Territory (19 page)

‘Thanks, Paul,' she said, ‘for everything.' And she climbed into the driver's seat, wishing he was coming with her.

‘Henrietta …' he said through the open window.

‘Yes?' She'd already started the car.

Paul wondered whether he was feeling the effects of the beers he'd been drinking throughout the day. He was a heavy drinker, Scotch mainly, and he rarely felt the effects of alcohol. Beer to him was a soft drink, ‘mother's milk' he'd say, but today, for some reason, he felt light-headed. He decided to speak his mind.

‘You know I'm your friend, don't you?'

‘Of course.'

He was leaning down, his elbow resting in the open window, his face quite close to hers, grey hair flopping over his brow, and he seemed concerned. Gone was the cynical twist to his mouth and the sardonic twinkle in his eyes. Why is he so serious, she wondered.

‘If you're ever in need, I'm here, you know.'

‘Thank you, Paul.' It occurred to her suddenly that he might be drunk. She'd never seen Paul drunk before, although he invariably had a glass in his hand.

‘If you're ever in need,' he repeated, ‘I hope you'll call on me for help.'

How very formal he sounded. ‘Yes, of course I will.' She patted his elbow.

‘You must never be unhappy, Henrietta.' He took her hand in his.

She smiled. ‘I'll try not to be.' He was most certainly drunk. Who would have thought it? Sentimentality from the hardened, cynical, heavy-drinking Paul Trewinnard. She squeezed his hand. ‘Drive carefully.' And he stood back as she put the car into gear. ‘Bye,' she called.

‘Bye.' She thought he was drunk, he realised as he waved at the car and she waved back through the window. Perhaps it was just as well. And perhaps he was drunk, why otherwise would he have made his little speech? But he knew full well why he had.

At some point during the afternoon, Paul had realised that he was hopelessly in love with Henrietta. Not that he intended to do anything about it, any attempt would be futile. But then his entire life had been futile, hadn't it. He would simply be her friend, it was all he had to offer. And as Aggie said, Henrietta needed friends.

‘Happy birthday, dear Malcolm, happy birthday to you
.' The four adults sang in unison and the little boy delightedly clapped his hands. It was Malcolm's second birthday and Nellie had baked him a special cake, she and Pearl presenting it to him while Henrietta and Terence applauded loudly.

They all sat around the kitchen table, Malcolm in his highchair, and as Henrietta cut up the cake she wondered how she would broach the subject of the children's party in Darwin next week. Terence had been very moody of late. She understood why, he was under a good deal of pressure. His comment to his brothers at the races last year had been prophetic, the departure of the army had strongly affected the beef market and business was not good. Henrietta had curtailed her trips into town, he seemed to find them irritating now.

‘You could be a little more supportive, Henrietta,' he'd say, although she couldn't think how. He was gone most of the day, the station's books were in order, stocks and supplies were up to date, and each Friday she personally distributed the rations from the store shed to the native stockmen's families who'd recently arrived for the
forthcoming muster. The homestead was running smoothly. If simply being by his side would help, then she was only too happy to oblige, but once again Henrietta felt she was walking on eggshells. When he came home of an evening, sullen and irritable, she did her best to cajole him, and when it appeared she was an annoyance she would leave him alone, but then that would annoy him further and he'd demand her presence again. It seemed she could do nothing right. Nellie and seventeen-year-old Pearl kept well out of the boss's way and Henrietta only wished she could do the same.

She longed to accept Aggie's invitation to the children's party in Darwin. She needed to be free of the claustrophobia of Bullalalla, she told herself, if only for a day. She didn't wish to admit, even to herself, that it wasn't Bullalalla she wished to escape from at all, it was the oppressive company of her husband.

‘We haven't seen you for nearly a month,' Aggie had said the last time they'd met, and that was a whole two months ago now.

‘Business is not good, Terence needs my support.' Henrietta had decided to be honest.

Aggie wanted to say ‘you need some support too', but she didn't. The man was wearing Henrietta down, she could tell. There was the same anxiousness, the same wariness in Henrietta as there had been when Aggie had first met her, and Aggie knew all the signs. She wanted to say ‘leave him, get away', but of course she couldn't. The woman didn't recognise the depth of her problem and, besides, she had a young child. Aggie briefly considered telling Henrietta her own story, but she knew it would do no good.

‘There's to be a party for the children at the end of May,' she'd said instead. ‘It's really a part of my consolidation campaign but we're calling it a children's party.'

When the school had reopened, Aggie had once again taken up her teaching post but, far more, she had taken up
her ‘consolidation campaign'. It entailed regular meetings between families, both parents and children. ‘We must keep establishing our bonds,' she insisted. ‘Government assistance and labour are not enough, bricks and mortar might rebuild the town, but it is the people who will rebuild the spirit of Darwin.' And true to form Aggie had taken on the rebuilding of Darwin as her personal crusade.

