Always a Rainbow Page 21

  The silence seemed to last forever. Angela wished she could discern his face, but the shadows were too deep.

  “I get it.” At last, he turned away.

  “He’s mad about that,” John observed with some satisfaction, “but I can’t be worried. The way things are with me right now I have to grab my chances of being with you when I can!”

  “I know.” Only a few minutes ago John had pleaded with her to let him drive her back to the station and she had laughed away the suggestion. “You don’t really think I’d let you do that? All those hours of driving over rough roads after a day’s work in the shearing shed? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

  Yet now she had changed her mind in the matter. Already, however, she was regretting the childish impulse of revenge. It wasn’t fair to John. She suspected he was beginning to care for her much too deeply. Much as she liked him she knew she could never return his feeling. For liking wasn’t loving and never would be—unfortunately.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In the morning Brian did not appear at the breakfast table, but it was not until later that Angela found that his bed had not been slept in. Probably he had decided to spend the night with friends from the rodeo. Yet at the back of her mind the disquieting thoughts niggled. What if his absence from the homestead were connected with Martha’s visit to the showgrounds? Nonsense, if he had gone anywhere else it would be more likely to be Auckland where Jill was established among the young trainees at the hospital.

  The shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted her musing and she hurried into the hall, hoping the call would be from Brian.

  “Oh, it’s you Angela?” Jill’s voice betrayed the all too familiar note of hostility. “I wanted to have a word with Brian. He promised to ring me last night to let me know how he got on at the rodeo yesterday. I’ve got to attend classes this afternoon, so I thought I’d better ring him. Is he around at the moment?”

  Caught off her guard, Angela hesitated, “No, he’s not.” Too late she realised that the telephone that seemed to pinpoint any nuance in the voice had betrayed her agitation. For Jill’s tone was all at once anxious. “He is there, isn’t he?”

  “Well, actually—”

  “You’re keeping something from me!” Jill cried sharply, “He was hurt yesterday, wasn’t he? Something’s happened! I can tell by your voice!”

  There was nothing for it but to tell the truth. “He didn’t come back with the rest of us last night. I expect he stayed with one of his mates he ran into at the rodeo. I didn’t realise he wasn’t here until a while ago.”

  A silence, then slowly, thoughtfully, “What does Mark say about all this?”

  Now indeed Angela had to think quickly. “He hasn’t said.” Well, that was true enough, seeing he probably didn’t yet know of Brian’s absence from the house. “Look, why don’t you give me your number and I’ll ring you back as soon as he shows up—if he shows up.”

  Instantly suspicious, Jill said, “Why do you say that?”

  “No reason at all. I was just thinking aloud.”

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll ring you back. Goodbye.”

  So now she had no choice but to tell Mark. She went down the steps and wandered down to the stockyards. She wouldn’t say anything of Martha’s appearance at the rodeo. She’d learned all too well that to make any mention of the other girl was to put a thousand miles between herself and her employer, bring the cold hard look back to his eyes. The lowing and calling of the cattle reached her clearly and when she neared the stockyards she saw Mark helped by two shepherds was moving amongst the steers ear-tagging the herd. Catching sight of Angela, he left his task and came to the railings. The blue eyes were decidedly chilly, she saw at once. Because she had returned last night with John? Not a very promising start for what she had to say.

  He swept a lock of dark hair back from his eyes. “Hi, Twenty! What brings you down here?”

  “I thought I’d like to take a look at the ear-tagging.” What would he say if she told him the truth? “Just—looking at you, Mark.” She dragged her thoughts back to sanity and tried to concentrate on the deep masculine tones.

  “This job was a whole lot more spectacular to watch in the days when we used to throw the cattle and use the branding iron—you haven’t seen Brian up at the house, have you? He’s supposed to be helping down here today, but he seems to be dodging.”

  “Brian? No, I haven’t!” She moistened dry lips. “That’s partly why I came down to see you. I don’t suppose it’s anything to worry about, but his bed wasn’t slept in last night.”

  He sent her a quick surprised look. “That so? Oh well, no need for panic stations. He’ll turn up before long.”

  Angela was unaware that she was twisting long strands of hair nervously around her finger. “There couldn’t have been an accident could there?”

  “No, you can put that thought right out of your mind, Twenty. We’d have heard by now if he’d run into trouble last night. I guess he’s taken off on his own, probably headed down to town to see Jill.”

  “No, she rang just now. She seemed surprised he hadn’t got in touch with her about the rodeo event he won. He was so proud of winning it too!”

  Mark shrugged broad shoulders. “It does seem a bit out of character, but,” he appeared to put the matter out of his mind, “he’ll show up again in his own good time. Maybe there’ll be a letter in the next mail. He always was better at putting words on paper than at telling you anything to your face.”

