Sarah Thornhill (9 page)

He paused for a laugh and we all obliged.

The gardener came along and plucked me out, he said. Which was all well and good, only I left my breeches behind on a bush and never from that day to this could I have a rose in the room with me.

I saw that being ugly, Daunt had made himself handsome in this way, that he could tell a story, and didn't mind if it was at his own expense.

But not everyone was listening. Mary and Campbell had their heads together, having a conversation quiet enough to be private, and at the end of the meal she took me aside.

Mr Campbell told me, he's most interested to see along the river, Dolly, she said. Him and Mr Daunt. I told him we'd take them out on the horses.

Along the river, I said, but what's interesting?

Open your eyes, Dolly, she hissed. For God's sake.

I woke up then to how the land lay. Happy enough to have a ride, and good luck to her if she had plans.

P
HILLIP HAD
the horses saddled up out in the yard. Daunt was beside me, saw it was just the four.

Well now, he said. I'm wondering, Miss Sarah, if one of your brothers might not want to join us. Or Mr Langland.

He'd picked up what Mary and Campbell was up to, I could see, and didn't care to be paired off with me. Nearly laughed in his face, the idea I might want to set my cap at him! Went back through the house to where Jack and Pa had got settled on the verandah, puffing away on their pipes. It looked like Will and Bub had already made themselves scarce.

Mr Langland, you'll come with us riding, I hope? Daunt said. And Mr Thornhill, I mean your son, sir, if he can spare the time? Show us the lie of the land?

I thank you, Mr Daunt, Jack said. Thank you kindly. But Will's gone up the river on a visit and I'm happy here along with Mr Thornhill.

I did a thing with my mouth behind Daunt's back, to say
Rather be here with you,
but he wasn't looking. Smarting still, I thought, from Ma making a monkey of him in front of everyone.

You're a proud man, Jack Langland, I thought, and I love you for it.

Mary looked sideways at me when I pulled on the old pair of Bub's trousers.

Dolly! she said. Won't you be mortified?

You go for your life, Mary, I said. But damned if I'm going to act the lady.

Daunt led the way out along the track, his back swaying with the horse but his head as still as if he was balancing a glass of water. Had a riding master grander than Jingles the darkie, you could see that.

Some devil got into me and I touched my heels to Queenie so she took off. Past Daunt, along under the trees. Going at it like a feller, the wind in my hair. Only stopped when I got to the rocks where our place ended. Hadn't been past there, not since that day riding with Pa, but I could see the stain of smoke still hanging over the trees.

Daunt pulled up alongside, smiling, easy on the horse.

My word Miss Sarah, he said. You do have a good seat on that mare. And more sense than the majority of the ladies, if I might say so. The sidesaddle I've never thought had much to recommend it from the point of safety or sense.

His words were all right, though who needed so many to get a thing said? But I thought his smile had a flavour of mockery, was sorry I'd showed off.

Did you ride a great deal back in Ireland? I said. Or are you from the town?

No, a farm, he said. Though the tenants did the working of it. My father is a surgeon and it was thought I might follow in his path. But I was in earshot of an amputation at one time and it quite spoiled me for the scheme.

Might of been for the best, I said. I have heard say, New South Wales is so healthy a place it would starve a doctor.

Ah! he said. Now if I'd but known that, I'd have saved my father some heavy labour trying to talk me round!

I looked back along the track for Mary and Campbell. Wished I'd made Jack come with us, pride or no pride. We could of ridden along behind Daunt and had a high old time of it laughing at the way he rode so lovely with the glass of water on his head.

Daunt looked back too and met my eye for a glance.

And whereabouts would your place be, Mr Daunt? I said. Maitland way, did I hear you say?

In that general direction, he said. Gammaroy, that's the village not so far from my place.

Gammaroy, I said. Not heard of any place by that name.

A small place, he said. You'd not know it.

Still no sign of my sister and Campbell.

Gammaroy, he said. You know it's some distant cousin of the word the black natives have for the place. The closest that our English can get. As we've done in Ireland, you know.

