The Other Wife

by Juliet Bell

  ‘I was a bit distracted.’ She’d been with him. He couldn’t blame her.

  ‘Yeah. Maybe that’s all you’re good for.’

  The words hit her in the gut. Not because they were unkind. Because they were true. That was all she was good for.

  ‘I’m getting someone in to look after Adele.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Someone a bit more stable. Celine thought…’

  That was it. That was too much. She fled from the room. She didn’t go outside. Max was there. And Jimmy. Whatever she did would be wrong. Instead, she ran upstairs, past the bedroom and into the small corridor she’d escaped to before. She slammed the door closed behind her. She sucked the air into her lungs. She needed to be calm. She rifled through her pockets for the box of matches she carried. It wasn’t there. She could see them in her head. She’d put them down before she started baking, up high on a shelf, out of reach in case Adele came in. They would still be there in the kitchen.

  She sat down, leaning against the wall. It was OK. She could close her eyes and think of the flames dancing as she threw more wood into the stove’s firebox. If she thought really hard, that would be enough. She could imagine the flames dancing in front of her and she could breathe in and out. In and out, and feel the warmth entering her lungs. In and out. And she could do that until her mind was quiet. Until Eliza and Elizabeth and Betty had stopped telling her what to do and how she’d failed. She could be quiet and she could be still.

  Eventually she was ready to venture back into the house. She still had time to make a second cake for Adele. And she could talk to Edward and make him understand that there was nothing going on. She could be the woman he wanted her to be. She stood up and turned the small round door-handle. It clicked but the door didn’t open.

  She pulled harder.

  Nothing.

  She banged on the door with the flat of her hand. Grace’s rooms were was just along the corridor. She’d wake her up if she was resting, but she had to get out. ‘Grace! Grace!’

  She didn’t hear footsteps but Grace’s voice responded straight away. ‘Mrs Rochester.’

  ‘Can you let me out, Grace? The door seems to be stuck.’

  There was a moment of silence. ‘I don’t have the key.’

  ‘OK. Well, can you find Edward and get it, please?’

  Another moment of silence. ‘Mr Rochester has taken Adele into town for a treat.’ She heard Grace clear her throat. ‘He said you were to stay in there until he got back. So you could calm down properly.’

  Betty was perfectly calm. So calm that the scream that forced its way from her lungs to her lips was a surprise to her. A good surprise. It felt loud. It felt powerful. She tried another one, sending a long loud wail out into her prison. She balled her hands into fists and banged harder and louder on the door. It was exhilarating. Locked in here she could let everything go. If she wanted to be quiet, she could be quiet. If she wanted to scream and shout and rage, then she could do that too. She could be anyone at all behind this door.

  Chapter 37

  Jane

  I had expected the garden to be dead or just covered over with weeds. It wasn’t.

  I stepped through the hole in the hedge into a wonderland of colour and life. The roses that Helen and I had planted had flourished even without our care. They had climbed the hedge and entwined themselves with its branches, which were now clothed in glorious red and gold flowers. The garden beds we had tended so carefully were overgrown, but the wildness made it more beautiful rather than less. The flowers we’d planted had taken hold and now waved defiantly in the light breeze. The riotous bougainvillea capped it all with a white cloud of blooms. Our garden was at its most beautiful.

  I drank it in, trying to lock every image in my memory. When I was gone this place would still be here, a little part of me, and of Helen, blooming here forever.

  I sat down on the grass and pulled the letter from my pocket. I opened it and read it one more time, even though I’d read the two brief paragraphs a hundred times already. I was expected at Thornfield as soon as was possible.

  ‘I’m leaving, Helen,’ I said softly. ‘I am finally going to take my life into my own hands, just like we always said we would do. I am so sorry you won’t be with me.’ The idea of leaving still felt unreal, like something out of a film. I let myself smile at the idea. ‘Maybe the father will fall in love with me and ask me to marry him, like in The Sound of Music.’

