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Frances passed on the message Rupe had given her and Jenny nodded. ‘They’ll probably go on till last light. Would you like to wait for your dinner or have it with the boys?’

Frances eagerly said she would rather have hers with the boys. Their father sent them home at six o’clock so after unsaddling their horses they had a quick swim. They wanted Frances to join them and she was only too happy to do so. Jenny too sat on the edge dangling her swollen legs into the pool. It was fun splashing and diving with the boys. At length their movements slowed, so Jenny sent them to shower. The boys put on their pyjamas, but Frances put on a pale blue shirt-waister of fine lawn. She set her hair deftly, then went out to tea. Afterwards the boys went to bed and Frances watched television.

It was almost nine o’clock before the men returned, tired, dirty and hungry. Frances was glad she could watch television in peace as Jenny went to dish up dinner. Later she was smiling at the antics of a comedian when Ian came up to her.

‘It’s a change to see you with dry hair!’ he laughed. His finger curled round a soft tendril and he watched as it sprang back to her head. ‘Going swimming? It’s moonlight,’ he said.

Shaken, Frances shook her head. Ian stood there, his towel carelessly flung over his powerful shoulders, his trunks fitting him neatly. He turned away and Frances returned to the programme, but had the greatest difficulty in following it suddenly. After some time Rupert and Jenny said goodnight and she was left in peace. It was still very warm. She had the ranch sliders open and decided to walk in the garden. Oddly she had been hurt that Ian hadn’t said goodnight to her. She reminded herself that there would only be hurt in the relationship and with a sigh she turned off the television set. She walked out to the garden, then went towards the back. The bright stars seemed to hang like a golden mobile in the sky. She sat down by a patch of honeysuckle, drawing in her breath at its scent. Relaxed, she laid back her head, reaching up to pull down one of the flowers. Idly she sucked the nectar, and closed her eyes.

‘Sweets to the sweet.’ Ian’s mouth on hers lifted away the honeysuckle. Startled by his appearance and the fire of his mouth, Frances pushed at him, knowing herself totally disadvantaged.

‘You look like some virginal offering to the gods, lying there in the moonlight.’ His eyes were very dark and the light played strange tricks on the angles of his face.

‘Well, I most certainly don’t intend to be!’ Frances answered with asperity. She struggled to sit up, but his arm imprisoned her as he studied her slowly. She felt the touch of his bare skin, still damp from his swim, as he leant against her and kissed her. Painfully she iced herself against his touch, remembering with bitterness the last time he had kissed her. She eased away from him, getting to her feet in a quick lithe movement. ‘Don’t you touch me, Ian!’

‘Oh, lay off the big act,’ he snorted. ‘Don’t give me that untouched routine. You lie in wait for me out here, carefully out of sight of the house, but right by my bike. I’ve never been known to turn down an invitation like that.’ He stood up casually and moved to his bike. ‘As it happens, it’s a bit too blatant for my taste. You happen to be employed here and I don’t want Jenny and Rupe upset. Get some other guy to oblige.’

He kicked the motor into life and roared off, while Frances gazed stupidly after him, her mind still staggering from his cruelty. Blindly she made her way back to the house, cursing the impulse that had made her walk in the moonlight. She wished she had seen his motorbike, but it had been hidden in the shadows of the tree.

In her bedroom she cried bitterly, her agony searing her. It seemed that every time Ian saw her alone she caused him to see her as a tramp. He took it for granted she was used to sleeping around, she thought, with an icy shock, hearing his scornful recommendation again. What had caused him to have such a cheap view of her sex? she wondered, with a new womanly intuition. She did not know how to handle the situation, she realised dimly. If only his touch didn’t set her senses reeling! Even the thought of his kiss sent her body thrilling with delight. Chagrined, she punched the pillows, wishing it was Ian’s body she was hitting. The thought of Ian sitting quiet under attack made her laugh hysterically, and she pulled herself up short. She would just have to keep out of his way and make sure they were never alone. As the long night dragged on she tried to reconcile the Ian she saw with Jenny, Rupe and the boys with the Ian she knew. It was a horrible sensation to know he had no respect for her and one she was unfamiliar with. The fact that he had totally misread the situation was small consolation. It was dawn before she fell asleep into a tormented dream in which Ian was curtained off by a vast chasm that yawned perilously at her feet.

