The Other Wife

by Juliet Bell

  The memory of the fight before he went away pushed itself into her imagination. He liked that she was wild in the bedroom. He didn’t like her being wild anywhere else. The knot of fear and anger that lived in her stomach tightened, and the urge to lash out at something flooded through her body. She wanted to scream, just to remind the world that she was here. She needed to stop that. She forced herself to think of a flame, to picture it in her head dancing in front of her. To think of silent sparks flying away into an inky sky. Maybe Grace was right. Maybe she did need to learn to calm down.

  Close up, the house was even more incredible, but my eyes saw something now that I had missed before. There was an unmistakable air of neglect. The place wasn’t dilapidated – far from it. It was a solid stone construction that had clearly been put here to outlast its builders and their children. It was a mansion really, with its pale yellow stone walls, large windows, and veranda wrapping around both floors. But here and there, the paintwork needing a fresh coat, or a window in need of a good clean, suggested that recently the house hadn’t been loved as it should have been. That was incomprehensible to me. How could somebody have all this and then just disregard it?

  ‘Come on.’

  As we walked along the side of the building, the sunlight glinted off a window on the top floor, drawing my eye in that direction. Heavy curtains made the windows seem dark and blank. Perhaps that part of the house was not in use.

  At the back of the house, a door swung open and a woman appeared. ‘Max, you could have brought her in the front door.’

  The man shrugged and carried my bags inside. He dropped them on the floor and was gone before I’d even stepped inside.

  ‘I’m Grace Fairfax. Come on in out of the sun.’

  My new hostess was older than Max, with a crop of grey hair pulled back from her face. She was shorter than me, wearing flat sandals, and an apron over a plain cotton dress. Everything about her screamed common-sense and reliability. I felt myself relax as I took a seat at the big kitchen table.

  ’I hadn’t realised how hot it was until I came inside.’

  She nodded. ‘The stone walls help keep it cool.’

  I studied my new home. The table was slightly to one side of the room, and the walls were lined with cupboards. Out here, they couldn’t just dash out to the shops if they ran out of sugar, and there were no neighbours to visit carrying an empty cup. The fridge and freezer at the far side of the room were big, as was the stove.

  ‘You are probably tired after the trip. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘Yes, please…’ I hesitated. Was it Mrs Fairfax? Or Miss? ‘Mrs Fairfax?’

  ‘Call me Grace. We don’t stand on ceremony between ourselves.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m Jane.’ But of course she knew that. It wasn’t as if they would have people just popping by for tea on a daily basis this far from anywhere.

  ‘Well, I’m very glad to have you, Jane. I have been so busy looking after everything around here, I haven’t had enough time for Adele.’

  I knew from our correspondence that Adele was going to be my student, and that my role was part-nanny, part-tutor. Beyond that I didn’t know very much at all. I didn’t even know who her parents were. The mysterious Mr Rochester, I presumed, but there’d been no mention of a mother. My heart lurched a little at the thought of this apparently motherless child. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I told her to wait upstairs. I thought you’d like a moment to catch your breath before meeting her.’

  ‘And Mr Rochester?’

  ‘On business back east. I’m not sure when he’ll be coming back.’ She turned her face away slightly as she spoke. ‘He’s a very busy man.’

  ‘Of course.’ I thought about that as I took the offered mug of tea. A part of me was relieved at the thought of not having to share this house, however big, with a strange man. ‘Does Mr Hardy live in this house?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Call him Max, and no. He has the manager’s house over by the yards. Easier for him to get down to the Aboriginal camp by the creek for his R and R, if you know what I mean.’

  I sipped my tea. I had no idea what she meant.

  ‘And there’s an Aboriginal girl, Peggy, used to help out with Adele, who comes up and gives me a hand when Rochester is here, especially if he brings guests.’

  ‘Does he do that often?’

  ‘Not anymore. But who knows who he’ll have met up with back east.’