  Some part of me believed that was possible. Away from Our Lady, away from all these memories, I’d be normal, wouldn’t I? There was a pang of guilt at the thought.

  ‘I’ll never forget you Helen,’ I whispered. I had my photograph now, still pressed safely between the pages of a book.

  I sat there for a short time, knowing that I didn’t have long.

  ‘I have to go, Helen. I have to catch the train to Bourke and then I’m taking the mail plane to Thornfield. It’s a long way west of here. Right in the outback.’ I’d never been on a plane before and I felt sick at the idea of being up in the sky with nothing around me but a tiny metal case. I thought of Helen, who was never scared, never uncertain. I needed to carry a bit of her spirit with me for this journey.

  There was no reason to stay any longer. I got to my feet and pushed the letter back into my pocket.

  ‘Goodbye, Helen.’

  I made my way back to the boarding house, where my two small suitcases were waiting for me inside the door. I had already said goodbye to the nuns and the other lay teachers. One of them offered to drive me to the station, but I said no. My suitcases weren’t heavy, and it felt important that I walked away from the school under my own steam. These were my first steps out into the world alone.

  I walked back down the path and under the arched gateway where I had arrived more than fourteen years ago. I hesitated for a fraction of a second, as a tiny voice at the back of my mind told me that going to an isolated cattle station was just another way of hiding. Pushing that voice away, I took a firmer grasp on the handles of my cases and strode purposefully toward the rail station.

  Chapter 38

  Betty

  ‘I’m going away for a little while.’ It was an innocuous statement over the breakfast table, but it was the longest sentence her husband had spoken to her since Adele’s birthday. You couldn’t say that they’d drifted apart, not when he came for her every single night, and she welcomed him, nails dug hard enough into his back to draw blood. But he didn’t speak to her anymore. They didn’t make plans together. He didn’t pretend that she was his partner anywhere other than the bedroom.

  Betty nodded. ‘How long for?’

  ‘As long as necessary.’ He put down his coffee cup. ‘Grace will look after things here until the new tutor arrives for Adele.’

  ‘Tutor?’

  He nodded. ‘Tutor. Nanny. She needs someone who can help with her schoolwork.’

  ‘No.’ Betty was adamant.

  ‘What do you mean, “no”?’

  ‘I mean, I can look after her. I can help.’

  Edward shook his head and pushed his chair away from the table. ‘It’s already arranged. I hope you’re not going to make things difficult.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just be reasonable.’ He walked straight past her into the hallway and set off up the stairs.

  Betty followed him into the bedroom. He couldn’t take Adele away from her. She wouldn’t let him. ‘What will I do?’

  Edward shrugged. ‘Whatever people’s wives do. But don’t make a display of yourself.’

  Was that what she did? She didn’t know how. She wore the clothes Mr Mason had bought her. She was polite to Grace and Max. She adored Adele. There was nothing else for her to do. She went for walks so she could feel the heat on her skin. She talked to Jimmy and Peggy because nobody else would tell her how a property like Thornfield worked. Nobody else would talk to her much at all. Her husband pulled his shirt off over his head. For a second she thought he was undressing, bu
t then he threw the wardrobe open and pulled a fresh shirt out instead. He didn’t look at her as he spoke. ‘People keep seeing you wandering about the place, talking to the wrong sorts of people.’

  He was fastening his buttons. Betty darted towards him, sliding her fingers under the fabric. ‘I’m trying.’

  He hesitated for a second and she thought she had him. She thought, if she tried, she could take him back to the beach on their honeymoon before it all fell apart.

  He shook his head. ‘That’s all you can do, isn’t it? I should have sent you back to the Masons when I found out you were soiled goods.’

  The words were like a slap. The fingers that were under his shirt tensed, and, before she had time to think, her nails dug into his flesh. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. With the other hand, she directed a hard slap at his face, but missed, catching just the side of his neck.

  ‘Bitch.’

