Always a Rainbow Read online

  Afterwards the tables laden with cups and saucers and empty plates were carried away, the Maori musicians resumed their places on the makeshift stage and the dreamy strains of the waltz “Some Day, My Love” stole through the big room. One of the players younger than the others got to his feet, his soft Maori accents taking up the haunting melody.

  A voice said softly, “Dance?” and Angela turned to find Mark at her side. How could he have approached without her noticing? And how mistaken she had been in imagining that he might not be familiar with this style of dancing. This wasn’t just dancing, it was heaven, it was something wildly exciting yet deeply satisfying. She was scarcely aware of other couples whirling around them. Once a face met her glance, eyes stormy, lips tightly compressed, and Angela returned to earth with a bump. Susan stood alone on the fringe of dancers watching her. Probably the other girl had never bothered to master the intricacies of the waltz and was annoyed with anyone who had. The next moment Angela had forgotten her.

  “I didn’t think you’d know the waltz—”

  She laughed softly. “I thought the same about you!” Did she imagine it, or had his arm tightened around her waist? This wasn’t just a waltz, it was movement and music and magic all mixed up with a Maori lad’s heart-catching tones. It all added up to a wild and potent happiness. She had never known she could feel like this!

  When the soft strains drew to a close it was a moment before she could bring herself back to earth sufficiently to master her runaway emotions. Mark released her and flushed and bright-eyed, she gazed up at him. “That was super!”

  “Glad you enjoyed it.” Nothing could have been more formal, more off-putting than his tone. In silence she went with him from the dance floor.

  She became aware that John was making his way through the groups gathered at the edge of the oil-slippery floor. After a short time the music broke out again to the foot-tapping rhythm of “Raindrops are Falling”. Somehow, though, for Angela the high excitement of the evening had dulled and she went through the movements of the dance almost unconsciously. Against her will her gaze strayed towards Mark. He was standing with a group of bronzed young farmers near the entrance, apparently deep in conversation. When the number ended he made his way towards her and John.

  “Had enough? Feel like taking off now?”

  She saw a shadow of disappointment pass over John’s steadfast face, but he had no option but to agree. She realised that Mark’s enquiring gaze was turned towards her. “How about you, Twenty?”

  “I’m ready to go if you are!” It was true. She might as well admit that since that one dance with him everything had gone flat. He had spoilt her for other partners, no use denying it. She was, however, a little surprised at his not waiting until the end of the function. The dance looked like going on for hours yet, probably until morning. Surely Susan would be disappointed at this cavalier treatment. The thoughts flew wildly through her mind. Perhaps the other girl was accustomed to his deserting her, or could it be they had quarrelled?

  Moonlight flooded the hills as they swept along the deserted roads. Angela was already beginning to recognise familiar landmarks along the way, a conical shaped hill, a particularly hazardous bend. John leaned forward making desultory conversation, but for the most part Mark was silent, his gaze fixed on the fragment of curving roadway illuminated in the arc of the headlamps. At last they rattled over a cattle-stop and took the winding driveway leading to the homestead. The shepherds’ bungalows and shearers’ quarters were in darkness, but in the house a porch light glimmered faintly through the trees.

  Mark dropped John off at the shearers’ quarters. For a moment he hesitated, looking uncertainly towards Angela. “I wanted to ask you,” then, evidently aware of Mark’s presence, muttered awkwardly, “See you soon,” and closed the heavy door behind him.

  As they went on Angela got ready to open the gates in the glow of the headlamps. How quickly she had become accustomed to the duties expected of her in this alien life. At last Mark ran the car into the open garage and went with her up the steps and into the back porch. Still in silence he flung open the back door and pressing a light switch, preceded her into the hall.

  Belatedly it came to her that she hadn’t yet mentioned to him her idea of relieving Doris in the house for a time. Whatever had become of that plan of revenge of hers? Somehow it didn’t seem to matter any more. Tonight she couldn’t think about anything clearly, she was too suffocatingly aware of him. If only he didn’t guess at her feelings!

