Heritage (47 page)

He was a nice man who was trying too hard, she thought. She could tell he was interested and she didn't wish to encourage him, but he'd been so welcoming, she also didn't want to appear rude.

‘I'd be delighted, thank you.'

‘About seven o'clock then, I'll meet you here in the lobby.'

She nodded and smiled.

The smile was only one of common courtesy, he realised, but at least it was a smile.

 

It was four o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, and Lucky and his team were just coming off the day shift when Rob Harvey arrived. In their grimy overalls and hardhats the men were gathered around the huge tunnel entrance lighting smokes and chatting while Lucky marked their footage up on the blackboard. He wrote it with a flourish, and they all gave a cheer – they were well ahead of the graveyard shift who'd knocked off at eight that morning.

Rob greeted the others who called ‘G'day boss', and then he drew Lucky to one side.

‘Are you and Peggy having dinner at Dodds this Saturday?' he asked; he knew that the two of them often did.

‘Yes, with Pietro and Violet – there's a band booked to play and we're staying on for the dance.' Lucky presumed Rob was tying up the transport into town; it was customary for them to liaise about transport.

‘Oh. Right.' Rob hadn't anticipated the band, or the young couple whom he barely knew, and he was aware that the request sounded strange. ‘Would you mind if I joined you?'

Lucky was surprised. Rob Harvey was a man's man. He didn't go to dances, he shared a beer with the blokes in the bar.

‘Why not,' he said. ‘The more the merrier.'

Rob decided that he'd have to come clean. Lucky was looking at him curiously, wondering why he'd choose to be such an odd man out.

‘Well, actually, I'll have someone with me.'

‘Ah.' Lucky grinned as the penny dropped. Rob Harvey had found himself a woman.

‘Yeah,' Rob admitted a little self-consciously, ‘I met her on the train from Sydney, and I thought I could do with a bit of back-up, you know?'

‘Sure,' Lucky said, ‘we're meeting in the lounge around half-past six,' and he left it at that. He could have ribbed Rob Harvey, but he didn't. He had the feeling that, for all his acute intelligence and his confidence in the workplace Rob Harvey was shy and insecure when it came to women.

 

It was on the dot of seven that Ruth walked down the main staircase to where he was waiting in the lobby; he'd been there a full five minutes.

‘Hello, Rob,' she said.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and he was aware of the glances from several men who'd just walked through the front doors. He felt shockingly self-conscious; she was actually too beautiful, he thought, and it made him uncomfortable.

‘G'day, Ruth.' They shook hands. ‘How's your week been?' He couldn't think of anything better to say.

‘I found a job right here in Cooma,' she said, ‘with the Snowy Mountains Authority. I'm to teach English to migrants, and it's all thanks to you.'

She'd put him at his ease in an instant and he thought, as he had when they'd got off the train, how surprisingly free of pretension she was.

‘That's good,' he said, ‘I'm glad.'

‘Yes, so am I. I'm glad I came to Cooma. I like it here.'

As they walked through to the main lounge, Ruth told him about her new job. She had to undergo the standard government medical clearance, she said, but that shouldn't take more than a week, and then she could report for duty.

‘I'll be working with psychologists too,' she said, ‘as an interpreter. Interviewing migrants with problems, helping them settle in. I'm really looking forward to it.'

He wondered again at her background. She obviously had excellent qualifications. Where did she come from? Where had she studied? But now was not the time to ask. Ahead, at a table in the centre of the lounge, sat Lucky and Peggy with the young Italian and his wife. Rob took a deep breath. He wasn't looking forward to this – he was not one for social chit-chat. He would far rather have talked to her on her own.

‘That's my mate, Lucky,' he said, indicating the table, and he took her arm as they wove their way through the lounge.

But Ruth had seen him the moment they'd stepped through the doors. Samuel. His arm around a woman, and plainly in love. There was nothing she could do. She was on a trajectory through a crowded room in a place called Cooma, and she was about to collide with her past.

‘G'day, Lucky,' Rob said. ‘This is Ruth. Ruth, this is Lucky and his fiancée, Peggy, and this is Pietro, and …' Rob faltered embarrassingly – he'd forgotten the name of the young Italian's wife.

