, Mark, whatever happened?’

  He had grimaced, reached for his towel and slung it round his neck. ‘Is that better? It’s nothing anyhow—just a few scars that are fading. I was in an accident a year or so ago. Forget it.’

  Aware that he didn’t want to talk about it, she asked no more questions and now she was used to the sight of him, and lying on her back, her hands behind her neck, she watched him absentmindedly.

  ‘Well,’ he said, turning towards her and coming to sit on the side of her bed, ‘what do you think?’

  ‘About moving on? We haven’t given it much of a try yet really, have we? Something could turn up tomorrow—’

  ‘Could, but I bet it won’t. I’m not all keen on this town anyhow—or on staying too long in this motel.’

  Farrell agreed with that!

  ‘I’ll pay my half of the bill, of course,’ she said quickly. ‘And didn’t you say something about caravans for hire?’

  ‘Sure I did, and I’ve enquired, but there’s none available right now.’ He stood up, hands on his narrow hips, looking down at her. ‘Let’s move down the Great Northern, Farrell, this is too much like the big smoke. We might find something in one of those little places—Marble Bar or’—he shrugged—‘well, I don’t know—somewhere. We can always come back if we want to. What about it? Are you coming or staying?’

  Farrell hesitated. For an instant she had a longing to go back to her father’s hotel—to safety, she supposed. But that would be admitting defeat and she would be back with her dilemma. On the other hand, the thought of staying on here on her own was far from attractive.

  ‘I’m coming, Mark,’ she said finally.

  ‘Beaut!’ He grinned, then stooped and kissed her quickly. ‘I’m getting used to having you around, Farrell. In fact, I’m beginning to like it. What about you?’

  Farrell swallowed nervously. She didn’t know what to say. In fact, she wasn’t altogether sure what he was asking her. She didn’t want to give him the idea she had fallen in love with him, but neither did she want him to feel she didn’t appreciate his kindness and consideration. Because he had been kind and considerate, and she had no complaints. The one thing that made her uneasy was that he always kissed her goodnight, though never in a demanding way or even in a way that taught her anything about the art of kissing. But she was not so simple that she didn’t know this state of affairs wasn’t going to last, and now as Mark leaned over her again, a hand on the pillow at either side of her head, she moved uneasily.

  ‘Well,’ he repeated, his voice softening, ‘do you like it too, Farrell?’

  There was a look in his dark eyes that said he was going to kiss her again—and in a rather different way if she made the right response, and she felt herself stiffen immediately.

  ‘Yes, but—’ she faltered, and pushed herself further down under the bedclothes.

  ‘Okay, don’t get worked up, I know how to behave myself. I can wait,’ he said. Then
to her relief he said goodnight and got into his own bed.

  Farrell didn’t fall asleep for some time. She was beginning to wonder what she had got herself into. Well, she hadn’t got herself into anything yet. She had said she would go with Mark, and she supposed she would, but there would be no more sharing rooms. At least once they moved out of Port Hedland she could put an end to that. And then if they were going to fall in love with each other they could do so in a more conventional way, though Farrell didn’t really feel she was ready to fall in love with anyone yet...

  They left Port Hedland rather late the following morning, mainly because Farrell had insisted on writing a letter to her father. In it, she told him merely that she hadn’t found work yet, but that her money was holding out. She didn’t—couldn’t—bring herself to mention the fictitious girls she was supposed to have travelled with, and feeling guilty and ashamed, she didn’t tell him either that she was moving on. If Larry Sandfort turned up looking for her, her father would tell him she had gone to Port Hedland and that would be that. He might look, but he wouldn’t find her, and that would be a good thing. Not that she disliked him, on the contrary, he was very impressive, very personable, and there was something about him that intrigued her, and if she sat down and thought about it, she felt more and more amazed that a man like that should have asked her to marry him. But of course she couldn’t—she’d be frightened out of her senses.

  The highway they travelled on that day was a gravel road, and there was nothing on it that could really be called a town until Meekatharra, some nine hundred kilometres distant. About half way to Perth, in fact. This information was given to Mark at the garage where he filled up with petrol before they went on their way, and it flashed through Farrell’s mind that it was hardly likely either she or Mark would find work between here and Meekatharra. She hadn’t fully realised what a vast and empty state Western Australia was, and she reflected that without doubt they would be back in Port Hedland before long. So her father need never know—

  They travelled a long way that day, over the spinifex-clad tableland and into the Chichester Ranges, then across a desolate granite plain that looked as if it could never support human life. Farrell began to understand why it was that three-quarters of the state’s population lived in Perth! It was a relief to find somewhere they could stop for the night—one of the little roadhouses that provided petrol and a few simple amenities. Despite Farrell's determination to have a room to herself, it seemed there was nothing she could do about it this time, and defeatedly she preceded Mark into a room that was no more than adequate.

  There was a primitive bathroom across the yard, and Farrell showered first, and dressed while Mark took his turn. It had been a tiring day, but now she felt slightly refreshed. Darkness had fallen and the air was cooling when they went to the small restaurant attached to the garage, and had a very plain meal. After that, there was nothing to do—spinifex and dark ironstone flats all around, not a light showing anywhere in the night beyond those at the little roadside stop. When they came out of the restaurant, Mark started up a conversation with the proprietor, and Farrell yawned.

  ‘Your wife looks tired,’ the man commented, and she flushed, and said quickly, ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’ She smiled a goodnight, and went away thankfully.

  She got herself to bed quickly, hoping Mark would take his time and she would be sound asleep when he came. She had left the reading lamp on—there was only one, it gave a very poor light and it was by the other bed, and she turned her face to the wall and closed her eyes determinedly.

