Guardian Nurse (13 page)

Only when she brought
up
the emotional climate did
Burn
West become silent. She had to
speak
to him twice over her proposed lesson to Jason the next
day
before he answered.

‘Yes, that will be fine,’ he said mechanically, and
she
had a feeling
he
had not
heard what
she
proposed to
do.

He went soon after that, but
for
a
long
while Frances still sat at the desk. He
had become
a
different
person the moment she had
brought up emotional
climate, she thought; no doubt he had been thinking of Jason’s earlier emotional
climate, which apparently
left everything to be desired, yet
a
child’s climate
is
determined by
both
parents, and he,
Burn
West, was as responsible
as
Jason’s
mother. She
wished now
she
had listened when he
had offered her
an
explanation.
I’ll just have
to
probe
after all, she thought a little
wearily, I’m getting nowhere.

But she got a long way with Jason
the
next
morning.
Formerly, he had shown
a
lack
of interest
in
numbers,
much preferring the creative
side, but,
remembering her student days,
she found him responding
quite eagerly to the bingo
game she
introduced. ‘Forty-seven ... that’s four, seven,’ he said,
putting a raisin
on his card to block the number out.

‘What’s this?’ asked
Burn
West, coming in
with the
elevenses instead of Mrs. Campbell.
‘Games when it
should
be
school?’

‘It
is
school, Burn,’ Jason
informed him. ‘I like
numbers this way. Call some
more out, France.’

‘He really does understand the figures.’ Frances excused herself and her method later over tea while Jason, still fascinated, kept on counting and covering his sheet with more raisins.

‘You think I’m
criticizing
you? Perish the thought
!’
He smiled at her. ‘I’m just open-mouthed at a child to whom creativity should be second nature, and, I believe, will be, understanding the opposite side as well. You’re a wonder, Miss Peters.’

The praise did not stir her as much as it should. When, she thought, irritated, is Burnley West going to leave
himself
out of the picture? A natural creativity indeed!

‘I thought you might like a run this afternoon,’
Burn
went on.

‘Thank you. Where did you think of taking us?’

‘You’re on your own now. Remember? I told you
last night.’

She remembered, remembered, too, her guilt, her unenthusiasm. However, looking out on the bright day, it would be nice to be behind a wheel.

‘Any restrictions?’ she asked Burn.

‘None at all. I have complete confidence in you. I said so.’

‘I don’t want to go anywhere you don’t wish me to.’

‘Do you always quibble at gifts like this?’ he asked. ‘Remind me never to hand over a string of pearls
!’

‘Did you intend to?’

‘No. But I did have this in view.’ He put down a small nugget of gold impressed in a rough but delicately angled stone, the whole affixed artistically to a fine chain.

‘Oh, it’s lovely
!’
she exclaimed.

‘It was a boyhood first find,’ he shrugged, ‘so naturally it had to be retained. I didn’t
intend
giving the dentist that.’

‘The dentist?’ she queried.

‘He used to buy our gold,’ he smiled. ‘Now,
are
you going to take this, or argue?’

‘Is it valuable?’

‘No.’

‘It would be useful for Jason,’ she said speculatively,
‘in geology
cl
ass it would
—
’

‘For heaven’s sake,’ he came in, ‘don’t bring Jason into everything
!’

‘I thought that was the idea. After all, it’s why I’m here.’

Across the table and over the little pendant their eyes met ... stormily at first, then a smile creeping in.

‘Accept it, France,’ he urged sof
tl
y.

‘I
accept.’

The look between them was so long that even Jason glanced up from his raisins.

‘First of all I thought you were fighting,’ he said surprised.

‘Grown-ups don’t fight,’ said Burn.

‘Yes, they do. They
—
’ All at once Jason pushed
the card and the raisins to the floor. ‘They do,’ he said,
‘They do
!’
There was something in his voice that tore at Frances’ heart.

She glanced sensitively up at
Burn
, but
Burn
was gone. All she saw was the abrupt dosing of the door. She picked up the raisins and started calling numbers again. Jason forgot his outburst and played keenly. As usual when she closed the desk at noon he grumbled. ‘We’re going out, darling. I’m going to drive you.’

‘Can you?’

‘I think I drive quite well.’

‘I know ladies drive. She did.’

‘Who did? What was her name?’

For answer Jason brought out something she believed she had cured him of.

‘Nothing,’ he said, and tipped up the card and raisins again.

They had a nice afternoon, though. Jason grudgingly admitted that France as a driver wasn’t so bad. They took some of the meandering roads that had attracted Frances on her first day here, sometimes wide and dusty, sometimes narrow and shaded, sometimes weaving with the curve of the river.

It was on their exploration that Frances glimpsed the blue car. It was in a copse of trees, and had she not drawn Jason’s attention to it (one must always draw attention, the manual said, find and exhaust a reason), saying how wise it was to shelter a car otherwise the sun would fade it, she might have paid little interest herself. It was quite usual out here in the country to see a car that apparently belonged nowhere.

Then something about the car niggled at her. She had seen it before. That was likely, too; everyone in the country had cars, they depended on cars. Then she remembered where. It could belong to someone else, of course, but it was the same make and colour as the car that had taken off so abruptly when she had cantered up from the rice planting for help for Jason. There had been a blonde young woman behind the wheel. There was no one now.