  They reached her room and she paused at the door. “Well, goodnight. And thanks for taking me ... I mean us ... to the dance tonight.”

  “My pleasure—Oh, Twenty, one moment. There’s something I wanted to see you about. Come on in here, will you?” As he spoke he strode ahead, moving into the lounge room and switching on the table lamp with its red shade. “Won’t keep you long.”

  Slowly she followed him into the room. What now?

  Mark picked up a pipe from the mantel and said carelessly, “That’s a long thirsty drive back from Te Awau. How about some coffee?”

  Coffee! She might have known that was all he required of her. Unconsciously she sighed. “I’ll get it.” In the kitchen she plugged in the electric jug and reached up to a shelf for instant coffee and the Irish pottery beakers. Then she went back to ask him, “Black or white?”

  He paused in the act of lighting his pipe. “Black for me, thanks.”

  Angela preferred it that way herself and soon she carried the tray into the lounge room. Music echoed softly from the stereo and she recognised songs from one of the German operas. She seated herself on a leather pouffe, the emerald skirt falling around her ankles. Cupping her hands around the beaker, she glanced across at Mark, lying back relaxed in a shabby wing chair. Something about the expression in his blue eyes was definitely ... disturbing. With an effort she wrenched her gaze aside. She said in a rush of words, “What did you want to see me about?”

  “Oh, that.” He appeared content to stay there for hours. “Just that Brian still seems a bit groggy, not really fit for much. So how about your staying on here, waiting a bit longer before you make that confession of yours to him?”

  “It’s not a confession,” she protested, tight-lipped.

  “No?” Irony tinged his voice, but she let that pass. There was no sense in letting him rile her all the time. Besides, she had her own news for him in that direction.

  “There’s something I wanted to ask you about too. I had an idea—”

  “An idea?”

  “Yes, that is, I mean Mrs. Blackman was telling me how disappointed she is at not being able to get away to look after her daughter in the South Island when the new baby arrives, and I thought that maybe...” Heavens, this wasn’t coming out at all the way she had planned it. She sounded as though she were pleading with him to let her stay instead of the other way around. She took a deep breath and floundered on. “I could stay here and look after things. Just,” she added hurriedly, “until Doris gets back.” What if he took this to be a typical “Martha” proposition? A trick to work her way in here and eventually marry the boss, or his younger brother?

  He was regarding her in a lazy inattentive way, but she knew he missed nothing. “What did Doris think of the scheme?”

  “Mrs. Blackman? Oh, she was so pleased! I think she started packing her suitcase the moment I left her.”

  “Right! In that case you can consider yourself hired, Twenty, as from now. Temporary housekeeper for the duration!’”

  “Thank you.” Once again their glances met and held and she heard herself rushing into speech, anything to break the dangerous moment of silence. “There’s something else too ... thanks for sending Rusty down to the cookhouse to help me in the shed. You know something,” she ran on in her soft husky tones, “just at first I thought it was his own idea, that he’d taken pity on my ignorance and decided to come to the rescue.”

  Mark got to his feet and began to knock the ash from his pip
e. “Just a matter of expediency. No meals ready for the shearers means no clip!” His expressionless tone chilled her.

  “Yes, I understand all about that now.” She gathered up the beakers and placed them on the tray. “You’ll let me know about your brother?”

  “Don’t worry, Twenty, I’ll keep in touch. A day or two should make all the difference.”

  Once again he was aloof and distant, very much her employer. Well, that suited her too. Definitely she must have imagined that moment on the dance floor when he had seemed to draw her close to him. Glancing towards his set features, she thought that nothing could have been further from his mind.

  Still she hesitated. There was a question she must ask, something she must know if she were to continue staying here at the homestead. She said very low, “Why didn’t you tell the others?”

