A Greater World (11 page)

Elizabeth felt herself shrinking and took a step backwards.

The woman narrowed her eyes. 'What's up? Get on with it. Get yourself up on the table. I haven't got all day.'

'It doesn't look very safe? Or very clean?' Elizabeth was speaking in little more than a whisper.

'Bugger off then - you poms are all the same. Always moaning. If you want clean, white sheets, then cough up and get yourself a bloody doctor. The price you're paying me is the same as all the working girls round here pay and you'll get the same service they do. I'm risking the law to do this. When you're desperate you can't be fussy. So make your mind up and stop wasting my time.'

Elizabeth jumped as she felt something warm brush against her legs. She looked down to see one of the cats rubbing itself against her ankle. A wave of nausea came over her and she stumbled to the doorway and out into the dark of the evening, gulping for fresh air.

Peggy Little looked up and smiled as she entered the room. 'Couldn't go through with it? I'm not surprised, my love. She's not a nice woman that Mrs Reynolds and it's not a nice thing to do. Dangerous too. There's many girls die. I did warn you.'

'It was horrible. It was so sordid. Her little boy was there and seemed to act as if it was normal and he was used to what was going on.'

'Well, she's kept busy at it. She used to be on the game, but since she had her little lad I think she's concentrated on helping out girls that way.'

'The place was filthy. The instruments she was going to use looked horrible. She was going to do it on the kitchen table with the dishes in the sink and the cats eating scraps off the floor. It was disgusting.'

'I don't like to say it, love, but I told you so!'

'What am I going to do now? I can't go through with what she wanted to do to me but I can't have a baby either!' Then she remembered that her panic over the baby had not removed the other looming problem – Jack Kidd and his intent to marry her in just a few days.

'I'll tell Mr Kidd. He won't want to go ahead with the marriage when he knows I'm carrying another man's child.'

'Are you crazy Elizabeth? You'll do no such thing. You must marry him. You'll need a father for the child. Don't tell him. Say the baby came early. Men often don't get these things.' She pressed on. 'You have to do it. Otherwise what'll become of you? You've no money and no family and once you have a child you've no means of working. No, my love, in time you'll give thanks that Jack Kidd came along when he did. Every cloud has a silver lining.'

'I can't pretend the baby is his.'

'Worry on that when the time comes. You aren't showing yet – by the time he finds out it'll be too late for him to do anything about it.'

Elizabeth played with the corner of the coverlet, creasing it back and forth between her fingers. She weighed the older woman's words. With a new, hard edge to her voice she said. 'You're right. I have to marry him. I have no choice. I'll soon have a child I can only feel loathing for, so why not a husband I loathe too? It's almost fitting.'

'Don't say such dreadful things, dear. I'm sorry about what's happened to you, but it's not the baby's fault. Don't take it out on an innocent child. God bless it.'

'Don't be sentimental, Peggy. A man I hate forced this baby on me. I'll never look on it with anything other than revulsion. It'll be a constant reminder of the man and the humiliation and pain he put me through. It'll be easy enough for me to pretend that the child is Kidd's as I hold him in contempt too.'

As she prepared for bed that night, Elizabeth looked in the mirror and saw a new hardness in her eyes. The sad young woman who had stepped off the ship was now determined. The unquestioning optimism that had once characterised her was gone. She found it hard to imagine a time when she had woken each day without a care beyond what clothes to wear and who would partner her in a game of doubles. It was even harder to imagine that she had once had hopes for a future that was contented, if vaguely defined. Now her future was a life sentence she had to serve.

She slipped between the crisp cotton sheets, thinking about Michael Winterbourne. He was not the type of man she had been used to meeting in the drawing rooms of Northport. Many of those young men had gone off to fight the war and many, like Stephen, had failed to return or, like his friend Randolph Archer, had come back broken men, now closeted away because of "nervous troubles". Elizabeth had been saddened hearing the news of each, but in death they had become shadows, fading with each passing month. Even Stephen.

Her relationship with Stephen had been affectionate and close. She had believed it was love, but she knew now it wasn't. Her feelings for him had never involved the longing and need that she had for Michael. She had not known what it was possible to feel for someone, until it was too late.

