Haunted Creek (9 page)

Erik interrupted. ‘It was my fault, I took advantage of a weak moment … please forgive me, Rose. But I was so afraid for you.’

‘I should never have gone near them. Oh, Erik, thank goodness you were here!’ He had saved her life, she knew that. The dogs would have pulled her down in another minute or two. Rose was feeling guilty, but the less said, the better. ‘We’ll forget about … the last five minutes, shall we?’

‘Let me see the bite,’ Erik commanded and she rolled up her sleeve. Her arm was bruised, but luckily the skin was not torn through the thick winter jacket. ‘Thank goodness. Dog bites are serious,’ Erik said, almost shakily. ‘It’s a good rifle, isn’t it? I shot him with the last of the light. Any darker and I’d have been afraid of hitting you. Then I’d have had to shoot one of the others, but it might have been too late …’ He broke off.

‘You are a very good shot, Erik,’ Rose told him, trying to stop shivering. ‘But why are you here?’

‘Because I followed you, of course. But not closely enough. I should have stopped you …’ So that was the movement she had sensed behind her tonight. And on other nights, too. She’d been shadowed without knowing it, protected by a man who had never
let her know. The thought was humbling, and also alarming; this was a type of generosity she hadn’t known before.

‘But why did you worry about me?’

Erik laughed, a little exasperated. ‘I just wanted to make sure you reached home, where at least you can lock the door. I’ve always followed you when you came to see us alone. Freda and I decided that we should try to look after you if we could. But of course it wouldn’t have been proper to walk beside you – you’re a
married woman
.’ There was bitterness now in the deep voice. ‘You wouldn’t have allowed it.’

‘Oh, Erik, how kind you are!’ Rose’s knees were weak and it was not just the effect of the dogs. Erik was still holding her hand and she had to fight hard not to sink back into his arms. ‘But you shouldn’t – we shouldn’t …’

‘But don’t worry, Rose, Freda knows, it’s not a secret or anything.’ He sounded embarrassed. ‘I suppose it’s rather upsetting for you to think you’ve been trailed, but it was for the best, as we found out tonight.’

It was darker now but the moon had risen, lighting the bush with silver. Erik’s face as he looked down at her was full of emotion. ‘Rose, you’ve got to be more careful. We should have let you go earlier. It was my fault you were so late.’

In her head Rose heard Luke’s warning.
It’s not like Kirkby, you know
. ‘Usually, I am careful, but I have to move about. I can’t stay in the hut for ever!’

‘I’m not blaming you – many women wouldn’t stay there on their own.’ Erik sounded grim. ‘We didn’t like to frighten you but it can be dangerous – there are lots of things to go wrong. Some of the miners are very rough, and then there are the eucy men who don’t like settlers … the dogs of course … even wombats can be savage at times. I know you’re brave, Rose, but you’re a woman and quite a small one. You …’ He turned away. ‘Oh, it’s nothing to do with me. You belong to Luke.’ His voice very low, he added, ‘Worse luck. If you were free, things would be different.’

She had just realized how different things could have been. Rose put out her hand and touched his. ‘Please don’t worry about me, Erik.’ Her own emotions were bubbling over again, just as when she first met him. But shock was no excuse for being unfaithful to Luke.

‘Somebody should,’ the man said savagely.

No doubt it was shock that had affected Erik too, and broken down the proper distance between them. This was far deeper than her conversation with Jim. Luke’s mate had been kind and concerned, had told her she was a pretty girl, but with a lightness that made it easy. With Erik she felt that they were getting into deep water.

‘Luke will soon be home and you will soon have a wife to look after.’ She tried a laugh; it was rather wobbly. ‘I don’t know why you haven’t been married years ago, Erik. A man like you….’

Erik gave her a look that would linger in her memory, a long look. ‘I will never forget tonight, but I promise you it won’t happen again. I will always remember that you are a married woman, and so will you.’ He held her hand warmly in his. ‘Brave and beautiful dark Rose.’