  “Could be,” she agreed. But the mail next day brought only a letter from Doris, ecstatic over the new baby boy in her family. Gradually as the days went by Angela ceased to expect any word from Brian. Jill, clearly worried and more concerned over his absence from the station than she let on, rang the homestead daily for news. When ten days had slipped by, however, it became obvious that wherever Brian was living he had no intention of letting on his whereabouts to anyone at the station or to the girl who loved him. Angela, writing to Doris in the matter, expressed an opinion that more than likely Brian had gone to find work in one of the larger cities. Always Angela had been conscious of a sense of frustration and restlessness in him and it could well be that once again he had made an effort to strike out on his own. To be a person in his own right doing the work he liked rather than the “kid brother” whom Mark obviously regarded him as. At least, that was what she hoped had happened.

  At the back of her mind, however, niggled the uneasy suspicion that Brian’s absence was connected with his meeting with Martha at the showgrounds. Could it be that Martha and her business boy-friend had parted? Had he found someone else with whom to place his affections, someone more feminine, more understanding than Martha with her clever dressing and cool wit? Most disquieting of all was the thought that Martha, on finding out the financial standing of the man she had so lightly turned down on arrival in the country, might have had second thoughts in the matter.

  Most of the time, though, the matter of her own imminent departure from Waikare chased other thoughts from her mind. So little time left before Doris would return and after that there would be no further excuse to stay on. She told herself she should be glad that she would soon be free once again to continue with her working holiday. But freedom was only a word, and happiness was hearing Mark’s step when he returned home at night after a day spent working far from the sheltered homestead. It was glimpsing the changing, expressions of his mobile face, the quick interested glance of eyes that could glint with gaiety or amusement or change to icy accusation. Mark ... he was her world.

  She was alone in the kitchen, busy at the sink bench, when someone stole up behind her and strong sinewy arms enfolded her. “Angie!” Laughing and excited, John whirled her around on the polished floor. At last he put her down. “Here, give me that tea-towel,” he snatched it from her hand. “It’ll be good practice for me later on!” All at once his face sobered. “I’ve been counting the days,” he groaned, “and the way I work things out Doris will be pelting
back here at the week-end.”

  “That’s right.” She tried for lightness, though her heart sank at his words. “I’ll be off again next week.” With an effort she forced a note of enthusiasm into her voice. “There are so many places that I’ve never seen. That was one of the resolutions I made before I left London. While you’re in a district be sure to take in all you can while you’re there then you won’t have to retrace your steps!” Retrace your steps, when every nerve in her body would be straining to return to Waikare! She heard herself running on, “It’s such a beautiful country—mountains, lakes, waterfalls.” Yet with all these scenic wonders there was only one place she wanted to be and that was right here with Mark. She gave a rueful laugh. “Mark told me once I was like the rare white heron we happened to see one day by the lake. He said the Maoris call it ‘the bird of a single flight’.”

  He swung around abruptly to face her, the fragile china plate he was drying splintering in the towel. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Mark said that!” There was an odd stricken look in his brown eyes. He muttered thickly, “It didn’t strike you that he could have been meaning something else?”

  She stared up at him uncomprehending. “Oh, I know what he meant,” she said in a sad little voice. For he had certainly made no secret of his opinion of “Martha’s friend”. “Anyway, it doesn’t make any difference. I’ll have to be moving on soon.” All the yearning, the ache of longing was in her wistful tones.

  He was still regarding her in that strange way. “Where will you go, Angie?” His tones were laced with urgency. “You’ll give me an address?”

  Absently she wiped down the gleaming stainless steel of the bench. “An address, what’s that? I guess it’ll be another job ... somewhere...” her voice trailed away. He looked so downcast that she added brightly, “Don’t worry. I’ll let you have an address when I get one.”

  “Angie,” he said hoarsely, “let’s go some place where we can be by ourselves. Why don’t we go for a drive, anywhere you say?”

  “Okay then, anywhere where there’s a road and a view will suit me.”

  “We’ll go over the hill at the back of the house and down to the beach!” A little later he was seeing her into the big old car standing in the driveway His voice was tender. “It’s not where you go but who you’re with that matters. “Angela laughed, but a stab of pain pierced her. Didn’t she know it?

  As they bumped and lurched over the uneven ground John said with his warm smile, “I’ve got to tell you something that’s pretty important to me.”

  She raised a smiling glance. “Tell me now.”

  “Not now, Angie. Got to keep my mind on driving or I’ll slaughter a few sheep.” He had dropped to a low gear, moving slowly ahead to avoid the woolly animals scattering away from the wheels on either side. Soon there seemed nothing else in the world but the cleared green hills and the seabirds wheeling and crying overhead. As they cleared a rise she could see a blue sheet of water outspread below then they were running down towards a tidal lagoon. Tern and gulls waded in the shallow waters warmed by the already hot sun and black swans glided along the edge. John ran the car down on the sand and soon they were wading through the warm shallows as they made their way around a rocky point. In the little bay ahead water lapped in a creamy froth on white sand. It was very still with no sound but the soft swish of small waves breaking and receding.

  John dropped down on the springy green grass beneath the shade of giant pohutukawa trees clinging to the bank. The tortuous roots snaked down the slope and above, a shower of fluffy blossoms splashed red against a hot blue sky.

  Angela sank down beside him and lay back, her strung-up nerves soothed by the soft wash of the waves that were a-glitter with sundazzle.

