He only chuckled again, the sound amplified by the indistinct telephone line. ‘Why do you try to fib all the time, dear Helen? You really ought to know better by now; it just doesn’t work with me.’
‘All right. I was asleep and you woke me up. Does that satisfy you?’
‘I thought you were out on the porch, watching the stars? And thinking of me, I hope.’ There was just that hint of pure, sadistic mockery in his voice, just enough to provoke her.
‘Well you can’t have it both ways,’ she snapped. ‘So just make whatever choice suits you; it doesn’t matter much anyway.’
‘Now you’re getting shirty,’ he said. ‘Of course it matters. So I’ll choose ... outside thinking of me. How’s that?’
‘Whatever you say,’ Helen sighed, suddenly only too aware of the distance between them. If she had been thinking of him, it would only have been to wish he was there with her, not talking on a telephone all the way across Bass Strait and most of Tasmania to boot. And the lilt in his voice as he tormented her now didn’t improve anything.
‘My, but that sounds promising,’ he muttered, voice think with unconcealed sarcasm. ‘I thought you said you’d miss me.’
Helen had to laugh. ‘You’ve only been gone a day and a half,’ she said, unwilling to admit just how much she did miss him. ‘If you expect me to miss you that much already, what would I be like by the end of the week?’
‘Probably about as lonely as I am for you already,’ was the unexpected, almost unbelievable reply. ‘I do miss you, Helen, and it isn’t going to get any easier by the end of this week or any other.’
‘I ... well … She was flabbergasted, unable to believe her ears. Was he drinking? Drunk, even? No, not from the voice. And certainly not from her knowledge of his usually careful habits.
Dane didn’t give her any more chance to think about her reply. ‘And I’m halfway now to starting that discussion I said would have to wait ‘till I get back,’ he said. ‘And it will have to wait; just so long as you do. So good night, love. Sleep tight and don’t forget to meet me Tuesday.’
And he was gone. As abruptly as he’d left her at the airport, and with yet another alluring, infuriatingly unclear message. Helen, in her soul, desperately wanted to believe what his comments on both occasions implied.
She sat, holding the buzzing receiver, for seconds after Dane’s voice had disappeared, her mind awhirl with the disbelief and the belief, the wonder of it all. For the rest of that week and into the weekend, she hovered near the telephone every evening, willing him to ‘phone again, begging him in a rush of sudden, heart- full pleading.
And although her cautious nature forced her to rationally suspect she might be leading herself up the proverbial garden path, her heart slowly gained the edge, her need of Dane and his love took a firm foothold.
But he didn’t ‘phone. Not even on Friday evening. Not even after she’d blithely declined an invitation from Geoff Jones — who interested her not at all, but could at least have helped stave off her growing loneliness.
By Saturday, Helen would have telephoned Dane, except that she hadn’t the faintest idea where to find him. Was he staying with friends? In an hotel? For the life of her she couldn’t even remember if he’d mentioned anything about which hotel.
The fact that the Saturday morning newspapers suddenly gave her worries of a totally different nature didn’t help either. She had bought the weekend papers through habit, and was scanning the job advertisements with only cursory interest when one notice caught her eye.
It was certainly one of the jobs she’d first applied for — and it was being re-advertised! Now this was a mystery indeed, she thought, chewing pensively at a cooling piece of toast. Because this was definitely one job for which she’d been ideally qualified.
‘And they didn’t even answer my letter!’ she cried suddenly as awareness struck her. That, she thought, added to the mystery. Usually a re-advertisement could be taken to mean that no one who’d applied the first time round was reasonably qualified, and yet when she consulted her file of clippings, comparing the original advertisement against the second one, it merely served to confirm that she had been, if anything, a touch over- qualified.
The situation nagged at her throughout the morning, and by eleven o’clock curiosity won. It was a long-shot to expect to find the editor in his office, and she didn’t, but directory assistance took only moments to provide her with a home number and she dialled it immediately.