So this was what it was like to love someone. Too late, she had found out what love could be. As she walked with him down the track, Rose knew she would have to be stronger than ever. The best thing she could do for Erik, the test of real love, would be to keep away from him, to keep barriers between them. Eventually, he would find a girl of his own.

E
RIK INSISTED ON
going home with Rose, right to the door, swinging along beside her, disturbing and reassuring at the same time. Little was said. The nightmare of the dog attack and the emotions that followed had left her drained, numb with shock.

The sheep were all dead and Rose’s dream of a farm was fading, but she had survived. It was strange to realize how near to death she had been for those few minutes. The bush was hostile, beautiful but deadly, no place for a woman. The forest where she lived was dangerous – and so was thinking about Erik.

Lying sleepless in bed that night, nerves twanging like piano wires, Rose thought about her situation. This was why it was wrong to marry a man you only hoped to love, because there wasn’t much to hold you together. If she had really loved Luke she would never have felt this devastating emotion, this secret delight that Erik seemed to care for her. She mustn’t make too much of it because he was kind and thoughtful with Freda and everyone else – even Luke. It was just the loneliness, she told herself, for both of them, and the emotion of the night, but she would have to keep her distance from Erik. Luke had often made sly remarks about Erik talking to Rose; he must have sensed some sort of bond between them.

It was vital to make sure that their marriage worked out for good. Once they got the farm running, she and Luke would have their memories to share and also their children to bind them together. The baby would be something they had in common and he might think more of his wife if she produced a fine son for him.
Immature village lads grew up to become proud fathers often enough.

Before she slept, Rose remembered that she had to take a sewing class at the school the next day. It did not seem quite so frightening as before. She would have to face Erik again, but the sooner she did it, the better. She thought it might be hard to get back to the easy friendship they’d established, but there had always been undercurrents of emotion. Now she knew he had felt them too.

The next morning Rose dressed wearily, but with care. There must be many people in the world who fell in love with the wrong person and had to forget about it, to pretend it was never there and to deal with it every day. Of course it was worse in a small
community
, where you had to keep on meeting.

In time you would get used to that hidden part of yourself, the possibility that never had a chance. Once again, strength was needed. It would stay hidden for the rest of her life. Rose
concentrated
on the job ahead as she walked up the track to the school.

Six little girls and a boy sat waiting for her in the school sewing room, none looking very keen. The boy was Charlie, Martha’s son, and he obviously resented being in the sewing class, especially as the girls were laughing at him behind their hands, tittering like little birds. Rose took her time in getting out the needles and thread, working out her approach to the class. When everything was ready, she looked calmly round. ‘Let’s just talk for a while about what you’d like to do when you grow up,’ she began and the class sat up with interest.

‘You’re not going to make us sew?’ Little Lottie peered up at Rose. ‘Mrs Brown made us sew all day and rapped our knuckles. It hurt. We hate sewing lessons.’ Her mouth was set in an obstinate line, ready to hate the lesson.

Rose had arranged the small tables so that the class sat in a circle and she was part of the group. She had helped with teaching back in England and had some practice in the village school, but it had
never developed into a real job. ‘What would you like to do when you grow up, Lottie?’

The child fluffed out her golden ringlets. ‘I want to go to concerts and play the piano, in a beautiful dress. I’m taking piano lessons,’ she said proudly.

Rose smiled at her. ‘If we work hard, you will be able to make your own beautiful dress,’ she promised. ‘In time, of course. We can start with smaller things and work up to a dress. But by the time you need it you will be really good at sewing and you will be the best dressed girl in Wattle Tree!’

There was a silence. Would she have a rebellion on her hands? ‘Miss, I’ll do it,’ said Lottie after some thought and the other girls eventually agreed that they wanted to make pretty clothes, but did not want to be rapped on the knuckles. They were promised there would be no knuckle rapping, no punishment at all if they did their best. They would get as much help as teacher was able to give. They thought about this.

‘But, Miss, I always prick my fingers and get blood all over the sewing,’ another girl moaned. ‘It hurts, too.’