Well, I didn't know, had not an idea in the wide world what he was talking about.

Take the Irish name for a place, he said. Mangle it into English. Glenmire you see as an example. We call it Glenmire but in the Irish it's—and then he said a word that did sound a little like
Glenmire
, but with more on the end, and a sort of hawk-and-cough thing in the middle.

Easier for us English, you see, he said. Make it something we know. As we did with Gammaroy.

He glanced to see if I was interested.

Now that I'd caught on to what he meant, I was. In all my fifteen years I'd never wondered where the name of a place might come from, nor ever met the kind of person who thought about such things. Made me ashamed, as Bub's old trousers didn't. The narrow ignorant life I'd led. Never been further than Sydney, never done anything grander than go to the Caledonian Hotel for dinner and catch a glimpse of the governor in a crowd, never learnt to read or write, not as much as my own name, or given a thought to why the things around me were the way they were.

My old friend the What Bird spoke from somewhere near and out of habit I pursed up my lips.
Dit dit dit dit dit?
Felt Daunt watching me. Think what you please, Mr Daunt! It was of a piece with the trousers and the galloping. A way of saying, this is who I am, an ignorant hobbledehoy colonial, like it or lump it. The bird asked the question again and Daunt cocked his bent eyebrow at me.

I'd say it's waiting for an answer, Miss Sarah, he said.

So I did it again,
Dit dit dit dit dit?
Daunt laughed and that made me laugh too so I couldn't say it, and every time the bird asked the question,
dit dit dit dit dit?
and I tried to answer, it set us off again. When Mary and Archibald Campbell come round the turn in the track, the horses hardly moving, we'd set up such a racket that our horses were turning in circles under us, wondering what the devil was going on.

Mary's cheeks were pink, her eyes lively.

What a fine step along through the way, Campbell said. A perfect paradise!

His face spoke for the pleasure he was taking in where he was and who was with him.

We'll go a step further? he said, letting the horse walk towards the rocks and the start of the rough track.

Oh no, Mary said. Nothing to see further along, is there, Dolly.

Campbell decided not to insist and I saw that these two were going to be all right. Mary sure of what she wanted, Campbell not a man to go against her.

Daunt led the way back, only not so sedate this time. Put the horse into a gallop, the way I'd done on the way out. I started Queenie after him but then thought better of it. It wasn't John Daunt I wanted to play any games with.

When we got back, somehow I couldn't find the chance to have a word with Jack alone. A scratchy feeling seemed to have started. As if what had been straight between us had gone crooked. But all through the cups of tea and the evening meal, he didn't meet my eye and one way and another he was always on the other side of the room.

Campbell and Daunt wanted to be on the road by dawn, and I yawned and carried on like I was worn out, so we all had an early night of it. I got into bed and made out I was asleep straight away, even though I had the feeling Mary would of liked to talk. Waited to hear her breathing change. When she was asleep, she breathed hard like she was indignant.

I slipped out of bed and went out into the hall. Daunt and Campbell were in the room across from me and Mary. Not a sound from there. Not a sound as I tiptoed past Pa and Ma's room. Rumbly snoring behind Will and Bub's door. At the end of the hall, the little cupboard of a room where Jack slept. I knew the door of that room, it squeaked if you opened it slow. I pushed it quick and got in and closed it behind me. The room dark as blindness. Heard a rustle from the bed.

Jack, I said, and groped my way through the air. Squeezed in tight with him.

Sarah Thornhill, he whispered, a warm puff of sound in my ear. What the devil you think you're doing?

Come here Jack, I whispered. Come right over here.

Even though in that narrow bed we couldn't of got any closer.

Laid my palm on his chest. Could feel his heart beating.

You're the only feller for me, I said. Know that don't you. Jack Langland, the only one.

What happened between me and Jack then was the most natural and lovely thing. The two of us melting into each other as if we'd always been the one. The bed was inclined to creak so we had to keep things small and tight. That and the dark made the feeling stronger. Nothing but skin and bits of arm and leg and the warmth that rises out of two bodies.