As she knew the man only by reputation, she was mildly surprised to find that he appeared to know her — or at least of her work — also. But the biggest surprise was yet to come.
‘My dear Miss Fredericks,’ he said in answer to her question. ‘If I had received your letter, you can be sure that I would have replied, and that if you’d been available I wouldn’t be in the position of re-advertising the position. No question at all. Good people, at the moment, are practically impossible to come by, and you ... well ...’ Then, to make the situation even more mysterious, he went on to explain that a compatriot of his was also faced with re-advertising a position — and this too was one for which Helen had applied!
‘I ... look, do you mind if I get back to you on this?’ she found herself asking. And nearly kicked herself for not just grabbing the vacancy. It was certainly the best of all those she’d enquired about, and yet ... no, she must first try to ascertain how not only one letter of application, but two, had so mysteriously gone missing. Australia Post wasn’t the most reliable postal service in the world, but ...? There were too many loose ends here.
‘My dear, the job’s yours if you want it until ... noon Monday? And if you need a bit more time, don’t hesitate to call,’ said the editor. ‘In fact, where can I contact you, just so we don’t miss each other through some other extraordinary bit of confusion?’
‘Look, I’m ... sort of staying with a friend,’ Helen found herself replying. ‘And I’m not just sure where I’ll be by Monday. But don’t worry, I’ll get back to you. It’s just that ... well … there are one or two things I must square away first.’
Not least of which, she thought, was whether she really wanted to work in Adelaide, despite having always thought it was a beautiful city. In fairness, she didn’t want to leave Tasmania, especially now, in view of Dane’s cryptic comments over the phone and on his departure.
After her talk with the editor, Helen sat back and reviewed all of Dane’s comments in her mind. Disregarding her own feelings, her hopes and dreams, it was all too possible that all he wanted to do was assure her of a place to stay as long as she needed it. Not only possible, but highly likely, she finally decided, especially when she allowed her logical mind to put Marina Cole into the picture.
After his excellent marriage to Vivian, and with a sophisticated, attractive social partner already on tap, why indeed should he even consider getting involved with somebody he’d always thought of and treated almost as a child?
Helen thought then of his caresses, and put them down to sheer proximity. ‘I’d be a damned fool to think otherwise,’ she muttered. ‘And worse than a fool if I turned down a perfectly good job on the strength of a kiss or two.’
She had probably, in fact, been somewhat of a fool to have come to Tasmania at his request in the first place. She’d known of her feelings for him, should have realised and predicted exactly what had happened.
‘Yes, I should have, so I’ve only myself to blame,’ she told Joshua as she ran the chocolate-coloured donkey through his paces that evening. ‘Of course if I hadn’t come, you’d still be wild and woolly and free-spirited, so I guess there’s something good come out of it all, even if you don’t agree.’
The donkey snuffled at her fingers, then brayed hoarsely as if in agreement. ‘If only I could take you with me, I would,’ Helen sighed, ‘but I can’t, and that’s all there is to it. I’ve barely got enough funds to get myself to the mainland, let alone take you as well.’
She had just finished Joshua�
�s workout and her chores and was returning to the house when she heard the faint tingling of the telephone. It was Dane! It had to be, she thought, running for the back door with both arms filled with a rickety basket of eggs she’d forgotten to collect that morning.
Three of them were sacrificed in her desperate bid to get the door open, and it was all in vain, because the telephone stopped ringing just as her fingers grasped the receiver.
‘Damn,’ she cried, more angry than she needed to be about having dropped the eggs and even more angry at the telephone’s antics. She cleaned up the mess, then brewed some coffee and sat down to wait. If it had been Dane, he’d surely ring again, realising where she’d have been at this time of evening, Helen thought. And if it was anyone else, well, she could only wait and see.
But whoever it was, they didn’t ring back, and she ate a pensive, lonely meal and spent an even lonelier evening, waiting for Dane to ring, hoping desperately he’d ring, yet somehow knowing that he wouldn’t, somehow knowing that despite her dreams and her love for him, she would be telephoning Adelaide first thing Monday and accepting the job she’d been offered.
