On arrival at the stables, Blair waited, his face black as thunder. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Riding with Dick.”
“I expected you back an hour ago.” He held the horse’s head as she dismounted. “Where did you go?”
“Dick took me to this pretty little place with a tinkling waterfall tumbling over shiny white rocks. Did you know the wattle is already starting to bloom in the gullies?”
“The young fool took you all that way?”
“He took me to his favorite place because he wanted to share it with me. Why are you so angry?”
“He should have had you back earlier. In fact the two of you shouldn’t have gone off alone. You seem to forget you’re a visitor in my home.”
“We forgot the time. Heavens, Blair, this is 1916 not 1816. I don’t need a chaperone. I’ve never forgotten, not even for a moment, that I’m merely a visitor. You’ve made my position very clear of late.”
He muffled a curse. As soon as they entered the homestead, she excused herself. “I have to tidy myself up.”
Dinner was an uncomfortable meal. Blair chewed morosely. Glancing up suddenly, she caught him watching her with a brooding puzzlement.
Helen nibbled away, every now and again putting in a sulky, petulant complaint about being bored.
“You can take me into town tomorrow, Blair.”
He swallowed a mouthful of food before answering, “I’ll do no such thing. There’s a lot of work requiring my attention.”
“All you ever think of is work.”
“There happens to be a war on. I’m a dozen men short. What do you expect me to do?”
“Maybe there’s something I can do,” Laurie volunteered.
“No, there’s not,” he snapped. He held his head between his hands. “I’m sorry, both of you. I’m not fit to be in company tonight. I’ve got a dreadful headache. My skull feels like it’s going to split open.”
“Why didn’t you say something before? I’m sorry for coming back late. It was inconsiderate of me.” Laurie felt immediate remorse.
“Forget it.” He pushed his plate away. “I might have a lie down.” He passed a trembling hand across his forehead.
“What am I supposed to do this evening?” Helen pouted.
“Read a book or something.” Laurie glared at her. What a selfish, petulant creature.
Blair rose unsteadily to his feet. His face was drawn with pain even his eyes seemed half closed because of it.
“Would you like some help getting to bed?”
“I should be able to manage, thanks.”
“I could massage the back of your neck, it might help.”
“Thank you. I feel absolutely hellish. Finish your meal first, though.”
In less than fifteen minutes Laurie left a pouting Helen and walked into Blair’s bedroom. Why didn’t he use the main bedroom? He sat propped up against the pillows, cradling his head in his hands.
“Here let me.” She sat down on the bed. After gently removing his hands, she shifted the lamp so the glare would not hurt his eyes. She massaged his neck, and within minutes his tension eased.
“This is like old times, remember? When you were at the convalescent hospital?”
“I’ll never forget your hands, so little and dainty, yet you have a magic touch. I’m feeling better already.”
She did not speak for a time, just kept up a gentle massage. “Feeling more relaxed now?”
“Yes, thank you.” He gave a rueful laugh. “You always seem to be nursing me when I’m ill.”
“I don’t mind. Try to sleep now.” She adjusted his pillows so he could slip more comfortably into the bed. As she leaned over to straighten the blankets, he grasped her wrist.
“Don’t leave me yet. Stay until I go to sleep.” She curled her fingers around his, and with her free hand caressed his forehead, smoothing away the wrinkles. He closed his eyes and she stayed there.
In sleep he appeared vulnerable, the harsh angry lines of his face softened and her heart overflowed with tenderness. Time passed, the only sounds in the room being the ticking of an antique clock on the dressing table and his deep, regular breathing.
Gently she eased his fingers from around hers and placed his hand under the bedclothes before slipping away.
Chapter Ten
Next morning Laurie was eating a bowl of porridge at the kitchen table when Blair strode in.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Much improved, thanks to you.”
He did appear better. The drawn paleness had left his face, she decided, watching as he hooked a chair over with one foot before sitting down. Helen was having breakfast in her room, so it seemed almost like old times having Blair share the table with her.