I knew all along Mary had it wrong. It was nothing like what the horses did. Not just
a bit nicer about it
. This was something different altogether.

Afterwards we lay wedged against each other, my head on his arm where the meaty part was, the muscle making a pillow for me. I could feel his skin moving against mine with every breath we took. It seemed I had more blood than I ever had before, roaring through my veins, the flesh pressing out against the skin.

I'd been only half awake all my life, only half alive. My body belonged to me now, joined up with me in a way it never had been before. I'd never imagined that a person could blaze like this, with bliss. Thought, I can die now. Nothing better will ever happen.

When I woke up it was still early but there was light enough to see. Propped myself on an elbow and watched Jack. His eyes were closed but I knew by the shape of his mouth, his smile, that he felt me watching him. There were the black eyelashes against the skin. The thick hair springing away from his brow. The fine hairs of his eyebrow, lying beside each other, tapering away to one. How did an eyebrow know to do that curve and lay that last hair exactly right?

I'd never need any other face but his.

His eyelids trembled and he looked at me. Touched my cheek with a finger as if I might be the tail end of a dream. That smile of Jack's, the way it made the skin round his eyes crease up. I couldn't leave off looking. All I could think was, this can be the rest of our lives. Together, all the years to come.

Never done anything harder than leave that bed. Like cutting away part of myself. Opened the door, remembering to do it quick. The hall was dim, but not so dark that I didn't see Daunt in a brown nightshirt at the door of his room at the other end. Coming or going, seen me or not seen me, I couldn't tell. It was only the blink of an eye. Then he stepped into the room and shut the door. I heard the click of the latch.

So quick, I wondered if I'd imagined him there. When I tiptoed past the door, it was as closed as if it had never in its life been open.

In our world of ordinary river folk, having a bit of experience with a man was no great crime. Not too many, man or woman, would have been new to the business when they got married. But I knew gentry had funny ideas about things. Be shocked, probably, at a young girl slipping out of a man's room.

That was all right by me. Made things simple with Daunt, if there'd been any thought of them getting complicated.

I went to sleep beside Mary and by the time I got dressed and went downstairs the gentlemen had gone. Good, I thought. Never have to meet you again, John Daunt.

I was sure you could see it in the room like smoke, the way Jack and me wanted to be near each other. That everyone would notice the difference in me. Wouldn't be the end of the world. Hurry things along, bring the future to us quicker.

But Ma glanced at me beside Jack and she didn't see. Pa had a way of watching Jack. He might of guessed. But behind his big seamed face who knew what he might be thinking. Whatever it was, he kept it to himself.

None of anyone's business. Just between me and Jack, and the privateness of it was part of the pleasure.

W
E HAD
a few weeks before Jack sailed again. If I had a bit of life to live again, it'd be that time.

I took him up to the cave, it had been my private place and now it could be ours. First time we went there he looked at the dipper, the teacup, the dusty things from my childhood.

Good as a parlour, he said. No doubt about you, Sarah Thornhill. One of a kind.

We sat on the edge of the rock, below us the roof of the house, the dark shingles, the whitewashed chimneys. Pa in the horse paddock with his pipe puffing smoke and his hands behind his back, watching the men heaving a fence post into a hole. The boy in the yard splitting the kindling, the
tock tock
of the hatchet coming up to us small and slow, as if through water. Someone called out, something clattered that we couldn't see, the bucket in the well that would be. Then everything quiet, and the gold light all around us.

Just the two of us together. The wind in the treetops, and the rock warm under our backsides. I'd watch the shadow of a branch move across my boot and over the sand until it bent down where the rock fell away. That was how long we sat. No room I've ever been in, in any house, anywhere, was half as lovely as that cave, looking out into the valley.

The waiting was nearly as good as what came after. Our bodies touching and the soft light moving round us. I'd turn my head and he'd be smiling sideways at me fond and soft, the way he did—oh, I can see it now, that tender look! Then he'd stretch out on the sand.