A HAZARD OF HEARTS (28 page)

All her senses were heightened as she absorbed
the sibilant sound of the surf, of the sand sinking back after Paul’s passing,
of the leaves in the casuarina trees sifting in the wind. She heard a gull’s
sharp cry and watched it float by on an invisible current, its breast like
snow, its wings the colour of moor mist, its beak a dot of blood against the
darkening sky. The harsh smell of the eucalypts blended with a wild honey scent
from boronia and other native blossoms, and she breathed deeply, saturating her
memory with the aromas of this moment, fixing them in amber, captured and to be
held until she died. The rock beneath her was cold and hard, and she knew the
time had come for her to return to reality.

Rising, she went to stand beside Paul, not
touching him, drinking in the strong profile silhouetted against the sky.

‘Paul, we have to be sensible.’

He laughed, without amusement.

‘No, listen, my dear. We’re not heedless young
ones to tumble headlong into love and think the world well lost for it.’

He took her face between his hands and watched
the play of expression there. ‘Is it love, Elly? Is this overwhelming need and
pain and joy what love really is?’

‘I... think so. Yes, I do think it’s more than
an animal carnality which fills me with such delight and an urge to give more
than to receive. Paul, I want to cradle your head, to show you sweet fondness,
as well as passion, I want...’ She broke off.

‘Elly, I need you – to spend my life with you,
caring for you.’

The tenderness in his voice moved her
unbearably, yet her resolve stiffened. Gently she released herself, saying, ‘Do
you, Paul? Or do you mean you want me to run your home, entertain at your
political parties, be your help meet and give up my ambitions?’

‘I’m talking about loving and caring. I’m asking
you to be my wife. And, yes, that would entail such things.’

‘And sacrifice, Paul. My sacrifice. Would you
give up your ambitions if I asked you to?’

His brows rose and there was a twist to his
mouth as he countered, ‘Would you, Elly?’

They stared at one another, Elly appalled at the
swift dashing down from the sublime heights she’d just experienced, and at the
knowledge that she’d done it to herself. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.

‘As am I.’

The torment shadowing his face made her want to
take back her words, to tell him she couldn’t hurt him like this, that she’d
love him forever, be whatever he wanted her to be. Instead she held his gaze
steadily, imposing on herself the strongest, hardest discipline she’d ever had
to employ. For she couldn’t be untrue to her vow, not so far into her quest. On
the day her father died at her feet she’d made herself a promise which she would
see through, whatever the personal cost. There could be no room in her life for
the kind of love she’d just awakened to. It was consuming. It would eat up her
ambition and leave just the shell of the real Elly Ballard, which would be no
good to her or to the man who wanted her.

‘It could never satisfy us to bring only half of
ourselves to a marriage,’ she told him. ‘We’re so much alike, Paul, so centred
on our ambitions. I must honour a trust, while you... you are driven by something
more, a bitterness with its roots in your past, which you can’t relinquish. In
such a climate our love would eventually be destroyed.’

He turned to stare out over the bay and she saw
a tear glisten on his cheek. Yet all he said was, ‘I’m afraid you’re right, my
love. You will always be my love, whatever else may happen.’

And you will always be mine, Elly said in her
heart, but not aloud.

They walked back to the hotel in heavy silence.

A wave hit the wharf, shaking the planks beneath
Pearl’s feet. Between the cracks she could see water, dark green and oily with
tendrils of weed flapping around the piles just below the tideline. Backwash of
passing ferryboats sent a fresh series of waves, rippling and slapping. The
wharf shivered.

Inside, Pearl shivered too. This was the moment
when she set off alone once more, with just her wits against the world. Beside
her a small steamer with bright red paddle-wheels and white superstructure
bobbed like a child’s toy, tugging against the ropes bound around the bollards.
It had an eager air about it, as though anxious to be on its way, as she was,
at last, on her way to find Li Po.

She had left the hospital early, to avoid
emotional farewells. The break should be made cleanly, she thought, like a
knife-cut. Detachment focussed the mind, gave it a calm background to work
against; and to create detachment one must be alone, without ties of
relationship, or even friendship.

