Stone Country

by Nicole Alexander

  Mrs Guild waited for a reply. ‘She’s made a good life here in Darwin,’ he eventually said.

  He listened to the familiar tut of her tongue. ‘So you haven’t spoken to her about going with you?’

  ‘No,’ Ross acknowledged.

  Mrs Guild paired a darned sock and selected another. ‘Maybe you should just ask her straight out. Then you’ll know.’

  ‘I don’t have the right,’ answered Ross. ‘And there might be someone else.’

  ‘Don’t you think, after the weeks you’ve been visiting her, that she would have said if there was another man?’

  ‘Darcey told me she didn’t care about me,’ said Ross.

  ‘And you’re surprised by that, are you? You disappear for years without a word. And now you’re back, not looking your finest, I might add, you expect a woman to be enamoured with you? Ross. Ross.’ She clucked her tongue. ‘I know men can be soft in the head at times, but really. If she’s not thrown you out the door yet then I’d say you have as good a chance as any other with her, and you have the right of a husband. Don’t leave her to drift in the wind, lad. Show your interest.’

  ‘And if she says no?’

  ‘It’s a no. You tried.’ The widow put her half-darned sock aside and disappeared inside the cottage. She returned with paper and pencil. ‘If you can’t say it …’ She placed the writing materials on the table and pulled out the chair.

  ‘I can barely hold a pen.’

  She retrieved his spectacles and sat them next to the paper. ‘Scratch it out, boy. You’ve done harder things, I expect.’

  Ross rolled his lips inwards, slowly clambered down from the veranda railing, and took the seat. The blank page taunted him with all the words that could be said, and those that needed to stay concealed. But the page also offered something he’d not imagined in a very long time. A new start.

  Dear Darcey

  I’m returning to Waybell. I’d like you to consider joining me. I don’t expect it and I won’t be blaming you if you choose to stay where you are. I can’t promise you anything.

  If you can’t see your way clear to this, I’ll understand.

  I’ll also be sorry.

  Ross

  He gave the letter a final once-over, and passed it to Mrs Guild for inspection. She held it at arm’s length, gradually drawing it closer.

  ‘That took near to a half-hour?’ She read the note again. ‘Well, your writing’s so poor I can barely make out one word from the next and you’d never be accused of being over-flowery, but you got your point across.’

  Ross folded the note and scribbled the address on the front.

  ‘I’ll get the milk boy to take it to her,’ said Mrs Guild, sliding it into the pocket of her apron.

  Ross dunked an Anzac biscuit in the now-cold tea and decided it tasted better than anything out of a bottle. ‘And you, Mrs Guild. Will you be able to make ends meet without me?’

  She gestured to the pile of mending. Shirts, socks and pants were scattered about her stockinged feet. ‘You might think you’re indispensable, but the Carments have been very good to me over the years.’

  ‘The Carments?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mrs Guild scooped up a sock and made two quick stitches.

  ‘I knew a Hugh Carment years ago,’ said Ross slowly.

  ‘I know you did. That would be the father you’re talking about. It’s his family I take in the mending for,’ she explained. ‘They’ve a big house right on Myilly Point. Hop and a skip from the hospital. You never see Mrs Carment there,’ continued Mrs Guild. ‘Doesn’t mix much around town, from what I’ve heard. A bit fernickety about the company she keeps, but it’s more the other way around for some. I don’t know the whole story, not that it matters, because I’m sure you remember,’ she said pointedly. ‘I was nursing my boy and had just buried a husband. A few years of my life are blighted by grief and anger, but what I do recall is hearing that the young Mrs Carment was caught in a delicate situation and the Carment boy, Edward, saw her and fell in love. If the gossips are right then the girl’s always been trouble and her husband was caught line and sinker, unlike the lover who managed to escape her. That lover was you, Ross.’

  Ross levered his body up from the table. His heart was suddenly pounding.

