FIFTEEN

Matthew smuggled himself back into the house without detection. The following week he did it again.

The Saturday after that was Dorian’s last before returning to Currawong. Catriona and Matthew knew that meeting after he had gone would be much harder. It might even be impossible. It made the last Saturday tense and emotional, so much so that half a dozen times during the evening they nearly fell out and it was only Dorian’s common sense that prevented them.

After the dance they walked back to Simmons’ shop, dragging their feet through the cool and shadowed dust of the deserted roadway like kids on their way back to school.

Dorian said, ‘It’s a hot night. I’m going down to the river for a swim.’

Matthew looked at Catriona. ‘Want to go?’

She looked dubious. ‘For a minute or two, maybe.’

They turned between two of the buildings, crossed the paddock and came to the bend in the river just below the town where the current had formed a deep pool overhung with trees.

The air was fresh and cool by the water. Catriona spread her shawl by the edge of the bank and sat on it.

‘Aren’t you coming in?’

‘What would anyone say if they saw us?’

‘Who’s going to see us this time of night?’

‘You never know. In any case, I’ve got nothing to wear.’

‘You’ve got something on under your dress, I suppose,’ Matthew said, greatly daring. ‘Wear that.’

‘And go home with everything soaking wet?’ she laughed. ‘Talk sense.’

‘No one’ll know.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that.’

Eventually he gave up. ‘You needn’t think I’m going to sit here just to keep you company.’

Her nose went up. ‘Nobody asked you to.’

Petulantly he turned away and stripped off his shirt and breeches. It felt strange—exciting, too—undressing in front of a girl. He had not given up hopes of enticing her into the water but by the time he was ready she still showed no sign of moving.

‘You coming or aren’t you?’ Dorian was already in the water, his body a white glimmer in the darkness.

‘Coming …’

Matthew sprang in, bunching his knees to his chest and making as big a splash as he could, hoping to get at least some of the water on Catriona. The water was cool and silky on his skin. He thrashed his way across to the other bank where it was deeper.

Dorian came up behind him and tried to wrestle his head under the water. He twisted away from him. For a few minutes they chased each other around the pool like seals, laughing and splashing. Finally Matthew hung on to a root growing out from the bank and looked back at Catriona. She was sitting where they had left her, watching them, chin resting on her knees.

He swam back across the pool and stood on the sandbank, looking up at her. The current was cool and pleasant about his knees.

‘It’s nice,’ he said. ‘Come and join us.’

A quick shake of the head. ‘You know I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you? You stand here, in the shallows, you’ll get nothing wet but your feet.’

She did not move.

‘You scared of water or what?’

‘No.’

Some instinct made him tease her. ‘Think some boogie fish is going to grab you?’

‘Of course not.’ Crossly.

Something in her voice made him think she might be weakening. ‘Come and stand here with me,’ he urged her. ‘It’s quite shallow. See?’

‘You’ve got nothing on.’

‘Of course I have.’

Only his pants. It was exciting, tempting her like this, and he could feel his body responding. He glanced down. It was obvious, more so than he’d thought. He crouched down casually in the water but could see by her expression that she had seen it too.

But she had taken her shoes off. Her bare feet, wet with dew, gleamed in the grass.

Excitement and embarrassment warred together. Excitement won.

‘Come and stand here,’ he said again. ‘Please?’

‘How deep is it?’ Weakening.

‘Not deep at all. See for yourself.’

She looked. ‘It must be at least a foot deep.’

‘About that.’

‘My dress will be soaked.’

‘Take it off.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

She would not look at him. ‘You know I can’t.’

‘Paddling your feet in the river,’ he said, ‘what’s wrong with that?’

They both knew what was wrong with it but he knew he had won, anyway.

‘Come on,’ he said.

She would not take her dress off but she hiked it up above her knees and got down awkwardly into the water like that.

‘It’s nice,’ she said cautiously.

They looked down at the river flowing gently past them, the ooze sucking at their toes, their legs shimmering white columns reaching down through the water.

Catriona hoicked her dress a little higher. Matthew was very close to her. He moved closer still. His hand strayed over her, lingering.

‘Don’t do that!’ Sharply.

He decided she didn’t mean it. His hand explored some more, knowing she could do nothing to stop him without letting go of her dress.

‘Please don’t …’ But softer now, much softer.

He was hard, throbbing. Deliberately, he pressed himself against her and saw her eyes widen.

‘Don’t you want me to?’

