Lauren's Dilemma (19 page)

A tall,
slim youth rose unsteadily to his feet. He was fair skinned, with a thick,
floppy thatch of corn-colored hair. He had sad, little-boy-lost blue eyes.

“Hello,
Dick.” Her soft heart went out to this poor, haunted-looking boy.

As he put
his hand out to grasp hers it trembled. “H… H… Hello, L…L… Laurie.”
 
His grip on her hand nearly crushed her
fingers, yet she made no effort to pull away.

“Now there
you are, Lauren. I knew you and Dick would be friends.” Helen sashayed up to
them, and Dick flinched away. “Come on, Blair, we must see to our other
guests.”

“Off you
both go. Dick and I can get acquainted.” Laurie rescued her hand and, after the
other two left, sat down in one of the armchairs. Once she was seated Dick sat
also.

“Did you
train Bolinda Vale?”

 
He nodded his head.

“She's the
best horse I've ever owned.”

He was a
kindred spirit regarding horses. His stammer disappeared as they spoke on a
topic close to both their hearts.

“Would you
care to have some supper?” she offered after an hour or so had elapsed. He
shook his head, the haunted look returned to his eyes and Laurie realized that
people frightened him.

She smiled.
“I know how you feel, I've never been able to stand crowds, either.” The lies
slipped off her tongue like melted honey. “I could get us supper later on and
we could eat it in here.”

He nodded
his head. Nineteen years old, and he had seen sights even a grown man should
never have to see.

“I was at
Lone Pine,” he spoke slowly, his voice soft, poignant.

“Was it
terrible like they said in the papers?” The sixth of August 1915, would stick in
the minds of every Australian for years to come. At the place of the lonely
pine, or Lone Pine as it was later named, seven Victoria Crosses were awarded
over a couple of days. By the ninth of August, two thousand young Australians
lay dead.

“If it
upsets you, Dick, perhaps we shouldn't speak about it.”

“No, no.”
He grabbed convulsively at her hand. “I haven't told anyone else about it, I
just couldn't.” He spoke haltingly at first, but soon the words came, tumbling
on top of each other. His face turned chalk-white, his upper lip was beaded
with perspiration, so she reached out and squeezed his hand.

“The shells
kept lobbing amongst us. They wouldn’t stop. We went over the top to attack the
Turkish lines. After dashing across no-man’s land, we discovered their trenches
were roofed over with pine logs, so we couldn't get in.”
 
His breath came out in harsh, labored pants.
“We were dropping like flies.
 
All my
mates got killed. We didn't stand a chance.

He shook
like jelly on a plate.

“I must
have been blown up and got buried.” He started sobbing. “Other men ran all over
me. I could feel their boots pressing into me. Fresh blood kept dripping on to
my face. It took two days for the stretcher bearers to find me.”

She could
not suppress a shudder. How dreadful for a boy to endure such horror. It must
have been so unbearable that his mind snapped under the strain. Time passed,
and she dared not move in case it stopped the flow of words that might give him
peace.

Blair,
accompanied by a stout man who must have been George McKinlay, glanced in on
them. Both men gave her a grateful smile as they quietly left the room. Except
for crackling flames in the grate and the spitting fizz of sparks every now and
again, all was silent.

“After
tonight, could I see you again? He asked with such earnestness she could not
refuse. “We could go riding, I mean, if Blair doesn't mind,”

“Sounds
fun. Blair won't mind.”
 
He hadn’t cared
what she did once Helen arrived on the scene. “We could meet halfway between
Coolibah and your place. How about the bridge?”

He nodded
in agreement, so they made their arrangements to meet about twelve o'clock.
Shortly afterwards, Fergie came in to say supper was being served.

“Come on,
Dick, why don’t we get something to eat?” He hesitated a moment before getting
up.

They
entered the reception room together, making their way slowly towards the
buffet, but they were intercepted by Blair, who held a glass of wine in his
hand.

“I see you
managed to persuade Dick to join us.” He flashed a smile, but his eyes seemed
dark, brooding.

“You didn't
need much persuading did you, Dick? We both felt hungry.”

He nodded
his head, but glued himself to her side, only answering the greetings of other
guests with a nod.

“Mm, looks
nice.” She picked up a plate and placed some pieces of cold chicken on it.
There were vegetables, salad, and freshly baked rolls.

“We'll come
back for some trifle later,” she said.

He
positioned himself beside her even while they ate supper. He did not speak, but
every now and again she gave him reassuring smiles and his gratitude bordered
on pathetic.

The
McKinlays left first. Laurie went out with Blair to see them off. She could not
remember having been introduced to Mrs. McKinlay, a plump, old-fashioned woman.
Her continual thanks for befriending Dick embarrassed her.

“You seem
to have worked wonders with young Dick,” Blair said.

“It was
terrible. He told me about Lone Pine. Did you know he got buried and the other
soldiers kept running on top of him? It must have been frightful. He was awake
most of the time, poor thing.”

“George's
eyes nearly popped out of his head when the two of you walked in for supper.
Dick has shunned people since he returned.”

“I arranged
to meet him tomorrow for a ride.”

“You agreed
to go out riding without my approval?”

She tossed
her auburn curls. “I don't need your approval.”

“You're my
responsibility.
 
You do happen to be a
guest in my home.” His tones were acid.

“What's
wrong with Dick and me going for a ride? After all, you go away all day. I'm
tired of sitting around the homestead on my own.”

“You have
Helen.”

“I'm
meeting Dick tomorrow for lunch. I happen to like him.” She shook off his
restraining hand and walked away, leaving him standing in open-mouthed fury. If
she didn’t know better, she would swear he was jealous.

