by Juliet Bell
Betty followed the sweep of his hand around the room. He didn’t mean this scruffy office. He meant the house. And the name. And the wife who’d gone to meetings with other wives and talked about what charities to support and other good works. He meant Betty. She was one of the good works after all.
‘And I’ll pass it on to Richard and he’ll make even more of it. And you’ll play your part too.’
There was a look in his eye that Betty hadn’t seen before. An intensity, a determination. ‘It all comes down to land in the end. We’re only agents.’ He laughed. ‘We take their money but it’s just money. We don’t have part of the place. Do you understand?’
Betty nodded. A place that was completely yours – that mattered. She understood that. If you had somewhere you belonged, nobody could take that away from you.
‘But if you were there, one of them, having their babies, then we’d be one of them, wouldn’t we?’
‘One of who?’
He shook his head, and unfolded the map again across his desk. ‘You’ve got no idea. Look.’
She did as she was told, bending her head over the map. Different sections were outlined by thick, coloured lines. Mr Mason traced a purple line. ‘That’s the Harold estate.’ He moved to a green line. ‘Crossthwaite.’ And then a red line. ‘Thornfield – the Rochesters’ property.’ He jabbed at the red line at one extreme and then the other. ‘More than a day to drive from one side to the other. Can you even imagine?’
Betty gulped. ‘And one man owns all that?’
Mr Mason nodded. And then he smiled. ‘One man. And his sons.’ He smiled more widely. ‘Would you like to meet his sons, Eliza?’
Chapter 21
Jane
‘Lezzos. Look at the lezzos.’
I halted in my tracks, my heart pounding. We had been found out. Please, God, no. Not now. Not when I was struggling…
‘Lezzo…’
The chants were coming from behind me. I curled my hands into fists as I slowly turned around. The hallway was empty. I heard the words again, and this time someone was crying. I was spared. I could walk away, but someone else was suffering.
I pushed open the door to the communal bathroom. There were four shower cubicles along one wall, and three or four middle-school girls crowded around an open door. The crying was coming from inside.
‘Stop that.’ The anger burst from me. ‘Leave them alone.’
The crowd turned to face me. I was older, but I was not a prefect. They weren’t scared of me. But they should have been. I leant over to see who was in the cubicle. There were two girls, both younger than their attackers. They were cowering, fully dressed but wet through, as though they’d been shoved in there and had the water turned on above them.
The rage that I thought had peaked grew stronger. They could be me, but not just me – Helen. The thought of her shivering and humiliated fired my anger again. I turned back to the group of bullies who were tormenting the two girls. ‘Get out of here!’
I grabbed the nearest girl by the shoulder and pushed her towards the door. She fell against it with a heavy crash.
One of the other girls reached for me. I took half a step back and slapped her across the face. Hard. The smack of my hand against her skin made her stagger back. There was a moment of quiet. I didn’t dare speak. Eventually the girl I had hit shrugged. ‘Come on.’
She led her little group away. The two girls shuffled out of the cubicle. In an instant, the anger left me. ‘You’d better go and get changed.’
They edged past me. One of them turned back. ‘We’re not…you know…’
I must have frowned.
‘We’re not lezzoss.’
Her friend nodded emphatically. ‘Course we’re not. That’s gross.’
I spent that afternoon waiting for the detention that never came. The girl I slapped must have realised she’d get into just as much trouble as me if she said anything. I was cross, though. I deserved to be punished. I’d lost my temper. I’d lashed out, but it was worse than that. Really I was just as bad as the girl I’d hit. I’d done the same as thing as her. Since Sister Mary Gabriel’s lecture I’d turned away from Helen. I hadn’t been brave enough to say anything to her, but I found excuses not to go to the garden during our free time. I pretended I was busy when she suggested studying together. At night, I went quickly to bed and pretended I was asleep if she tried to talk to me at lights out. I was hurting the person I loved most in the world because of who she was. How was I any better than those girls shouting insults in the bathroom?
