Bride in Flight (21 page)

When Auld Lang Syne had been sung, the dishes washed, the dining-room put to rights for the men’s breakfast, Simon stood silently waiting for her.

She said clearly, “Oh, do go on over, Simon, and let Lexie’s mother get away home. I want a few last words with Jimsy.”

He turned on his heel, left.

Jimsy walked across to the piano, closed the lid, turned and faced her, smiled.

Kirsty put out her hands, but Jimsy didn’t take them, she opened her arms wide instead, folded Kirsty in.

“Child, I nursed you so often as a bairn. It hardly needed your mother’s photo to tell me who you were. I’ve bided my time, kept my own counsel, felt some day you would tell me. But I couldn’t let you go back across the Tasman without telling you. You don’t have to tell me your reasons—they’re your own—but I meant what I said, it must have taken courage.”

“I must tell you, Jimsy. And thank you for believing in me when you didn’t know. I thought at the time all would come out in a day or so, that the masquerade would be short-lived. There is a lot I must find out, that’s why I’m going back.”

The only thing Kirsten omitted was that she had grown to love Simon.

At the end Jimsy nodded again. It certainly did take courage. “Now ... when you have cleared it all up, you will be coming back to us, lass? To Simon?”

Kirsty caught her breath. She might have known she would not be able to deceive Jimsy.

“No. He doesn’t want me to.”

“Doesn’t want you to? Why, the lad must be daft! What ails him?”

“The deceit, Jimsy. He can’t bear it. You know how it is with men. They like everything open and above board. He thinks I’ve put him in a terrible position. He despises me.”

“Has he just found out?”

“Yes. The day Edward Campbell was here. Fiona Campbell was the only one in New Zealand who knew. She recognized me, but kept quiet ... at first.”

“Then if he’s just found out, he’ll get over it. Give him a few days. He’ll miss you like nobody’s business. You’ll see. If you must go to clear this up—and I think you must—come back. Come back to me. I could do with an assistant.”

“No. I’m through with men. I thought Simon was bigger than he is. I don’t want him if he’s less. Gilbert made havoc of my life. I acted foolishly when my world fell to bits. I admit that. But unless a person had been through it, no one could know just how it numbed all feeling and reason. To be told within an hour of your wedding that your bridegroom was already married! No, it's back across the Tasman for me. Maybe I was wrong in thinking this was my country. I must go home now. I mean next door. I don’t want to break down, I want to deliver the children well and happy. The lights will be out any moment: I’ll write you, Jimsy. There are things I’d like to ask you about my parents. But not till I’ve cleared things up and found another job. Goodnight, Jimsy.”

The farewells in the morning were brief. They left as Simon left for work. For the benefit of the folk assembled to say goodbye, Simon forced himself to an unnatural friendliness.

She was completely calm, standing there in a brown suit he had never seen, a soft circular fur collar about her neck, the pale gold hair slanting across her winged brows, the brightness of the morning sky behind her. She was suddenly elegant, remote, departed from here already in spirit, he sensed. She extended a cool hand, shook his.

Lars said unexpectedly, “I think you will be back, myself. Yes, the forest will call you back. It is your right setting, little Kirsty. Your Norwegian ancestry.”

She laughed. “I’m afraid not. I’m returning to my own. To the gum-trees and the sugar-cane and the orange-groves.”

She got in beside Lucy, seated next to Henare in the driving seat. The children were in the back seat.

Numbly Kirsten watched the men go across to the work vehicles. Suddenly Henare got out of the estate car and went across to them.

Despite his low tone it was a savage one.

“You fool, Simon. You great, stupid fool. Letting her go!”

Simon turned on his heel and got into the truck.

Henare strode back to the car, got in, slammed the door, drove off.

Ruihi and Kirsty supposed Henare had forgotten some message about the contract.

Jimsy had let two whole days go by. She had viewed Simon’s despondency with a great deal of satisfaction.

Then at night when she was alone, she sent for him to come to her sitting-room. Henare fetched him and went away. He wondered what Jimsy was up to. She had the look.

