A Thousand Miles Away

by Dorothy Cork

‘When you woke up?’ he repeated, looking at her incredulously. ‘You mean you were sharing a room?’

  ‘It was cheaper,’ she said swiftly, and turned away from the dark look in his eyes. Crimson colour surged into her face so that she knew she looked even guiltier than she felt. She knew what conclusions he was drawing from it and hated him for it. She knew too that he wouldn’t believe her now if she simply said, ‘We didn’t sleep together.’

  She didn’t say it.

  ‘And after all that, he left you,’ he commented harshly. Oh no, Farrell thought bitterly. Not after ‘all that’ at all—that’s why he left me. She clasped her hands together and pressed them against her knees.

  ‘I hope to heaven you won’t discover you’re pregnant,’ he said after a second.

  Farrell nearly died of shame. ‘No,’ she said huskily. ‘You see, I—’

  ‘Spare me the details. I’ll accept you know how to look after yourself—it appears to be something that’s taught in primary school these days.’ His eyes roamed over her speculatively and she shielded Her eyes with her lashes. ‘You know, I had the mistaken idea you were a girl with high ideals ... I’m damned sure your father would be shocked if he knew what you’ve been up to. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and presume it’s your first adventure of this kind. You should be grateful to your stepmother for keeping her information to herself, by the way.’

  ‘Should I?’ Her face had paled. ‘I rather thought she’d passed it on to you.’

  ‘To me, yes, but not to your father ... Well, I don’t like to be fooled by a girl of nineteen or so, so I appreciate having been put in the picture. I looked for you in Port Hedland, you know—but I begin to wonder if I should have looked for Mr. and Mrs. Smith in the hotel registers ... Where’s he gone? Back to Port Hedland?’

  Farrell shrugged as if she didn’t know. She felt utterly deflated.

  ‘And what are your plans?’

  ‘I—I thought I might get work here.’

  ‘What? After being nearly torn apart in the bar? Have some sense, Farrell!’

  ‘I could do office work,’ she said with an attempt at dignity. ‘I thought perhaps you could use your influence,’ she added, though she was not at all hopeful about that now. ‘People must take some notice of what you say—’

  ‘You’re the one who’d better take some notice of what I say, Farrell,’ he said after a moment. ‘I’ve met your father, I like and respect him, and for that reason alone I wouldn’t offer you work in Ansell. You may be tougher than I thought, but you’re not that tough. No, you can think again.’

  Her forehead creased childishly and she ran her fingers nervously through her short bright curls, unaware of exactly how young and defenceless she looked.

  ‘Well, I can’t go back home. Cecile and I just don’t seem to get along.’

  His cynical smile suggested he now had some sympathy with Cecile in that direction. ‘Perhaps you’re ready after your adventures to take up your university course again. You’ll have a few experiences to write about in your spare time.’

  Farrell didn’t answer. Her adventures had been very different from what he imagined—she appeared to be the sort of girl who screamed at the very thought of sex. What would he make of that? she wondered?

  ‘You’re looking green,’ he commented. ‘Are you feeling ill?’

  ‘I’m—hungry,’ she managed with a pale smile.

  ‘Then you’d better tidy yourself up and come and eat with me in the dining room. I’ll see if I can muster a few ideas relevant to your future.’

  Such as what? she wondered some minutes later as, back in room twenty-four, she rummaged through her luggage in search of something to wear. It was—funny to think back now to that other idea he’d had about her future. She had been in a predicament then and she was in one now, but the whole scene had shifted. He wasn’t going to say, ‘Marry me’ tonight, that was for sure. Of course, she’d have said no, yet perversely she was upset about it. Her—her amour-propre was hurt.

  As she pulled on a silky high-necked skivvy over a pair of pale oatmeal cotton pants, she felt positive that the only suggestion he would make over dinner was that she should take the plane back to Perth. But she would make up her own mind about that. She was certainly not going to allow him to think he could run her life...

  The subject of her future wasn’t immediately breached at dinner that night, and for that she was thankful. Hunger and weariness made her disinclined to wrestle with the subject, and she was satisfied to sit at the small table with Larry Sandfort eating food that was beautifully cooked and attractively presented, discussing only such matters as what she would have to eat and what wine she would like.

