CHAPTER 29

GENEVIEVE

I spent most of the following morning in the kitchen. While crumbing lamb cutlets and making an apple pie, there was only one thing on my mind and that, of course, was Andrew. Although never over-confident about my cooking prowess, I was determined that he would enjoy my meal at least as much as he enjoyed Rose’s efforts.

Madeleine looked into the kitchen. ‘That’s right, darling. Nice to see you have your priorities right. “the way to a man’s heart”, you know.’

‘Oh, stop talking rubbish, Madeleine.’ I blushed and got on with shelling peas.

At five o’clock I piled all the food into my car and took off for what I hoped might be a romantic evening. I was quite determined that I wasn’t going to think about Alistair that night.

When I arrived, Andrew was drenching in the yard close to the house. Watching him bending over the animals, his arms strong, brown and stringy, holding the sheep steady, I knew immediately that my feelings hadn’t been deadened by my experience of war. I felt a compelling desire to have those arms envelop me. The feelings welling up within me nearly choked me, making me feel both weak and susceptible.

‘Thanks, Genevieve. Dinner was delicious.’ He pushed his dessert plate away.

‘Yes, it wasn’t too bad for a change. I guess Rose would have done better; she’s the expert.’ Why did I say that?

Unwisely, he replied, ‘We all have our strengths and weaknesses, Genevieve. I suspect you are much more of an outdoor girl than Rose. You’d rather play tennis than knit, sew or cook.’

Feeling somewhat put out, I said that I was rather unskilled in housewifely duties; I hadn’t had much time to practise and admitted I’d rather spend a day drenching sheep than coping with a bundle of ironing.

‘I don’t think you are unskilled at anything, Genevieve.’

The evening turned out to be an anti-climax. We were both, because of Alistair, endeavouring to keep the conversation at a rather impersonal level. Later, standing beside the car he said, ‘What about tomorrow?’

Funny how I can remember word for word our conversations during that week. Madeleine and I were going into town in the morning, but I thought we’d be home by mid-afternoon. I said I would come over then and give him a hand. If that suited him.

‘You know it suits me.’

*

The next afternoon, I arrived on horseback while he was repairing a fence down near the creek that formed the western boundary of the property. I left my horse with his, foraging among the sweet grass under the willow trees. I could see he needed help. ‘You should have asked Tom to give you a hand.’

‘I know that now; just thought I might be able to manage.’

‘Too difficult for one person. I’ll help; it won’t be the first time.’

I pulled at the post. He tautened and tied the barbed wire. Seeing him, tanned, concentrating, sweat running down his face and wet patches showing on the back of his shirt and under his arms, again I had an almost overwhelming desire to let the post go, rush over to him and snuggle up to his damp, lean body. I turned my face away just in case my expression revealed my thoughts.

After the job was done, he suggested we have a mug of tea. I said I’d love it and began gathering the kindling while he cleared the site for the fire and produced the billy, mugs, tea and sugar from the saddle bag. He tossed a handful of tea into the boiling water and a few moments later filled a mug and handed it to me.

‘I’ve always loved billy tea.’ I told him how before I moved to Sydney I used to ride out with food for my father and we had our morning brew together. I didn’t want to talk any more about my past, still wanting to know more about his. ‘I remember you once telling me that for years you were passionate about soldiering. If you don’t mind my asking, why did you give up your career?’

He hesitated before replying that although for years he had thought of nothing but soldiering, after France he knew he no longer wanted to remain a soldier. ‘Difficult to be precise about what changed my mind.’ I could tell he just didn’t want to talk about anything associated with the war. Instead, he said he’d never been happier since he came to Bellara. He pondered about this state of mind; wondered whether it was a form of escapism: animals versus people, trees and pasture versus city streets and buildings. ‘Whatever it is, I can’t see me ever returning to a permanent life in the city. This war has affected hundreds of thousands of people in so many different ways, and I doubt the world will ever again be as it was when we were growing up. In my case, all I want is the peace and quiet of living on the land.’

He wanted to know how easy or difficult it had been for me to settle down after all the excitement and drama of my life in the war. How did I feel about country life now?

I spoke about the excitement of going to Sydney when I was eighteen. ‘But that was nine years ago. I’m a different person now and occasionally think I wouldn’t care if I never returned to the city. With me, it’s not cities or country that matter; I think it’s everything to do with friendship and relationships.’