At the end of lessons I took myself to the chapel. I could pray. I could seek forgiveness. I could rely on my faith, but something wasn’t right. I didn’t know why, but the chapel didn’t bring me the comfort I craved. The church viewed Helen as depraved. That was the thing that hurt so much. Seeing myself as depraved was easier, but I couldn’t see Helen like that. She was not sinful. She was kind and pure and good. Absolutely good.
And I had denied her. I’d let my doubt override my faith in our love.
I’d been stupid. I’d let fear hold me back from love. The only fear I had left was the fear that Helen might not forgive me. I had to find her. I had to tell her that I was sorry, that I was ready to fully accept her love. I would beg if I had to. The school year was almost over. This place, these rules, didn’t have to mean anything to us anymore. We could go anywhere.
I left the chapel and set out for the small garden behind the gym. I didn’t dare run and risk being caught, but I wished myself there quicker than my legs could carry me. The garden was in full bloom. I hesitated as I pushed through to our hidden spot. The flowers were beautiful. And there, in the filtered sunlight, Helen was beautiful too. It felt like fate. She was exactly where I’d pictured her. I could only hope she was waiting for me to come back to her.
Helen didn’t stir as I walked across to the bower and sat down beside her. I reached out to touch her face. The skin was damp with sweat. Her breathing was heavy and uneven.
‘Helen? Helen!’
I shook her shoulder and slowly her eyes opened. Something was wrong.
‘Helen. What’s happened?’
She tried to say something, but then whimpered in pain as her whole body suddenly twitched violently. I took her hand and then I saw it. The bite marks on her arm were swollen and red. Congealed blood spotted her lower arm.
My throat tightened with a fear so strong I thought for a moment my heart would stop beating. But Helen needed me.
‘Was it a snake?’
She shook her head. Her lips moved soundlessly, but I knew what she was saying. A spider. We all knew about redbacks and funnel webs.
‘Lie very still. I’ll go get help.’ I started to get up, but her fingers reached for me.
‘Please. Don’t leave me.’
The words tore me into little pieces. I had to go – it was her only hope – but I was desperate to stay.
‘I’ll only be a minute, Helen. I have to get help. I have to.’
I gently took her hand away and leapt to my feet. I was shouting for help as I ran past the gym onto the big open lawn at the centre of the school. There was no-one there. Still shouting, I ran towards the main boarding house. Miss Temple was the first to appear.
‘Jane. Jane. What’s wrong?’
‘Helen, you’ve got to get help for Helen.’ I was sobbing as Miss Temple grabbed me by my shoulders.
‘What’s happened?’
‘I think she’s been bitten by a spider.’
‘Where is she?’
‘In our garden.’
‘Jane, go and tell Matron to call an ambulance.’
I shook my head. ‘I have to get back to Helen. She needs me.’
I had done what I had to. Help would come and now, more than anything else, I needed to be with Helen. I ran back to her. Behind me, I heard Miss Temple calling out for someone to phone for an ambulance.
Helen was moving as I dashed back into our little garden. He body wa
s twisting painfully in violent spasms. I dropped to the grass and pulled her head onto my lap. She was moaning in pain, and her breathing was becoming more and more ragged.
‘Helen. Please, Helen. Hold on. Help is coming.’
She opened her eyes, but didn’t seem to see me.
‘Helen, I love you. Please don’t leave me.’
‘Jane…’ I barely heard the whisper.
Tears were streaming down my face as Miss Temple ran into the little garden. She gasped when she saw Helen and knelt swiftly beside her.
‘The ambulance is on the way,’ she told me. ‘Helen? Helen, can you hear me?’
Helen didn’t reply.
More teachers arrived, trampling over our carefully tended garden. They tried to pull me away, but Miss Temple stopped them. Their voices sounded loud and harsh, and I wanted to tell them to be quiet – I didn’t want them to disturb my sleeping love.
The ambulance arrived and she was finally taken from me. The men knelt next to her, shouting and moving with such urgency. But soon, too soon, the quiet returned to our garden. The men slowed. Their voices dropped to whispers and then they stood, quietly shaking their heads.