She imagined Michael in shirtsleeves, walking across a field in the sunlight, his arms strong and his stride purposeful. It was hard to see him in an evening suit sitting in a box at a concert or sipping tea from a china cup. Yet she knew there was a depth to him. It was in his eyes - it was plain that he had lived through a lot, had suffered and was still suffering inside. The other men she had known lived life on the surface, inhabited the everyday world of commerce and social intercourse, never moving beyond these confines. Their talk was of politics, war and cricket, a ritual exchange of platitudes, never revealing what they really thought or felt. They discussed plans and ambitions, but centred on actions and events, never feelings or emotions: so it was hard to believe that they had any. Michael's emotions were exposed, raw and visible. The hurt was in the lines that furrowed his brow, the longing and hope in his eyes. She could not have done anything to avoid being drawn to him. And the pain he was going through at what had happened to his brother made her heart ache. She wanted to comfort him, reassure him, tell him how much she loved him.

She would never see him again, nor enjoy a moment's happiness with him. But she could never be disappointed or hurt by him. He could be hers forever in a way that no one could take from her. She could not change what had happened, wipe out the memory of Charles Dawson, nor escape a lonely future as the wife of Jack Kidd, but she could build a refuge inside her head and share it with Michael Winterbourne.

Chapter Eight – A Wedding

The wedding service was mercifully brief. Peggy and Fred Little witnessed the ceremony and Molly was a charming but rather inappropriate last-minute addition as a bridesmaid, carrying a small bunch of daisies plucked from the pots that graced the guesthouse windowsills. Elizabeth would have preferred to conclude the matter without an audience and the presence of the little girl and her evident excitement at the romantic ideal of a wedding was almost unbearable. She herself carried no flowers. Her dress was a simple green silk shift, one of the few garments stuffed hastily in her suitcase by her sister. She wore it under her woollen coat as, when the sky clouded over, Sydney could be surprisingly cold. As if in acknowledgement of her own low spirits, it was a day of heavy cloud, with a bitter wind and driving rain.

Jack Kidd wore the same ill-fitting suit he had worn to the funeral. From the way he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, it was apparent that he couldn't wait to be released from it. Elizabeth avoided looking at him and whispered her responses so they were barely audible. She sensed him beside her and heard the heaviness of his breathing. When he placed the ring on her finger, she had to turn towards him, and she shivered as he held her hand ready for the ring. His hand was cold and dry, with callused fingers and dirt beneath the rough-edged nails. She glanced at his face, which was impassive. The wrinkles around his mouth and eyes were white against the tan of his leathery skin. She shuddered at the thought that soon she would be required to share a bed with him. There was no avoiding this either: not if she were to pass off the child as his.

There was no wedding breakfast. Kidd was keen to get on their way. The journey would take two days and he wanted to waste no time. Elizabeth was relieved: standing around making small talk with the Littles held no appeal. What would in normal circumstances be a joyful event was the start of an indefinite prison sentence. Despite Peggy's good intentions and efforts at kindness, Elizabeth didn't linger over her goodbyes. A new life lay ahead. It might not be the one she wanted, but she might as well get on with it. There was no going back.

They left Sydney in a pony and trap, the rear of which bore their luggage, such as it was. In Kidd's case, there was just a large canvas roll and in Elizabeth's, the bag her sister had packed. Her unplanned departure from England meant she had been ill-prepared for Australia, and the few garments she had were unsuitable for the life that lay ahead of her in the mountains. She mused on what it might hold for her as they trotted along in a silence for which she was grateful.

From time to time she glanced sideways at the man beside her, but his expression was closed and he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His jacket, necktie and collar were consigned to the back of the trap in a heap under her luggage, and the top buttons of his shirt were now undone, under the protective cover of a large sheepskin coat.

After several hours, the road left the plains and snaked its way through densely packed trees, curving with the line of the mountains ahead. The increasingly cold air was full of the scent of eucalyptus, which had an unchallenged dominance of the region. Mrs Little had told her that her journey would take her over the Great Dividing Range, into the Blue Mountains and that these had got their name from the blue haze that covered the hills. The road they were traveling on had been built with convict labour, in an engineering feat of about sixty years earlier, that was still the pride of New South Wales.