  It was only a short time after, and she was still wide awake when she heard him come in. She lay still, pretending to be asleep, and listening to the small sounds he made as he moved about getting ready for bed.

  ‘Farrell?’

  She said nothing, but her heart thudded.

  ‘Farrell,’ he repeated. And now his voice was close to her ear, and she felt the movement of the mattress as he sat down on her bed. It was no use pretending to be asleep now, and she turned over and looked at him. He was naked to the waist and the scars showed livid on his chest. He slid his arm beneath her neck and lowered his mouth to hers. Farrell struggled to escape from him, but she was trapped between the wall and his insistent weight, and it was seconds before she managed to wrench her mouth away from his.

  ‘Mark—don’t—’

  ‘Oh, come on, Farrell,’ he murmured. He stroked her cheek with his fingers and brushed his lips across her eyelids, but the weight of his body didn’t lift. ‘Don’t look so scared. I won’t do anything you don’t want. I’m not that stupid’

  He kissed her again and she felt panic rising in her. She was beginning to feel sick, and when she felt his hand come under the bedclothes and his fingers begin to unfasten her pyjama-top buttons she twisted her head violently aside and shocked even herself by screaming.

  Instantly his hand was hard over her mouth.

  ‘For God’s sake, shut up! I’m not going to do anything to you—’

  ‘Let me go,’ Farrell muttered against his hand. She made frantic efforts to push him away from her. ‘Go away—go away, do you hear?’

  He thumped her arm. ‘Stop shoving—I’ve got the message,’ he said through his teeth. ‘What’s wrong with you, anyhow? You asked could you come with me—what do you think I took that to mean? Not that you wanted a nursemaid—I’ve looked after you, haven’t I? And now just because I start cuddling you, you scream your head off, like I’m some kind of monster.’ He paused and glared at her angrily. ‘What’s wrong with you, Farrell?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she gulped, and flung her arm across her eyes.

  ‘Just—leave me alone—don’t touch me—’

  She felt him get up from the bed and then heard the sounds of the light being switched off and the bed creaking as he got into it.

  Farrell lay on her back trying not to cry. Now Mark would think she was a prig and a cold frog too—and perhaps she was. She hadn’t needed to scream. But oh, how naive and stupid she had been in every way! Of course Mark took it for granted she would accept his kisses! Any normal girl would. And she didn’t believe for a moment he had intended to do more than—

  ‘Mark,’ she whispered huskily into the darkness.

  ‘What?’ His voice was hard, unfriendly.

  ‘I’m—sorry. It was just—’

  ‘Just what?’ he bit out. ‘If you dislike me all that much you shouldn’t have come along. A kiss or two isn’t going to hurt you, is it?’

  ‘No, but—I’m sorry. I don’t know why I screamed. And—and I do like you, Mark—’

  She heard him laugh without amusement. ‘I don’t like your way of showing it, then. All I did was kiss you. Have you been brought up to think sex is wrong or something, and that nice girls don’t cuddle?’

  Farrell clenched her fists under the bedclothes. Maybe she had been brought up that way. Maybe that was the whole trouble. She could hear Aunt Jean’s voice saying coolly, ‘Sex is just an ugly reminder that man is part of the animal world.’ She drew a deep breath.

  ‘I—I think you’d better take me back to Port Hedland tomorrow, Mark.’

  ‘Do you? Well, I’m not going to Port Hedland, Farrell. I’m going on to Meekatharra. You can’t have everything your own way.’

  ‘I know,’ she said dejectedly. ‘But it’s no use our going on together.’

  ‘It isn’t, if that’s the way you feel,’ he agreed.

  When she woke in the morning, his bed was empty, and she got up and dressed hastily, thinking he had probably gone over to the bathroom. She knew she would have to go on to Meekatharra with Mark. Under the circumstances she could hardly expect him to take her all the way back to Port Hedland, and she had had a cheek to ask it of him. She only hoped that relations between them wouldn’t be too strained. Her blood froze at the memory of last night, and at her hysterical reaction to his touch. She liked Mark, after all. The only thing she couldn’t understand about him was his ability to leav
e his mother to worry about his whereabouts. That was, if not cruel, at least unkind.

  It was not till she went to the rather spotty mirror to fix her hair that she saw a folded sheet of paper lying on the dressing table with her name on it. She opened it with fingers that shook.

  ‘Dear Farrell,’ she read, ‘I’ve paid the bill and am going on to Meekatharra. If you hang around you’re sure to get a lift back to Port Hedland, then it’s up to you what you do. Maybe you’d better go back home to your parents. Mark.’

  Farrell tore the page up slowly and stared out through the window at the bare red yard beyond which was nothing. So she was on her own. She tried not to think it had been mean of Mark to desert her like this, but it had been mean. There was no railway up here in this empty land, apart from a few iron ore company-owned lines that didn’t transport passengers anyhow. There were no buses, and she had no idea how far she would have to go to find a settlement where there was an air service. It was all very well for Mark to say she would get a lift—the highway was so deserted she might have to wait for days, unless she was prepared to take a chance and go with the first person who came along.

  She used the bathroom, then went across to the restaurant and breakfasted on tea and toast. She didn’t feel hungry, and she hated the curious glances of the rather sleazy girl who waited on the table. It required an immense effort after she had packed her bags to go to the proprietor and tell him brightly, ‘I’m looking for a lift to Port Hedland. Would you—er—keep an eye out for me?’

  He looked her over curiously, but to her relief he didn’t ask what had happened that she was parting from her ‘husband’. He probably hadn’t been fooled by that fiction, anyhow, she realised, with a feeling of shame that made her cheeks hot.