The question of who had rung was answered when the ‘phone jangled Helen out of bed first thing Sunday morning. It was an old friend of Dane’s, a man she’d never met but had heard of, and he first apologised for calling so early, then mentioned having telephoned the evening before.
‘What I need is an address, and Dane’s the only person I’m sure will have it,’ he said. Helen, loath to rummage through Dane’s office on any pretext, finally allowed herself to be persuaded to ‘at least have a quick look’. And she was immediately, madly, astonishingly glad she had!
Finding the directory and providing the caller with the address was incidental, completely so. What was important was her finding in the same drawer all the application letters he’d promised to mail weeks ago. And worse, the two she’d thought he’d taken with him on the day of his departure for Melbourne!
That, she decided, was quite enough to eliminate any thought of the first lot being just a mistake, something he’d intended to mail and forgotten.
She thought back, remembering how on the eve of his departure for Melbourne he’d dashed back into the house at the last minute, claiming to have just forgotten something. Forgotten? He’d damned well deliberately arranged it, not simply forgotten. But why? What possible purpose could be served by him delaying any chance she might have of finding a job? Frustration combined with sheer, impotent rage at the effrontery of such a thing, but it did little to offer an explanation. For Dane, of all people, to deliberately deceive her in such a fashion ... it was beyond all imagination. It simply made no sense.
Then there was a knock at the door and Molly’s barking to announce the visitor, and when Helen answered to find Marina Cole there, she had the unholy feeling that she mightn’t have to wait long for her explanation.
But Marina’s first comment brought only more confusion, although not for long.
‘You’re not expecting me,’ the tall brunette began, eyes suddenly evasive, brimming with ... could it be guilt? Or just pure satisfaction, Helen wondered.
‘I wasn’t, no. Should I be?’ Helen stepped aside to usher Marina into the kitchen, suddenly all too aware of her lick-and-promise housekeeping and the fact she hadn’t yet bothered to wash up the breakfast dishes.
‘Well ... I would have thought so. But then, perhaps Dane thought we should discuss this ... oh, you know woman-to-woman. That sort of thing. Although I did rather expect he’d have telephoned.’
Marina seemed slightly vague, but Helen felt sure it was a deliberate ploy, a bid to keep herself off balance. But why?
Whatever, she wasn’t in any mood to co-operate. ‘I’m sorry, but I simply don’t understand what you’re getting at,’ she replied firmly. ‘And well, I’m rather busy, so ...’
‘You haven’t arranged a job yet?’ Marina asked then, the question so startlingly, provocatively unexpected Helen couldn’t even reply for gasping. ‘Oh, I certainly hope not. Dane was quite worried about it while we were together in Melbourne, you know.’ And the look of concern was Marina trying to look concerned. Helen was convinced the woman didn’t have a whit of genuine concern anywhere in her elegant body.
‘I ... I certainly can’t see why it should concern him,’ she replied, damned if she’d snatch at the bait by asking what he and Marina had been doing together in Melbourne, The sultry brunette, Helen thought, would probably delight in nothing more than giving her chapter and verse.
Nor was she going to mention the evidence of Dane’s perfidy; that would have been opening herself up to far too much pain and hurt, in view of this sudden revelation.
‘Oh, but of course it does.’ Marina’s emphasis did little to ease Helen’s growing tension. Where was this conversation leading, she wondered. And wasn’t looking forward to finding out. But if Marina noticed her close-hidden concern, she gave no sign, and continued as if Helen should be equally excited by what she was saying.
‘It’s most important, because of the excellent job you’ve been doing here,’ the brunette continued. ‘I mean ... with the animals and everything. And especially now!’
Helen hardly knew what to say. ‘Are you deliberately being obtuse? Or is this something you’d really prefer me to hear from him personally?’ she asked, herself being almost deliberately rude, but not really caring.
What had Marina and Dane been doing together in Melbourne? And more important, why should it concern her job or the lack of it?