The children’s noises as they made ready for school wakened her. She dressed neatly in denim shorts with a blue tee-shirt, tucking it into her shorts and slapping her big leather belt round her waist. She was not surprised by the appearance of her face. Her cheeks seemed oddly shrunken and her eyes seemed twice their size and deeply shadowed. Desperately she grabbed her make-up, trying to cover up the despair in her face.

She went out to the kitchen and was startled that Ian was there already. Unsteadily she poured herself some tea and ate a piece of toast, knowing she would draw a comment if she didn’t. She knew Ian was looking at her, his face shuttered, and she forced herself to listen to what Rupe was telling her. Rapidly she excused herself, for once leaving Jenny with all the dishes, but she knew she couldn’t sit opposite Ian, feeling his glance pulling her to pieces. She saddled Greytor and galloped towards the back of the farm.

Halfway there she altered the irrigation as Rupe had shown her, then she slowed Greytor’s pace, not wanting to blow her. She went on down to the river, checking the mob she had moved earlier. Idly she noticed that the fence by the river needed fixing and made a note to tell Rupe. She was late getting back to the house, perhaps subconsciously not wishing to take the smoko down to Ian. Seeing Jenny struggling down to meet her, she felt guilty. However, Jenny insisted the walk was appreciated and Frances smiled as she handed up the bags. She tied them on loosely and cantered away, her hair tossed by the wind into shining, sparkling flashes of copper and gold. The men saw her coming and switched off as she approached. Rupe took the refreshments from her and she told him about the fence. He shook his head ruefully and he said he would slip down on his way home. Ian did not approach her, but waited stiffly by the tractor. Frances turned Greytor and rode away holding herself proudly. As though Greytor sensed her mood of frustration she galloped quickly, and the tension began to drain from Frances. She was unaware of the picture she made or the eyes of the tall man following her, their expression puzzled.

Back home she released Greytor and gave her a solid rub-down. She decided to either jog down or take the car in the afternoon as it was hard to keep the horse yarded in the heat. Back at the house she showered and changed, then helped Jenny with the washing.

Day
followed day in a haze of
heat. First Rupe’s, then Ian’s hay was cut and harvested. Fortunately for Frances Ian didn’t come over to use the pool in the evening. After their own hay was done the men went contracting to nearby farms. The boys finished school and they eagerly went with Rupe and Ian when they could. Frances went round the stock, shifting the sheep as Rupert said. She wondered how Ian found time to do his own work, but occasionally she saw him riding round his farm.

The heat was enervating and she had no appetite. She knew she was losing weight from the fit of her clothes. Her leather belt could now be done up two notches tighter. One day she borrowed Jenny’s machine and ran in bigger darts on her shirts and shorts.

Jenny smiled. ‘Here, if you lose any more weight, we won’t be able to see you!’

Francis told her that she always lost weight in summer and Jenny nodded. ‘Guess so, but seriously, Frances, you’re not eating. Is anything wrong?’ She was able to answer lightly, reassuring Jenny, but after that she tried to eat a little more. At the weekends she went home, where she could relax and summon her defences in case she would need them against Ian. However, he seemed to be away contracting most of the time.

Gradually she began to relax, as she learnt the routine of the farm. Now she could tell when the pasture needed a rest or the stock had to be shifted. At least she knew Jenny and Rupe were pleased with her and even to herself she admitted she was working hard. Jenny wasn’t keeping very well and Frances regularly took her to the clinic, enjoying their ‘town days’. Sometimes the boys came with them and they enjoyed these jaunts as she tried to get them there in time for the eleven o’clock movies.

Several times she visited Coppers. At first she had turned down the invitation from Gam, but seeing Jenny’s puzzled look she accepted the second. After that she went willingly; thoroughly at ease with Gam, but only when she knew that Ian was miles away contracting.

One day Jenny asked her to take the rest of the Christmas presents over while the boys were with their father. She drove down the tree tunnel, as she had named the drive, and swung into the now familiar yard. Gam helped her unload the presents and showed her into her own sitting room.

‘You’ve never seen all through, have you?’ said Gam as they had the inevitable but welcome tea. ‘When we’ve finished I’ll take you round.’

