by Jane Corrie
Her thoughts ran on. In her mind's eye she could still see the expressions on the station hands' faces when they had looked at her. Incredulity, embarrassment—it was all there, and downright dislike when they had looked at Pete. He had broken a code of honour, stolen someone else's girl. She shot a quick look at Pete, now pulling up outside a shanty type of building in a smallholding where the snorts of pigs could be heard emitting from a ramshackle building a little farther up from the shack. Did he realise that when the news got around he could possibly lose his job? she wondered. If he did lose his job, then it would be her fault, she thought miserably. She had been too busy planning her revenge on Ross to realise the outcome of her evening out.
If she had ever been inclined to doubt Ross's popularity with his neighbours, then she had certainly received confirmation that evening. It wasn't a question of being on the boss's side either. All those men were Albury men, and as for their wives—Vicky's soft lips twisted ironically. Sarah
Downs had actually spilt her drink down her nice blue blouse in complete astonishment at seeing Vicky being escorted by Pete Noonan. What had started out as a nice cosy evening had turned into a farce without the laughter. The wires would be humming with the news by now, and tomorrow the whole area would be aware of Vicky's defection.
With one hit she had scored a bullseye! she thought, and immediately brightened. She didn't know why she had always to look on the dark' side of things. As for Pete, he was big enough to look out for himself, and surely he could not have been so blind as to miss the possible consequences of his actions.
Vicky decided to enjoy herself for what was left of the evening. There would be no more dates with Pete, he knew she was wise to him. Each in their own way had had a score to settle with Ross, and it was now settled. Vicky had flown her flag of independence and meant to keep it flying.
As Pete had surmised, they were welcomed with open arms by the old-timer, who was soon showing them round his collection of saddles, and odd bric-a-brac collected over a number of years, including a small nugget of gold handed down from a great-grandfather of his who had been in the gold rush of the ls.
It was ten o'clock before they were allowed to leave, and even then the old man was still talking to them as they waved him farewell, promising to return at a later date, at which Vicky felt rather mean, since she knew the visit would not be
repeated, at least not with Pete, who he had assumed was her beau.
With the comfortable feeling that Ross's meeting was still in full swing, for when Mrs George had said that it went on for hours she had taken her at her word, there had been enough of them for her to know what she was talking about, Vicky relaxed on the way home. She had enjoyed listening to the old man, and his exhibits were unique. It was a pity that he was so far off the beaten track, for she felt that many more people would enjoy a visit, and it was plain that he enjoyed company.
On reaching Jarra, Vicky thanked Pete for the evening out. She had asked him to drop her at the drive-in entrance to the homestead, taking no chance of meeting any of the members of the meeting as they left Jarra.
`Thanks for your company,' said Pete, as he slowed the car to a stop. 'Believe it or not, I sure enjoyed the evening,' and before Vicky could stop him he had leaned towards her and given her a swift kiss on the lips.
Vicky got out of the car, and turning to give him an impersonal wave of the hand made her way up the bush bordered drive to the homestead.
Her first thought was to get in, and safely up to her room without encountering Ross, and when she saw that the lights were still on in the dining room, she gave a sigh of relief. The meeting was still on, although it was now almost eleven o'clock, and considering the distances some of the members
must have come, it would certainly be a late evening for them.
She was about to slip up to her room when she remembered her promise to Mrs George, and had to change direction and go to the kitchen to make the pot of tea she had promised her, on edge all the time in case Ross came upon her.
For once luck was on her side, and as she got to Mrs George's door with the tray of tea and biscuits, she heard Ross's deep voice calling 'goodnight' to his companions, and as it was unlikely that he would call on Mrs George at that time of night, she knew that she was home and dry.
CHAPTER EIGHT
VICKY'S certainty that Ross would not call on Mrs George proved a fallacy, for as she was about to slip out to the shower room she heard him talking to Mrs George. He had not gone into her room but stood outside, enabling Vicky to hear what was said, and she heard him ask Mrs George if she, Vicky, had returned, and when Mrs George had assured him of this, he had said goodnight to her, and went downstairs again.
It was small wonder that he hadn't actually looked in her room to ascertain that she was in, Vicky thought crossly, and felt like the junior of the household who had to be back in the fold
before everybody else could retire for the night.
Just before she went to sleep that night, she remembered Pete's kiss. Odd, really, she thought, but she couldn't say that she had enjoyed it. She hadn't expected him to kiss her, but that did not alter the fact that he had, and even in those brief moments when his lips were on hers, she experienced none of the emotions that Ross's kiss had evoked in her. `I guess some people have it, and some haven't,' she murmured drowsily before sleep claimed her.
She was woken the following morning by the sound of Ross's Land Rover starting up, and she saw that it was just after six. Ross believed in getting an early start, she thought, and lay back on her pillows. No one had said what time she should start work, if that was what it was called, and perhaps she had been lucky that Ross hadn't demanded some sustenance before he started work, and hauled her out of it.
As she was wide awake now, Vicky decided to get up. Today would be a day of reckoning with Ross, she was quite sure of that. He was not likely to forget the way she had taken advantage of that phone call and run out on him at a time when his hands were tied by the meeting.