Few motor cars or other vehicles passed them on the road, which took them through several settlements, but Kidd showed no sign of stopping. He swigged from a water bottle, which he handed to her, signalling silently that she could take a drink if she wished. She shook her head. Thirst was preferable to putting her mouth around the bottle after his. She leaned against the wooden seat and let the motion of the trap and the steady clop of the pony's hooves lull her to sleep.

She woke with the realisation that they had stopped moving. The light had faded into dusk, so she must have been asleep for several hours. Kidd had unhitched the pony from the trap and it was a few yards away, feasting on a patch of grass by the roadside. Kidd was coaxing a fire, over which he had hung a frame to support a billycan. Elizabeth walked a short distance along the road ahead. The trees gave way to a space where the darkening sky was visible in a broad sweep. They were on the side of a ridge or plateau but the night was descending fast and she could only just make out the mountains, black against the dark grey sky. She would have to wait until morning to see if these mountains were as beautiful as Mrs Little had claimed.

Kidd called to her that the tea was brewed. When she reached him he spoke for the first time since they had left the city. 'I've made the brew. But it's the last time. That's your job. I like it strong with three sugars.' He handed her a chipped enamel mug with a dirty piece of string attached to the handle. 'Wash the things afterwards in the stream over there.'

He took up his own mug and walked away to sit against the trunk of a tree, curling back into his silence. Elizabeth sat down on the grass, leaning against one of the wheels of the cart as she sipped her tea. He had added sugar and she wrinkled her nose in distaste, but made herself drink the hot liquid. She realised she was hungry. She had eaten nothing since the slice of dry toast she had forced down that morning and then thrown up.

She finished the tea and walked over to collect Kidd's cup. 'Where we will be staying tonight, Mr Kidd?'

'Here. After we've eaten. There's some jerky and bread in the bag in the back. Fetch it here. Washing up can wait till morning. But do it quick. I want to move as soon as it's light.'

'We're not taking shelter in a guest house? We've passed quite a few.'

'I'm not paying to stay in someone else's house.'

'We can't sleep out in the open and there's no room on the trap,' she said.

Kidd jerked his head at the back of the cart and the rolled up pile of oilcloth.

'You mean we're to sleep in a tent?' There was disbelief in her voice.

'No tent. Under the stars in a swag.'

'What about wild animals? Where do I wash? Change my clothing? I can't sleep in the open.'

'Welcome to Australia, your ladyship. Wash down there in the stream. Water's cold, mind.' He pointed to where the ground sloped away under the trees.

Kidd unrolled the canvass swag bag, spilling a mix of pots, pans, boots and assorted items of clothing onto the ground. He showed her how to arrange the swag, the calico cover acting as a ground sheet with a couple of blue blankets on top and the clothing rolled into a makeshift pillow. Elizabeth shuddered at the prospect of sharing that grubby and likely uncomfortable sleeping accommodation.

After their meal of cold jerked meat, bread and another mug of strong tea, which in Kidd's case was supplemented with a large tot of whisky, he belched loudly then walked a few yards away, turned his back and urinated noisily and copiously. The man was a savage, but the sound of him made her realise she needed to relieve herself too, so she walked back down the road, out of his sight and hearing. Struggling to adjust her underclothing, in the now almost impenetrable darkness and chill air, she wondered what she had come to.

She looked around to see if there was some way she could avoid taking her place beside Kidd in his swag. She thought of lying down in the cramped space at the back of the trap and covering herself with layers of clothes, but Kidd called out to her:

'Get over here, woman. I'm not waiting all night. We've an early start tomorrow.'

Elizabeth reminded herself that she could not afford a delay in consummating the marriage, if she were to pass off the baby as Kidd's. She unlaced her boots and slipped under the rough blue blanket beside her husband, trembling with dread. Almost immediately he began to snore. She sighed with relief and tried to sleep herself. She shivered in the cold of the cloudless night, aware of the unfamiliar sounds of the bush. Terrified that a strange animal might come and attack them, she lay rigid beside the sleeping man, staring up at the stars. The constellations of the Southern Hemisphere were different from the stars she had grown up with. It was indeed another world and she was far from everything familiar. About to cry, she reached in her pocket and found Michael Winterbourne's handkerchief. Holding it in her hand she felt calmer and turned on her side, her back to Kidd and at last slept.

Sleep was short-lived. Kidd was pressing up against her, his body curved into the spoon of her back. His erection pushed against her and then his arm was over her, pulling her onto her back. He was half asleep. It was the middle of the night.

