Trust Me (88 page)

A year had passed since she left the farm, and sometimes as she sat in her office making out bills, answering the telephone and keeping Stephan’s books and files for him, she had almost to pinch herself to prove this wasn’t a dream.

She had found a small room in Surry Hills on her arrival in Sydney, and as a temporary measure, until she found something better, she took a job as a waitress in a restaurant close to The Rocks. During her first month she was often filled with self-doubt, for the city she’d dreamed of so often back in Esperance seemed a lonely and frightening place. She would go and visit Rudie and Noël once a week on her day off, but she was determined not to rely on Rudie or any of his friends she’d met previously for company, she felt she had to make a life of her own. Telephoning Stephan was a matter of courtesy – she felt she owed it to him to tell him herself she’d left Ross, he had after all given her so much support and advice in the past.

Stephan was delighted to hear from her and insisted on taking her out to dinner to hear her news in more detail, and during the course of the evening he asked if she’d like to be his receptionist-cum-secretary.

Dulcie’s first thought was that he’d invented the job purely out of sentimentality, or even pity, but as it turned out that wasn’t the case. He really did need help, and as he explained, the very nature of his work meant he had to have someone entirely discreet and trustworthy, who would also empathize with his patients. He said he thought she was ideal for the job.

Within a week of working for him she knew it was her dream job. His system of filing was disorganized, he was very behind with sending out bills, and when he was with a patient he had to ignore the phone, which often upset the caller. It felt good to create order out of chaos, to work in a calm environment and to know she was making Stephan’s life a great deal more comfortable.

It was a long journey from Surry Hills to Rose Bay, so she found a tiny self-contained flat nearby, and as her working hours were far shorter than in the restaurant, she had long evenings in which to paint. It was also much easier to visit Noël and Rudie as it was only one stop on the ferry or a short bus ride.

Her feelings about Rudie were very confused. She felt she loved him, he dominated her thoughts constantly, but she was afraid too. Was she just a substitute for May? Was she chasing a dream because of Noël? Was she fooling herself it was real love the way she had with Ross? Sometimes she felt that her feelings would be clarified if she let herself go and went to bed with Rudie, yet this too was a problem, for she still clung to the idea that sex outside of marriage was wrong.

In many ways her moral dilemma was solved when she started proceedings for an annulment of her marriage on the grounds of non-consummation. It began with a medical examination to establish that she was still a virgin, and her solicitor warned her that right up until the annulment had been granted, if Ross decided to challenge it, she could very well be called for yet another physical examination. So she couldn’t let Rudie become her lover.

Rudie was so patient and understanding. He didn’t put her under any pressure or make her feel guilty, he seemed happy just with kissing and cuddling, and before long they were spending all their spare time together at weekends. Gradually Dulcie was able to see for herself that she hadn’t ever been a substitute for May, and big attraction as Noël was, it was his father she was falling deeper and deeper in love with.

Thankfully Ross made no protests about the annulment, agreeing completely with her statement and co-operating with the lawyers. Letters passed between them and although he didn’t sound exactly happy, he appeared resigned to his single status. Bruce reported he had spent some months drinking heavily, with morose periods, but that by the time the lambing season began in May he had bucked up and had begun making furniture again in his spare time.

Bruce had a new housekeeper now, an Italian woman called Maria who came in six days a week. He said she was fat, and slovenly compared to Dulcie, but she was jolly and an excellent cook. John had a new lady in his life, Maggie, a widow of thirty-eight with three children. Bruce said they often came to the farm on Sundays and it was good to have some kids around. He hoped John might finally take the plunge and marry Maggie because she was a good sort. As for Bob, he went on just as he always had, happy that he had a job and a home, asking for nothing more.

Dulcie sat down at her desk and checked the appointment book. The next patient wasn’t due for an hour. She had already filed all the patients’ notes from the previous day and sent out bills, so she really had nothing much to do now but take calls. This was Stephan’s home as well as his workplace, and she usually made them both sandwiches and coffee for lunch, which they ate in his kitchen at the back of the house. She always looked forward to that hour, Stephan was a fascinating man, and through him she had learnt a great deal about the long-term effects of an unhappy childhood.

