The Tartan Touch (11 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

We w
ere all up early the following morning. The shearing outfit had gone into Cue the night before and had come home in the early hours, raucous and arguing about the station they were off to next. I heard them roaring the engines of their trucks just outside my window and wished sleepily that they would go away. Others, however, were not prepared to suffer in silence and, after a few moments, Margaret’s voice joined theirs and there was quiet once more.

They were in a sheepish mood when they filed in to get their breakfast. I piled up their plates with the standard Australian fare of chops and eggs, wondering at their sultry good manners'!

“Reckon we disturbed the whole house this morning,” the foreman murmured.

I
smiled at him. “It wasn’t so bad,” I assured him
.

“It’s always the same on pay day. Wowsering is second nature in our kind of work.”

“Did you drink Cue dry?” I put
in comfortingly.

Laughter lighted his eyes. “Too right! They’ll be trucking the stuff in all week to make up for us.”

I
shook my head at him. “Why don’t you save your money?” I asked him.

“There’d be no need to work if we all did that!” he retorted.

I
finished serving the meat and eggs and washed and burnished the huge, heavy pans that wouldn’t be used again until the following year.

“
We’ll give you a lift into Cue,” one of the men suggested. “It’s time you saw the town, Mrs. Fraser. There’s more to the Outback than Mirrabooka. Did you know that?”

“I can take my own wife into Cue,” Andrew’s voice cut across him.

There was a muttered apology from the man which Andrew brushed aside. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his hat pulled well down over his eyes
.

“Cue is a bonza town!”

“She’s a beaut!”

“Reckon Mrs. Fraser’s seen better!”

I listened idly to their comments, my eyes on Andrew’s lounging body. I would like to go into town with him, I thought. It would make a change from the heat and the dust and the clouds of flies that came from nowhere.

It seemed only a few minutes later that the men climbed aboard their trucks, their bedding rolls and the rest of their luggage tucked away out of sight. Their exuberant good spirits were infectious and I found myself laughing and making as much noise as they, as they shouted their last goodbyes and disappeared down the track and were lost to sight in the thick, all-pervading red dust.

That let-down feeling that comes to one after a departure closed round me. All that was left of them was a pile of dirty plates waiting to be washed, and the sooner the better, for there was no one else who was going to do them.

Andrew watched me as I set about the task, his hands deep in his pockets.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll take you in to Cue.”

I hesitated. “I ought to finish these first,” I answered.

“They’ll keep.”

“Oh, but—”

“Mary can do them, if it offends you to leave them until you get back,” he suggested callously.

“Oh no!” I exclaimed.

“Oh yes!” he retorted. “If she needs any help, Margaret is around somewhere
.
”

I bit my lip, shocked. “It won’t take me many minutes to finish here,” I said quickly. “It’s my job after a
ll.
”

“Then I’ll help you myself,” he offered, and, before I could protest, he had shoved
the
great pile of plates into
the
hot water and was swishing them through the water and out on to
th
e draining board. “I fancy myself as a washing-up machine,” he said. “We had one out here for a while, but
the
gremlins got into it and it had to be sent down to Perth to be repaired
.”

“I don’t mind doing it by hand,” I told him shyly.

“You don’t mind much, do you?” he said gently.

“Some things,” I said fiercely. “Some things I mind very much indeed!
”

He didn’t ask me what things, which was just as well. What I minded was the way I jumped whenever I saw him, and
th
e ache in my heart when I watched him politely listening to Mary as she teased him. It was my own silliness that I minded, for I had known from
the
start that we were play-acting and feat his heart would never be mine.

He was very handy about the kitchen. When he had finished washing
t
he
dishes, he helped me stack them away, and then swept the floor as if it were
the
kind of chore he had done all his life.

“
And now, Kirsty Fraser, can you think of anything else to keep us from going?”

I shook my head. “I—I think I’d better change, though,” I said.

He took in my appearance solemnly. “Right,” he said.

“I reckon we could manage to get a pair of jeans of your own at that!”

“But you wouldn’t want to go shopping for that sort of thing!” I said. “I can wait until I go into town again with Mary.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think I might enjoy it
.
We’ll get you a bush hat too. You’ll need it if I take you up Mad Man’s Track.”

I held my breath in pure excitement. “Will you take me?” I pleaded with him
.

“I might,” he grunted. “Margaret wants some time with Mary by herself and I’d rather she saw her here than in Perth.”

Some of the excitement left me. “She must find it hard never to be alone with her,” I agreed politely.

“As long as she doesn’t nag Mary to death!” Andrew commented.

“But she’s right!” I protested. “Mary ought to have more friends of her own age!” I gave him a quick, anxious look. "She knows her own mind and she won’t change, but meanwhile it would be good for her to see more folk than us on Mirrabooka.”

“Why d’you say she won’t change?” he countered.

I fingered the button at the neck of my shirt “I—I don’t see how
sh
e could!” I exclaimed.

Andrew’s jaw tightened angrily. “Did she tell you so?” he demanded.

“M-more or less.”

“And I suppose you approve?”

I nodded slowly, bitterly aware that I was blushing. “Why not?” I said with a spurt of temper. “I—I think I envy her!”

“Meaning?” he asked shortly.

“It must be nice to love somebody and have
the
m love you back,” I sighed.

“Even when the man’s old enough to be the girl’s father
?
” he snapped
.

I considered the point carefully. I didn’t think he was doing himself justice. There was an age difference, I supposed, but Andrew was scarcely old enough to have been Mary’s father.