  What sort of people would come all the way out here for a party? And what would I be expected to do at times like those? Probably just look after the child. I hoped that was the case. I couldn’t picture myself at the sort of party I imagined the man who owned a house like this would throw.

  ‘So it’s just us girls at the moment,’ Grace continued.

  ‘The two of us and Adele?’

  She put her mug down on the table and stood up. ‘If you’re ready, I could show you to your room now.’

  I hadn’t finished my tea, but it was apparent that my time to get myself together after the journey was abruptly over. ‘Yes. Of course. I’m looking forward to meeting Adele.’

  ‘Not as much as she is looking forward to seeing you. It gets lonely for the poor girl here since …’

  Her voice tailed off but I could imagine what she meant. ‘She must miss her father when he is away.’

  ‘But she’s always happy with the presents he brings her back.’

  I smiled at the idea of an indulgent father bringing the little girl gifts and then I caught myself. I hoped she wasn’t spoiled by being the only child amongst these adults. Presents were lovely, of course, but it didn’t do to over-indulge children with material things. I had learnt that from the Reeds.

  We walked through a short hallway, where Grace indicated the bathroom and utility room on either side before entering a dining area. It was a large, bright room, with a beautiful table surrounded by velvet-covered chairs. Glass doors on one side led to what I now realised was a big courtyard in the middle of the U-shaped house.

  ‘We don’t eat here when the boss is away.’ Grace kept walking. ‘With just the three of us now, it’s easier to eat in the kitchen.’

  I followed her as she passed rapidly through a lovely, large sitting room.

  ‘The same for this room. I have rooms upstairs but I’m mostly in the kitchen, and you’ve got your rooms next to Adele. And there’s a playroom for her as well.’

  We were now at the front door.

  ‘The boss’s study is down there.’ Grace pointed to a closed door. ‘He’s a bit funny about anyone going in there – you know what men are like.’

  I nodded even though I didn’t know at all.

  Grace continued. ‘So you best stay out. At least until he comes back.’

  I peered as far as I dared around the corner to the third side of the U. ‘What’s along here?’

  She shook her head. ‘That’s all shut up. It was the ballroom, would you believe? Don’t think it’s been used since Mr Rochester turned twenty-one. His father used to throw some impressive parties, though.’ She chuckled quietly at the memory.

  Grace started to climb the broad, carpeted stairway to the next floor. She paused on the landing, waiting for me to join her.

  ‘You and Adele are that way.’ She pointed to our left down the corridor above the ballroom. ‘The rooms on the other side are all closed up too, except for mine. So there’s no need for you to worry about that.’ She led the way down the hall. ‘The boss is there and that’s his bathroom. You and Adele have your own…’

  Whatever we had, the information was obscured by a girlish squeal. A blonde head had appeared from a hallway leading to the far wing of the house. It was quickly followed by a body that hurled itself towards us.

  ‘Adele. Child. Settle down!’

  The girl slid to a halt and peered up at me from under her fringe. ‘Are you her?’

  ‘This is Miss Eyre,’ Grace said. ‘Say hello nicely.’

  ‘Hel
lo, Miss Eyre.’

  ‘Hello, Adele.’ I crouched down to bring myself to her level. She was an extraordinarily beautiful child, with exuberant blonde curls and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Her smile was open and friendly, and without fear. I’d been picturing a sad, broken little girl, but that was not what stood in front of me. This child was joy made flesh.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said. ‘I’ve been lonely.’

  She’d already captured my heart, but the confident statement of loneliness made me hers completely. How incredible to be able to state so baldly just exactly how one feels to a stranger.

  I smiled. ‘Well, you won’t be lonely anymore. We’ll be best friends. What do you think?’

  ‘I’d like that.’ She reached for my smaller case and struggled bravely to lift it. ‘I’ll show you which room is yours, if you like. It’s got flowers on the wall but if you don’t like them we can ask Daddy to change them. But you might like flowers. They’re yellow and white, and Lizzybeth said …’

  ‘Adele!’ Grace’s voice interrupted the child’s chatter. ‘Don’t yack on. Let Miss Eyre see for herself.’