‘Violet.' It was Peggy who dived in to save the day, wondering why Lucky hadn't.

‘How do you do,' Violet said, her hand outstretched.

‘Hello, Violet.' Ruth shook hands with all of them. ‘Hello, Lucky,' she'd left him till last.

‘Ruth,' he said.

‘Yes, that's right. Ruth Stein.'

The disfiguring scar on his face shocked her, but she'd been prepared for whatever she might find. She'd been prepared for this meeting for some time now.

Lucky had undergone no such preparation, and he stared at her dumbly, unaware that he was holding on to her hand far too long.

Ruth tried to signal him an apology. She had not intended it to happen like this, her eyes said. Then she turned away, withdrawing her hand.

‘We need some more chairs.' Rob Harvey thought it was a bit much, Lucky ogling Ruth like that, and in front of his fiancée.

‘Yes, of course.' Lucky sprang to his feet.

The exchange had gone unnoticed by Pietro and Violet, who themselves had been openly admiring Ruth.

‘She should be in the pictures,' Violet had whispered.

But the moment had not been lost on Peggy. Lucky and this woman had shared something, she'd sensed it. Did they know each other? If so, why were they saying nothing? What did it mean?

Lucky offered his chair to Ruth and he and Rob Harvey fetched two more from a nearby table. Lucky's mind was reeling. She was alive, she was here. It was incomprehensible As he sat, he tried not to stare at her.

Rob ordered another round of drinks and they discussed the luxury of late-night licensing. The long awaited change had come into being only several days before.

‘We were out at the work camp,' Rob said, ‘but I'd bet a penny to a pound there was some partying going on in town that night.'

‘There sure was,' Violet nodded. ‘You could hear them all over Cooma.'

‘Here's to the end of the six o'clock swill,' Rob said as Peter Minogue arrived with the drinks. He raised his beer glass and the others joined in the toast, explaining to Ruth the meaning of the term, which she found most colourful, which led to a discussion of other Australian colloquialisms.

‘Running around like a headless chook.'

‘Mad as a cut snake.'

‘Flat out like a lizard drinking.'

They all had their offerings, even Pietro, who admitted to finding it rather confusing, and Ruth finally shook her head.

‘I obviously have a great deal to learn,' she said, and the others laughed.

‘How long have you been here?' Lucky asked, finally forcing himself to look at her directly.

‘I've been in Cooma for a week, but I arrived in Australia ten days ago,' she replied.

‘You will like it in Cooma,' Pietro said. ‘Cooma is very nice place. You will stay here?'

‘Yes, I think so.'

‘Course she will,' Rob insisted heartily, wondering why she sounded uncertain. ‘Ruth's just got a job with the SMA – she's going to work as an interpreter and an English teacher.'

‘Oh.' Violet was most impressed. ‘Peggy's a teacher too,' she said.

Peggy smiled. She was trying to join in the conversation, but she was having trouble – her feminine instincts were working overtime. She sensed something between Lucky and Ruth, something unspoken, but electric and palpable. Yet no-one else seemed aware of it. Was it just her own insecurity? Did she find the woman's beauty a threat? Perhaps she was jealous. But she'd never been so superficial in the past. She'd never envied women their beauty; she'd admired them for it.

She continued to reason with herself as they adjourned to the dining room, but her feelings persisted. And Violet didn't help.

‘I think we should have champagne,' Violet said when the men asked the ladies what they'd like to drink. ‘We have to toast Lucky and Peggy's engagement.' Violet didn't particularly like the taste of champagne – she preferred orange juice – but champagne was essential to romance. ‘They only got the ring last weekend. Show Ruth, Peggy.'

Peggy extended her left hand. Was she imagining it, or could she sense discomfort in Lucky beside her? He was no longer being physically demonstrative either, he hadn't put his arm around her once since Ruth had arrived. Peggy felt mortified and she wished Violet hadn't brought up the subject of the ring.

‘It's pretty, isn't it?' Violet said. Pietro was going to buy her her own engagement ring soon, now that she could openly wear one, and tomorrow she was taking him home for Sunday lunch with the family. Her mum wanted to meet him, and her dad had calmed down – well, at least that's what her mum had said over the phone – so things were working out fine. And when they bought the ring she'd choose something really flashy. Pietro had said she could have whatever she wanted. Not that she was critical of Peggy's choice – it was very tasteful.