  He swung his arm around her middle. Betty kicked and writhed but he was stronger than her, and he started moving, dragging her out of the bedroom towards the door that sealed off the unused rooms. The hairs on the back of Betty’s neck sensed the danger. ‘You’re going to lock me in.’

  ‘You need to learn to calm down.’

  She twisted, thrusting her heel back towards his shin, but it was no use. The door was already standing open. She’d wonder about that later. That door was never open, but on this day it was, wide open and ready when he tossed her through and slammed it closed behind her.

  She waited for a second in silence, waiting for herself to shout or knock and thump. But she didn’t.

  His voice carried through the door. ‘It’s for your own good. You’ll be safe in there.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘It’s for the best.’ And then his footsteps disappeared away along the hall.

  Safe. A safe place. For her own good. The silence was welcoming. It was restful to be completely alone. And it would only be for a few hours. He’d done this before, and when he’d calmed down he’d let her out. She padded along the corridor. There were two rooms and a bathroom along here, so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable at all. Maybe Edward was right. Maybe this was for the best, just for a little while.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 39

  ‘You’ll feel better if you do something.’ Grace’s voice was soft and calm. It was always soft and calm when she brought Betty her tray, but it grated on Betty’s nerves like nails down a blackboard. ‘I’ve brought you cross-stitch. You haven’t tried that.’

  Betty didn’t move off her bed in the corner of the room. ‘He’s locked me in.’

  Grace looked at the floor for a second. ‘Don’t be silly. You’ve got lovely rooms.’ She nodded towards the window. ‘And a very lovely view.’

  ‘I’m a prisoner.’

  The older woman put the tray down on the table and folded her arms. ‘It’s for the best. Mr Rochester said…’

  Betty rolled over, turning her back on the room, and pulled the pillows over her head. She’d had enough of Grace parroting what Mr Rochester had said. That this was for her own good. That she needed to calm down. That she needed to control her temper. It was all lies anyway. Her husband loved her spirit. He’d told her that himself, well, not told her exactly, but shown her in his own way, she thought.

  She didn’t know why Grace was keeping her here, but she knew that Edward had gone away. Edward wouldn’t have meant her to be here all this time. As soon as he got back she’d be free. She was Elizabeth Rochester. She was Edward’s wife. She wasn’t supposed to be shut in here like this. She was supposed to be free.

  I loved flying. It wasn’t terrifying as I’d expected – it was exhilarating.

  The plane was tiny and the only place for me to sit was up front, next to the pilot. We hurtled down the runway, and my stomach rolled in a most uncomfortable way as we leapt into the air. I’d been torturing myself every time I thought about getting on the plane, with the memory of that balcony at Mrs Reed’s apartment still far too clear in my mind. But as soon as we were in the sky, something changed. Despite the noise of the engine, everything felt unutterably calm.

  The sky was the most brilliant blue and the world was spread out beneath me. I almost believed that I could see forever, tracking the changes in the landscape from my vantage point thousands of metres above it all. At first everything was green. There were rivers and roads and houses. Gradually the colours changed and the world became brown. The roads were fewer and the distances between the houses grew ever greater. Even from all this way up in the sky, there were moments when I couldn’t make out a single house.

  ‘There is it. Thornfield.’ I heard the pilot, brisk and definite above the growl of the engine. The plane swept in a wide circle, slowly descending towards the earth, and, for the first time, I had a clear view of my new home.

  A tree-lined river swept in a long gentle curve across a landscape that was almost as red as it was brown. I could make out the line of a dirt track cut through the plain, leading to a cluster of buildings nestled in the curve of the river. It took me a few minutes to realise this track was the main road leading to the property. At the end of the track, there was a large house, set slightly back from everything else, and another cluster of buildings, and stockyards. The name Thornfield was painted in large white letters on the roof of a huge shed.

  Apart from those stockyards, there were no boundaries. Not a single fence as far as I could see.