Simon smiled in a detached manner. “Well, Jimsy, what can I do for you?”

Her reply almost knocked the feet from under him. “You can stop acting like a damned fool and tell me why you let that girl go back to Australia to face what she’s got to face—alone!”

He took a step back, looked furious.

It had no effect on Jimsy. “Now, don’t look like that, my lad, and tell me it’s none o’ my business. I know full well it isn’t, but I’ve meddled in other folks’ concerns all my life and I’m not going to stop now. How dare you let that girl meet that on her lone?”

His reply rocked Jimsy as much as her attack had him. His eyes shot blue sparks. “What the devil did you expect me to do? Offer myself as a co-respondent? For a woman who lied as she did? Who at the best must have given her marriage only a few weeks before running out on her husband? I happen to believe in the sanctity of marriage! What sort of world are we living in when even a woman like you can suggest such a thing?”

Jimsy stared, took a step or two backwards, sat down heavily. She kept staring.

Then she managed: “Husband? But she hasn’t got a husband! She fled
before
the wedding ceremony. She found out he was already married. The real wife rang her up, told her to cut and run. But Kirsty said you knew!”

The next moment Simon MacNeill was standing over er, shaking her shoulders, demanding, “What did you say? What in the name of tarnation are you talking about? She said—”

Jimsy, her breath recovered, struggled up, stood opposite him, arms akimbo. “
I
don’t know what
you’re
talking about. It sounds like a gigantic misunderstanding. Let
me
have the floor. Mrs. Brown, widow, doesn’t exist. She is Kirsty Macpherson, daughter of a one-time neighbor of mine, the author of that sing, and she’s the runaway bride the newspapers had the headlines about. Christine they called her, the name they gave her in the orphanage.

“She was dressed ready for the wedding when she got a ring from a Yorkshire woman who had just landed at Brisbane in search of her husband, Gilbert Brownfield. The woman said she’d contact the Brisbane police and try to reach Sydney by air. She advised Kirsty to run for it, to get away from all the publicity for a day or so. So she did. It happened that this was the second shock she’d had that day, but I’ll tell you of that later.

“Absolutely distraught by the end of the day, the day that was to have been her wedding day, mark you, she discovered the plane reservations for New Zealand in her bag and flew over here. She had to wear her wedding ring to pass as Mrs. Brownfield. She started to write that name on her entry form, you saw it and called her Mrs. Brown. She thought you’d never see each other again when you parted at Christchurch, so she didn’t contradict you. I’ve an idea you were the one who assumed she was a widow.

“She leapt at the chance of this job ... anyone would in her position, she had no references or anything. She thought we might even be beyond the reach of recent newspapers. It would give her that much breathing-space. Poor girl, she scanned paper after paper hoping to hear her action had been explained, that her bridegroom would be revealed as an intended bigamist, but she still doesn’t know what happened to that wife. She’s written to the girl who was matron-of-honor and whose husband is a lawyer, asking him to assist her to make inquiries. She’s going to give the whole story to the newspapers, bless her courageous little heart!” She glared at Simon.

He dropped into a chair, groaned.

Jimsy went across to him. “It’s a sore tangle, isn’t it! What exactly did you think?”

He lifted his face, said in expressionless tones, “I thought she
was
married. I found out she was no widow. I never connected her in any way with that bride. I thought she had left her husband. I told her I loved her the night of the rescue ... but we never had a moment to ourselves to sort things out. She said she had things to tell me. I thought they were to do with losing her husband. I thought it would upset her right after a gruelling experience. I made her postpone it. I dreaded it myself, didn’t really want to hear about the husband. If it gives you any satisfaction, Jimsy, I was more than a bit jealous, all stirred up about it. Then that day that crowd came here—the Australians—well—”

Jimsy said bewilderedly, “I cannot understand this. Wasn’t that the day Edward Campbell told you? How then
could
you think she was married? That was what cut
the lass to the heart. That you wouldn’t allow her to explain.”

“Edward? What’s Edward got to do with it? What could he have to do with it?”