She had then plonked another ashtray on the papers which threatened to be blown away by the silly little fan on the corner of her desk and said, ‘I think you should bring Malcolm in to town to meet the other children.'

Henrietta laughed, Aggie was a breath of fresh air. ‘He's hardly old enough for school,' she'd said.

‘He's never too young to meet other children,' Aggie responded, austere and insistent.

‘He's barely two years old, he's a baby.'

‘What better time to meet others?' Aggie knew she was being bossy, but she hoped Henrietta would accept the invitation, for her own sake far more than her son's. ‘It's a very isolated life for a child, even of that age. He should be given the opportunity to meet other children, you owe it to him, Henrietta. And you must stay the night here,' she'd said emphatically, ‘with me.'

It was an attractive offer and Henrietta had been thinking about it for the past two months. She decided that this afternoon's birthday party was the ideal time to broach the subject; Terence seemed in an approachable mood.

‘Of course you must go,' he replied, when she came downstairs having put Malcolm in his cot; the excitement had exhausted the child.

Henrietta wondered whether he'd heard her, he seemed distracted. ‘Aggie wants me to stay the night.'

‘Why not?' he said with a complete lack of interest. He'd poured himself a whisky, she noticed, and it was barely five o'clock. Terence seemed to be drinking more than usual lately.

‘Are you sure you don't mind me going?'

‘Of course I'm sure,' he snapped, and she decided to leave it at that. But, several minutes later, it was Terence who pursued the subject, obviously having given it some thought. ‘It's probably a good idea for you to go into Darwin,' he said, ‘you could do with the break, why don't you stay a couple of nights?' He sounded amicable enough and Henrietta couldn't believe her luck. But she hoped he wouldn't change his mind at the last minute, it was quite possible he would.

A week later, the day before her trip to Darwin, he told her he was going bush for a few days to meet up with Buff Nelson and check on the muster. It was a month into the dry season and Jackie and his team were out mustering the herds. Henrietta immediately assumed he was about to renege on their arrangement, but he wasn't. ‘Leave instructions for Nellie to hand out the rations on Friday,' he said, ‘I'll be gone first thing in the morning.'

He made love to her that night in his customary brutal fashion, and although, as always, there was no pleasure for Henrietta in the act, she was gladdened by the knowledge that he still desired her. He'd made no sexual advances for the past month, a fact which, coupled with his irritability, made her feel very insecure about his affections.

She was still drowsy with sleep when he left at dawn and, when she awoke an hour or so later, Henrietta felt excited, like a small child about to go on a holiday. She was to meet Aggie at the Hotel Darwin, Paul was taking them all to lunch.

‘But I'll have Malcolm with me,' she'd said when Paul had telephoned, delighted to hear that she was coming to town.

‘He doesn't eat much, does he?' Paul had replied. He had insisted they all dine at his beloved Hotel Darwin in order to celebrate its recent reopening. Michael and
Chrissie Paspalis, who had won their bid to lease the hotel from the Government, were just the people needed to return the ‘Grand Old Dame' to her pre-war grandeur, Paul maintained, and they'd certainly started out the right way. The Hotel Darwin had reopened with a gala ball, and Paul had moved back in with alacrity, grateful to be out of his poky little room at the Victoria Hotel.

Paul was full of plans for Henrietta. After lunch he would take them for a drive, Aggie always enjoyed being taken for a drive, he said. And, on the Friday evening, following the kiddies' party in the afternoon—‘or rather should I say “Aggie's consolidation campaign”,' he added, his tone heavy with irony—perhaps she'd agree to have dinner with him. Her trip to town was perfectly timed, he told her, he was due to leave for London on the Monday. ‘It's a six-month assignment,' he explained, ‘a series of articles for
National Geographic
on post-war Europe. A farewell dinner would be perfect.'

‘Thank you Paul, but no,' she'd laughed, ‘I'll have the baby with me.'

‘Aggie said she'd love to babysit Malcolm.' He hardly drew breath. ‘And she also said, as you're not leaving until Saturday, perhaps we could have a picnic lunch at Mindil Beach before you go.'

Henrietta sensed the collusion. Between the two of them Aggie and Paul had it all worked out. ‘We'll see,' she smiled, feeling a little swept off her feet.

Shortly before midday, she left explicit instructions and lists with Nellie, packed Malcolm and the suitcase into the Landrover and waved goodbye to Pearl who stood on the front verandah waving back.

Lunch in the vast and splendid dining room of the Hotel Darwin proved to be a far more relaxed affair than Henrietta had anticipated. She'd worried a little about Malcolm, it was hardly the place to take a two-year-old child. But the waiters were very accommodating. A highchair was
instantly fetched and, as Henrietta fed him, she made sure the bowl was well out of his reach so that he couldn't throw food about, which was his favourite trick. Several times he got a little demanding, letting out a squeal as he smashed his fist on his tray-table, but no-one seemed to mind, least of all Aggie and Paul. It was so good to see them.