  “About Martha, you mean?” His voice was steel, “Why should I? It’s up to Brian, his business, nothing to do with anyone else. Personally I reckon he’s taken a stiff enough knock without adding to it. He always was a sensitive touchy sort of guy. He’d loathe knowing that folks around here were pitying him for the way he’s been let down. While things go along as they are anything could have happened to Martha to delay her, stop her keeping that appointment with him. Illness, accident, a thousand different things. But once you come out with your little story he hasn’t even got that shred of self-respect to fall back on. He’d feel he was a laughing stock at the station. No, best to leave things the way they are for the moment.”

  Angela looked unconvinced. “But what,” she persisted stubbornly, “if he tells someone else?” It was a possibility that had niggled uneasily at her mind ever since she had suggested to Doris that she could fill in while the housekeeper was absent from the house.

  “He won’t! He’d be too darned self-conscious about the whole affair to breathe a word about it to anyone.”

  “He might. He might confide in Jill.”

  “Jill?” Mark bent on her the searching look she had come to dread. “Why would he do that?”

  “Why not? She’s in love with him.” Angela bit back the words. Let him discover the truth for himself, if it were the truth. Or was that too merely her own imagination?

  She turned away and immediately his laconic tones jerked her back to awareness. “Just a word of advice, Twenty, now that you’re staying on for a bit. About John—”

  She swung around, staring bewilderedly over her shoulder. “I don’t need any advice about him.”

  “You’re dead wrong there, Twenty! John’s a nice guy. I’ll give you that, but chasing all over the country in the shearing gang’s jalopy could land you in a heap of trouble. And that includes getting yourself stranded miles from civilisation with no way of getting back. Better stay put while you’re here, hmm?”

  The hot colour flooded her cheeks, but she was so angry she didn’t care. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hillyer,” she said tensely, “I’ve no intention of running off with anyone! You’ll get your meals served on time every single day I’m here!”

  She might just as well not have spoken.

  “The name’s Mark, remember?” He heaved himself up from the depths of the chair. “Glad we’ve got that little lot sorted out. ’Night, Twenty!”

  “Good night!” Had she not had both hands fully occupied with the tray she would have slammed the door behind her—hard!

  It was at breakfast time the next morning that an excited Jill proclaimed that at last Brian was acting and talking like his old self again. The small freckled face was radiant with relief. “No more headaches. I don’t mind so much having to go back to the farm now that he’s so much better!” She turned towards Doris.

  “You won’t need to look after your patient any more! He tells me he’s getting up today. Isn’t it super?”

  As Angela’s anxious glance flew to the man seated at the head of the table she met his challenging look. His message registered as plainly as spoken words. “Right, Twenty, get on with it!” All at once the toast and marmalade she had been enjoying turned to sawdust in her mouth. She told herself that she would get the unpleasant duty over and done with as soon as possible, and as the others finished their meal she seized her opportunity. Turning towards Doris, she said, “I’ll collect Brian’s tray.”

  Doris sent her a twinkling glance. “Are you sure Jill will let you?”

  Jill answered with a beaming smile. “I’ll give you five minutes and if you’re not back here by then I’m coming right in to investigate. Trouble is, he always did have that weakness for red hair!”

  The words fell into a pool of silence and hastily Angela rushed into speech. “I’m on my way, then!” Excusing herself from the table, she hurried along the passage and into her room taking a bulky envelope from a bureau drawer. A few moments later she knocked on a closed door.

  “Come in.” The man lying back on pillows raised a curly brown head from the magazine he held in his hand. He regarded her with surprise. “Oh, hi! Who are you?”

  “That’s what I’ve come to tell you.” Angela dropped lightly down at the end of the bed. “I was cooking with the shearing gang last week.” If only, she thought on a wave of longing, it were as simple as that!