Chapter 22
Betty
She let Mr Mason steer her by the elbow through the crowd of people pouring through the gates of the showgrounds. ‘Now, I don’t have time to babysit you, so you need to get your bearings.’
He stopped in a large open area, and pulled her around to face the way he wanted. ‘The main cattle pavilions and ring are over there. That’s where I’ll be for most of the morning.’
‘Looking at cows?’
Mr Mason gave her a look that mixed pity with disgust. ‘Doing business with the people who own the livestock. Anyway, sideshow alley is down that way. Stay away from there. That’s for the city people and the kids. The Country Women’s Association does afternoon teas in a pavilion on the other side of the main ring. That’s the sort of place you need to be seen. Make people think you’ll make a proper grazier’s wife. The cattlemen’s bar is also there, but you stay well clear of that too. I don’t want you getting mixed up with the types that hang out there. The people we care about are in the members’ rooms.’
Betty scowled.
‘Father! Father!’ Richard hurried over to them. ‘Mr Rochester’s waiting for you in the beef cattle pavilion. He’s as mad as a cut snake about something.’
Mr Mason glanced at Betty.
Richard hadn’t finished. ‘And his son’s with him. The older one anyway. They’re barely talking to each other.’
Mr Mason nodded curtly. ‘Probably not the right time for you to meet them, Eliza. Go and see about the Country Women’s Association. Make yourself useful. Remember the names we went over. Keep your eyes and ears open. There’ll be people there you ought to get to know.’
Betty nodded mutely and watched the two men stride away. Mr Mason turned back. ‘The Grand Parade is at midday. Be at the members’ enclosure entrance before that. I’ll come and get you in.’
Wow – a parade of cows. She could barely contain her excitement. She could hear music and wild screams, and see the flashing lights of sideshow alley. That would be much more fun than cows. Besides, if she wasn’t supposed to be there, it was probably the place she really wanted to be. Betty set off in that direction.
‘Come on, girl. Fancy a ride?’ The leering sideshow hawker wasn’t referring to the Ferris wheel and she knew it. She ignored him and walked on. Most of the people around her were kids, eating fairy floss and dagwood dogs. They’d be throwing that up again later when they hopped on those rides. Betty watched the Octopus for a few minutes as it swung people high into the air. That wasn’t what she wanted. The people on the rides were squashed together and held down by iron bars. Betty felt her chest tighten at the idea. She preferred to be free. She wanted wide open spaces. The sun on her face and the rain on her skin. She couldn’t be trapped. She wouldn’t be held down.
She turned away from the rides and walked along the aisles between the freakish wide-mouthed clowns and the kewpie dolls on sticks, with their bare butts showing under their glittery dresses. She watched a young couple holding hands and giggling as they bought tickets to the Tunnel of Love. For a heartbeat, Betty wondered what it would be like to be that girl. Happy and in love. She’d never had that. And she didn’t want it. She pushed that bit of weakness aside. That wasn’t for her. She turned away from the couple. She’d had enough of this. What she really wanted was to find some good-looking bloke and flirt with him. She wouldn’t do anything, of course. She understood Mr Mason’s plan for her and she wasn’t going to risk her chance to get away. But right now, nobody was paying her any attention. She was starting to feel invisible, and she didn’t like that feeling.
Betty headed back towards the livestock areas. They weren’t hard to find. She just followed her nose.
As she approached the ring, a horse pranced into view. It was a big, beautiful creature, dark brown with a small white star on its forehead. The rider on its back was struggling to control it. The animal tossed its head, its mouth white with foam. The horse half-reared and Betty flinched as the rider brought down her whip with a smart crack on the horse’s rump. The horse leapt forward in protest. Betty turned away. She couldn’t bear to watch a moment longer, because she knew just how that poor animal felt.