Consummating her marriage to Jack Kidd was a short-lived ordeal. He unbuttoned his trousers, pulled down her undergarments, spat on his hand and after rubbing it quickly between her legs, climbed on top of her. She closed her eyes and whispered 'Don't hurt me' then with a few thrusts it was all over. He rolled off her onto his side with his back to her.

After a couple of moments he echoed her words, ' "Don't hurt me" – that's rich! I've bought second hand goods.'

Before Elizabeth could respond, his snores were permeating the quiet of the glade. She lay on her back and watched the stars. The first day of her married life was over. But Kidd knew she was not a virgin and would surely find out she was having another man's child. How stupid she had been to think he could be deceived. If he found out she was pregnant, he might throw her out. Only a few days ago she dreaded marrying him and now she was afraid of being abandoned. What would she do with no means of supporting herself and a baby? Her mind was in ferment as her anxieties crossed the divide from thoughts into dreams.

When she woke next morning, Kidd was nowhere to be seen. The sky was lightening and the clouds were tinged with pink. She scrambled to her feet and gathered the cups and plates they had used last night and headed over to the stream. The ground fell away in a steep descent. In front was a panorama of mountain ranges and valleys. A sea of eucalyptus trees covered all but the vertical sections of mountain, breaking the cragginess of the rock face. Over it all there was a hazy blue canopy, a sapphire mist. It was so lovely a sight that she wanted to cry out.

Australia was a beautiful and wild country. For the first time since leaving Trevelyan House, she felt hope and a sense of purpose. There on the edge of the mountain, in front of the vastness of the scenery before her, she squeezed the white cotton handkerchief and imagined Michael standing beside her, his hand holding hers.

Her daydreams were interrupted when Kidd shouted. 'Get a move on, woman.'

They resumed the journey in silence, the pony plodding on along the road through the mountains, passing small settlements and farmhouses, but never stopping.

Elizabeth stood on the threshold. The gloom of the interior contrasted with the brightness of the day outside, but the darkness could not hide the disorder of the place, nor could it mask the smell of mildew and rotting food.

Kidd had gone. He had dumped her in front of what was to be her home and with a crack of his whip and a mumbled statement that he would be back the following day, guided the pony and trap on down the dusty road towards what she presumed was the nearest town.

It was a large, single storey, wooden dwelling, with a makeshift veranda. It looked as though someone had tried to enhance the appearance of the place by tacking on the veranda decking, but had become bored or called away to other tasks before the job was completed. The wood was untreated and the railings only partly inserted, so it was sad and dilapidated. There was a hole in the planking where the wood had rotted and someone had put a foot through. It was hardly more than a hut: to call it a house was an act of generosity.

Elizabeth turned her back on the building, lacking the strength yet to face what might be inside, and surveyed the land surrounding the property. A well-worn dirt path led to a shed at the side that was probably a stable for the pony. There was another hut with a tin roof and a metal water pump. Between the house and the rough track Kidd had driven off along, there was a tangled mass of brush and a stretch of earth thinly covered in browned grass. Even to her untrained eyes it was clear there had been no rain for a considerable time.

At the back of the house the paint was cracked on the wooden slats and around the window frames. There was a water butt and a tree-trunk with a rather rusty axe embedded in its surface. Against the back wall was a pile of logs covered in cobwebs and a collection of long-dead bugs that looked like wood lice. The scrub stretched for a few hundred yards, before giving way to a dense growth of gum trees. Elizabeth walked back to the front of the house and looked in the direction Kidd had taken, but there was no sign of other dwellings, just the dusty track, a sea of scrub and the ubiquitous eucalyptus.

She moved her bags onto the veranda from the side of the track where Kidd had dumped them. Taking a deep breath and covering her mouth with her handkerchief, she stepped inside, leaving the door open. As she entered, there was a scuttling and scrambling. Mice, or worse, rats. Or more likely possums. She stepped gingerly across the room towards where she thought a window might be. The shutters were just a few boards hammered together and held in place by a bit of string tied at each side to a large nail. They were evidently intended to serve in place of curtains as well. She untied the string and lifted them down from the window. As the light forced its way through the grime of the windowpane, she looked around in disgust.