Always a Rainbow Read online

  ALWAYS A RAINBOW

  Gloria Bevan

  The autocratic Mark Hillyer refused to believe that Angela’s job as shearers’ cook on his New. Zealand sheep station was just a holiday post and that she had no matrimonial designs on his young brother. If only she could ignore him!

  But Mark was not a man to be treated with indifference...

  To Russell, manager of a seven-thousand-acre sheep and cattle station in the far north of New Zealand.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Shielding her eyes with her hand from the brilliant sunshine streaming in at the open bus window, Angela glanced idly out towards the passing New Zealand countryside. It was all new territory to her as yet and she was enjoying every moment of the journey—the friendly informative comments of the Maori driver, the small settlements that went flashing by at ever increasing intervals and most of all the heat-hazy day that was in such contrast to the grey English winter so recently left behind.

  Earlier in the day the vehicle had swung out of Auckland city streets to take a motorway winding north, moving over the graceful arch of the harbour bridge with the sun-dazzled waters far below. Presently she was gazing down slopes where thickly growing flax and punga-fern had recently been cleared to make way for clusters of pastel-tinted houses with their gay red and green roofs. Then gradually as she travelled further north the rolling farmlands stretched away on either side of the winding road. Along the edge of the roadside toa-toas tossed in the breeze, their silky plumes translucent in the late afternoon sunlight. On the summit of cleared hillsides she caught passing glimpses of farm homesteads, red roofs gleaming through a screen of tall shelterbelts of native trees. A heat haze shimmered over the hot bitumen of the highway and the traffic was made up of an occasional farm truck, dust-spattered jeeps, stock transporters and long trailers tightly packed with sheep.

  As the bus swung around yet another bend Angela glimpsed ahead a small settlement—a petrol pump, a garage and general store. Presently the vehicle drew up beside an old timber shop with peeling paintwork and faded awnings. The elderly man seated beside Angela, who had dozed throughout the journey, now awoke with a start and getting to his feet began to move towards the exit door. It was at that moment as she glanced back over her shoulder that Angela became aware of a familiar face amongst the crowd of passengers. Imagine seeing Martha again so soon! For throughout the whole country there surely couldn’t be any other girl with that certain shade of red hair. Angela’s own hair was inclined that way, especially when the sun sparked the long dark copper strands, but Martha’s hair was a startling, flaming red! Even though Martha’s face was turned towards the window Angela could see that the pallor that had been so noticeable on that first day when both girls had met aboard the Ocean Monarch had like her own given way to a light patina of tan. The bus began to gather speed as it moved on and Angela’s thoughts wandered.

  During the voyage out from England on the luxury liner Martha had appeared to be slightly older than most of the young crowd who gathered together on the dance floor, sunbathed around the pool or idled away the hours up on the boat deck. Angela mused that you couldn’t call Martha attractive, her face was too thin, her features too sharp for beauty, and yet there was something about her. Perhaps a well-defined fashion sense was the answer, for Martha wore her clothes with flair and imagination. Or could it be her quick tongue?. It was just a pity that the brittle wit was all too often barbed with malice. Could that be the reason why during the voyage the various men friends who had at first been attracted by Martha’s amusing brand of chatter had soon lost interest and drifted away in search of other feminine companions for dancing and sunbathing?

  Given other circumstances it was unlikely that the two girls would have touched the fringes of friendship, and Martha Stanaway was not a type of girl whom Angela would have chosen as a companion. On the first day aboard the Ocean Monarch, however, they found themselves seated together at table and Martha’s gay company had helped to dispel Angela’s initial sense of bewilderment on her first trip overseas. Before many days had passed, however, she was easing herself out of a friendship she had no desire to develop. Not that the other girl had changed towards her in any way. It was just that there had been so many incidents, trivial in themselves yet indicating a nature that was utterly ruthless in dealings with others. Clearly Martha was one of the “takers” of the world, using her acquaintances mercilessly to her own advantage. Friends were worth cultivating only if they could be of use in some way, otherwise they were quickly abandoned. Probably at the start of the voyage Angela had been helpful to Martha as a stopgap—but afterwards? Angela failed to realise that her own youthful enthusiasm, the direct gaze of the hazel eyes she always considered much too big for her small face, her downright honesty of purpose, drew both men and women to her side and kept them there without conscious effort on her part. To be with Angela was to gain an immediate admission to a lively, fun-loving circle of youthful passengers.

  They were a gay and friendly group and Angela liked them all. She would have been content to dance away the evening hours and enjoy the varied amusements of the day with various escorts had not Harvey attached himself to her side early in the voyage. He was a stolidly-built young man with neatly brushed dark hair and a serious outlook on life, and his businesslike approach to living contrasted with the light-hearted attitude of the others. If there were times when Angela thought him ponderous for his years, his day-by-day presence a trifle irksome at times, she told herself that he was basically a nice person with a quaint old-fashioned chivalry and a determination to please her in every way possible. If only he didn’t put her so much in mind of Graeme! Indeed, it would seem she had made her goodbyes to one adoring male on the Southampton docks only to acquire another on board ship. For the two men so unalike in appearance appeared to share the same attitude towards her. But what odds? Once the Ocean Monarch berthed in Auckland it was unlikely that she and Harvey would meet again, even though they were both bound for the same destination in New Zealand, Harvey had told her that he planned to start in business in the new country in the line of food-processing and selling. That too was odd, because Graeme’s pet dream had been to manage a business of his own. What was there about her that seemed to attract these careful, conscientious types?