Marina, unfortunately, didn’t appear at all concerned by Helen’s lack of cordiality. She continued speaking as if what she had to say was simply the most important thing in the universe. Which, Helen decided spitefully, it probably was ... to Marina.
‘Well of course it might have been better if Dane were to have told you,’ the brunette said. ‘But then, as I said, woman-to-woman ... anyway, it’s because of the trip he’s — we’re — planning. Of course that will require somebody to mind the farm in his absence.’
‘Ah.’ It was about all Helen could say, certainly all she wanted to say. So Dane was planning a trip, obviously not alone, and he wanted her to baby-sit the farm. Hardly a difficult subject for him to raise himself, apart from the direct slap in the face created by the fact he was taking Marina along and not Helen herself.
‘A honeymoon?’ The question wasn’t meant to be asked aloud, so it emerged as a sort of ghastly whisper, wrung from Helen’s strangled heart.
Marina simpered. It was a gesture Helen had thought no longer existed, but that was what Marina did. She simpered. ‘Well it’s perhaps a bit premature to call it exactly that,’ the brunette smirked. ‘But, well, you know...’
‘Yes, I suppose I do,’ Helen replied, gritting out the words and fighting with a stomach now roiling with emotion. But she wouldn’t ... couldn’t let this horrible woman see the effect the message was having on her.
Marina didn’t even seem to notice. She continued speaking with callous indifference to Helen’s feelings. ‘Of course, I realise that you might, when you got here, have entertained some such notion yourself,’ the woman was saying. ‘Although of course I’m sure that by now you realise what a mistake that might have been.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Helen agreed, restraining the urge to strike out both verbally and physically. It was all she could do to keep herself from grabbing up this voluptuous bitch and throwing her bodily out the door.
‘Of course. I told Dane you’d understand,’ Marina continued. ‘And I could hardly blame you for having such feelings; he is such a catch, isn’t he? But of course you’re far too young for him, and not ... quite the right type. I mean, a best-selling author should have the required degree of sophistication around him.’
Helen didn’t reply. What could she say, after all?
But Marina wasn’t finished yet. Not by a long shot. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if once he’s been away from this place for a while, he mightn’t bothe
r to come back. It really isn’t much of a farm, after all. And as for the house ... well...’
‘He was planning to have the kitchen re-done.’ Why had she said that, Helen wondered, clamping her jaw shut before she revealed that it was she who’d done the re-designing.
Marina looked around, disdainfully. ‘Well I can certainly see why he might,’ she sniffed. ‘Although of course it won’t matter now, except perhaps to the hired help.’
Like me, Helen thought, once again biting back that fierce resentment.
‘And to think that his wife actually put up with such inconvenience,’ Marina was saying, now seemingly oblivious to Helen as she cast a disapproving eye further. ‘The entire house is something of a hovel, if you ask my opinion, but then perhaps his wife …’
‘He loved his wife very much, and she felt the same about him,’ Helen interrupted, astonished at her defence of Dane, then as quickly justifying the words by her own feelings for Vivian.
‘Oh, but I’m sure he ... they did,’ Marina replied. ‘And of course, perhaps then it was all they could afford, but now...’
Helen was sickened by the cold, mercenary attitude, although she was equally sickened just at the moment by Dane’s betrayal of her, by his clearly and cleverly-planned deception.
How he had changed — must have changed — in the time since she’d last seen him. Could his success as an author have so altered him? It didn’t seem possible, and yet this woman, her attitude, her words, and his blatant deception told a different story.
And to have the outright audacity to send this ... this bitch to arrange the fruits of that deception. Well, he’d find out about that in good time. Not, of course, that he’d find out from Marina. Helen wouldn’t give the woman the satisfaction of knowing she’d driven off a potential rival, even if considering herself such was, as clearly proven, the height of self-deception. No, she would agree with Marina, let her say whatever suited her. But she wouldn’t be here on Tuesday to meet Dane at the airport. Marina could do that, so as to share with him the realisation that the deception hadn’t worked after all.
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