‘Of course I want you to,’ she cried, distressed. ‘That’s why you mustn’t.’

‘I’ll stop, then.’ But did not.

Until somehow she managed to get one hand free and seized his and pulled it away from her and leant against him, breathing deep.

He kissed her, very tenderly, no more games, and said, ‘I’ll miss you.’ Meaning it absolutely.

‘Will you?’ She watched the far bank. ‘You could speak to my father …’

‘What about?’ He knew, and knew very well, too, that he was not ready for anything like that. I’m sixteen, he told himself. A world out there to conquer. I’m not ready to settle down yet.

‘About going on seeing me.’

‘We’re too young. He’d never agree.’

‘He might. If …’

Two dances, a kiss, a few minutes by the river … It had been fun, he would like to carry on along the same lines if he could, but it wasn’t important enough to give up the adventure of life, the challenge and excitement he could feel drawing him.

‘It’s certainly something to think about,’ he said.

She looked at him. He returned her glance, awkwardly, and looked away.

‘Help me get out of the water,’ she said quietly.

He did so. Her dress was hardly wet at all.

‘We’ll still see each other,’ he said. ‘Won’t we?’

She looked at him. ‘Why shouldn’t we see each other? I’m in the shop every day.’

Dorian, ever forbearing, had left them to themselves but now hauled himself dripping from the water. He and Matthew dried themselves as best they could, dragging clothes over still damp bodies. They walked back to the road in silence.

Outside the shop the two boys said goodbye to each other, and Dorian and Catriona went indoors. Matthew walked back down the road to where Magic was waiting for him.

He should have felt lighter than air, exultant. After all, it was the first time he had ever …

He did not.

He climbed into the saddle and began the long ride home.

Guilty, that was what he felt. Guilty and depressed, without knowing why.

 

It had been too much to hope that word of Matthew’s Saturday night excursions would not get back to Montrose. The next week, after a visit to Jim Jim, Andrew McLachlan came cantering back to the station with fury on his face.

He rode straight up to the door of the house, dismounted almost before the horse had stopped, and marched indoors, shoulders squared like a soldier engaging the enemy.

‘Where is he?’

Lorna looked at him, heart sinking, knowing lies would not help him now. ‘Over in the workshop.’

She watched him cross the worn patch of ground, moving with the unhurried deliberation of a natural disaster bearing down upon the boy.

Lorna busied herself about the house, automatically carrying out the day’s chores while her whole consciousness remained focused on what was happening on the other side of the sun-drenched clearing. Eventually she heard a mild commotion and, moving swiftly to the window, saw the door of the shed clap back against the wall as the boy erupted into the sunlight, paused for a moment as though uncertain which way he should move, and ran to the stable.

Instinct told her he was running away before her mind had registered the fact. Her feet, faster than either instinct or thought, were already propelling her through the door and across the clearing. She was at the stable door before Matthew had even begun to put the saddle on the mare.

He looked up as her shadow fell across the entrance. His eyes were wild.

‘Don’t try and stop me!’ he warned her.

She thought, he is leaving me and there is nothing I can do to stop him. But at least let me stop him going like this, in anger and fear.

She spoke deliberately, trying to slow him down. ‘What happened?’

‘He tried to hit me with that damned belt of his.’ His hands were busy as he spoke, lifting the saddle, putting it on the mare’s back, cinching the girths tight. ‘I told you the other day I wouldn’t put up with it any more.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Is he dead?’

The idea astounded him. ‘Course not. I hit him and he fell down but he’s all right. That’s why I must hurry. I got to get away before he comes round.’ He looked aggrieved. ‘I warned him, Ma. I’m not a kid any more. I told him not to belt me but he wouldn’t listen.’

No, she thought, he never does.

‘Why did he want to hit you?’

Matthew made an impatient gesture with his hand. He took the mare’s bridle and began to lead her out of the stable.

‘It was a girl, wasn’t it?’

He looked at her. He did not speak but his cheeks went pink. She felt a sudden rush of love and tenderness at his vulnerability.

‘Who is it?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Like a sulky boy.

‘Catriona Simmons.’

He stared. ‘How …?’

‘He went into town to see Mr Simmons this morning.’

‘I hope she doesn’t get into any trouble.’

‘Is she in trouble, Matt?’

His cheeks were fiery. ‘Only if her dad doesn’t like her seeing me.’

‘Did she ask him? Did you?’

He shook his head.