He was dressed in his usual moleskins with black leggings, and he wore a comfortable, shabby jacket over his shirt.
“Would you like to come out riding with me today? I’m going into the hill country to check on some scrub cattle. Angus thinks there’s a number we could muster later on, and today looks as if it will be fine.”
Laurie couldn’t believe her ears, not after the way he had treated her since Helen’s arrival. Was he trying to heal the rift between them? Maybe, just maybe he did feel something special for her. She was leaving herself open to more heartache her brain hammered out the warning, but her poor foolish heart refused to listen. “I’d love to come.”
“Good. Could you make us up a few sandwiches for lunch, please, Fergie?”
The housekeeper set about preparing the sandwiches. As soon as Laurie finished eating she excused herself and hurried to her room to change, leaving Blair to finish his breakfast. Within the space of ten minutes they were at the stables collecting Firebrand and Bolinda Vale who were already saddled and waiting.
Laurie waved to a grinning Jimmy as they rode off. Blair explained that Angus had left a day earlier to check with the shepherds about their sheep.
“I bought a small property before the war. I planned to raise the best merino sheep in the state. Now I’m back, one of my first priorities is to build up the flock again.”
It was pleasant riding together. They headed towards the mountains, but not in the same direction she had gone with Dick. They did not speak, but it was a companionable silence. Please God, let this be the beginning of a thaw in his anger.
They passed gullies cut like deep clefts into the rocks and so densely wooded, numerous cattle could hide there without detection.
For lunch they lit a fire. While the billycan boiled, Laurie wandered down to the creek, picking her way over hollow logs from which dainty tree ferns grew. Blair joined her after a time. They stood together without speaking, gazing into the crystal clear water.
“As a boy, I used to fish here,” he finally said. “Mainly perch and black fish. I came to tell you the water is boiled.”
When they sat down to drink their tea, she couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise. He had toasted their sandwiches and they tasted delicious with an extra smoky flavor. She leaned with her back against a tree. After lighting his pipe, he smoked it thoughtfully, with his knees drawn up so he could rest his elbows on them.
“I love it here, Blair; everything is so peaceful.”
“I used to think of this place, when I was on Gallipoli. Men lay dying all around me, the death and suffering was frightful. You could see it, smell it everywhere, but you know the worst thing?”
She shook her head. It was the first time he had spoken in depth about his experiences.
“The incessant noise. It got everyone down. The bombardment would be so heavy sometimes our ears rang for hours after it stopped. On the seventh of August we attacked the Turks at the Nek.” He took an almost savage pull on his pipe. “Pure, out-and-out slaughter. One wave of troops followed another over the top, and each one gained an extra few yards of ground.”
He remained silent for so long she thought he must have finished.
“One fellow in my unit used to be a first class c
ricketer. When the Turks lobbed bombs into our trenches they sometimes didn’t go off, so we used to throw them back again. This fellow used to lob them with such deadly accuracy he used to joke about it, said he was pretending to be at Lords cricket ground, bowling a few balls at the English Test Team.”
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. We went over the top and I started running. I used to be my school’s sprint champion, so I was yards ahead of the others. I heard an almighty explosion and remember being lifted up into the air, then nothing.” He gave a long, drawn-out shudder. “I’ve got no idea what happened to him, probably killed. I don’t think there were many who survived that mad dash.”
“Don’t speak about it, if it upsets you.”
“I feel I can tell you, Laurie. You understand as few others do. Sometimes I feel it would be best to try and forget what happened; other times I feel like going mad because I want to speak about it but can’t.”
He started retreating into a silent world of his own, where she did not like to intrude. Would these men ever be the same again? Would the passage of time soften the memories so they were not so painful, or would they forever remain, like some festering wound that refused to heal?
“We’d best head for home.” Blair sighed as he climbed to his feet.