  The plane dropped lower and I looked for people moving through this strange new world I was about to enter. There were none. The pilot and I could have been the very last people on earth.

  Excitement overwhelmed any fear I ought to have had as the plane bounced to a rough landing on the dirt airstrip. As we came to a standstill, I looked out the window and saw a car approaching. It stopped a short distance from the plane, and a tall, slim man got out.

  ‘I’ll get the door.’ The pilot jumped out of his seat and pulled open the door to form the stairs. Panic arrived in that instant. What was I doing here? I was in the middle of nowhere, alone with two men I didn’t know. My place was at Our Lady, next to Gail on the little settee in her apartment, watching some movie unfold in front of us. I took a deep breath. That was a silly way to think. Gail wasn’t there anymore. She was off somewhere starting her real life with that man. I was here because it was time for me to do the same.

  The two men were chatting easily, laughing over some shared joke I hadn’t heard. I unclipped my seatbelt. Coming to Thornfield had been my own choice…the first time I had really decided my own fate. I couldn’t just stay sitting in the plane watching it all from a distance.

  The hot, dry air hit my face as soon as I was outside. I could almost feel the bare skin on my arms shrinking and beginning to burn under the fierce glare of the sun. The two men were watching me, and the silence was louder than any human voice could ever be.

  I strode bravely up to the stranger. ‘Mr Rochester? I’m Jane. Jane Eyre.’

  He laughed. ‘No. I’m Max Hardy. I’m the manager here.’

  I held my hand out towards him to shake, in what I hoped was a professional sort of way. He glanced at it and raised a finger to the rim of his hat. ‘I’ll take you up to the homestead.’

  My face reddened. This was not a promising start. The pilot had dumped my two small shabby bags on the ground next to the plane. So little to show for my life so far. Mr Hardy tossed them casually into the back of his ute. While he and the pilot unloaded what I assumed were supplies for Thornfield, I looked around.

  There wasn’t much to see. The property was mostly flat. Even here on the ground, there was no sign of fences. Low scrubby trees were scattered about, looking limp and thirsty. There wasn’t much grass – and the little there was grew in ragged clumps of yellow and brown. I turned around and heard myself gasp. Standing in the distance was the biggest house I’d ever seen. It was almost as big as the main building at Our Lady that had housed dozens of us. That building had been all about func
tion. This was something else. This was a place designed to tell you that the people who lived here were important. The very fabric of the building was imbued with a sense of power. The stone walls almost shimmered with reflected heat. It seemed strange to build a two-storey house way out here, where there was so much room to spread out, but it was very impressive. I was certainly impressed, and the schoolgirl inside me couldn’t wait to explore.

  Behind me, the plane engines roared back to life. The tiny aircraft bounced down the airstrip and soared away into the sky. There was no going back now.

  ‘Come on.’

  Mr Hardy slid behind the wheel of the ute. I got in next to him, my eyes fixed firmly on the house as the car began to move forward.

  The sound of the mail plane leaving woke Betty from her afternoon sleep. She rushed to the window and watched it fly away. Was Edward back? Maybe she was about to be released from these three rooms and the dreariness of the books Grace brought her to read, and the endless squares of cross stitch. That was like colouring by numbers, matching the colours with her thread. She only did that when Grace came, though. She wasn’t allowed to keep her needles when Grace wasn’t there.

  She watched the ute moving towards her as the visitor was ferried from the landing strip to the house. It was definitely coming here. Sometimes visitors who’d come just for business went straight to the stockyards or stables, or to Max’s smaller house nearby. This person was coming to the homestead.

  Betty watched as the ute drew up below her window and the stranger climbed out. She was about Betty’s age, but she didn’t look like one of Edward’s friends. Betty knew what her husband liked. He liked tall, vivacious redheads like Celine. He liked pretty little wildcats like Betty. This woman was plain. Betty didn’t feel jealous at all. This woman didn’t look like she’d be a wildcat in bed. But then neither did Betty. That was what Edward had liked.