She did not know she spoke her thoughts aloud until Jason corrected, ‘There is
so
!
She’s sitting right down.’

‘What, Jason?’ They were a quarter of a mile away now, but Frances asked it tightly. Why, she thought, am I feeling taut like this? But Jason was keen on a
new game Frances had introduced. One of them would call perhaps ‘Clouds’ or ‘Woods’ and the other had to answer immediately what thought had come into their mind.

‘River
!’
he called now.

‘Jason?... Oh—oh, green, darling.’

‘That’s not very good, France,’ judged Jason, ‘everyone knows it’s green. Your turn.’

‘Jason, do you remember your mother?’ The forbidden,
self
-f
orbidden, words were out at last.

‘Nope.’

‘Don’t say nope.’

‘Sandra says it.’

‘Jason,
do
you?’

‘No. Mountain, France.’

‘Was she dark or fair?’ Frances persisted.

‘Dark.
Mountain,
France.’

‘Burn,’ said Frances, and this time won the little boy’s praise.

‘He is a mountain, isn’t he?’ said Jason, pleased with her.

The next day
Burn
told Frances that she was to drive Jason to Mirramunna for a medical check-up.

‘Nothing to do with the leg, just the general health, how he will stand a trip to Sydney next week.’

Jason received the news without enthusiasm, but brightened a little when Frances tacked on the promise of a soda in the ice-cream parlour.

The examination was a detailed one, but Scott helped it out by breaking it halfway through by the parlour interlude. He even attended himself, and the three sat happily sucking vanilla through straws and seeing who made the most musical noise. The laughter rang out ... only Frances’ died when she noticed the blue car parked further up the street.

‘What is it, Frances?’ asked Scott.

She returned with an effort to the two of them. How foolish she was being
!
‘
I think I win. Mine was a very singing gurgle.’

‘But the prize,’ objected Jason, ‘was for the biggest suck, so I won.’

‘So you did,’ awarded Scott. ‘Here’s your trophy.’ He gave Jason ten cents to squander, and while the little boy pored over the lolly selection he asked, ‘Are you all right, Fran?’

‘Of course.’

‘Nothing walked over your grave?’

‘Oh, don’t be foolish, Scott
!’

“You looked like that. Fran, when are we going to talk?
Really
talk. Always there’s either
West
or young West. There are things to be said and you know it.’

‘There’ll be a time,’ she answered. She
was
still watching the car. Definitely there was no one in it now, not even sitting down as Jason had described.

‘I suppose so. I can get away next week
—
to Sydney, I mean. But
I
expect West told you that.’

‘I knew he wanted you to come as well.’

‘And
you,
Fran?’

‘Scott, I
—
’

‘We must talk,’ he said again. “You know that.’

‘Yes,’ she said a little dazedly, dazed at herself, for she had simply not given the subject any thought, and suddenly she was realizing that.

They went back to the hospital to more tests and trials. Towards the end Frances looked out on the country main street again. The car was still there, and all at once she knew she could not, and would not, return while it remained where it was. Several times she checked up again, came back to the surgery. When Scott said at last, ‘Much as I hate to see you go, Fran, it will soon be dark,’ and Jason said, ‘Yes, we’ll be late, and
Burn
will be mad,’ she knew she could delay no longer.

The boy was helped out and put in the car. As Frances slipped behind the wheel she was relieved, though she could not have said why, that the blue car now had left.

It was an uneventful trip back ... but not so uneventful their arrival at the West of the River front gates. The gates were open and ready and Burn West stood by them to shut them again after they had passed through. It was a long walk from the house along that avenue of pines. Almost a mile, Frances thought. Why had he done it?

He was back in the car now, sitting behind her, for Jason with his cumbersome leg took up all the space beside her.

‘Why are you so late?’ he demanded.

‘It’s not late,’ she protested.

‘It’s night. Even that other time you managed to get back before it was dark.’

‘Mr. West, Jason has been undergoing a long series of examinations and tests.’

‘Did they take up to thirty minutes ago? Up to the length of time it required from Mirramunna to here? Up to the moment when you left ... or should I say tore yourself away?’

‘No, but
—
’ She stopped. How could she explain,
‘No, but there was a car, and I don’t know why, I felt unsure.’ How could she say anything so unreasonable to this hard, demanding, totally unhelpful, unreasonable man?

‘Then what delayed you?’ he persisted.

‘Was there a curfew bell? You never informed me.’

‘At least you should have considered the child. What got into you, keeping him out like that while you— while you
—
’

‘Yes, Mr. West? You said “while you
—
”?’

He didn’t answer for a moment, then he said more quietly, ‘It was Muir, of course, and I suppose I can’t blame you for that. But I do blame you for using time that wasn’t yours. This was a direction, if you recall, not an assignment.’

‘Assignment?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake
!’
He sat back as she cleared the last few yards and brought the car to the garage. ‘Take
J
ason in. I’ll attend to the car.’ His voice was flint.

Jason’s shrill young ‘I told you we should get going, France, I told you
!’
as they went up the path together to the homestead did not help.

‘I’ll tell
Burn
,’ decided Frances after she had fed and bedded Jason, ‘when he comes in to bawl me out, as he will come in, being
Burn
West, I’ll tell him everything.’

But
Burn
didn’t come to bawl her out and Frances didn’t tell.