  ‘The food is very good,’ she remarked as she finished her flounder.

  ‘Oh yes—everything’s the best in Ansell. Compensation for isolation and being deprived of the diversions offered by city life.’

  Farrell glanced about her. ‘Do all these people work here?’

  ‘The majority of them. Some are tourists, here for a night or two. They’ll go out to the gorges or up to the mine and then move on. There’s nothing much for them here otherwise.’

  Farrell observed that many of the tables were occupied solely by men, most of them wearing good-looking clothes of a casual type, and she was aware that she was the object of interested looks from several quarters. If she had come in alone, without doubt she’d soon have had someone asking to share her table. Well, why not? Her glance lingered on a tanned young man with shining dark hair who was staring at her openly. He looked nice. It could be pleasant to dine and talk with him—maybe to dance later on the tiny circle of parquet flooring that was for that purpose.

  As if he had read her thoughts, Larry Sandfort leaned towards her to say sardonically, ‘He wouldn’t be satisfied merely to eat or to dance with you, Farrell. He’d ask you back to the single men’s quarters afterwards. There you’d be flattered, given a few drinks—there’s a very well stocked bottle shop in Ansell—and then he’d expect you to go to bed with him.’

  And did Larry think she would? She tilted her chin and told him with heightened colour, ‘You’re a cynic. He—he’s probably just a nice ordinary guy.’

  ‘Of course he is. But he’s not living in a nice ordinary town. He’s lonely, he’s badly in need of female company. All the women here are other men’s wives.’ He reached for his wine glass. ‘Well, what’s in your mind? Are you going back to Perth?’

  She shook her head. ‘I want to stay in the North-West. I like it here—it’s where I was born. It was just—circumstances beyond my control that took me to the city. Now I’m old enough to decide for myself.’

  ‘I’d question that.’ His eyes explored hers. ‘Any bright ideas you have you’d better submit to me before you attempt to rush ahead with them. I don’t get the impression you’re all that inclined towards good sense.’

  ‘I’m not all that inclined towards rashness either,’ she retorted swiftly. ‘Like agreeing to marry someone I’ve only just met.’

  His nostrils whitened. ‘I didn’t ask you to do that by any means. However, it’s a subject no longer under discussion. We’re now concerned with what you’re going to do having left university, left your father’s home, run away with a man and apparently been deserted by him.’

  Farrell recoiled slightly. That was an uncompromising summary of her situation! She said coolly, ‘I’ll work it out, Mr. Sandfort. I’m grateful to you for coming to my rescue this afternoon, but it doesn’t mean I need your help in working out my future.’ She finished her coffee—they had both declined dessert—and got up from the table. ‘Please excuse me now. Goodnight.’

  He got up and walked with her to the exit. She turned her head and gave him a swift look. ‘I’m tired. I’m going to bed.’

  ‘I’ll see you safely to your door,’ he said firmly.

  Neither of them spoke again. They went through the door and crossed the garden around the swimming pool. Palm trees cast
black shadows on the grass, and above, the stars were sharply silver. No one was sitting at the outdoor tables, the whole courtyard was deserted. They reached Farrell’s door and she turned the key, then reached inside for the light switch.

  ‘I’m safe now, Mr. Sandfort.’

  ‘My name is still Larry,’ he said coolly, and she saw him smile equally coolly. ‘Goodnight, Farrell. See you stay safe. Give some thought to your future tonight. I shall.’

  ‘You needn’t bother,’ she retorted. ‘The only way you could help is to recommend me for office work here. And you won’t do that.’

  “No, I shan’t,’ he agreed. ‘So get it right out of your head.’

  She stepped inside and closed the door with a sharp finality, and stood alone in her room.

  What was she going to do?

  ‘I just don’t know,’ she said to the impersonal, immaculate, whitewashed walls.

  She felt dead tired, but when she looked in the mirror there was a spark of colour in her cheeks.