Elly Ballard had achieved this admirably, with
her total focus on her ambition. However, Jo-Beth remained a puzzle, professing
to believe that fate could be changed by will alone and her dead lover returned
to her, even while she accepted the homage of her military admirer. She might
have come from a distant star, with her outlook on the world so opposite to
Pearl’s. Jo-Beth had only recently learned what it was to fight for survival.
Raised in a cushioned environment, she had this soft underbelly, an invitation
to the rippers and kickers of the world. How long would she endure her present
circumstances before having to accept Ethan Petherbridge’s death? How long
before she escaped back to family support in Boston, or into marriage with
someone who would take care of her?

Dismissing these perplexities, Pearl picked up
her canvas satchel, a present from Elly, as well as the stout boots peeping
incongruously from beneath her padded trousers.

She’d go aboard now, grateful for the ticket up
river to Parramatta, a parting gift from her friends. From there she would find
a cart crossing the Blue Mountains to Bathurst.

‘Pearl, wait! Don’t go yet.’

What seemed a carriage-load of nurses tumbled
out onto the wharf and ran towards her, while from another direction two men
pounded up from the Customs House waving their hats and hallooing. Pearl hesitated,
flushed to the hairline, unsure whether to be delighted or distressed.

J.G. reached her first, puffing like leaky
bellows and forced to lean on a bollard to fan himself with his hat.

‘You might... have let a fellow... know… the
departure time.’

Pearl frowned. ‘I gave Elly your watch to return
to you. I told you I would not sell it.’

‘Be damned... to the watch. You’ve been avoiding
me, girl dear.’

She fixed her gaze on the striped waistcoat
moving rhythmically on his heaving chest. ‘Sit down before you fall down, you
silly man. You should not have run so hard.’

Paul, only two steps behind, shook his head at
her.

‘Ungrateful girl, when he simply wanted to say
“God Speed”. It’s why we all came.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Jo-Beth rushed to envelop Pearl’s
slight frame in a hug. ‘You wretch, to slip away like that.’

The two trainee nurses, staunch admirers of
Pearl, nodded shyly in the background.

Pearl set her teeth. She would not be the victim
of her emotions. She would stay in control. Her eyes suspiciously bright, she
scanned the faces in the group, seeing the love and goodwill there for her.

‘Thank you. I did not want to trouble anyone...’

‘Trouble!’ mocked J.G.. ‘Girl dear, it’s a lying
tongue you have in your pretty little head. You wanted to slip away on the quiet,
keeping to yourself, as ever. Well, we’re your friends and we won’t allow it.’

‘Hear, hear.’ Elly surged forward to kiss Pearl’s
cheek. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with us, my dear. We need you, even if
you think you don’t need us. Also, we expect to have regular news of you,
wherever you go.’

Jo-Beth beamed as she handed a small parcel to
Pearl. ‘This is for you. I hope you find it useful.’

Unwrapped, the gift was revealed as a hinged
sweet-tin which, when opened, emitted a strong eucalyptus aroma. ‘It’s an
antiseptic grease made up to a recipe I found in the dispensary. Very useful
for cuts and abrasions and for colds when rubbed on the throat and, oh, all
manner of things.’

Pearl couldn’t trust her voice. Handling the tin
as if it contained emeralds, she put it in her satchel alongside the medical
kit, food and linen. The paddle-steamer gave a toot, making them all jump, and
steam poured from the funnel.

Paul thumped J.G. on the back, almost knocking
him off his feet. ‘She’ll leave any minute. Go on, man.’

J.G. drew his thin frame erect, bowed, then
presented Pearl with a folded sheet of paper. ‘A parting gift from the two of
us, girl dear. It’s a mere sketch, but the best we could put together. Maybe it
will help you.’