Then she saw him. He was standing on his own, leaning on the fence at the side of the arena. Betty paused before she went over. He was older than her. Maybe twenty-five. He had thick dark hair that skimmed the collar of his tan checked shirt. He’d taken off his Akubra and it was hanging from his fingertips. She moved closer, edging forward to get a look at his face. He was staring at the ground in front of him, but she could see the sharp angular lines of his cheekbones and jaw. He could make her day more interesting. He could make her feel better.
‘Hi.’
He stood to his full height and turned towards her. He was tall and broad. Betty felt a moment’s uncertainty. Mostly she went with boys. It was easier. You knew who was in charge.
‘G’day.’
His voice was deep, and he looked at her with piercing grey eyes. This was not the same way the boys looked at her. It was … more. Betty felt a hint of something moving deep inside her. She dropped her eyes to the ground. This time it wasn’t because of anything Mason had told her to do. It was because of this sharp-eyed man and the way he looked at her.
‘Are you looking for someone?’
She shook her head, still not quite meeting his eyes. ‘You’re here for the show jumping?’
He laughed without any humour. ‘No. I’m here because my old man is mad at my brother, and because he says he’ll cut off my allowance if I don’t do what he wants me to.’
Here because he had to be. She understood that. ‘Same for me.’
‘Your dad’s threatening to disinherit you too?’
Dad. For a moment he was there again. Those strong arms. That deep, melodious voice. That wonderful safe place. And then it was gone. She looked directly at the stranger beside her. ‘No. I’m here because I didn’t have a choice.’
He met her gaze. His deep grey eyes seemed to pin her to the spot. He started to smile. ‘At least I’m only here today.’
‘Edward!’ The name was shouted from across the showground. The man sighed under his breath, and pushed his hat firmly over his hair. ‘Back to it, then.’
The man called Edward strode off towards the older man who was calling him. Betty watched him leave, feeling an almost physical pull to follow. She reached her hand out and gripped the fence to ground herself. He might be a bit older, but he was no different to the others. Except he wasn’t. He was like her. He understood.
Richard and Mr Mason were hurrying towards her. ‘What did you say to him?’
Betty shrugged. ‘Nothing.’
‘What did he say?’
She shrugged again. ‘Just that he was here because of his father – who is mad at his brother fo
r some reason. I don’t think he’s enjoying it much.’
Mr Mason turned towards his son. ‘So Freddie Rochester’s definitely out of favour. Good to know. Did he say why?’
Richard giggled before Betty could respond.
Mr Mason narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘One of Rochester’s stockmen told Terry Harolds that Freddie’s shagging one of their Abos.’
Mr Mason looked blank. ‘So?’
‘And he says Freddie wants to move her into the big house. Like she was his wife or something.’
Mr Mason took a tiny step backwards as if to distance himself from the very idea. Then he looked back at Betty. ‘That explains it. All the more important that his sons meet a nice, suitable Australian girl, then.’
‘I’m English.’
‘You’re a Mason. So long as you’re not one of them …’ He jerked his head towards a group of young Aboriginal men leading livestock out towards the ring. ‘I don’t care.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Make sure you smooth your hair down properly tomorrow. And for goodness’ sake get yourself a hat and stay out of the sun. We don’t want them asking questions about you. We’ll make sure Edward sees you again tomorrow.’
‘He’s not going to be here tomorrow. He said he was only staying today.’
‘And Freddie Rochester’s no use at the moment.’ Mr Mason folded his arms. ‘Then let’s make sure next time you meet one of them they’re absolutely desperate to get to know the feted Eliza Mason.’
Chapter 23
Jane
‘I don’t think this is good for you, Jane.’
Miss Temple stepped through the gap in the hedge into the garden. My garden. Mine and Helen’s, except now Helen was gone.
I brushed the tears away from my eyes and picked up the gardening fork I had dropped some time ago.
‘I can’t let it all die, Miss Temple.’
‘She wouldn’t have wanted you to sit here all alone crying either.’ Miss Temple came to sit beside me. She’d been kind to me since Helen died, kinder than I deserved.