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Bill, Marion and most of Idavale and its district caught the early and only train to Lawsonvale for the annual picnic race meeting. All morning Bill snuck admiring glances at Marion, who wore a jaunty sunhat over the dark hair framing her round face. Her curves couldn’t be disguised by her fashionable dress. There was only one word for her body and that was lush. To Bill she was the most attractive woman ever.
After he arrived at the hospital this morning, she had opened the back door and her serious expression transformed into a smile of genuine welcome. His heartbeat had ratcheted up. He was hooked. There was no hope for him. He was irretrievably in love.
They followed the crowd out of Lawsonvale’s town centre to the flat racecourse. A rudimentary grandstand, starter’s box and rails indicated its purpose.
Bill set their picnic under the shade of some gum trees, and lit a small fire to boil their billy for hot water. The races commenced just as they finished morning tea.
He placed Marion’s hand on his arm and they set off to get closer to the course. “Choose some winners and I’ll put on a couple of bets for you.”
Marion chose horses with the most outrageous names, then Bill set off to the bookie’s area to place the bets, not expecting any success from Marion’s selection method.
He took his tickets from the bookie then, head down, turned around and walked right into someone large and unyielding. He looked up, right into the face of his brother. Bill took a step back in surprise. “Robert, you’re here.” His own eyes, minus the laughter lines, stared back at him from his brother’s familiar face. He looked older. Grey strands now wove their way through his brown hair. Within an inch of each other in height, they stood eye to eye.
“Yes, I’m here, but I’m more surprised to see you here. Were you going to come up home after you finished gambling, or find some more excuses why you couldn’t visit your family after nine years absence?” His face showed his disgust at Bill’s behaviour.
“I’m on my way to Isa Downs in the next few weeks. I’ve been staying at Paradise Lagoon with an old mate and working my keep there.” Trust Robert to launch into an aggrieved attack. Even so, guilt weighed down on him, a lead cloak across his shoulders.
“You should be working your keep at Isa Downs.” Robert’s face reflected his harsh words.
“I’m a silent partner, remember. That means absent but providing money. I’ve been doing that ever since I left the property.”
“We would have preferred you to be an active, that is, present partner.” His brother wasn’t going to let him off lightly.
Bill shrugged. “We can’t have all we want in this life.”
“Don’t be glib with me. You’re avoiding us and it hurts our sisters. When are you coming home?”
“I told you. In a few weeks’ time. I’m helping out a mate.”
“It’s bad enough you broke Mum’s heart, let alone our sisters’. Make sure you come. I don’t suppose you’ve visited Mum’s grave, have you?” Robert glared at him.
“I have.” Bill didn’t trust himself to say more. Robert was angry with him—fair enough—but Bill was getting angrier and more guilty with each minute he spent in his brother’s company. Bill tipped his hat to Robert and would have gone back to Marion, but she had followed him. She slid her hand into the crook of his arm, saying, “Is this a friend of yours, Bill? Introduce me.”
Exasperated, Bill smiled tautly at Marion and introduced his brother.
Marion held out her hand in greeting, a confused look on her face. “I’m sure we’ve met before, Mr Carter, but I can’t remember the circumstances.”
“I know we have. You’re Matron Henderson from Idavale. You nursed my mother after she had a heart attack prior to catching the train about six years ago.”
Marion had an arrested look on her face. “I remember!” She turned to Bill. “That means I nursed your mother. I remember her well. She talked of getting better so she could travel to England to be with her wounded son.” She gave Bill a long look. “That must have been you! I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known. She’s buried in Idavale—but of course, you’d know that.”
“Yes,” said Bill abruptly. “I know and I’ve been there. First thing I did when I arrived in town.”
As though verbalising her inner musings, Marion said. “The evening we met. You’d been to visit your mother’s grave.”
It didn’t require an answer so Bill didn’t bother. Guilt was already pressing in on him again. He heard Marion say to his brother, “Come and join us. We’re picnicking over there.” She pointed towards their shady patch, all set up.
“Perhaps later, Matron. I have a couple of horses running in the races and need to speak to the jockey.”