  ‘Yes, I knew about her, Ross. It’s up to you what you choose to do, but I thought you should know she’s still here. And regardless, I’m sending that letter to your wife.’ Mrs Guild said goodnight and went inside.

  The day had long ended and a duskiness spread out towards the ocean. The air heavy and humid. It was as if he were out in the back country again. Knuckles scabbed over. Inhabiting some grubby space, existing, only to be drawn out. Punched in the guts. Swift and hard. He sat on the edge of the bed, the springs flagging, creaking with age. In one deliberate disclosure, every single step taken in retreat from the wasteland of his previous years had come undone.

  Chapter 56

  The house was shuttered and pitched towards the ocean, and low-slung to withstand the buffeting of storms off Myilly Point. The garden was brittle pale from lack of rain, and clearly required attention. Shrubs were overgrown, the path needed sweeping. A wooden bench sat under a lone tree and a child’s swing – two pieces of rope and a plank – hung from one of the branches. If not for the basket of mending sitting in Mrs Guild’s cottage, the signs suggested that the occupants were not home and hadn’t been for some time. Ross waited for an hour at the end of the street and then walked further along the point to where tussocky grasses clung to the white edges of the beach.

  The sky was banded to the ocean by blue, the horizon impossible to define. Not far away, people enjoyed the airless morning. Two children dashed ankle-deep into the sea, racing each other, skipping over the smallest of the waves. Whitewashed foam crept across the shore as a woman gave chase, dragging them free of the water. The children circled their carer as she held out something she’d unearthed. A shell perhaps, or a piece of drift-wood. Further along the stretch of sand were muddy flats where mangroves waded. That was how Ross felt, caught between the sea and the land.

  He was deliberating whether he should wait a little longer to see if anyone returned to the house when he noticed a figure approaching from the opposite end of the beach. He watched the woman walk towards him. With each step closer he began to identify characteristics that were familiar. The smallness of her, the way she slightly swayed as she moved, the darkness of her hair. It was her. Maria. With that recognition, every noise that had been a background to her arrival – the swish of the waves, the call of birds, the hum of distant motor vehicles – dropped away until there was nothing except her, growing nearer until she finally stood before him.

  ‘Ross?’ Her face was blanched white in surprise.

  Ross removed his hat, fiddling with the brim before replacing it. ‘Hello, Maria.’

  He’d come here to find her and now she was before him, older and yet still so young. Her face firmer than he recalled. The long black hair pinned to fall over one shoulder. She was wearing a pink dress and straw hat edged with lilac ribboning. Still beautiful. Like a picture from another age. He’d formulated so many words during the night, replayed exactly what to say. How he’d feel. The rush of excitement. Holding her in his arms again after so many years. But he was no longer the brash boy he’d once been. The shock of learning that Maria still lived in Darwin had been replaced by unutterable joy and then, finally, as pre-dawn glowed, his emotions were tempered by fact. A reality he acknowledged as she stood before him, her features almost rigid with disbelief. They were still separated by circumstance and time and Ross no longer knew how he felt about her. He was like an old man who’d thrown a coin into a wishing well and, with a dream made real, he wasn’t sure what to do with his prize, or if he even wanted it anymore.

  ‘I almost didn’t recognise you.’ Maria took in his appearance from boots to hat. ‘I saw a man limping and guessed you to be one of the patients from the hospital.’

  �
��It’s been a long time,’ he replied. He tried not to stare, at the slight angle she wore her hat, the slope of her hips as she moved from one leg to another, at the gold wedding band.

  ‘I knew you were back,’ she stated flippantly, waving at the woman with the two children further along the beach. ‘You made the front page of the newspaper when you arrived at the hospital, no doubt across Australia as well. You were always good at making headlines.’

  She’d collected herself quickly. While he, in comparison, had not.

  ‘I only found out yesterday that you were here,’ replied Ross. He couldn’t believe that, while he had rushed to find her, it seemed that she’d ignored his existence all these months.

  ‘Really? I’m surprised Mrs Guild didn’t hurry to tell you. This is still a small town. Everyone knows everybody’s business. Maybe she was too simple to make the connection.’