When Vicky took Mrs George her morning tea, she found her still in bed and listening to the radio. By then it was nearly seven, and Vicky had purposely left waking her before then.
At Vicky's entry she had given her an apologetic smile. 'I feel a fraud,' she said. 'I don't think I've had a lie-in since I spent a week with my sister, five
years ago. I didn't really enjoy it then. I'm so used to being up and about.'
`Ross went out at six,' Vicky said, as she placed the tray by the bedside. 'Does he usually get himself something before he goes?' she asked.
`Don't worry about that,' Mrs George assured her. 'All he has is a cup of tea, and he can get that for himself. It won't hurt him for once.'
Which meant that Mrs George did get it for him, Vicky thought, but as things stood, she heartily agreed with Mrs George's comments that he could look after himself. It was bad enough anticipating the row that was looming up in front of her at breakfast when he was due to put in an appearance, without having to be shouted at before she was properly awake!
At nine o'clock, Vicky waited until she heard Ross pull up outside the homestead, and hastily putting his breakfast on a hot plate and leaving it to keep warm, made a hasty retreat back to her room, ostensibly to make her bed—at least that was her excuse, but any other would have done.
She might have known she wouldn't get away with it. 'Victoria!' Ross's voice thundered up the stairs towards her, and caused her eyebrows to lift. She had not been called 'Victoria' for years, not since Mrs Janson departed from the scene, for she was the only one who had insisted on calling her by her name and not an abbreviated version.
Since she knew it was no good pretending she had not heard the imperious summons, Vicky went
down to join him wishing that she felt as brave as she was trying to pretend she was.
He was just finishing his breakfast, and was in the act of making himself some coffee, and he pointed with an autocratic finger towards the other sea
t at the kitchen table, then turned back to his task again, taking it for granted that she would obey.
Having no choice in the matter, Vicky sat and waited for the storm to descend upon her.
Ross strode back to the table with his coffee, and Vicky took particular notice of the fact that he had not asked if she would like a cup, but then she was up for the jump, and couldn't expect solicitous treatment.
`Enjoy yourself last night?' he shot out at her as he sat down.
Vicky looked back at him, highly resenting having to account for her movements, but her indignation vanished as she saw a dark bruise under Ross's left eye. He had been in a fight, and she did not need to be told who his opponent had been.
Seeing her expression as her eyes lingered on the bruise, he nodded grimly. 'I warned him to keep away from you,' he said quietly, 'but he chose to ignore it. You won't be getting any invitations from that quarter again,' he added complacently.
`I think that I shall go and see how Pete is,' she ground out, her earlier dismay over the fight now turning to concern over Pete, 'and apologise for what happened to him,' she added furiously, considering that he had acted like a gentleman with
her, not once stepping out of line, and this was his reward!
`You'll do no such thing!' Ross shouted at her. `I'll lock you in your room first! You'll let things be. You've caused me enough trouble. From now on you'll do just what you're told to do. I meant it when I said I'd give you a tanning, and it's what you'll get if you disobey me,' he added harshly.
Judging by the dangerous glints in his eyes, Vicky was sure it would not take much for him to dish out that treatment right then and there, but she was furious herself, and her brown eyes held tawny glints in them as she shouted back at him, `You lay one hand on me, Ross Janson, and I'll walk out of this station. It's just a job to me, and you're my employer—that's how I see it, but it doesn't give you the right to tell me what to do in my spare time. It's all your fault anyway,' she added, goaded beyond discretion. `If you hadn't given me such enlightening lessons on flirting I wouldn't have accepted a date from Pete.' Her eyes flashed out at him. 'I just wanted to see if he measured up to your standards!'
Ross's blue eyes widened in shock for a second, then a blaze of fury swept through them. 'And did he?' he asked in a menacingly soft voice.
Vicky ought to have recognised the danger signals, but she was too far gone to acknowledge them, she only knew that she wanted to hit out at him. 'Oh, yes,' she replied sweetly, 'a little better, if anything,' she added for good measure.
Ross leant towards her and gave her a hard
stinging slap across the cheek, and she stared back at him in disbelief. No one had ever slapped her like that before, not even when she was a child, and her hand, that went up to the still stinging area, trembled. She knew a sense of shock that went deeper than outrage, if she had had any doubts about the way Ross felt about her, she had received confirmation from that one action of his, and the look of disdain in his eyes as he calmly watched her reaction to his swift punishment. `That,' Ross said grimly, 'is just for starters. It might teach you to watch your words. Pete Noonan might be a ladies' man, but he knows where to draw the line. He'd have more sense than to tangle with a kid like you for a start. If I thought otherwise, he'd have more than a sore jaw to complain of. He wanted to rile me—well, he succeeded, and that's all there is to it. I told you before how it was, so don't go making up fairy tales, because nobody will believe you,' he added harshly.