  As it turned out, however, it seemed she need not have concerned herself regarding the future, for all at once Harvey appeared to lose all interest in her. She had no idea of the reason for his sudden change of heart, she only realised with a delightful new sense of freedom that he no longer sought her out at every available opportunity. Indeed he was now obviously taking pains to avoid her and if by chance they happened to meet his fresh-complexioned face would grow a shade pinker and he would throw her a forced uneasy grin before hurrying away. It wasn’t long before he had taken up with Martha and when they were all part of a group Angela would be aware of Martha’s sly, triumphant glance from beneath pale lashes.

  One day, alone for once up on the boat deck, Angela lay back in the sunshine, watching the other two stroll along the deck. Maybe it’s the red hair that attracts Harvey, she thought in secret amusement. I suppose you could call mine red. Tossing back over her shoulders the long glinting mass of burnished copper, she went on thinking about Harvey. Funny how those serious good-old-Graeme types with business aspirations seem to gravitate in my direction. And Harvey used to like to be with me at the start of the trip and Graeme was always declaring he’d love me and no one else for ever and ever, amen. Of course I’m fond of him too ... in a way.

  But not in the right way! A tiny voice deep in her mind suddenly made itself heard. Come on, Angela, why not face up to the truth for once in your life? Isn’t it because of Graeme and his cloying affection that you’re sp
lashing all your hard-earned savings on this working holiday away out in New Zealand?

  Nonsense! I’ve always longed to travel.

  What you mean is that you don’t want to settle for married life with Graeme, worthy, saving, serious-eyed Graeme. Admit it now. Didn’t you feel deep down that this one year spent right away from everything familiar might serve to settle things in your mind?

  Well. .. maybe ... She could have put those savings towards a home of their own that Graeme was always going on about. She could have, but she hadn’t! Instead she had booked her passage on the Ocean Monarchy due to arrive at the port of Auckland in the New Zealand summer. When after endless arguments on the subject Graeme had at length realised that her mind was made up, his grey eyes seemed to regard her with silent reproach, but he only said in a strangely quiet tone, “Okay then, if that’s what you want! You might get the travel bug out of your system once and for all!” His heavy tone had lightened a little. “When you get back to London you’ll be satisfied that you’ve seen a bit of the world and that’ll be it! Then it’ll be time for the things that really matter like choosing a wedding ring and looking around for a flat not too far from my office, hmm?”

  “Maybe,” she had answered doubtfully.

  The dreadful part of the whole thing was that far from feeling any gratitude towards him for accepting her decision to leave England for a year in New Zealand she was conscious only of resentment and a queer sense of guilt. Why couldn’t he just let her go with no tags attached? Wish her goodbye and good luck and let it go at that?

  The next morning she had said as much to her friend Janet at the office where they both worked. Janet, however, seemed unimpressed by Graeme’s discouraging attitude.

  “Could be,” she offered mildly, “that he loves you a lot and he’s scared to death of losing you.”

  “If that’s the way he feels why can’t he trust me?”

  “Maybe he does. Maybe it’s those husky New Zealand sheep-farming types he doesn’t trust.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Angela had cried indignantly. “I’m only going on a working holiday out there, not a husband-hunting expedition!”

  Are you sure? jeered the small mind-voice. She thrust it aside and banged so heavily on her typewriter keys that she made an error on an important document and had to tear it up and begin all over again.

  It hadn’t been easy, the savings bit. One isn’t exactly in the millionaire class on a typist’s wage, but a knack with dressmaking helped to cut expenses and she had a flair for hair-styling that dispensed with hairdressing fees at the salon. It was amazing how much you could do without in the way of luxuries when you set yourself a goal and really put your mind to it! One advantage about being on your own in the world was that it forced you to depend on yourself. Her parents had died in an air disaster when she was a baby and the aunt who had brought her up had some years previously gone to America to share the home of a married daughter there. There was no one to worry about her or to care what she did, except Graeme—if he had his way.

  It had taken a long time to get the money together for a return fare to New Zealand plus funds to tide her over for some months in an emergency. Time ... She was twenty-one, pushing twenty-two, and in all those years so very little had happened to her. Of importance that is in the way of romance or love or anything that really mattered. You wouldn’t believe that you could live in London, in London, and have the years just ... slide ... by. There had been school, high school, a period spent in business-training that was followed by work in a city office where she had been employed ever since. A cold hand seemed to clutch her heart. Was this all there was to being young, to living? There must be something ... something ... she groped in her mind ... if only she could find it.

  But perhaps the shining miracles didn’t happen along just like that. Perhaps you had to go right out and discover them for yourself like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Well, no matter what happened in the future on this trip to the far South Pacific she would have done something with a dull life, met new people, seen other lands. At least she would have caught a glimpse of the rainbow even if she never ever found that pot of gold at the end of it!