Gam’s sitting room was on one side of the house, where she had her own completely self-contained flat. It was furnished with much love and style, elegance of line being of natural importance to the older woman. She had a small kitchen, bathroom and a lovely sunny bedroom. The kitchen opened into the sunroom porch which both Ian and Gam shared. Now she walked into the main part, entering a kitchen which seemed quite modern in its appliances. Its oak cupboards bespoke an older age, though, and she marvelled at the size of the pantry and the former scullery which had been turned into a cool room. From there they went into the dining room. It had a lofty ceiling with highly ornate plaster work resembling Grecian dancers. The table could seat at least twelve and the glow of the deep wood was beautiful. The old chairs were ornately carved and padded firmly. A fireplace with colourful tiles was in the centre.

From there Gam lead the way into a wide hall. It was dark, with a sweep of stairs, again heavily carved, leading upstairs. The handrails had been worn to a shiny old gold with the many polishings over the years. Gam was delighted to find such interest and explained that her grandfather had befriended an early settler who was expert at carving. ‘He made the chairs in the dining room and the stairs in the hall. Actually they’re well worth studying. He came from Scotland, but his wife died on the voyage coming out here. She died giving birth and the baby died too. He never got over it, unfortunately. He drifted out here and stayed. Apparently he thought my grandmother was like his poor dead bride; she was Scottish and she had red hair too. When they started building he started making the stair supports in his spare time, and in his old age he made the dining room chairs. If you look on the back of the chairs you’ll see a fern leaf design surrounding a bud of a thistle. The same motif is done on each step rail.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Frances exclaimed. ‘What happened to him?’

‘Ah well! I wonder if I should tell. You see, he used to drink fairly heavily, so my grandfather told him he’d pay his passage back to Scotland if he’d stop drinking. He did stop and my grandfather took him to the boat. The boat sailed past Spain and my grandfather got word that he’d been lost overboard.’ She paused. 'My grandfather knew that was where his wife and baby had been buried at sea all those years before. Perhaps the memory of that was too much for him, or perhaps he just had too much to drink, or maybe it was one of those unfortunate coincidences. But we remember him, at any rate.’

She led the way into a room off the hall. It had a heavy rolltop desk and shelving covered with stock books and agricultural magazines. One wall was a bookcase. A lot were old, but the last four rows were modern titles. Frances made no comment, feeling an intruder into Ian’s study. She backed away, there was too much of Ian’s personality in the room. Gam smiled suddenly, ‘Come into the main room, it’ll cheer you up. Stupid of me to tell you of past history.’

‘Oh no! I was most interested, Gam.’ Frances followed as Gam led the way into the lounge. It was a spacious room with a high ceiling, again, like the dining room, richly decorated. Large windows, which were a much more modern addition, let in plenty of sunlight. The room had some lovely pieces of furniture as well as a velvet suite and velvet curtains. The fireplace was of king-size proportions and the solid mantelpiece was a remarkable piece of timber in its own right. Frances couldn’t resist smoothing the wood under her hands. At each end she found the tiny carving of the fern and the thistle. The fireplace was set ready for a match, yet the room had an air of scarcely being used. Inside herself, Frances knew that Ian would feel lonely in this room. It was built for a family, not for one man. No wonder Ian used his study and the sunroom.

The sunshine poured into the room as she stood there imagining it full of people and flowers. It had such an air of graciousness and she tried to explain it to Gam.

‘Hmph! Ian’s last girl-friend thought it was ghastly. She wanted to cover the plasterwork, rip out the fireplace and put a sand-blasted feature wall there instead. Tastes vary, of course,’ Gam added, seeing Frances’ shocked expression of horror. ‘I can’t say I liked her very much, but Ian thought she was wonderful. She was strikingly attractive in her way too.

‘She was a model and it certainly wasn’t a model of behaviour,’ Gam added grimly. ‘One good thing as far as I was concerned, she soon ripped Ian off! And that finished it, of course. If there wasn’t a lot of money she wasn’t interested!’ Gam laughed. ‘It’s the first time I’ve ever been grateful for death duties!’ She paused. ‘Sometimes I wonder if he will get married now. He goes out a lot, I know, but he’s not had any long relationship with a girl since. The old Ian was such a happy lad,’ she mused, ‘you would have been very happy together.