  ‘She’s been very good to me,’ Ross said sharply.

  ‘The old woman’s a good worker,’ Maria agreed. She looked at her feet then to the wandering children. ‘I heard most of your family died. You must be pleased.’ There was an edge to her voice.

  ‘Not so much,’ said Ross, unprepared for the subject and her harshness. ‘My father and grandmother had been dead some time when I got the news.’

  ‘I see.’ She gave a smile like a shared conspirator. ‘Come on. You were so angry with them and rightly so. Still here you are, pulled from the wilderness by your faithful servant.’ She bobbed a curtsey. ‘The great man. Resurrected. Heir to a fortune.’

  ‘Don’t do this, Maria.’

  Her false gaiety soured. ‘Why not? You deserted me. It might be years ago but that’s the truth of things. You made me a promise and then you ditched me like a piece of trash. But what does it matter now? We’ve both moved on.’ She signalled again to the other woman, and in response the woman walked to where the children were tossing sand at each other. Maria appeared fascinated by their game. Ross searched for something more to say.

  ‘I have my respectable life,’ she said. ‘And you have yours. Whatever that might be. So why are you here?’

  ‘Stop it, Maria.’ He felt awkward, being faced with such disdain. He’d had little idea what Maria’s reaction would be, but he’d not expected this. She looked confused.

  ‘I never deserted you,’ said Ross. ‘I made sure you were safe and –’

  ‘It was Connor who made sure I was safe,’ Maria interrupted brusquely. ‘Made all the promises in the world, didn’t you?’

  ‘You hate me,’ stated Ross. ‘Well, you’ll never be able to despise me as much as I hate myself for what happened. I didn’t know about your marriage until it was too late. But don’t think I ever forgot you. I came to find you. I wanted you but you’d already gone, already married. In the end it was you who didn’t wait.’

  Maria’s palm hit him, sharp and stinging across the cheek. Ross grabbed her arm tightly. He knew he was hurting her. He observed how her lips pressed tightly together, the slight flare of her nostrils, her eyes never leaving his face.

  ‘I swear I’ll hit you until every single person in this town sees what’s going on,’ she hissed. ‘Then it will all come swimming back into the public’s glare. Your sordid past. The way I was bundled away to hide your shame.’

  Ross let go of her wrist, battle-ready for what she’d promised. If she was angry then surely she was also suffering. It would be something, at least, to know he wasn’t the only one to have been rubbed raw.

  She flinched and took a step away as if expecting to be struck. ‘When I needed you the most you didn’t come.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Ross wasn’t interested in games. He’d come for an explanation, some justification of her actions. Even though nothing Maria said would alter their current situation, Ross needed to try to grasp how they’d reached this point where they fronted each other like enemies.

  Maria regarded him closely. ‘The child, of course. It was then I understood that wanting me was one thing, being father to a bastard quite another.’

  ‘A child,’ repeated Ross. With those two words it was as if he’d been thrown into the sky and then spun straight back to earth. ‘We have a child?’

  Maria’s mouth opened. ‘Truly. You didn’t know?’

  ‘No.’ Ross turned and began to walk away, the sand pooling around his boots. He needed air and space. A bird was diving into the sea, flapping its wings and trailing a spray of salty water. Maria chased after him and laid a tentative finger on his arm.

  ‘You’re not lying to me?’ she asked.

  ‘Why would I?’ He spun around, seeing the hurt, feeling his own.

  ‘I wrote a letter. Addressed it to you,’ she said. ‘I gave it to Mrs Reece to post.’

  ‘I never got it. As you never received any of mine. Connor made sure of that. He had a strong assistant in Mrs Reece.’

  Maria paled. ‘I thought she was my friend.’

  Ross placed an arm about her waist, afraid she might faint and then drew her to him. He felt resistance, the stiffening of a body that once melded to his. Years ago Ross believed that to hold Maria again would be a healing, a coming home, where everything else would be unimportant compared to the woman he loved. They stayed like that for some minutes, Ross holding her, she unmoving, arms by her side, until she gradually returned the embrace. He still cared for her, but whether it was love, he could no longer tell.

