Song of the Spirits (32 page)

Zoé eyed the animal critically. “I hope you don’t intend to bring that mutt into the house.”

Elaine felt a wave of anger swelling up inside her.

“She’s no mutt. She’s a Kiward border collie. They are the most celebrated sheepdogs in New Zealand. The people of Christchurch even wanted to make a monument to Friday, her grandmother. They descend from the Silkham collies, which are famous throughout Great Britain.” Elaine drove the point home. “If only every immigrant had such a pedigree.”

Zoé’s lovely face twisted into a grimace of rage. Elaine had not wanted to offend her personally—her remark was meant as a joke—but Zoé had evidently not had the most respectable ancestors.

“I don’t want animals in the house! And nor does John!” she informed Elaine.

Elaine bristled. If Zoé wanted to fight for dominance…

“Thomas and I will have our own rooms, of course,” she said. “I will arrange those as I choose. You may as well know that I don’t like flouncy valances.”

Silence reigned in the chaise for the next few hours. Elaine concentrated on the beauty of the landscape. At first, the road followed the lake, but then they turned off and crossed a plain in the direction of Arrowtown. The grassland was similar to that of the Canterbury Plains, though the land was not as wide or as flat and a greater variety of vegetation grew there. It was a center of sheep breeding—or at least was supposed to become one—before a sheepshearer named Jack Tewa found gold almost thirty years before. Gold miners had been flocking to the area ever since, and the town of Arrowtown had grown quickly. Elaine wondered if there really was gold in the passing streams and rivers, whose bucolic wooded banks looked so inviting.

Thomas had told her they would spend the night in Arrowtown, but in reality they rested at a sheep farm whose owner the Sideblossoms knew. The house had little in common, however, with either Kiward or Lionel Station. It was simple, and the guest rooms were tiny. The owner proved to be, like virtually all farmers in New Zealand, an excellent host nonetheless. Garden Station lay rather far from town, after all, and visitors were rare. Elaine did her best to satisfy Mrs. Gardner’s need for news from Queenstown and Otago, even though she was not especially in the mood to chat. Indeed, she was both exhausted after the journey and fearful of the upcoming night with Thomas. Her husband had hardly exchanged a word with her, either that morning or during the trip, and even now, the male Sideblossoms conversed exclusively with Mr. Gardner. The women kept to themselves, and Zoé was no help at all. She ate the proffered food without a word. Elaine’s fatigue and anxiety prevented her from eating much of anything as she regaled Mrs. Gardner with her stories. Finally, Zoé asked permission to retire. Elaine joined her only too willingly. Mrs. Gardner looked a little disappointed, but showed herself understanding.

“Of course. You must be tired after your wedding, child, and then off on this journey straightaway. I remember being a newlywed like it was yesterday.”

Elaine was afraid that a lengthy paean on the delights of marriage would follow, but Mrs. Gardner seemed to be implying something
else. When she brought water for washing up, she nonchalantly placed a jar of salve next to the washbasin.

“You may have some need of this,” she said, averting her gaze. “I make it myself, out of pig fat and plant extracts. I have marigolds in my garden, you see.”

Elaine had never touched herself before in her nether regions, but when Mrs. Gardner left, she reached for the jar of salve, and, her heart pounding against her chest, began rubbing the raw places between her legs with it. The pain eased instantaneously. Breathing a sigh of relief, Elaine undressed and collapsed onto the bed. Thomas was still drinking with Gardner and his sons—he appeared to be as skilled at holding his liquor as his father—and Elaine fell asleep. That, however, did not save her. She woke up, aghast, and screamed in terror when someone grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her onto her back. Callie, who had fallen asleep in front of the door, barked loudly.

“Make that beast shut up,” Thomas growled.

Elaine saw that he had already undressed, and he was holding her tightly. How was she supposed to go out and calm the dog?

“Lie down, Callie! Everything’s all right!” Elaine tried calling out to the dog, but her voice sounded so terror-stricken that she would not have believed herself. And her dog had a fine sense for her moods. Thomas released his wife, walked over to the door, and punished the dog with a swift kick. Callie whined but continued barking. Elaine no longer feared for herself alone but for the dog as well. She sighed with relief when she heard Mrs. Gardner’s friendly voice in the hall. She seemed to be leading the reluctant dog away. Elaine thanked heaven for her hostess and lay still obediently as Thomas turned back to her.

He did not bother with any caresses that night. He simply thrust into his young wife without even bothering to undress her, pulling her nightgown up so violently that it ripped.

Elaine held her breath to keep from screaming—it would have been mortifying if the Gardners heard her. But it did not hurt nearly as much as it had the night before. Furthermore, the salve facilitated Thomas’s thrusting. That night, he only entered her once and fell asleep immediately afterward, not even bothering to withdraw from Elaine’s
body. She could smell his sweat and the pungent stench of whiskey. He must have drunk a great deal. Elaine vacillated between fear and disgust. Would he wake up if she moved out from beneath him? She had to try, as she thought she wouldn’t make it until morning in that position.