“I think you make too much of it,” I said.

He smiled a faint, twisted smile. “Perhaps you have leanings in the same directions?” he said sourly.

How true that was
!
“
But Mary is beautiful,” I answered fairly. “I love her dearly. What man would look at me, if he could have her bright beauty?”

Andrew’s hands clenched. “I think you sell yourself short,” he said abruptly.

But I shook my head. “Do I?” I said sadly. “I think not.”

There was no point in his arguing with me
.
We both knew that I was right, even while we both regretted the knowledge, each in our own way.

“Go and change, Kirsty,” he said gently.

My, but it was hot as we rushed along the road to Cue. There was no relief from the strong rays of the sun as they beat down on our defenceless heads. There had been another town, called Cuddingwarra, lying halfway between Cue, and Big Bell, but it had died even before Big Bell. The buildings lay bleak and deserted by all the miners who had once spent their riches there. It was a sad, desolate spot.

Cue, in my opinion, was not much better. The main street, the one and only one, was about fifty yards wide and strongly reminiscent of a Hollywood set for a frontier town. I could hardly believe that it was real, not that I had seen many films in my life, but I had seen one that I remembered well, and now I felt that I had fallen headlong into it.

Andrew knew everybody in town, miners and graziers alike. There wasn’t one that he didn’t greet by their given name, and they all called him Andrew, Andy, or even Drew. They called me Kirsty, and I was glad. It sounded less dishonest than being referred to as Mrs. Fraser somehow and made me feel more at home.

Andrew soon disappeared with a group of men to have a drink. For an instant I wondered what to do with myself, but I need not have worried, A pleasant-looking woman came up to me immediately.

“Kirsty? I’m Bridget O’Dell. Have you come in to do some shopping?”

I nodded shyly. “It’s the first time I’ve been to Cue,” I confided.

She wrinkled up her nose, reminding me strongly of someone, though I couldn’t think who. “Not much to it, is there?” she said.

I smiled faintly. “It’s better than Cuddingwarra.”

“Too right!” she laughed, delighted. “Will you mind if I tag along while you make your purchases? I’m waiting for my husband and, once the men get together, you can say goodbye to the rest of the day!”

“I’d love it!” I said quickly, afraid that she might change her mind. She was older than I, but I had liked her immediately. I thought she was kind. “Do you live near here?” I asked her.

“About two hundred miles up the line. But my brother lives in the Murchison. He’s in England at the moment and Dick and I are running his place while he’s away.”

I stared at her. “Frank Connor!” I exclaimed.

She looked startled. “That’s right! D’you know him?”

“I saw him in London,” I admitted. “I liked him
,”
I added diffidently.

She raised an eyebrow.
“
Everybody
likes Frank
,”
she agreed.

I laughed. “I expect everybody likes you too
,” I
told her.

She was pleased
. “
Oh, me! I was married before I could look round! Dick and I never looked at anyone else but each other. But Frank seems destined to be everybody’s friend and nobody’s lover.
I
did think—” She broke off, sighing. "I suppose it wouldn’t do,” she added uncertainly,

I didn’t know what she was talking about. “Mrs. O’Dell—” I began uncertainly.

“Oh, Bridget, please.” She grinned at me. “It’s considered friendly in these parts.”

“Bridget, then,” I said slowly.

“That’s better! How’s Mary?” she went on
.

“She’s well,” I answered.

“Meaning that you’re saddled with Margaret as well?” she asked wryly.

“Oh no!” I exclaimed. “Margaret Fraser must always be welcome on Mirrabooka
.
Mary has an interest in the property and she is Margaret’s daughter, is she not?”

“True,” Bridget observed with interest. “Perhaps you’re right, my dear. Margaret has always thrived on opposition. I think your tactics may be sound. What does Andrew think?”

“
What should he think?” I demanded.

She laughed. “I really believe that you would make Margaret welcome, no matter what!”

“Ay, I would,” I said fiercely.

“My word! Kirsty, my love, did anyone tell you what she did to Donald? She wouldn’t live in the Murchison! She kept telling him that there was nobody to know here. In the end, he had to go to Perth to be with her. Poor Mary had no proper home at all until Andrew insisted that she lived with him at Mirrabooka—”

I gave her a disapproving look. “Margaret had not much of a home in Scotland,” I said softly.

“But—I thought—?”

I shook my head. “It was a wee croft,” I told her,
“and poorer than most.”

“Well, that explains a lot!” Bridget said forthrightly. “I remember now, somebody said you came from the same area in Scotland.”

“I lived up at
the
manse. My father was the minister.”

“I see,” said Bridget. “And now you’re Mrs
.
Andrew Fraser of Mirrabooka!”

I tried hard to summon up a smile. “It’s a big change,” I admitted.

She looked amused, though for the life of me I couldn’t see why. “I think Andrew’s very lucky,” she said.

The sound of laughter, loud and bawdy, came from the bar where the men were, their womenfolk quite forgotten.

“What shopping did you have in mind?” Bridget asked me, resigned to
the
fact that it would be a long time before her husband returned to her.
I was reluctant to tell her, for the silly reason that I wanted to buy my new jeans and bush hat with Andrew’s help. I wanted badly to buy something that would please him, that would bring that certain light to his eye when he saw me in them, It was a hopeless wish, of course, but he had brought me in to Cue to go shopping with me,

“I want to buy a pair of jeans,” I admitted. “I’ve been borrowing a pair of Mary’s—”