  I didn’t argue with her, but honestly I hadn’t minded the girl talking. I followed her into my bedroom. The flowers on the wall were yellow and white, like Adele had said, and also … I touched the paper lightly with my fingertips. ‘Bougainvillea.’

  Adele nodded. ‘That’s right. Boobinvillia. Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  I sat down for a second and looked around my new surroundings. Grace was still in the doorway, keeping an eye on us. Adele was skipping about in excitement. The room was comfortable and clean. And I was miles away from everyone. From Our Lady. From Sister Mary Gabriel. From the Reeds. From all those memories of Helen. There was no danger here. I let myself exhale. Thornfield might just turn out to be the perfect haven.

  Chapter 40

  ‘Adele, where’s your homework?’

  ‘It’s here, Miss Eyre.’ Adele grabbed her books from her desk and brought them to the corner, where I was about to switch on the radio.

  ‘Good girl.’ The light on the radio glowed red and I reached for the handset. ‘Thornfield Station calling Broken Hill School of the Air.’

  A response came immediately from the cheerful teacher I’d had been speaking to for several weeks, but had never met.

  ‘Hello, Thornfield. Over.’

  Adele took the handset from my hand. ‘You’re supposed to say “over”,’ she reminded me.

  ‘Sorry,’ I whispered.

  Adele nodded, forgiving me instantly as she had already forgiven my every lack of understanding about life in the outback. She settled herself comfortably on the chair.

  ‘This is Adele, Mr Jennings. Over.’

  ‘Hello, Adele. How are you today…’

  I left them to it. For this forty-five minutes each weekday, Adele’s schooling was someone else’s duty, and I could relax. I was tempted to slip into my own rooms for a soak in the bathtub, but knew that Adele would use this as an excuse to remind me about being careful with water.

  ‘We don’t even clean our teeth under a running tap,’ she’d told me on my first day. So I didn’t. Nor did I take that bath. I wandered onto the veranda. I leant on the wooden railing and gazed away from the house. We really were so far away from anywhere. One day Grace had taken me into Bourke as she did the fortnightly supply run. That was two hours’ journey each way, so I didn’t have time to go out anywhere while Adele was busy with her lessons.

  The sound of a raised voice and door slamming startled me. I turned to peer around the corner of the building. A young Aboriginal woman was scurrying away from Max Hardy’s house. I now understood Grace’s comment about Max’s “R and R”. The image of that man back at Our Lady with Gail came into my mind. It had looked so violent. There was nothing romantic to my eye. Max Hardy was apparently the same – having his way with the daughters of the workers. He looked – strong. And rough. It was a relief that he didn’t live in the main house.

  I tried to think of the kind of man I would like to be…with. In that way. Because that was what I wanted. To have a proper family life. The man I married would like children, of course. And he would be handsome, I supposed. I tried to imagine what that would mean. Maybe dark hair and a strong chin, maybe with a dimple like John Travolta. Or perhaps he would be blond like Robert Redford. Whatever he looked like, he would be kind.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Max snarled, interrupting my thoughts.

  ‘Nothing.’ I stumbled over the word. Even though I knew he could no more read my mind than I could his, I felt as though I’d been caught out. I was still gazing towards Max’s house when the property manager’s private life was none of my business.

  I hurried back inside. Perhaps I could find something to read. The long, quiet nights at Thornfield had quickly exhausted the supply of books I’d brought with me. At school there’d been a library for the students, that I’d been able to dip into freely, so buying books for myself had never been a priority. I walked through the kitchen, down the hallway and stopped at the foot of the stairs, thinking to investigate the shelves in the big living room. Then I changed my mind. Grace had said not to use those rooms. And she wasn’t in the kitchen so she must be in her own rooms upstairs. I was sure she’d have books she’d be happy to share with me. Gail’s apartment, I remembered, had had a little shelf of paperbacks with brightly coloured covers. Stories about romance, and murder, and intrigue. I wondered if Grace would have anything like that.