‘How exquisite,' Ruth said as she examined the ring. ‘It's quite lovely. Congratulations, Peggy.' And she turned to Lucky: ‘Congratulations to you both.'

‘Thank you,' Lucky replied, and Peggy wondered why she felt a shiver of foreboding.

After dinner, they returned to the lounge where the band was striking up. The best tables had been taken and they had to make do with a small one in the corner where they were rather cramped for space.

‘Who cares?' Violet said with gay abandon. ‘We're here to dance.' She was in a very flamboyant mood: she was unaccustomed to alcohol and the two glasses of champagne had gone to her head. ‘Come on, Pietro,' she said as she whisked him away.

‘Peggy?' Lucky knew it would seem odd if he didn't ask her to dance.

She stood, feeling wretched. She could tell that Lucky, who was normally so eager to whirl her onto the dance floor, didn't really want to dance at all.

Ruth and Rob Harvey were left at the table, and he turned to her apologetically.

‘I'm sorry,' he said, ‘I'm not much of a dancer.'

‘That's all right, I'm quite happy to watch.'

They watched together; it was a waltz, and Lucky and Peggy were executing each step like true professionals.

‘They're very good, aren't they?' he commented.

‘Yes, they are.' Samuel had always been an excellent dancer.

The waltz ended, and the next number of the bracket was a samba. Peggy loved the samba, they both did – she and Lucky loved all the Latin American dances.

‘Shall we go back to the table?' she said. She didn't love the samba tonight.

‘Sure.'

Normally he would have insisted on dancing the whole bracket, she thought as they returned to the table.

The four of them sat in silence watching the dancers. To Peggy it was a most uncomfortable silence; she was sure that Lucky and Ruth were avoiding each other's eyes. She couldn't bear it any longer, and, painting on a smile, she stood.

‘Rob, I insist that you dance with me,' she said brightly, taking him by the hand.

He was forced to rise to his feet. ‘I'm not much of a dancer, Peggy, I have to warn you,' he said, embarrassed.

‘Then I'll teach you. Come along.' And she dragged him onto the dance floor. She would give Lucky and Ruth time alone to sort out whatever it was that rested so uneasily between them.

A minute or so later, as she glanced over Rob's shoulder and saw the two of them leaning close to each other, deep in conversation, Peggy felt the sickest feeling in the pit of her stomach.

 

‘I'm sorry, Samuel, I didn't mean it to happen like this.'

They spoke softly, and they had to lean in close to hear each other above the noise of the band.

‘I thought you were dead, Ruth. I searched everywhere.' As he looked at her, Lucky was engulfed by the past.

‘I know. I know you did. But I'm here. I'm alive.' She would have liked to have touched his face – her beautiful Samuel, so scarred. ‘I'm alive, just as you are.'

‘And Rachel?' He held his breath as he asked the question.

‘She didn't survive.'

‘Ah.'

He nodded as if he'd expected as much. But Ruth had seen the flicker of hope in his eyes and she wanted to hold his hand, to offer him some comfort. She made no move.

‘We mustn't talk any longer,' she said, aware that they were looking conspicuous and that Peggy was watching anxiously from the dance floor. Ruth was guiltily conscious of the fact that Samuel's fiancée had sensed something between them.

‘Can I meet you tomorrow?' he asked. ‘Some time in the morning?'

‘Of course.'

‘Centennial Park, do you know it?'

She did, the little park on the corner, right in the centre of town. ‘Yes,' she said.

‘At ten o'clock.'

By the time the others returned to the table, they were once again sitting in silence watching the dance floor.

 

Peggy tried to make conversation as she and Lucky walked the several blocks from Dodds back to her cottage. She didn't ask him about Ruth, she had decided not to. She would wait until he told her. Told her what? she wondered.

But he said nothing. And later, as they lay side by side in bed, he remained deep in his own thoughts. By now they would normally be making love. Why weren't they? she asked herself. What had happened? She rolled over on her side, with her back to him.