This had helped her understand herself far better, to study and accept what had happened to her in the past, then put it away and look only to the future. Yet while learning all this, she could also see so clearly how for most emotionally scarred people this was almost an impossibility. Had May lived, it was unlikely she would ever have reached that understanding. Ross too would never be entirely cured. She often thought about the other girls she had known at St Vincent’s, the boys at Clontarf, Bindoon and other orphanages, and knew that for the vast majority of them their lives would be lonely, deprived and fraught with personal problems.

‘Dear Stephan,’ she murmured to herself. ‘What a lot I owe you!’

She would never forget the day in August when she came in to work and told him the annulment of her marriage had been approved. He was standing in the hall, and as she told him he came forward and hugged her, the first time he had ever done such a thing.

‘This is the real start of your new life now,’ he smiled, his eyes all sparkly through his glasses. ‘You’ve shed your skin, now you can grow a new one.’

‘What sort of skin shall I have?’ she joked. ‘Will it be sophisticated or arty, or maybe the skin of a serious-minded secretary?’

‘You can be all of those at once,’ he laughed. ‘It can be mink, satin, silk or tweed, whatever you fancy. You’ve got so many talents you can even have ones you slip on and off to suit the moment.’

‘I feel I ought to celebrate the shedding of my old skin,’ she said. ‘How would you recommend I do that?’

He looked at her for a couple of seconds. ‘Well, Miss Taylor, in my capacity as a friend, employer and past “shrink”, I’d recommend getting laid.’

Dulcie giggled. Like the hug, such personal remarks were out of character for Stephan. ‘Oh really! Just like that!’

He smiled. ‘You know Rudie’s been waiting patiently for a very long time. I would imagine you’d make his day, or even his year, if you rang him and suggested a candlelit dinner for two.’

‘Maybe it would have happened anyway,’ Dulcie murmured to herself. ‘I’m sure I didn’t really need Stephan’s permission to go ahead.’ But she smiled and sat back at her desk reliving that delicious, wonderful night.

She had arrived at his house at seven-thirty to find the living-room lit up with dozens of candles, the table laid with flowers and crystal glasses, fire lit, a wonderful garlicky smell wafting out of the kitchen and The Kinks’ ‘Tired of Waiting’ playing.

‘So you’re tired of waiting!’ she said with a grin, for though Rudie had a passion for English pop music, she guessed he had selected that one specially.

He only laughed and held out his arms to her. ‘It’s wonderful news that the annulment’s gone through, I’m so happy for you that all the beastly stuff is over.’

She sighed happily and kissed him passionately.

‘Umm,’ he said when they eventually came up for air. ‘That one had more than hope in it, more like a green light.’

Dulcie giggled. ‘I’m starving, what’s for dinner?’

‘My most famous culinary masterpiece,’ he said. ‘Bœuf Bourguignonne, liberally laced with red wine and brandy. I have also made a pudding which I’m told is guaranteed to keep you in my clutches for ever.’

‘Then I shall be wary of it,’ she laughed. ‘But I’ll just nip upstairs and take a peek at Noël first.’

As she went through her old bedroom, Dulcie paused for a moment. She had stayed the night here many times since coming back to Sydney, and so often she had lain awake, wanting Rudie with all her heart, yet afraid to get up and go to him. Her idea that sex before marriage was wrong appeared to be so very old-fashioned now. Almost every day she read in the papers that young people in England and America were challenging the old rules of morality, they had sex casually with anyone they pleased, smoked pot, went to weekend-long pop concerts and wore outrageous clothes. A pill had been invented to prevent pregnancy, and though at the moment it was only for married women, soon single girls would be able to have it too.

Australia was catching up as well. Young people were flocking off to visit Europe, coming back with tales of hitchhiking across the entire continent, of the wild boutiques, discotheques and bed-sitter lands of London. It seemed strange to Dulcie that the parents of these youngsters had left Europe for Australia looking for a superior way of life, and now their children believed Europe was Utopia.