Vicky drew in a quick sobbing breath. It was one thing being on the receiving end of physical punishment, but quite another listening to someone telling you that you were a liar, and what was worse, being told that you weren't attractive enough to receive overtures from any man! All right, so she had embellished a little, but Pete had kissed her, and he hadn't had to, but this cocksure man wouldn't believe it. 'Thank you,' she said quietly, 'for showing me what you're really like. Just a big bully who intends to get his own way no matter what.' Her voice trembled as she went on,
`Did it ever occur to you that I might really like Pete Noonan? Of course not!' she exclaimed bitterly. 'Such a thought never entered your head, did it? You're too sure of yourself, that's your trouble. Everything's been easy for you, hasn't it? You can't bear to lose, can you? Even when it concerns someone like me who's just a kid in your estimation. Well, for your information, Pete didn't see me like that. He treated me as a woman ought to be treated. I don't think he found me unattractive—if he did, he was too kind to show the fact.' Her voice shook. 'Even if I don't see him again, I shall always be grateful for that,' she got out.
She walked to the door. If she didn't get out of there right away, she would break down, and that was the last thing she wanted. She drew a deep breath. Tor Mrs George's sake, I shall stay until she's on her feet again, but don't you ever dare touch me again—in fact, the less I see of you, the better!' she added coldly, and made her exit with her head proudly erect.
That's telling him, she thought wildly, as she made her way to her room, feeling oddly proud of herself for making a stand and not letting her emotions get the better of her and reduce her to a weeping wreck, but it had been a close thing.
A few moments after she had reached her room, she heard Ross's Land Rover start up, and with a roar of the engine, he was off.
Vicky sat down weakly on her half-made bed. Everything was going wrong. It was as if the fates had decided to line up against her. No matter what
she tried, it backfired on her, and all she had wanted to do was to free Ross and herself from an old understanding. Considering their temperaments it shouldn't have been all that hard, but she hadn't allowed for Ross's stubborn pride. He didn't have to go and knock Pete down. If he had used his head, he would have seen that she had given him an excellent opportunity to back out of the arrangement without being made to look a heel, as Mary had put it that day.
Her hand went up to feel the cheek that he had slapped so hard. It was still sore, and as she glanced across at the dressing-table mirror in front of her, she saw that there was a red mark where the impact had been. 'That's for starters,' had been what he'd said afterwards, she thought, and he had meant it. She had read about battered wives, but not battered fiancées. Not that they were still engaged, and even the few unenlightened ones would soon be aware of that fact, if they didn't know now, she thought, thinking of the hot line that was sure to be buzzing with the news.
She got up quickly as she felt hot tears stinging her eyes. She was not going to cry over a man like that, she told herself as she straightened her slim shoulders. What a blessing in disguise her visit to Jarra had been! She might never have known the other side of Ross Janson's character, that he was an implacable, overbearing, autocratic, dictatorial—she ran out of expletives, and took a deep breath. How could anyone love a man like that? Ella Waden was welcome to him! And she only
hoped that she could stand up for herself!
Sick of her own company and the gloom now descending upon her, Vicky went to see Mrs George, who welcomed her with one of her rare smiles, and Vicky thought how nice it was to receive such a welcome, even though Mrs George was in the enemy camp, and she longed to get back to Dale's Creek and the quiet calming presence of Mary.
If Mrs George had heard anything on the open lines about Vicky's defection from Ross to Pete Noonan, she said nothing of it. She seemed genuinely pleased to have Vicky's company, and pointed to a chair opposite hers for Vicky to make herself comfortable.
The housekeeper's quarters were of ample proportions, and well furnished, forming a self-contained suite, consisting of sitting-room, dining-room, bedroom and bathroom. It was useful for keeping in the background when there were guests in the house, and had been Mrs Janson's idea of giving her staff privacy, and providing the same for her family.
With Mrs George working on her tapestry work, and Vicky trying to push all thoughts of her brush with Ross out of her mind, they settled down to a cosy chat.
Of all the subjects they might have discussed Vicky had not expected to find herself listening to Mrs George going back in time when the Waden family and the Jansons and Dales were a closer knit community. It all started when Mrs George
told her how Ella had once been a frequent caller, and how she hadn't seen much of her for the past year or so.
`I think Ella's had a rough deal,' she confided in Vicky. 'Being pretty isn't everything, and she's the kind of girl who needs company. Losing her mother at that early age let me see—she was about seven, I think, when her mother died. I'm not saying that her father didn't make a good job of bringing her up, but he doesn't seem to realise that she has her own life to lead,' she sighed. 'Not that she's ever complained, but everybody knows how it is.'
Vicky wondered at this point if Mrs George was trying to tell her something about Ross and Ella, in which case she did know about Vicky and Pete, and was probably preparing Vicky for future events.
`Her father,' Mrs George went on, 'meant well. Of course he wanted his daughter to make a good marriage, everyone does, but unless Ella married one of the directors of the consortium, which wasn't likely—they're all rather elderly, you know—I think he was asking too much of her. She could have gone to live with an aunt in Sydney, but her father would not hear of it.' She handed Vicky her embroidery bag and said, 'See if you can find me some more of this blue, dear, please,' and went back to the Wadens. 'There was a time when Mr Janson was considering taking over Albury, or the Waden station as it was then,' she said musingly. 'It was in a pretty poor state then, and