Australian Hospital (13 page)

She recalled the annoyance he had shown because of his trip home. He had said it was urgent. Why? she wondered. What had brought him back from England before he was ready? Eve had once boasted that she had negotiated it, but if it had been Eve, would Stephen have shown annoyance? Annoyance against the woman who held such influence over him that he even allowed her to arrange his decisions?

There had been times when Candace had believed that it was Rosemary who attracted the doctor. Certainly he had been coupled with her on ship, and then he had made several trips to Bibaringa. According to Mr. Tilburn, though, those visits had been entirely on behalf of Manathunka. Stephen had wanted more money for the home. He had wanted Mr. Tilburn to see Manathunka in the light of many little helpless Bobbys, not one, and in the end he had succeeded. She remembered, with guilt, that she had never broken the good news to Dr. Halliday. She had come from Bibaringa keen to do so, but the epidemic had caught her up in a whirl of work, and after that there had been the Meeting with its unhappy repercussions, and now she was on the plane going to John’s home—to Kemona.

As though reading her thoughts, Rosemary asked, “What did Stephen say when you told him that Daddy had seen the light and was agreeable to signing a substantial cheque for Manathunka?”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Oh, Candace.”

Candace looked ashamed. “I meant to. The words were there. But I didn’t seem to find the opportunity. We had the Annual Meeting yesterday, and Barbara Breen was dismissed.”

“The therapist?”

“Yes.”

“Why was that?”

“Stephen Halliday had the casting vote. He voted against her. I can’t understand it, Rose.”

“It seems obvious enough to me. There wasn’t enough cash. Like it or not, Candy, people
do
have to have bread and butter before little felt elephants.”

“It’s not felt elephants.”

“Well, whatever else it is. Rabbits, then.”

“It’s not that, either, it’s—it’s a belief, Rosemary—a sort of goal.”

“Darling, you still have to eat. Ash realised that, so said thumbs down on Barbara. Perhaps”—Rosemary looked shrewd—“he
had
to, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eve Trisby, my pet. Didn’t you tell me her godfather was a very big sponsor?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Eve didn’t want Barbara, so consequently, even if Stephen did, he had to abide by what Eve said.”

‘That’s terribly weak, isn’t it?”

“What would you have him do?” flung Rosemary. “Stand firm on principle and wreck the home he’s worked for?”

Candace did not answer. She was thinking very hard.

“I’d like to see it that way, but I can’t. I think he just held out against Barbara because of
Eve
—not because of any influence or money. He held out because—well, it’s the oldest of stories, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“... Love ...”

Rosemary stared at her incredulously. “Candace, you fool, you couldn’t think that—why, surely
you
can see—”

But Candace was still on her own trend, and interrupted any disclosure by Rosemary.

“It was Eve who brought him back from England in the middle of his studies. He was very keen, and it takes a lot to entice a man home under those circumstances.

“You know, Rosemary, I used to think it was
you,
not Eve. Eve thought so, too, on several occasions.”

Rosemary was staring wide-eyed.

“Me! Oh, Candace—”

“But it was you on board ship. You were always together.”

“You and John were together—” A sharp little suspicion flickered in Rosemary’s hazel eyes. She was silent a moment.

“It’s a great pity,” she said presently, “you didn’t do as Dad invited you—tell Ash about his decision to become one of Manathunka’s benefactors. I think it would have made a big difference in yesterday’s meeting. I believe it would have concluded with Eve’s triumphant smile completely wiped off.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Candace was recalling the night of the annual ball, and a man in an immaculate dress-suit, and a girl in flowing white. She remembered the low admiring words, the way he had taken Eve to the car—the embrace before they reached it. She remembered climbing to her room, suddenly very lonely.

Rosemary had dropped the subject, and was looking out of the window.

“This is
John’s
country.” Her voice was soft. It had a new note in it.

Candace glanced at her as though to say something. She changed her mind, and they were silent for most of the rest of the journey.

The mail plane came smoothly down and the girls collected their bags.

They stepped out on the long runway, and almost immediately John Buckland was upon them.

He was just the same, only even browner. Tall, lean, smiling, diffident. He said very little, and what he said he addressed to Candace. Apart from a muffled, “ ‘Lo, Rose,” Candace did not believe he even spoke to the girl.

Rosemary was not at all distressed. Indeed, she seemed more lit than ever with an inner radiance. She fairly danced to the Buckland craft waiting to take them the rest of the journey, and when John suggested a jeep run into Darwin, she shook her head and looked appealingly at Candace.

Candace, who would have liked to have added it to her list of towns, gave in regretfully.

“We’ll take you in through the week,” promised John, for all the world as though it was a bus trip from Kensington to the West End.

They circled the town, and John ran over the main street so that Candace could see it. He pointed out the wharf and port, then turned south-west towards Kemona.

Kemona meant “sitting,” informed John as within the hour they circled the Buckland station.

It was an apt name, thought Candace, peering down. It did not appear to be erected so much as to be sitting on a large platter of plain.

She was astounded, almost frightened, by the expanse of the Buckland property.

Kemona covered an area of one thousand square miles, and, according to John, was only “average-size.”—“Elsey is five times as big. Three million-odd acres.”

A jeep had come to meet them. The girls scrambled in, looking around eagerly.

It was different to what Candace had imagined. She
had expected
parched growth and barren soil, but there were sweet, short grasses and rather queer-shaped trees that John called bullwaddies.