We finished our tea in silence. I think we were both aware of growing sexual tension between us. Andrew scuffed out the fire with his boot. ‘Come on, let’s get back.’ He put his arm around my shoulders as we walked over to the horses. He stopped, turned me towards him. As I looked into his penetrating grey eyes, his arms enveloped me as he bent his head to kiss my lips.

We didn’t talk after that. Both mounted our horses and rode back to the house. I wasn’t seeing him that night. Madeleine was having a few people from town for dinner, and I’d promised to help her prepare. I probably wasn’t very good company. I couldn’t get Andrew out of my mind. The thought of our bodies close together and his firm lips pressed on mine inflamed me. I couldn’t think about Alistair, I went to bed with only Andrew on my mind.

*

The following day he took the afternoon off, and we rode out to Mount Canobolas and the cherry orchards, although the fruit wasn’t yet ripe for picking. We ate a picnic I had prepared, although neither of us had much of an appetite. We sat side by side, our backs leaning against a tree, Andrew’s arm resting loosely around my shoulders. We kissed again and again. When I felt his nearness I was weak with desire, and I knew for certain that I would never marry Alistair. It was Andrew I wanted, not only his sexual love; I wanted to spend my life with him. I pressed closer to him.

*

Madeleine planned to try to make a special dinner the following night. It was Andrew’s birthday, and she said, ‘You make a birthday cake, and I’ll do the main course. I wish Rose was back. Cooking two special dinners in three days won’t be easy; I’ll have to spend the weekend in bed recovering.’

Rose was having a week away with her aunt in Bathurst. Madeleine asked me what I thought would most appeal to Andrew.

‘He enjoyed the cutlets I did the other night,’ I replied, ‘or Tom might kill a chicken.’

‘And who will remove its feathers and things? No, thanks. We’ll have cutlets. You prepare them, and I’ll cook them. Sometimes I yearn so much for fresh Scottish salmon.’

‘Bad luck, Madeleine, the only salmon in Australia comes in tins.’

‘Don’t I know it.’

Madeleine was grinning like a Cheshire cat during that dinner. Nothing was burnt, and she could see very well that her plans for my future were working. She was confident of the outcome. I suppose one couldn’t fail to see that Andrew and I had eyes only for one another.

I had been at Bellara for six days. On Sunday we played tennis in the afternoon, although we didn’t see one another later. Each day I knew I was falling more deeply in love. The thought scared me a little when I remembered how it had been in the past, all those years ago when I’d been such a fool of a girl. Two things that did bother me were that Andrew hadn’t mentioned the future except in terms of his farming plans and that he hadn’t told me he loved me, although he behaved as if he did.

That evening Madeleine asked me what my plans were. She said she needed me at Bellara; she needed someone with her because she might have the baby early and didn’t think she could rely on Tom. She was terrified she would go into labour in the middle of the night and Tom, with one arm, would have to deliver their child. She thought he’d probably leave her alone and rush over to Andrew for moral support. She added that Tom was always visiting Andrew and doubtless preferred his company to hers.

‘That’s not true. Tom adores you.’

‘Well, he has a funny way of showing it.’

I agreed. Tom had never been good at revealing how he felt, but I thought he’d get better in time. I said I believed Tom would be a loving father and husband – in time.

‘Would you like to put money on that, Genevieve? I’ve made up my mind. If you can’t help out I’ll probably go to Sydney for the birth. I know you can’t just chuck your job to be nursemaid to me, Genevieve, but I have the feeling Andrew is very keen on you and if he proposes, you will come back for good, won’t you?’

I didn’t really want to say how much I wanted him to propose to me, that I was scared to think about it in case he didn’t. But I couldn’t help myself. ‘Actually, Andrew behaves as if he’s keen on me, but so far he hasn’t said he loves me. I can’t wait around much longer; I’m feeling awfully unsure of myself, Madeleine, and guilty about Alistair.’

She scoffed. ‘Stop worrying about Alistair! You know you don’t love him. On the other hand, I suppose we shouldn’t be unrealistic; you’ve only been here a week. Andrew’s probably waiting until he can get to Sydney to buy you a whopping diamond ring.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Yes, of course I think so. You’d better go back tomorrow, see your bloke, get it all over and done with, and come back as soon as you can.’

I wasn’t looking forward to ‘getting it all over and done with’. I knew that was going to be one of the hardest things I had ever had to do.