  His kiss took her by surprise and before she could offer any protest she felt his mouth on hers, his voice low and hoarse in her ears. “Angie, Angie, if you only knew how I’ve longed for this—”

  She felt nothing, no response at all and he must have sensed her lack of feeling. Drawing away, he looked down at her with his soft dark gaze that was laced with tenderness and something else—pain? disappointment?

  “It doesn’t mean a thing to you!” he muttered in a hoarse low tone. “I don’t either, do I?” He plucked restlessly at the grass. “I should have waited a bit, given you time to get fond of me, but time’s running out and I thought, I hoped...” He seemed to struggle with himself. After a moment he said quietly, “It’s no use hoping things’ll change, is it? I mean, there’s someone else—”

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just—” she groped in her mind for words to ease the blow. He was in love with her, deeply, hopelessly in love. She should have seen this moment coming. Now it was too late. She said inadequately, “I scarcely know you. Sounds silly, doesn’t it, when you think of it, only a few weeks—”

  He brushed the words aside. “I think of you night and day, Angie, you’re my life now, there’s nothing else. I even dared to hope that you might even marry me, stick by me while I broke in that new land of mine.” His voice was barely audible, “With you beside me, Angie, I could do miracles. Without you—”

  “I’m sorry.” Such a trite little thing to say to a man facing bitter disappointment, yet she could think of nothing to say to soften the blow.

  He looked at her squarely, the dark eyes shadowed with pain. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

  “No.” To her distress the hot colour flooded her cheeks. She turned her face aside. “How could there be?” she said in a strangled tone.

  He was silent for a moment. When the pink had faded from her face she glanced at him again. He appeared to have himself in hand. “Well, I guess it was worth a try!” The expression of sadness as he looked at her gave the lie to the light words. How easily he had given in. She had expected him to refuse to take “no” for an answer, to insist that they keep in touch despite her decision. Could he have guessed her secret? What if he had? The thought was so dismaying that she sprang to her feet, saying nervously, “Let’s explore a bit further on, shall we? Around the next point!”

  Slowly he rose, his eyes never leaving her flushed face. “All I want in the world is right here.” She pretended not to hear.

  When they got back to the house sunshine sparkled in the waters of the pool. “It’s so hot! Do you feel like a dip?” Angela indicated the tiled rectangular a short distance away, but John shook his head.

  “I may as well get back to the job.” A sudden light of hope broke through his heavy expression. “Unless you want me to stay?”

  For a moment Angela forgot to keep the bright interested note in her voice. She said listlessly, “If you like.”

  “No, I’d better get along. There’s nothing for me to stay for—now.” The note of pain in his low tones made her aware of the anguish he was suffering, but there was nothing she could do about it. She said, “I’ll come and see you off.”

  They strolled back towards the car and stood for a moment in silence. John’s troubled gaze held a depth of feeling there was no disguising. “Oh, Angie—” suddenly he caught her close, caressing the long bright hair, whispering against her soft cheek, “tell me if there’s a chance?”

  “Not ... the way you mean.”

  “I guess it’s goodbye, then.” His deep tones broke. He kissed her with tenderness and passion, then swiftly turned away and got into the car.

  She stood waving as he drove away. It was the least she could do for him. She would never see him again, for to do so would, she knew, merely prolong his suffering and raise false hopes that could never be realised. Wearily she pushed the hair back from her forehead. Oh, why was everything so wrong? No one was happy, and it was all her own fault for coming here in the first place. Yet somehow, in spite of all the heartache and misery, she wouldn’t have it otherwise. She had known Mark and that was all that mattered.

  Slowly she made her way back to the house. She knew she ought to be making preparations for departure,
organising herself for the future, but somehow she couldn’t seem to get herself into gear. Was it because deep in her heart a faint hope still lingered that if she waited just a little longer something would happen that would keep her here for a few more weeks? She sighed. Miracles, however, didn’t happen along to order and the weekend loomed ahead just as though it were any ordinary couple of days and not the end of a dream.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on the present, she decided to do some baking. She had become quite successful at sponge cakes, and if by chance she had a failure the thick dairy cream whipped to thickness concealed any fallen areas in the finished product. But no matter what she did with her hands the anguish refused to die away. Today there was the added realisation that she had brought pain to John, who really loved her.

  She was still in the kitchen when Mark strolled into the room. He was wearing his working gear of drill shorts and light open-throated shirt. “Busy, Twenty?” He sent his wide felt hat spinning to the table and went to help himself to a drink of cool beer from the refrigerator in the corner.

  She nodded. “Sort of.”

  He glanced appreciatively around at the array of small pastry tarts and feather-light sponges. “You know something, Twenty, for a city girl you’re learning fast.”

  She refused to rise to the bait. “I thought I’d better have something ready in the tins for Doris when she gets back.”

  He stood laconically by the table eyeing her with the glint of amusement that was so confusing. “Anyone would get the idea you were in training—”

  Spooning raspberry jam into tiny pastry cases, she said stiffly, “For what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, a spot of country living? John could do with a wife to give him a hand when he’s breaking in his new property,”

  “You talk as though he wants a girl to work around the farm,” she said crossly. Why did he always spark the worst in her?