  I ran up the stairs and towards the hallway that mirrored the one where Adele and I lived. But there was no hallway. Across the corridor, blocking the rest of my path, was a heavy wooden door, sealing the whole wing of the house from visitors.

  I stood in front of the unexpected door. Perhaps this whole wing was Grace’s flat. After all, she’d been housekeeper at Thornfield for a long time. It made sense that she’d have her own space, made private by the installation of a door. Shrugging, I knocked.

  There was no answer, so I knocked again. Louder this time. When no answer came, I reached for the handle and tried to turn it. The door was locked.

  Betty darted from her bed into the corridor. Nobody knocked on this door. Ever. Her heart raced. It couldn’t be Grace. Grace came up the back stairs, and she had her own keys. No plane had come in today so it couldn’t be Edward. Unless… Could he have driven to the property? She would have heard a car, wouldn’t she? Or maybe she could have confused it with the sound of Max and the stockmen coming and going throughout the day.

  She inched closer to the door.

  The person knocked again.

  If it was Edward, he’d let himself in, wouldn’t he? Unless he thought she had keys. Her stomach leapt. Unless this whole thing was a misunderstanding. He might think she’d shut herself in here like this.

  She took another step towards the door. Betty swallowed hard. Her mouth felt dry and scratchy. ‘Edward?’ The word came out as little more than a whisper. She coughed to clear her throat.

  I was sure I heard a sound on the other side of the door. I knocked again more forcefully. ‘Grace? It’s Jane. Are you there?’

  Silence. No voice answered my query. It was strange. I didn’t think Grace had gone out. Maybe she was downstairs somewhere and I’d simply missed her earlier.

  I made my way back down to the kitchen. Grace was disappearing through a doorway at the far side of the room, into what I’d assumed to be a pantry but was actually a stairway.

  ‘Grace…’

  ‘Jane!’ She started at the sound of her name, turning quickly back into the kitchen. She had a tray in her arms with a plate of sandwiches and glass of water. She placed it on the table and quickly pulled the door behind her closed. ‘Were you looking for me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She must have seen my frown.

  ‘These are just the back stairs to my rooms. I use them rather than the main staircase. It’s q
uicker.’ She glanced at the tray. ‘I was going to have a snack.’

  ‘I was looking for you upstairs.’

  Her lips pursed for a second before her usual impassive expression returned. ‘What did you want?’

  I asked if there were any books I could borrow and accepted her direction to look in the main dining room. ‘Mr Rochester has some in his study, but you’ll be wanting to ask him before you take anything from in there.’

  ‘Is he coming back soon?’

  ‘I haven’t heard anything.’

  I nodded. ‘Well, I won’t keep you from your snack.’

  Why hadn’t Betty shouted at the woman? She wasn’t sure. She could have said she was trapped. She could have asked for help. She’d had the words right there in her head, but she hadn’t been able to force them out of her mouth. She stood for a long time after the woman went away, staring at the door, willing the stranger to return.

  There was no point shouting now she’d gone. Her rooms were above the kitchen and the opposite side of the building to where Adele slept, so the only thing she’d get if she shouted now was a telling off from Grace. The thought of Adele sent her back into her bedroom where she curled up on the bed, pulling the pillow in close to her body as a comforter.

  What must Adele think? That Betty had left her. That Betty didn’t care about her anymore. That idea stabbed at her guts. It wasn’t right. She would never abandon that little girl. She had to find her. She had to explain.

  That evening, I let Adele take me for a walk outside. She was determined to show me the property, even though I’d had plenty of time now to find my own way around. The sun was sinking and the temperature had dropped enough to make it a pleasant evening.

  ‘Let’s go down to the creek,’ Adele suggested. ‘We might see a kingfisher.’

  ‘All right.’

  I stopped for a second and looked up at the darkened upper floor of the house where Grace’s rooms were. I thought I saw something move at one of the windows, but the reflected sunlight was far too bright for me to see clearly. I shrugged. Whatever Grace did in her rooms was no business of mine.