She stumbled against him as he pulled her up, and for a moment she felt his breath stirring in her hair. Was it imagination, or did he hold her hand a little longer than necessary? Wishful thinking, you fool, she castigated herself.
They mounted their horses and rode off. The tree-covered mountains soared in the background, dark and forbidding against the winter sky.
Blair told her about a swagman who had become lost in the ranges. He wandered around for days before being found half dead from exposure.
“How awful! Was it on your property?”
“No, Guy Webster’s place. He lives not far from here, lost his arm on Gallipoli.
“Yes, I remember seeing him and his wife at the party.”
Dusk had fallen by the time they arrived back at the homestead. Laurie felt tired and drained, which seemed strange, since it hadn’t been a long or strenuous day. Helen met them on the verandah, absolutely livid. After a few moments of raving and ranting, she burst into tears, so Laurie left Blair to console her.
Later, at dinner, Helen smiled sweetly as she spoke about her friends and asked Laurie about her father. So pleasant was she, in fact, that had Laurie not known her cousin so well she would have begun to think they might be friends.
“Blair promised to take me out riding.”
He gave Laurie a rueful grin.
“I didn’t know you rode, Helen.”
“I’ve had a few lessons on and off over the years. I did bring a riding habit with me. It’s such a darling little thing, especially made for me in Sydney.”
She smiled at Blair, and Laurie found herself in the unladylike position of having to practically grind her teeth to stop from giving vent to her real feelings.
“Blair said I could borrow your little horse.”
“Bolinda Vale?” Laurie dropped her fork with a clatter.
“Those were not my exact words. I merely suggested you ask Laurie whether she would loan you the filly.”
“I’m sorry Helen, but you can’t have Bolinda Vale. No one rides her except me.”
“How can you be so selfish? Anyone would think it was human, the way you carry on. It’s only a horse.”
“Only a horse? Bolinda Vale is beautiful, she’s almost human.”
“Do you mind not arguing at the dinner table,” Blair broke in on them.
The apple dumplings might well have been balls of paper for all the taste they had now.
“You can’t let Helen ride Bolinda Vale. She’s got such a sensitive mouth. I mean, a novice rider could ruin it.”
“I am not a novice rider. Are you going to let her order you around, Blair? She’s only here because she tricked you.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose, it was a misunderstanding. I wanted to explain to Blair, but I couldn’t.”
“You wanted to grab yourself a rich husband, admit the truth,” Helen sneered.
“You should talk.” Laurie fought back. “You never once wrote to Blair while he was away. You didn’t even have the decency to answer his letters.”
“I explained what happened, didn’t I, darling? What about the horse?” Helen could be as tenacious as a terrier sometimes.
“Work it out between yourselves. I’ll have a pipe in the smoking room while you two ladies,” he over-emphasized the last word, “sort out your differences.”
As soon as Blair left the room, Helen started on Laurie again.
“I’m riding that horse, no matter what you say.”
“There are other horses, Helen.” She tried to be reasonable.
“Other horses! Broken down old hacks no one else wants to ride.”
“They’re not hacks. There’s a nice, placid bay mare.”
“I mean to ride that horse. Blair shouldn’t have given it to you; it should have been mine. He’s my fiancé. I’ll be mistress of this house soon, and you’ll be leaving immediately.” Venom dripped from her voice now. “Try to stop me riding that horse, you lying, conniving bitch, and you’ll regret it.”
“Are you threatening me?” Laurie’s temper flared. “Touch my horse, and I’ll slap your face. I mean it, Helen. I’ll slap your face until your ears ring.”
“Laurie!” Blair’s furious voice broke in on them.
“Oh, Blair.” Helen collapsed into his arms sobbing. “Lauren threatened me. Did you hear?”
“Don’t upset yourself, darling.” His eyes, cold and sharp as ice picks, practically chopped Laurie in two. “Apologize at once.”
“Why should I? Did you hear what Helen said to me?”