‘What a change from beef,' she said as she tucked into her grilled barramundi.

They chatted about Aggie's new foot. When they'd met in the foyer Henrietta had been surprised by the absence of the carpet slipper. Aggie still wore trousers but protruding from the cuff of the left leg was a smart walking brogue and, as the three of them had proceeded through to the dining room, she no longer clumped. Even her limp was minimal.

‘I'm very impressed,' Henrietta remarked over lunch.

‘You sound like Paul, that's exactly what he said.'

Paul nodded, his mouth full of eye fillet.

‘It's a proper prosthetic foot, the latest thing,' Aggie proudly boasted. ‘I should have had one fitted years ago, it's far more comfortable, but I'd probably never have got around to it at all if it hadn't been for the school.' Henrietta looked mystified. ‘The carpet slipper was too distracting,' Aggie explained, ‘so was the way I clumped about, the children paid far more attention to my pegleg than they did to their lessons.'

After lunch they called in briefly at Aggie's house to drop off Henrietta's suitcase and leave the Landrover behind. Then they all piled into Paul's Austin and he drove them to Nightcliff where they walked along the clifftops, Malcolm perched on Paul's shoulders.

It was an impressive vista. The ragged splendour of the sandstone cliff face stretched for miles and the water was at low tide, exposing the vast shelves of rock which extended out to the sea.

Aggie sat on a bench with Malcolm whilst Paul and Henrietta walked down a track to the beach. When they returned half an hour later, Paul's pockets were bulging with the pebbles and stones Henrietta had insisted upon collecting.

‘Next time we'll take a bag,' he complained good naturedly as he emptied them out onto the grass, ‘or you can wear trousers for a change.' Henrietta's skirt and blouse were pocketless.

Malcolm had a splendid time arranging and rearranging the different shaped stones which were velvety to the touch, worn smooth and perfect by the sea. There were little round pebbles like marbles, and there were wafer-thin elliptical dishes, and triangles and oblongs, and flat-based domes like miniature Ayers Rocks, and all in every colour imaginable, from the deepest of oranges and burgundies, to the lightest of pinks and lavenders.

‘We'll put them in a very special bowl when we get home, darling,' Henrietta promised the child when he protested strongly as she started packing the stones away in her carry bag. ‘And you can play with them whenever you like. Come on now, we have to go.' She hoped Malcolm wasn't about to throw one of his tantrums. ‘He's tired, he's getting a bit crotchety,' she apologised to the others. Mercifully he fell asleep on the drive back to Aggie's house.

‘You're going to come in for a drink, Paul?' Aggie asked.

‘Of course.' Paul pocketed the flask of whisky he always kept in the glovebox of his car. Aggie was the only person he knew whose invitation to ‘come in for a drink' meant a tea or coffee. To anyone else in Darwin ‘a drink' meant a gin or a whisky, or at least a cold beer. Paul always travelled prepared.

He carried the sleeping child inside but the moment he deposited him in the spare room Malcolm woke up, thoroughly energised and ready for mischief. Henrietta
emptied the stones out onto the scatter rug by the lounge room windows and, instantly, the child once again became engrossed in his arrangements.

‘I shall forgive you the sand in my pockets,' Paul said approvingly, ‘that's the perfect distraction.'

‘Yes, isn't it,' she agreed, ‘I've just become a devoted rock collector.'

‘Would you care for something a little stronger than Aggie's tea?' He took the flask from his pocket. ‘Miss Marshall runs an alcohol-free house.'

‘Not today,' Aggie said as she disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an icy bottle of champagne and three glasses. ‘Today she's laid on supplies. There's another bottle in the fridge.'

‘Good heavens above,' Paul exclaimed as he took the bottle from her and started to open it. He looked at the glasses. ‘And I didn't even know you possessed champagne flutes.'

‘I didn't until yesterday.'

‘You should be flattered, Henrietta.' Paul eased out the cork and poured the champagne.

‘I am.' She was more than flattered, she was very touched.

‘Here's to your return to town,' Aggie said and she raised her glass. ‘You mustn't leave it so long between visits, we've missed you, haven't we, Paul?'

‘We most certainly have,' Paul agreed, and he meant it far more than Henrietta could possibly realise. But after one glass of champagne he left the women to talk. He and Aggie had agreed they were worried about Henrietta, and he hoped that Aggie might be able to help in some way.

Aggie had every intention of trying to draw Henrietta out with regard to her problem, the young woman needed someone to talk to, she was convinced of it. But Henrietta was evasive. Yes, she was quite happy, she replied, perhaps a little tired, Malcolm was a handful, and the beef business
wasn't doing well so Terence was a bit tense lately. She wouldn't go any further than that, but turned the conversation back to Aggie. Was she enjoying teaching again, Henrietta asked. But they'd talked about the school over lunch. Drastic measures were required, Aggie decided.