  She rose late in the morning and went to the dining room half expecting to find Larry waiting for her there. Breakfast was almost over. A few people who looked like tourists lingered at a long table talking together. Farrell glanced around cautiously, but the handsome boy who had stared at her so openly last night was not there. A waitress came to take her order, and she asked for toast and marmalade. There were cereals, bowls of canned fruits and jugs of fruit juice at a side table, as well as a coffee urn, hot water, and tea bags.

  She helped herself to grapefruit juice, poured a cup of coffee, and went back to the table she had shared last night with Larry. The waitress was a tall young woman of about thirty with a curtain of synthetic blonde hair and a wedding ring on her finger.

  ‘Does your husband work in Ansell?’ Farrell asked her with a smile.

  ‘Yes, up at the mine. We’ve been here nearly two years. We’re saving to buy a home down south.’

  ‘I expect the money’s good.’

  ‘It would want to be! There’s nothing much to do unless you play sports, and I don’t. But you get used to it. It either gets you in or you hate it. Are you leaving today?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Farrell. She hadn’t actually thought it out, she’d fallen asleep too quickly last night to do the thinking Larry Sandfort had urged. But now, somehow—since he wasn’t here—she felt an urge to get out.

  ‘You must be going on the plane,’ said the waitress, beginning to clear the next table. ‘You aren’t with the tourists who came on the coach, are you? Didn’t you dine with Larry Sandfort last night?’

  ‘Yes.’ Farrell coloured slightly. ‘He’s a friend of my father’s,’ she said rather pointlessly. ‘Do you know if he’s breakfasted yet?’

  ‘Sure—some time ago. He’s gone down to the conference room at the offices. There’s discussions about building self-contained quarters for the single men—some of them don’t like the communal dining room and they come here. The VIPs are divided. They’ll be sorting it out all day, more than likely.’

  Farrell smiled, then asked as the girl began to move away with a loaded tray, ‘By the way, what time does the plane go?’

  ‘To Port Hedland, you mean? There’s no plane for Perth today. So it would be around eleven-thirty.’

  Farrell thanked her for the information. Well, she might as well go to Port Hedland, she thought wearily. It would be a start, and it looked as if she’d have to get out of here anyhow.

  In her room some minutes later she used the telephone to get through to Ansell Air Services.

  ‘Yes, that’ll be okay,’ said the pleasant male voice. ‘What’s the name?’

  ‘Fitzgerald—Miss Fitzgerald.’

  ‘Oh—hang on.’ There was a brief silence, then, ‘Hello? Look here, Miss Fitzgerald, I’m afraid it’s not possible to let you have a seat after all.’

  ‘But—but you just said it would be all right,’ she exclaimed incredulously.

  ‘I’m sorry, I made a mistake. The plane’s booked out.’

  ‘Then tomorrow,’ she insisted, after a second’s thought.

  ‘I’m sorry, nothing doing tomorrow.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous! The Perth plane, then—’

  ‘Afraid not. Your best bet would be to see—er—one of the VIPs.’

  ‘Such as Mr. Sandfort,’ snapped Farrell, and slammed the receiver down furiously. It was perfectly plain that Larry Sandfort had given orders she was not to leave on the plane—she was to submit her plans to him before she rushed into anything! She felt helplessly angry. In this company-owned town, it seemed there was no limit to the power of the directors. But not over her. She would tell Larry Sandfort the minute she saw him that she was not going to submit to this interference. He had no right to make her even a temporary prisoner in this town. It wasn’t even as if he wanted to marry, her—oh, heavens, no! He had completely changed his mind about that!’That’s a subject no longer under discussion,’ he had said ...

  She discovered she was sitting in the chair staring at the wall behind the telephone, and that her thoughts had brought a dew of perspiration to her top lip despite the air-conditioning. Yet she most certainly didn’t want to discuss that subject!

  A little later, she put on sunglasses and went for a stroll around the town, marvelling again at the greenery and lushness of gardens and parks that had been established less than eight years. The town lay in a saucer, ringed about with red ironstone hills, but there was no sign of the mine.

  In the modern shopping complex, she bought herself a sandwich and a carton of fresh orange juice and went to sit in the park, and later spent an hour or so in the cool of the library she found tucked away behind the poinciana trees. Around three o’clock she emerged to find the sun burningly hot and as she walked back to the hotel the glare was almost intolerable despite her sunglasses. The surrounding hills threw back the heat from their ironstone caps and crows flew overhead uttering their harsh and gruesome cries. Suddenly this green, man-made oasis in the middle of the semi-desert seemed a hostile place, close to hell.