‘Then he wouldn’t like it, would he?’

‘Her cousin was always there. Loads of other people. A dance at the shearers’ hall, that’s all it was.’ He looked back over his shoulder at the workshop door. ‘I must get moving.’

‘Are you going to see her?’

He stared. ‘I can’t, can I?’

‘Where are you going then?’

‘I’ll find somewhere.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘You wait here.’ She walked purposefully to the house.

‘Ma?’ he called after her. ‘I can’t wait.’

‘You stay where you are.’

He stared after her, angry, perplexed, ready to leap into the saddle and ride, but did not.

Within minutes she was back.

‘Here,’ she murmured.

She had food and clothing done up in a pack. He took it from her and slipped his arms through the straps.

‘Thanks, Ma.’

He was amazed she had done such a thing, a woman who for as long as he could remember had seemed scarcely there at all.

‘I also got you this.’

He stared as she held out the rifled carbine to him. ‘You give me this he’ll kill you.’

‘I’ll not have you go off without some way to protect yourself. There’s powder and shot in the pack.’

A moment’s hesitation, then he took the proffered rifle. ‘Thanks.’

They looked at each other. There was nothing to do but go.

‘Go with God,’ she said.

God, he thought. I’ll leave him to worry about God. But said nothing.

Awkwardly, he leant forward and kissed her on the cheek.

‘See you, then.’

 

Lorna stood without moving, watching him as he slipped away through the trees. Even after she had lost sight of him she waited, listening to the drumming of the mare’s hooves fading, fading, until she could hear them no more.

I had my ain wee son. I had my friend, my love. I had Matthew whom I love as much as any son. I have nothing now.

She remembered all the moments. His birth, the furious way he had yelled his challenge at the world. The time he had fallen into the river. How he had found the butterfly in the storm six years ago. Even then she had known he would leave her but she had not thought she would be the one to help him on his way.

She had not done it only for him. She thought how her life had been all these years since Charlie Smith and his men had stolen her away. Andrew had neither understood nor forgiven, had never understood that there was nothing to forgive. She would be with him all her life but giving Matthew the food, the gun, the blessing, had been her way of rebelling against what her life had become.

We should have had love and trust but did not. Even if he couldn’t manage love at least we should have had a life of warmth and affection instead of what we have.

Slowly she turned towards the open door of the chapel. I better go and see what I can do, she thought.

 

Matthew waited until dark. The town was sleeping when he rode in, the sound of the hooves muffled by the dust. He dismounted twenty yards from the store, tethered the mare to a post and slipped around the corner of the building.

There was a small window, closely curtained. He listened but could hear nothing. Heart in his throat, he tapped. If it was Simmons’ room there’d be hell to pay.

He tapped again, louder. Again, louder still.

The curtain twitched. Catriona’s face stared at him through the glass. She unfastened the catch.

‘What are you doing?’ Her voice was high-pitched in astonishment but as quiet as breath in the still night.

‘I came to say goodbye.’

‘Why?’

‘The old man and me had a fight.’

Her eyes went round. ‘A real fight?’

He salvaged a grin from somewhere. ‘Reckon you could call it real. I knocked him down.’

‘What about?’

‘Us.’

‘Oh.’

‘You get any trouble?’

She shook her head. ‘Where you going?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Go to Currawong. The Kennedys will fix you up with something.’

‘You think so?’

‘Of course. Dorian knows you, doesn’t he?’

‘All right then. Thanks.’

‘Will you write to me?’

‘Sure.’ Meaning it, if only for the moment.

She looked at him through the open window. ‘It’s still not too late. If you spoke to father in the morning …’

‘I can’t.’

He saw her lips—those soft, firm lips—tighten. ‘Oh?’

She deserved the truth. ‘There’s a whole world out there. I want to see some of it before I settle down.’

He had expected her to be angry but she was not. ‘I can understand that.’ She smiled at him, eyes bright. ‘You’d better go, then.’

‘Catriona …’

‘Go.’ She leant through the window and kissed him full on the lips, then smiled at him, running the tip of her finger around his eyebrow. She drew back inside the room. There were tears on her face. ‘Just go.’

At the top of the hill he reined in and looked back. A light breeze had brought a scarf of cloud across the quarter moon but overhead the sky was clear. Starlight shone on the huddle of buildings. He could see a lighted window at the far end of the street.

A hell of a girl, he told himself. I must remember to write to her.

He turned the mare northwards.