She stared at the paper through a blur,
gradually distinguishing the markings. It proved to be a roughly drawn map of
the established goldfields, with tracks, distances and useful information on
transport, stores and accommodation. To a prospector it would be worth a good
deal. She wondered how the men had obtained it and at what cost. Meeting J.G’s
eyes, she saw their merriment quenched, for once, by an unaccustomed sadness.
But it couldn’t be. Her going would only lose him a sparring partner, not even
a friend. She deliberately shifted her gaze to Paul. ‘Thank you, both. It will
be a great help.’

The steamer gave another warning toot. Pearl
thrust the map in her pocket. ‘Thank you all my good friends. I’ll think of you
every day. Goodbye.’ She turned and leapt up the plank onto the deck.

The others crowded forward to the edge of the
wharf as seamen untied ropes and removed the plank. Almost imperceptibly a gap
widened between wharf and vessel. The great wheels began to turn, paddles
flashing wetly as they dipped and rose, churning the oily green water to foam.
The engine thundered, a shudder rattled through the body of the ship as it
slowly turned towards the west.

Oblivious of gulls screaming overhead, of wind
pulling at her braid, Pearl stood watching the wharf and the group of people on
it dwindle into a formless blob on the horizon.

~*~

Elly moved briskly back to the carriage,
avoiding Paul’s eye. ‘Come along, ladies. I’m uneasy with Nurse Jenkins in
charge, even for an hour.’

As a voice hailed her, she glanced around to see
Captain McAndrews hurrying along the wharf, dressed in full regimentals, his
brass buttons and braid enough to shame the day.

Whipping off his cap, he bowed. ‘I’m sorry to be
late. I’ve just come off duty and hurried away as soon as I could. I see I’ve
lost the opportunity to farewell Miss Pearl.’

His face was too well-bred, Elly told herself.
Why hadn’t she noticed it before? He was a race horse, all nose and teeth, and
probably inbred as well, like most sons of the aristocracy. She never had
admired waxed moustaches. But in a moment she regretted her peevishness. The
Captain couldn’t sense her anxiety. Nor should he be blamed for placing his
duties as a governor’s equerry before his personal desires. She gave him a warm
smile as Jo-Beth greeted him composedly.

‘Good morning, Captain. Yes, unfortunately the
boat has left and we shan’t see Pearl for a long time, I fear. Let me make you
known to these ladies and gentlemen.’

While introductions were made Elly tried not to
tap her foot, avoiding looking at Paul, although very aware of him only yards
away. She thought she would always know when he looked at her, by the tingling
in her skin as if caressed. It was so hard to be resolute when nature fought
against her, reminding her that she was young, female and responsive to males.
To a particular male, whose lips crooked in a half-smile evoked an immediate
response in her heart whenever she thought of them; whose wit and intelligence
ignited a spark in her mind – usually one of opposition, she admitted. Indeed,
the argument was half the pleasure.

She felt so alive in Paul’s company, the
complete Elly, as she was meant to be. But it was not to be. She had made her
decision to devote all her time and energies to the battle for nursing. The
opposition was so great, the work so draining, and Paul didn’t really
understand. He could not accept that her undertaking might be quite as
important as his own. In his heart he thought her eccentric, and so, despite
their love, the gulf between them could not be bridged.

She sighed and paid attention as the Captain,
with a sideways glance at Jo-Beth, issued an invitation to the ladies to take a
light luncheon at a nearby hotel.

Elly firmly refused him. ‘We have work to do,
gentlemen.’ Letting the implication that
they
did not work hang
delicately, she then smiled to take away the sting. ‘Also, we must not keep you
from your affairs.’

The three men exchanged glances of mutual
solidarity and took their leave. They set off down Pitt Street, dodging the
heavy delivery drays and carts of produce on the way to the markets. Street
vendors shouted above the clatter of hooves and wheels as a stream of cabs,
omnibuses and private vehicles joined the throng. Cries of “pigs trotters”,
“fresh rabbits”, “muffins new baked”, mingled with the shrill voices of urchins
earning a penny by sweeping crossings or holding horses. A man passed by with a
basket balanced on his head calling "Water-cresses, Water-cresses” and a
dustman rang his bell on his rounds collecting rubbish from the shop yards.