“Kirsty said Edward had told you who she was.”

“How could he? He wouldn’t know.”

“Fiona Campbell recognized her from a newspaper photo the day you came through. They had only a few moments together before you and Edward appeared. Kirsty told her
why she had run, said it would be common knowledge soon, and Fiona promised not to tell. But Kirsty knew she hadn’t been able to keep the secret when, the day Edward was here, you called her a lying jade or some such.”

Simon groaned again. “He never said a word. If Fiona promised she would keep her word. She’s true blue, that one. It was one of the Australians. He caught a glimpse of Kirsty. Said to me when no one else was hear, ‘Who’s that? The dashing blonde?’ I was rather curt with him, said, ‘Mrs. Brown. A widow and my housekeeper.’ He put back his head and laughed and said, ‘Widow, my foot! Took you in, did she? She’s no more a widow than I am.’

I said ‘What do you mean? Her Gilbert’s dead, isn’t he?’ He said, ‘Gosh no, mate, he’s as alive as I am, and would be most interested to know what she’s doing.
And
furious.’ Then
I
was furious. I felt she’d put me in a very false position, to say the least of it, even if I hadn’t fallen for her.

“This chap was quite decent, taking it all round, said it was no business of his, perhaps he had better just keep it to himself, a chap did no good by butting in on an affair like this. Then the other fellows came up and I got no chance of saying anything more—or asking.

“It knocked the legs from under me. One moment I’d anticipated getting married whenever Kirsty decided she could in decency do so—the next I was disillusioned, cold angry. I didn’t go home for dinner. Remember I had it over here? Then when I got over home I just hurled accusations at Kirsty. I must have made them so ambiguously that Kirsty didn’t know what I was meaning. When I think of it! I gave her hell this last fortnight. And now she’ll be right in the middle of facing that alone. But I’ll get there. I’ll insist I have leave, if they won’t give it to me I’ll resign!”

Suddenly his face lightened. He jumped up, grabbed Jimsy. “You blessed old angel! I feel a heel, a positive brute ... but at least she isn’t married. That’s the glorious truth that’s beating at my brain. I don’t care what she did ... if she left half a dozen bridegrooms stone-cold at the altar, I don’t give a darn. The thing is that she’s free and loves me.” His face changed. “Or did. Jimsy, you do think she’ll forgive me?”

“She will, I suppose. We women are fools where men are concerned.” She relented, said more kindly, “Lad, she’ll understand when you explain. I’m beginning to see it myself. Only ... don’t hesitate. Pay an opening fee to the Post Office and get cracking. It would be quickest to fly to Hokitika, then to Christchurch, and back over the Alps to Sydney.. I won’t be happy till I know you’re together. If ever a lass went away with a broken heart, that one did. To be let down twice in a short time is almost beyond bearing. Only she’s taken such knocks in her short lifetime she didn’t go under.”

Simon turned away. “I know. It’s beyond thinking about. The things I said!”

He strode to the phone. Before he got to it, it rang. They both started. It was after exchange hours. Something must be wrong.

Jimsy motioned him away, lifted the instrument. She listened and a peculiar expression came over her face. “Yes ... yes, I can arrange for him to take the call. It won’t take any time. He happens to be here right now. How long? Upwards of a quarter of an hour? Yes, I’ll hang up, but we’ll stay right here.”

She turned round, said slowly, “Your guardian angel must be working overtime. I know this new Trans-Tasman cable is supposed to be good, but I didn’t realize they could get through here. Believe it or not, there’s a call coming through for you from Sydney. They’re going to do all they can to keep the line clear.”

A light flashed into Simon’s eyes, “It will be
her.
Jimsy, you do think it will be Kirsten, don’t you? She must have realized we were at cross purposes.”

“I think it will be Kirsty. Now try to contain yourself till we get that ring through, and for heaven’s sake, before she starts to say anything, get right in with your explanation—in brief, that you had no idea she was the runaway bride, that you thought she was parted from her husband. If you don’t I’ll snatch the phone from you and tell her myself!”