Finally, she gathered all her courage and pushed Thomas’s heavy body to one side. Then she rolled out of bed as quietly as she could, felt for her dressing gown—an elegant article from Dunedin that she had ordered with images in mind of cozy breakfast scenes with her beloved spouse—and slipped out of the room. The toilet was downstairs near the kitchen, and she heard quiet whimpering coming from within. It was Callie. Elaine forgot her original destination, opened the kitchen door, and followed the sound of the plaintive voice. She eventually found the dog huddled in a corner of Mrs. Gardner’s pantry. Elaine fell asleep there too, but fortunately, she woke up before dawn. She hastily closed Callie in again and snuck up the stairs. Thomas did not notice a thing. He was still sleeping as before, lying across the narrow bed, snoring. Elaine pulled a blanket out from under Thomas and spent the remainder of the night curled up on the floor. Only when Thomas began to stir groggily did she curl up on a corner of the bed.

If things went on this way, she would die of lack of sleep. Elaine felt wretched. Mrs. Gardner’s sympathetic looks the following morning did not help at all.

“Take that ointment along with you. Oh, and let me write the recipe out for you real quick,” she said good-naturedly. “It’s a shame that you won’t give me the little dog there in exchange. Such a nice animal. It would help us out a lot.”

In her panic, Elaine almost considered giving her Callie; then the dog would at least be safe. She had feared that Thomas might seriously injure the dog the night before. But she was sure she would find some solution to the problem on Lionel Station. Instead, she considered writing her grandmother Gwyn a letter. Surely there was a Kiward collie that Mrs. Gardner could have. They just needed to see about getting
it there. But arrangements could be made. Elaine would have given her kind hostess almost anything that day, even the crown jewels.

The day passed similarly to the previous one. They were following the trail in the direction of Cardrona and climbing higher into the mountains; there was even still snow in places. Elaine, just as weary and sore as before, was freezing in the chaise. She had not thought to unpack her winter coat. Finally, the driver her father had sent—a bright, redheaded young Irishman—stopped to look for blankets and furs in the trousseau he was pulling. Elaine warmed up but nevertheless sighed with relief when they finally reached the hotel in Cardrona where they were to spend the night. It was a simple, low wooden structure with a bar that women were prohibited from entering. Elaine and Zoé were not even permitted to warm themselves at the fireplace, but had to go straight to their rooms, where a maid served them warm beer and something to eat. Elaine drank as much of the beer as she could, despite the fact that it tasted terrible. Aside from a little wine, she had never drunk much alcohol before, but she recalled Daphne’s message: alcohol could make it all go more easily.

Unfortunately, the beer did not have the desired effect. On the contrary. That night was the worst she had yet had to endure, for Thomas came to her almost directly after their arrival and was not drunk. Elaine hoped at first that this would make him more patient and gentle, but she trembled at his mere touch. To her horror, that only seemed to arouse him.

“You’re adorable when you play hard to get,” he said. “I like this a great deal better than that nonsense you were trying before. It suits my innocent little country girl.”

“Please, no!” Elaine backed away as he reached for her breasts. She had not yet completely undressed and was still wearing her corset, but that did not seem to bother him. “Not like this, please… Can’t we be a little… nice to each other first?”

She blushed under his mocking gaze.

“Be nice? What do you mean by that? Some little game? Did that whore friend of yours teach you something? That’s right, don’t try and deny it. I asked around about your acquaintance. So how do you want it? Like this?”

He ripped open her corset, threw it on the bed, and kneaded her breasts. It hurt, and she pulled out of his grasp, but he only laughed and moved to thrust himself into her.

“Or would you prefer something wilder? Maybe like this?”

Elaine whimpered as he turned her around.

Men and women normally looked at each other as they did it, Inger had said. What could possibly be normal about this?

Over the course of the next few days, their path took them out of the mountains. They made good time and it grew warmer. Grass once more grew between the rocks. Yellow and white spring flowers pushed their way out of the ground, unwilling to match Elaine’s cheerless mood. She knew from her first trip that the landscape around Lake Wanaka was even lovelier than that around Queenstown. The rocks did not descend so abruptly into the lake, and there were beaches and forests by the shore. For the first time since Elaine’s wedding, the weather was beautiful, and the views of the lake magnificent. The lake was a deep blue, with a beach nestled up against it and imposing trees reflected in the water. It appeared to be completely void of people. That was an illusion, however, as the township of Wanaka lay nearby. It was a small town, comparable to Haldon near Kiward Station, only in a much nicer location. The Sideblossoms crossed Wanaka early that afternoon, but then followed the Cardrona River in the direction of Lake Hawea. It was a detour, but this path led directly along the lake through the mountains, and was one of the few roads that could be managed with vehicles.

They spent the last night of their journey in a farmhouse on the Hawea River. Elaine was finally allowed a break there. The men got so drunk on the whiskey that the Irish farmer distilled himself that
Thomas could not even find his way to bed. Elaine finally slept the whole night through and was in considerably better spirits for the last stage of the journey. However, she become increasingly nervous as they approached her new home. Had she really ridden through this unpopulated mountain landscape on her first visit to Lionel Station? The area was gorgeous—the beauty of the deep-blue lake competing for attention with the splendor of the mountains—but she had not caught sight of a house or any sign of human habitation all day. Elaine finally faced the truth: even if she had her horse at hand, it was a full two-day ride from Lionel Station to Wanaka. What she had failed to registered before suddenly became undeniably clear: John and Thomas, Zoé, and perhaps a few workers were the only white people she would see for months at a time.