  ‘A girl or boy?’ he asked.

  Maria broke away and started fussing with her dress. Ross collected her hat, which had fallen to the ground. She glanced cautiously to where the woman and children were now leaving the beach, walking away from them towards the scatter of houses.

  ‘A boy,’ she finally told him, pressing each eyelid free of tears. ‘He’ll be ten this year but, Ross, he can’t know about you.’

  ‘What do you mean he can’t know about me?’ said Ross. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Think of him. He already has a father,’ countered Maria.

  ‘Not the real one.’

  She looked at him. ‘You’ve changed.’

  ‘Answer me this, do you love your husband?’

  ‘As much as you love your wife,’ she retaliated. ‘Actually, that’s wrong. You never cared for her.’

  ‘I loved you. I wanted you,’ answered Ross. ‘When I realised …’

  ‘What? You packed up and went walkabout! Please, Ross, don’t blame me for deserting everyone. I have enough of my own problems. Real ones, not issues created by a poor little rich boy. Connor was right. You followed me around like a fool. Treated me like a plaything. You were no better than Holder, bartering for me, weighing my value like a mob of cattle. A white woman wouldn’t have been treated that way.’

  Ross shook his head. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he insisted.

  ‘It was for me, Ross. I grew up with people assuming I was a whore because of my childhood, because I belonged to no one and had no family, because of the colour of my skin. And so I became one. Is that what you want to hear? That I slept with men for a bowl of rice, a trinket, a few shillings? Would you have fought Holder if you’d known that, or would you have been disgusted? What if I told you that I searched through the bones of those Chinese waiting to be sent back to the home of their ancestors? Gold dust and pearls. All concealed in skeletons to avoid tax. What do you think of me now?’ she breathed defiantly. ‘I have a family, Ross,’ she said more quietly. ‘So what do you mean by coming here? What do you want? A quick roll on the beach or something more lasting? You with your wife and me with my husband.’

  This wasn’t the person Ross remembered. This new Maria was all sharp edges and harsh notes, but she was the mother of his son. ‘Is it Carment you want to be with, Maria? Can he give you everything you deserve?’

  ‘He’s not as pretty as you once were, nor so determined to carve a path,’ Maria told him. ‘And there is no great fortune. No grand home in Adelaide. But he’s enough for me.’

  Ross heard he
r words as the soft hiss of the outgoing tide dragged at the sand. ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘You and he are completely different,’ she replied.

  ‘And that’s good, no doubt.’ He felt renewed anger at another man taking what was his, and refreshed disappointment that he’d given up so quickly on finding her once he’d learnt of her marriage. If not for Holder’s claim and Darcey’s obstinacy, they might not have reached this point, might not have destroyed what was once so engulfing, at least for him.

  Ross knew that the days of wandering since he’d last seen her had placed a heavy burden on them both. If there had been anything left of their love to save, the remnants of it were fast disintegrating as they fronted each other on this deserted beach.

  There was nothing to be done. This wasn’t one of Alastair’s Greek myths. No fleet would set sail to capture his Helen a second time. He’d fought for Maria once before and suffered the consequences, and then he’d walked away. Beaten. Sick of everything and everyone. His years in the bush were self-inflicted penance for having lost her. For having been unable to deal with the machinations of those closest to him. For being addled by confusion and guilt. And for loving two women. It was a hard admission.

  ‘Our son deserves to know who his real father is. I’m sorry about your husband but you will have to tell him about us.’

  ‘No,’ said Maria. ‘Edward knows Hugh isn’t his. He believes Marcus Holder is the father. Pretending I was pregnant to that man and not you provided me with some sympathy, and I’m grateful to Edward for marrying me against his father’s wishes. I needed a father for my son and I wasn’t going to say no. And, Ross, you were and still are married.’