The homestead followed the layout of Rosemary’s, but there were several cottages, not just the one.

“My brothers and their wives,” explained John.

He added shyly, “There’s one cottage waiting for me.” He said it to Candace.

Mrs. Buckland met them at the door. She was grey-haired, thin, and very direct.

“Now which is the girlie, John?”

“This is Candace,” her son answered. He pushed Candace forward, leaving Rosemary in the background.

It was a different world from Bibaringa. Vast as she had found Rosemary’s home, this place was to Bibaringa as London was to Leatherhead.

Candace smiled at her own comparison. It was a totally unsuitable one. But then she could never find the right words to describe the boundlessness of Kemona.

Rosemary took to it immediately. As she had asserted quite often to Candace, she always had preferred cattle, and now she recited with delight how many head were carried to the square mile, and the different varieties of overseas imports that had been introduced into the herds.

Candace was more intrigued with Mrs. Buckland’s household arrangements. She had many helpers, all aboriginal, but she warned her guest not to envy her as it was by no means cheap labour. “Fathers, mothers, young brothers and sisters, a few uncles and aunts, they all come too, and, of course, they have to be fed.”

That, thought Candace, was, in brief, the whole theme of Kemona. It was big and prosperous, but there were many to take their living from it. There would always be a good return, she decided, but only for honest work. It was not merely the background of a rich family, it was a centre of unremitting toil. She did not grudge the Bucklands their success.

The days sped by. There was so much to see, so much to learn. Air-lift was not being carried out at the moment. Probably next week John would be flying shorthorns to Queensland, but for the time being the herds were resting in ten-thousand-acre paddocks, watered by sub-artesian bores.

Candace met the Buckland wives, wishing for their sakes that Lady Charlotte had been in London, so that she could tell them more about the capital. They were eager for news of home. They always called it that, she noticed. Rosemary could have regaled them better than she could, but Rose was nearly always out in the jeep, or on horseback, never, willingly, in the confines of the house. Yet she managed the aboriginal women better than Candace. Where Ludy, Kitty, and Budgeree Mary just grinned blankly when Candace gave an order, they hustled obediently when Rosemary issued her commands.

Candace and Mrs. Buckland were firm friends by now. One afternoon James, the eldest son, took all the wives, his mother and Candace into Taralya.

It was an interesting outing, but Candace thought ruefully afterwards that she would not have strolled around quite so peaceably had she guessed what was happening at Kemona.

When they returned in the late afternoon the first thing James noticed was the empty hangar.

He questioned the boy, who smilingly stated that John Master had told Channy to round up some of the shorthorns, then they had put them on the craft, and he and young miss had gone off together.

Candace was amazed at the calm manner in which the Bucklands received the news.

All James said was: “Thought he wasn’t going until next week.”

Mrs. Buckland made no comment at all.

At dusk they heard the roar of a plane, then five minutes later the Douglas put down on the paddock.

James sent Channy out with the jeep.

“We only went as far as Manundo,” explained John.

“Stephens is there, and he’ll truck the beasts in.”

“You took Rosemary along,” said his mother.

“Yes,” nodded John, “we were married.”

It was several hours later, and Candace and Mrs. Buckland had come back from John’s cottage after getting it ready for the newly-weds.

Ludy, Kitty and Budgeree Mary found they really
had
to get into it this time, but they did it willingly enough, though with many giggles, for John Master and the new Missus.

It was typical of Mrs. Buckland that all she commented was a practical: “Well, it’s good to think he took the beasts in at the same time.”

Rosemary, for the breathless few minutes that Candace saw her, was equally unconcerned.

“Johnny said it seemed a pity to waste the trip just on us, so we mixed business with pleasure.”

“Rosemary, pinch me,” appealed Candace.

“Oh, it’s true enough, and if it’s any solace to you for not being my bridesmaid at a big city wedding, I’m terribly happy.”

“But I never dreamed—”

“Candace, darling, the moment I set eyes on John on the ship, I knew. He knew, too, but was too shy to tell me. Believe it or not,
I
was shy as well. It’s hard to credit in me, I expect, but with John—” She sighed.

“So John paired up with you, and I went with Stephen.

“Nothing was said until we parted at the airfield in Western Australia, John going north, our family coming east. It was then that Johnny—well, I can’t tell you. It’s—it’s one of our precious secrets. But we meant to think things out, and if
I
still felt the same as John believed
he
would feel, then—”

Rosemary became silent again in sheer bliss.

“You scarcely spoke to each other when you arrived here! You told me you had received no letter!”

“I hadn’t, Candace. That was one of our agreements. We were to think
really hard.
Come to a
decision.
As for barely speaking, as soon as I looked at John when we touched down at Darwin, I knew
I
was the same, and as soon as he looked at me—well, he was sure of
his
feelings. It was just like that.”

“Your parents, Rosemary—”

The bride smiled back at her.

“They won’t shed any tears. They did practically the same thing themselves. Daddy will be glad to have me settled. Mother won’t be sorry over not having a big reception. I think she won’t leave home so much now, unless it’s to come to visit me—
us.
You know, the city always secretly scared her.

“Oh, I’m happy—terribly, terribly happy, Candy. Darling, don’t stand there looking so glum. John and I will make a big donation to Manathunka, become donors like Father, as a rejoicing gesture. Would you like that?”