  “Crikey!” The pale rather shortsighted eyes regarded her in amazement. “Mark told me he had a girl jacked up for the job, but you—Oh well, I guess you can put it down to experience. Hope you don’t mind my saying this, but if anyone had asked me I’d have said you were fresh out from England. You’ve got that look about you, that complexion doesn’t belong out here.”

  She tried to infuse a light inflection into her tone. “You could be right at that.” For something to say she enquired, “What were you reading when I came in, a farming manual?”

  “Come off it!” The wry twisted grin put her in mind of his more forceful brother. “When I feel like reading, and that’s most of the time, it’s for pleasure, not work—tell me, do you go for poetry?”

  Angela nodded, striving to wrench her thoughts from her own immediate problem.

  “Me too.” Brian didn’t seem at all shy with her, she thought in surprise. The answer came unbidden. No doubt he was regarding her in the light of shearers’ cook rather than a not unattractive girl, like his brother.

  She realised he was eyeing her thoughtfully. “Ever get homesick for England?” he asked.

  She laughed.

  “I haven’t had time yet.”

  He was thumbing through the slim book he had put down when she appeared in the room. “I was just reading a few lines written by a Kiwi living on the other side of the world. Guess it takes an expatriate to really pull out the stops when it comes to making you feel a real longing for your own country. This was taken from a New Zealand News of a few years back.” In the turmoil of her mind Angela was scarcely aware of the light tones.

  “The tui sings in the kowhai tree

  On the other side of the world from me,

  Yet if I say so here folk stare

  Not knowing how it is out there.”

  “How does that grab you?”

  She had only half heard the words. “Yes, I can see what you mean.”

  “Bet you’re glad you’re done with the shed for a while—or have you?” The pale eyes regarded her with a puzzled look. “What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t!” She took a deep breath and plunged in to the words that must be said. “I’m Angela, Angela Twentyman, Actually I’ve only been in the country for a few weeks. I ... came out on the Ocean Monarch with Martha Stanaway. Didn’t you two used to correspond with each other?”

  “Martha!” At the light that sprang into his eyes her spirits plummeted. How could she dash his hopes like this? Yet somehow she must. In this one instance she had to admit that Mark had been right in advising her to make the news of Martha a clean-cut blow. Even if it were a blow to the heart! Aware that he was regarding her intently, she forced herself to go on. “Martha couldn’t come here to see you herself, but she ask
ed me to give you a message. She said” ... avoiding his eyes ... “that I was to tell you she was ... sorry ... about everything. And I was to give you this.” She laid on the bed-cover the thick envelope. As she took in his stricken expression she said in a low tone, “Would you rather be on your own? I mean—”

  “It’s okay.” Brian’s voice was thick. Listlessly he shook from the packet a small square box. He snapped the catch, then closed it again. “Well, thanks anyway,” he murmured awkwardly, and sliding down on the pillows turned his face to the wall.

  “I’m sorry.” She seemed to be always saying “I’m sorry” to someone, she thought miserably as she went out of the room.

  In the kitchen she found that the men had left and gone out into the sunshine of the yard. Doris was singing softly to herself as she cleared dishes from the table. As they washed up together at the sink Doris launched happily into a description of her daughter and son-in-law, appeared not to notice Angela’s preoccupied expression. The question hammered in her brain. What if the shock of her news had affected the injured man, set him back in health? Perhaps she ought to have waited another day, perhaps—

  “What did you say to him?” Both women looked up in surprise as Jill hurried into the room, her small round face flushed and eyes bright with anger.

  “Say to him?” Angela was playing for time.

  “It was something you told him, I know it was! He looks dreadful, white as a sheet, and he was getting along so well! All he would tell me was something about a message!”

  Doris threw her an exasperated look. “Oh, Jill, don’t be so stupid! How could Angela have upset Brian? She scarcely knows him.”

  “Doesn’t she?” A dawning suspicion was growing in Jill’s eyes. She flung around to face Angela. “You were on the Ocean Monarch and that was the ship that Martha girl came out from England on, or was supposed to.”