She went in to see Noël. He slept in a little bed of his own now, the once bare room full of toys of every description, the walls bright with jolly posters. She thought how different it was for children now, compared to how it had been for her generation. No war, no rationing, a huge variety of food, almost every family had a car. Things like television and washing-machines were no longer luxuries but essentials.

He was a real little boy now, he spoke as well as an adult, could count up to twenty, do simple jigsaws, and knew his books so well he pretended he could read them. She bent over him, stroking his dark hair out of his eyes, admired his peachy skin and his long eyelashes. When she thought about May now, it was never with sorrow or bitterness, only gratitude that she’d passed Noël over to her. He liked a centre-stage position just like his mother, and with his looks and happy disposition, he’d probably keep it.

‘Sleep tight,’ she whispered and kissed his cheek. ‘I love you.’

The dinner was superb, and the pudding Rudie claimed would keep her in his clutches for ever was a pavlova filled with raspberries, passion-fruit and cream. They left the dishes on the table and lay on the rug in front of the fire, drinking wine and kissing with sweet soul music playing in the background.

Their clothes just seemed to come off by magic – one moment they were rolling together fully dressed, the next naked – and even though Dulcie had seen Rudie stripped to shorts dozens of times on the beach, it was a thrill to caress those broad shoulders, the firm muscles in his arms, and feel the smoothness of his skin at last.

It was the kind of love-making she’d imagined in her dreams for so many years, unrushed, sensual and so loving that she felt she just might die from ecstasy. He stroked, sucked and kissed her breasts so tenderly it brought tears to her eyes. His fingers explored her vagina with such delicacy that she cried out for more. He unleashed feelings she never knew existed, made her feel wanton and utterly desirable.

It seemed shocking that a man would want to kiss and lick her in such intimate places, but it was so wonderful she lost all her inhibitions and found herself reciprocating too, wanting him to feel the way she did. It did hurt a little when he finally entered her, and the moment was marred slightly by him stopping to put on a sheath. But the knowledge she was at last losing that virginity which had caused so much hurt and disappointment in the past more than made up for the discomfort.

‘I love you, Dulcie,’ he said, holding himself away from her marginally and looking right into her eyes. She could see his love for herself, those dark eyes soft with tenderness and adoration. ‘Nothing will ever come between us now.’

He plunged into her, his hands holding on to her buttocks, his breath hot on her face. Dulcie gloried in it, rising to him to take him further and further into her. She felt complete now, a real woman.

Later, as they lay together in front of the fire, the candles gradually flickering out one by one, he spoke of how long he had loved her.

‘I think it began when I read your letters to May,’ he said. ‘Angry as I was that she had lied to me about so much, I found a picture of you forming in my mind. The oldest letter was the one you sent after you’d been to visit May at St Vincent’s and heard about your father’s death. You were being cautious in what you said, and I guessed it was because your previous letters hadn’t been passed to May and you knew that one would be read before it was given to her. Yet you managed to convey such concern for her. In the later letters sent to the address at Peppermint Grove I learned so much more about you, I knew you were generous, loving and with a great sense of humour too. There was a description in one of a football game you’d gone to with Bruce and John. I was almost there, hearing all the spectators honking their car horns when someone got a goal. You were obviously more interested in watching the crowd than the football!’

Dulcie laughed. ‘I was always bored stiff by the men discussing football. That was the first and last game I ever went to. So what did you think of me when you met me off the train?’ she asked.

‘My first impression was that you were like Bambi, all big-eyed, sweet and fragile. I didn’t expect that. I’d somehow built you up in my mind to be taller, stronger-looking, even a bit stern. I was nervous then, I thought I’d made a mistake enlisting your help, that you’d crumple when I told you what May was doing. But you proved me wrong.’

‘What did you really think when you got the message May had skipped off?’ she asked. This was something she’d never put to him, and it seemed important now.

He looked faintly sheepish. ‘The very first thought was that I’d opened a can of worms I was never going to be able to close. I was as scared as you must have been. But what made it better was you. I hadn’t expected you to be so practical and unhysterical. I knew then fate had stepped in for both of us.’