  ‘I should never get used to it,’ Farrell thought, and she felt furious that Larry Sandfort had blocked her from leaving even while he wouldn’t let her work there. If he thought he was entitled to keep her prisoner while he decided what was to be done about her future, he was greatly mistaken. She quickened her step.

  She was swimming up and down the hotel pool when she discovered he had returned. Actually, she was afraid to get out of the water because that handsome boy of last night had come with a group of others to sit drinking at one of the tables, and not one of them had taken their eyes off her. Consequently, it was a tremendous relief to see Larry. He came to stand at the edge of the pool, and she swam over to him.

  ‘How many laps does that make, Farrell?’ he asked, raising one eyebrow. ‘What are you trying to do? Get into the Guinness Book of Records? Come on, you’ve had enough exercise. Where’s your towel?’

  ‘It’s over there,’ she said, her teeth chattering through nervousness. ‘There’ was by that group of men, and Larry gave her a narrow-eyed look before he strode across the lawn, gathered up her towel and returned to where she was scrambling out of the water. Nobody else had been swimming, and she felt conspicuous and self-conscious in her black bikini.

  He wrapped the towel around her, his warm fingers touching her bare flesh, and she drew away quickly.

  ‘Go and get dressed,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be in the cocktail lounge.’

  She took her time, washing her hair under the shower and drying it thoroughly before she got into a long cotton dress sprigged with tiny flowers and pinched in at the waist with a wide elastic belt. She used moisturising cream and a touch of lipstick and decided she didn’t need eye-shadow—there were dark smudges under her eyes as it was. She’d been having a gruesome time lately, what with one thing and another.

  ‘Well, how did you put in the day?’ he asked when she joined him. He had already ordered a gin squash for her and
she slid on to the stool beside him at the bar and reached for it thirstily. Her eyes flashed green as she told him accusingly, ‘Trying to get out of your town, Mr. Sandfort.’

  He smiled slightly. ‘I thought you might do that. And it i didn’t strike me as being a good idea.’

  ‘You had no right to stop me,’ she retorted. ‘I—I hate I this town. It’s like a furnace. It’s full of crows, and I get a creepy-crawly feeling they’re waiting to pick my bones if I stay here.’

  He actually laughed. ‘So you’ve changed your mind about the North-West, have you?’

  ‘About this part of it,’ she agreed. ‘Your part. I’ve been thanking my lucky stars all day I didn’t fall for that line you gave me—I’d never forgive myself if I’d landed here to do a crash course with you.’

  ‘Is that so?’ His eyes had hardened. ‘And have you I managed to forgive yourself for what you did do?’

  Her cheeks went scarlet. ‘You don’t know a thing about that. It’s not—not under discussion.’

  His eyebrows rose, but he made no comment on that. ‘However, I didn’t ask you to come here, Farrell, I said I’d take you to Quindalup, which is a very different proposition.’

  ‘Is it? Well, I couldn’t really care less.’

  He changed the subject entirely. ‘Do you need another drink, or are you ready for dinner?’

  ‘I’m ready for dinner. But—but I don’t want to have it with you.’

  ‘I think you’d better,’ he said. ‘However, if it will make you feel happier, the charge can be added to your account.’

  Farrell bit her lip. Her money was fast disappearing and she would have to ask her father to send her a cheque soon or she would be in trouble. She declined another drink, slid down from the stool and went in to dinner with him.

  ‘Tomorrow, I’ll take you up to have a look at Mount Ansell,’ he said as they were eating.

  ‘I might not want to go,’ she said unco-operatively.

  ‘Now don’t tell me that, Farrell. It’s all grist for a writer’s mill.’

  She looked at him through her lashes uncertain how to take it. She didn’t say so, but she knew she would give in and go with him. What else was there to do when he wouldn’t let her take the plane and disappear from Ansell? She didn’t like him, she decided, yet—oh, she didn’t know what she felt...