  Right from the moment when the great liner pulled away from the docks the excitement and sense of change took over and carried her into a new life. A small group, some girls from the typing room and Graeme, waited on the wharf to wave her goodbye. Through the criss-cross of paper streamers wavering between them she could see Graeme looking up towards her, his gaze clinging to her laughing face as she waved back to him. Then the ship began to slide away and the pink streamer she was holding snapped between them. She watched it drift aimlessly away on the tide. Soon the faces far below blurred out of focus, but she went on waving just the same in case the watchers below could distinguish her tangerine dress amongst the milling crowd that lined the decks. When at last the groups on the wharf had become a faceless mass of humanity she turned away and it all began, the novelty and excitement of a do-nothing world where there were no problems other than how best to enjoy oneself amongst the endless choice of amusements that offered. Indeed in the days that followed she felt slightly ashamed at how swiftly she had forgotten everything she had left behind. The girls at the office, the cramped little flat she had occupied for the past four years—even Graeme.

  “Angie! I thought it was you!” Jerked from her random thoughts, Angela glanced up in surprise to meet Martha’s mocking smile. The other girl pushed her dark glasses up on her bright hair and dropped down to take the vacant seat.

  “Hi!” Angela swung around to face her. “What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you?” she asked in her sweet husky voice.

  “Nothing much,” Martha murmured evasively, “this and that.”

  “Have you been working?”

  The other girl shook her cloud of rippling red hair. “Not yet.” A secretive smile played around the thin lips. “But I’ve got terrific prospects of something coming up quite soon—if I play my cards right.”

  Angela laughed. “Well, good luck! You know,” she murmured thoughtfully, “I haven’t seen anyone I know from the ship since we left the Ocean Monarch in Auckland. It seems an age now, doesn’t it? Much more than just a week?”

  “Does it ever!” In the silence Angela’s thoughts slipped back to the voyage. Already in retrospect the fun-filled days and nights seemed strangely unreal, a little like a gay and exciting party one had attended a long time ago. The thought prompted her to say idly, “I wonder what’s become of the others? I’ve forgotten some of their surnames already, isn’t it dreadful?—except for Harvey, of course.”

  “Harvey!” For a moment a startled expression sprang into the pale no-colour eyes. Then Martha jerked the dark glasses down over her eyes, hiding their expression. “This sunlight, it’s too bright for me. Funny you should mention Harvey. Actually I’ll be seeing him quite soon in Whangarei. He’s starting up a factory there. He’s just getting it organised and later he plans to build others along the same lines in other parts of the country. Funny to think of his being the boss of it all, isn’t it?”

  Angela nodded. All at once a picture flashed across the screen of her mind. She had been amongst a crowd of young people gathered around the swimming pool, listening to a discussion regarding the prospects of casual work that would be available in the unfamiliar country. One of the boys had said, “Well, there’s one of the gang who won’t be losing any sleep over getting a job to tide him over or getting his return fare together. Didn’t he let you in on who he was?” For the others had gazed towards the speaker in surprise. “Old Harvey—Harvey Brooks. He happens to be one of the Brooks. His old man runs a chain of food-processing works right through England. He’s loaded.” Another male voice, slightly envious, had broken in. “Guess he won’t be getting work picking hops down in Nelson or gathering kiwi fruit up in Northland. You won’t come across old Harvey next to you when you’re picking peaches in the Hawkes Bay orchards e
ither. No, sir! Our Harvey’ll be too busy packing those peaches and kiwi fruit into cute little cans.”

  Martha’s voice broke into her musing. “We hit it off together pretty well, Harvey and I.” There was a self-satisfied note in the tones. “I can help him a lot when it comes to secretarial work, and luckily I’m experienced. Frankly he tells me he just won’t be able to get things organised properly without me.”

  “Really?” Angela’s eyes widened. “I had no idea you two were so friendly. Anyway,” she turned her laughing gaze towards Martha, “I wouldn’t count too much on the ‘can’t do without you’ bit. On the ship he used to act that way about me. Then all of a sudden he deserted me. Woof! Just like that! No explanation, not even a ‘see you around.’ He just ... faded away.”

  “Did you—mind?”

  Angela laughed her breathless throaty laugh. “Heavens, no, why should I? It was just so odd, the sudden drop in temperature, I mean. I wonder—”

  “I can help you with that one.” Martha’s face was averted as she stared out of the window. “It was just—well, we were up on deck one day chatting and he happened to mention some story he’d got hold of about your coming out here to be married to some guy in New Zealand. A sheep-farmer away in the country or something. The story was that you’d left off wearing your engagement ring for the duration of the trip.”

  Angela gazed back at her in astonishment. “For goodness’ sake! What on earth could have put that crazy idea into his head?”

  Martha shrugged her shoulders beneath an impeccably cut suit. Once again the small secretive smile played around her mouth. “Oh, you know how it is on board ship. Rumours fly around all the time. You can scarcely believe a thing you hear—” A sudden change of subject. “Tell me, what have you been doing with yourself in the past week? Started on that working holiday of yours yet? Wasn’t that what you had in mind?”