“When you’re ready then.” Marion smiled in her welcoming way, but stepped away from them in the direction of the picnic.
Robert lowered his voice so only Bill would hear him. “It’s the first of the month. If you don’t come back to Isa Downs and take up your duties by the end of this month, I’ll dissolve the partnership. Make sure you turn up.” Robert gave a curt nod and turned away.
Marion turned back to Bill. “Are you coming back now, Bill?”
He wanted to escape everything right now. The memories of his mother and his sisters were too much. “I’ll be along shortly, Marion. I need a drink.” He shoved the tickets into her hand and hurried away, aware she had looked shocked and disapproving.
He found the beer tent easily. It was well patronised. He sculled his first and second drinks, eager for the effects to cut in. By his third drink he decided he could face Marion and his brother again—maybe after one more.
☼☼☼
Marion watched Bill come towards her and his brother, where they sat on the rug chatting about the day’s races.
Once again he had had too much to drink. Her heart sank like a rock into her turbulent stomach. Twice in a few weeks. It must be a common occurrence. Memories of Charles’ bouts of heavy drinking—which got closer and closer together—haunted her. Her cheek stung again where Charles had slapped it and she heard his yells ringing in her ear as he abused her for caring too much, or not caring enough—whichever he believed at the time. Nausea swept through her. She had to get away. Never again would she put up with a man who drank to excess. Bill didn’t know it yet but they were over, almost before they had begun. Better now, before she got drawn further in by his charm when sober.
Marion got to her feet before Bill arrived. Robert followed her. “Anything the matter, Matron?” he asked.
“Yes. Your brother’s had too much to drink. May I trouble you for a lift back to Idavale? I presume you’re going back home that way?”
Bill wended his way over to them. Robert looked towards him, a disgusted look on his face. “Yes, of course. I’ll take you now. The horses can follow with the trainer later.”
Marion knelt and packed away the food and cutlery. By the time Bill arrived, all the picnic items were rehoused in their basket. She picked up the rug, folded it neatly and draped it over the hamper.
Bill’s brother nodded to him and walked out of hearing.
Marion spoke in her iciest voice. “Bill, I’m leaving now. I don’t tolerate drunkenness. You should know that. We’re done. I can’t be with another man who drinks too much. Don’t come to see me again. I won’t answer the door. Your brother’s taking me home now.”
Marion left him slumped on the ground beside the basket. He could sleep it off. It wouldn’t do him any harm. Maybe he would learn something from the experience.
At home again, Marion had thanked Robert for his assistance. He was sorry his brother had caused yet another person pain, he said. He told an abbreviated version of Bill’s leaving home and what it had meant to the family, and that the greatest pain had come from Bill not coming home after the war.
Alone in her bedroom, Marion finally broke into tears. She chastised herself bitterly for being a silly fool, worse than that, a silly old fool for getting drawn into the world of Bill Carter, feckless wanderer.
☼☼☼
Back at Paradise Lagoon, with a throbbing head as reward for his weakness in racing to drown his sorrows, Bill’s regret hurt him twice as much.
Looking back, he had been a fool. Decisions that had seemed right at the time had turned out wrong. He had left behind him anguish, shock and dismay. His older brother had been devastated. They were partners and Bill had left him in the lurch. His tiny Scottish mother had had such a look of hurt and fear on her face when he had announced to the gathered family he was enlisting. He knew why she had died. It had been brought on by the news of his injury near Amiens during Operation Michael. She had set out for England, using all her life savings, to be closer to him. That was what his sister had written to him, once they knew he would live.
And now he had destroyed any chance he might have had for a future with Marion. She wouldn’t trust him again. He knew she had a phobia about drunkenness, because of the hell her husband’s alcoholism had created for her.
How could he ever redress the new wound he had inflicted on her?
He eased his legs over the side of the bed and braced himself to sit upright. The world tilted and spun. God, he was too old for this stupidity. He had to deal with the issues that triggered these periodic benders whenever the guilt of his mother’s death and his alienation from his family arose. At that moment, he saw clearly he must stop drinking altogether for Marion to ever look at him.
But would she even speak to him again?