The
remainder of the evening was ruined. Blair pointedly ignored her, only speaking
when courtesy demanded it in front of the others. She watched as he kept
topping up his wine glass.

Helen, of
course, was the life and soul of the party. An enchanting hostess, the perfect
wife for the wealthy owner of a large cattle station. As for herself, she must
have seemed like a shy, dull little field mouse in comparison.

As soon as
decently possible, she excused herself and retired to bed. If I have to watch
Helen and Blair making cow eyes at each other for even another second, I’ll go
into a fit of screaming hysterics. Once in bed, she lay wide awake, listening
to the music and the murmured voices penetrating the walls of her room.

* * *

Laurie
awoke next morning feeling tired and drained. By the time she washed and
dressed, it was nine o'clock. Making her way down to the kitchen, she found
Fergie looking as fresh as a daisy.

“Good
morning, Miss Laurie.”

“Hello,
Fergie.”

“Bacon and
eggs?”

“No thanks,
I couldn't. Just tea and toast. Anyone else up yet?”

“Mr. Blair
had breakfast about an hour ago, then left. Wasn't in the best of moods,
either. Miss Cunningham is still asleep.” The housekeeper did not like Helen.
Nothing in particular was said, but Laurie noticed a few little things. The way
Fergie pursed her lips behind Helen’s back, the dismissive sniffs every now and
again when she thought herself unobserved.

As usual,
she helped with the dishes and tidied up her room prior to heading off to the
stables. Passing a bowl of fruit on the way out, she grabbed up a couple of
apples. Bolinda Vale liked little treats, and she brought her something every
day.

The sky
hung black with murky, threatening clouds, although it wasn’t raining, so she
would still be able to go out with Dick. After leaving the stables, she ran
into Mr. Chong and stopped for a chat with him. The strange little man had
become her devoted slave. Nothing he would not do for Missie Laurie. As for
Helen, his feelings were similar to hers. They detested each other.

Helen's
complaints and slighting remarks about his vegetables had aroused Mr. Chong’s
wrath right from the start. Laurie tried to smooth things over for Blair's
sake, but none of the station people liked Helen. She was too arrogant and
condescending, always meddling in the way they attended to their various
duties.

* * *

At the
stables, Jimmy, the aboriginal boy, had Bolinda Vale saddled and ready to go.
“Wally told me to saddle your horse, Miss Laurie.”

“Thank
you.” She waved to him as she cantered off.

“We're
meeting Dick today, girl.” She always spoke to the filly. Wally, who often
caught her doing it, teased her about it.

She came to
the bridge, and Dick waited on the other side. Clattering across the logs, she
called out to him. He rode a chestnut horse, all of seventeen hands high.
Raising his hat he gave a grin, while Bolinda Vale whickered in remembrance.

“I thought
you mightn’t come.” His stammer had disappeared.

“Why? I’ve
been looking forward to our ride.”

He wore
light-colored riding breeches with brown leather leggings and a brown jacket
over his white shirt. How young and hesitant he seemed, although he was
obviously an accomplished rider.

“Lead on,
Dick.”

They rode
abreast across the paddocks, heading towards the mountains. She had never been
this way before. After about an hour the terrain became steeper, the scrub and
undergrowth thicker, almost impenetrable in places, but she had no fear. This
was the Australian bush in its native state, and she loved it with a passion.

The smell of
the damp eucalypts reminded her of another time and another young companion.
She still thought of Danny, not sad thoughts any longer, but happy memories of
the youthful love they had shared. As they rode along, she found herself
telling Dick about him.

“Sounds a
fine sort of chap. You were lucky to have him, Laurie. My mates are all dead.”

“You have
me, Dick,” she reassured him.

“Thanks, I
hoped we might be friends.”

“Come on,
cheer up.” She couldn’t remember ever having met anyone whose mind was so ravaged
and her tender heart went out to him. “Where are you taking me?”

His sudden
smile altered his whole appearance, and she caught a glimpse of the youth he
must once have been before the war destroyed him. They had been climbing
steadily. She heard the sounds of roaring water, and as they broke out of the
bush a waterfall cascaded in front of them.

“How
beautiful it is,” she exclaimed with pleasure.

“This has
always been one of my favorite places. Since I came home, I’ve spent a lot of
time up here. It’s so peaceful.”

He
dismounted and helped her do likewise then hooked both sets of reins over his
arm. . Grasping her hand, he drew her closer to where the water bubbled and
boiled over rocks that were worn to a polished smoothness over many centuries.

A kookaburra
laughed somewhere close by. As they waited without speaking, a small brown
kangaroo came down to drink. They watched it for a moment as its bright eyes
darted everywhere. As if suddenly sensing danger, it turned and bounded away.

The early
wattle had started to bloom in the gullies. The golden balls a stark contrast
to the dull green leaves. After the horses had drunk their fill, Dick tethered
them to a bush.

“We should
have brought hobbles so they could graze,” she mused as he opened his
saddlebag.

“Lunch,
even if it is a bit late.” Grinning, he produced some sandwiches. As they ate,
he spoke very little, leaving her to do most of the talking. He was a good
listener, putting in a word or a question here and there. The temptation to
confide in him about what had happened with Blair proved almost irresistible,
but fear he might also think she was contemptible held her back.

“I think we
should return home,” she said. “We’ve ridden much further than I expected.”

They rode
at a leisurely pace, Dick obviously in no hurry to get back. By the time they
arrived at the bridge it was late afternoon.

“I'll be
lucky to make it home by sunset.”

“Perhaps I
should ride back with you. It gets dark here quickly at this time of the year.
I was enjoying myself so much I forgot the time,” he apologized. “Will you come
for a ride with me again? Blair wouldn't mind, would he?”