“I suggest you leave the room,” he said in a low savage voice. “I will not have such vicious behavior in my home.”
Without a word she left, vowing not to give either of them the satisfaction of seeing the bitter tears springing to her eyes. Blair had taken Helen’s part. It was only natural he would believe everything she told him, considering how he worshipped her.
After getting ready for bed, Laurie lay there with tears coursing down her cheeks. It was hours before she drifted into sleep. A tremendous clap of thunder woke her. The wind shrieked outside and branches banged against her window.
She listened to the ferocity of the storm, reflecting on all that had happened over the last few weeks. Would Blair ever forgive her? How could Helen have explained away her callous behavior towards him?
It came to Laurie suddenly, a thought so dreadful it left her trembling in fear. She was carrying Blair’s child. She shoved a fist in her mouth to stop the screams escaping There had been signs, symptoms she had chosen to ignore over the last couple of weeks. The enormity of her predicament, the shame and disgrace of having a baby out of wedlock, almost had her sliding out of bed and rushing to tell Blair. She forced herself not to do anything so foolish. What if she wasn’t pregnant? He would really despise her, then. Better to wait another few days, until she became absolutely certain. “God, why are you doing these terrible things to me?”
A glance in the mirror next morning showed a white-faced, hollow-eyed stranger staring back at her. Listlessly, she washed and dressed before presenting herself for breakfast.
Helen sailed into the kitchen. She wore a smile tinged with malice. She waited until Fergie left the room before saying quite pleasantly “You’ll have to find yourself another rich husband now. Blair and I have decided to get married as soon as we can make the arrangements. You could always grab up Dick McKinlay. He’s a bit on the feminine side, but still, the two of you got on so well together. His parents are quite wealthy.”
Laurie felt her heart rise up in her throat before it plummeted to her stomach with a sickening jolt. She would die before letting Helen know how terrible the hurt was. Blair didn’t even hav
e the decency to tell me himself, she thought, feeling even more wretched.
“Where’s Blair?”
“Gone to check on the damage outside. There was a frightful storm last night. I couldn’t sleep, so Blair and I had,” Helen hesitated, stretching like a satiated cat, “a long chat about our relationship. If I were you, I’d start making arrangements to leave here, to save him the embarrassment of asking you to go.” Helen gave a poisonous smile.
*
“I might go for a ride over to McKinlay’s, Fergie,” Laurie told the housekeeper after Helen left the room.
“Better wait until Mr. Blair gets back.”
“Don’t wait lunch for me. The McKinlays will give me something, I’m sure.” She had already changed into a split skirt with a heavy jacket over her blouse. She would take Bolinda Vale over to Dick and then leave Coolibah forever.
“What will Mr. Blair say?”
“He won’t mind. Why should he?”
Giving the housekeeper a kiss on the cheek, she left the house, feeling about a hundred years old. The wind had stopped now, and so had the rain. Poor Mr. Chong’s vegetable garden lay in ruins. She could see him in the distance, dashing from plot to plot.
A giant peppercorn tree had split asunder. A storage shed had been picked up and tossed away like a discarded toy, the walls now little more than splintered rubble. The homestead, like the stables, remained untouched. They had been built from sandstone by Blair’s pioneering forebears and were able to withstand the most ferocious storms.
Bolinda Vale whinnied a welcome to Laurie as she went to pat her neck. The filly greedily nuzzled in Laurie’s coat pocket, which for once was empty. In her anxiety she had forgotten the usual sugar lump.
“Sorry. I forgot your little treat.”
They cantered for a time, but as the ground became muddier, the filly dropped back to a walk and carefully picked her way through the storm rubble. Limbs were snapped off trees. In several places trees had been blown over completely, leaving their roots protruding out of the ground.
When they came to the creek, Laurie hesitated, as it was now a raging torrent. The water swirled madly, murky and choked with debris. An inch or two of water washed over the bridge. Dare she risk it? Yes, it seemed safe enough.
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