‘Some people learn more quickly than others,’ Rose explained. ‘It took me a long time to learn to sew. Just give yourself time and don’t be impatient, or afraid if you make mistakes.’

To convince them, Rose showed them some illustrations of dresses that Freda had cut out from magazines. She told them that her own dress was made in several evenings and they admired the fine stitching. ‘If you’re not careful enough with the stitching, it might come undone. The stiches might all unravel and then your dress would fall down.’

The little girls shuddered theatrically, but Charlie sniggered. ‘Then the boys will laugh at you,’ he said. Charlie was not quite with them, as yet.

The atmosphere gradually changed to that of a working party. Lottie was going to have competition as the best dressed young woman in Wattle Tree and the girls set to work on their handkerchief
squares to show Mrs Teesdale that they could hem quite well, really they could, and they were ready for the next stage.

Charlie Carr sat with his arms folded. Every line of his young body let teacher know that he was not going to sew hems to please anybody. ‘Charlie, what would you like to do when you’re a man?’

He looked at Rose suspiciously. ‘Why d’you want to know?’ Then he relented. Mrs Teesdale would tell his mother if he gave her a hard time in class. ‘I’m gonna be a drover, take cattle all over Victoria. I’ll have two horses and three dogs. I’ve got one pup now, as a start. My dad says it’s a good way to see the world.’

‘Well, Charlie,’ Rose said thoughtfully, ‘you will be camping out under the stars, far away from the towns, I suppose?’

‘We will. I’m not scared,’ Charlie agreed.

‘Just suppose your trousers got torn while you were working … your spare pair got wet in the river. You’d feel a bit silly without trousers, wouldn’t you, if you couldn’t do repairs? A good drover can round up cattle, mend a rope and maybe shoe a horse and he can sew up his shirt or pants if he needs to. It happens all the time,’ Rose told him, speaking as a great authority on bushmanship. ‘But you’ve got to know how to do it.’

Charlie looked away. ‘All right. But I want to sew a shirt, not a silly bit of lace. Please Missus.’

Mrs Jensen was consulted and an old shirt of Erik’s was sacrificed to the cause of education as Charlie got to work, frowning in concentration.

At lunchtime, Rose was eating her bread and cheese when a large figure loomed in the doorway. Erik came in and looked round, but the pupils were all outside. He sat down beside her and gave her his heartwarming smile. ‘Can we still be friends, Rose, in spite of my bad behaviour?’ His shirt was blue and exactly matched his eyes; Rose saw him in a shimmer of light. This man had saved her life and was apologizing for it. How like him.

The teacher brushed crumbs from her dress, wondering what to say. Her heart was thumping. The low winter sun was slanting
through the windows and turning Erik’s hair to gold. She would be stronger than ever before.

‘I’m not sure. We must … stay apart. We both know the …
situation
. We have to ignore it. For ever.’ Rose faltered at that and she saw by his face that Erik was with her, feeling just as she did, but devastated.

‘I’m so sorry … I should never have let you know that I love you.’ Erik’s low voice was almost a whisper. ‘And now I’ve lost what little I had of your company.’

‘It’s not your fault, I … don’t blame you at all. And remember, you saved my life. Thank you, Erik.’ She managed a smile.

Erik heaved a huge sigh. ‘You’re a brave woman, Rose. I didn’t sleep last night, thinking of how badly I had treated you. My dear, I won’t do it again.’

They sat for a while in silence as Rose’s pulse rate slowly subsided and excitement gave way to a deep depression. She was going to lose a friend. Her whole heart went out to him, longing to comfort him.

‘You know, I think Luke should teach you to shoot,’ Erik said as he stood up.

‘Not much point, is there? He takes the gun when he goes away.’ Rose bit her lip. ‘But he knows I don’t like guns.’

‘I can’t believe it. All the sheep are dead? How could you be so careless? I hope they didn’t starve or run out of water?’ Luke paced up and down the little room.

His homecoming, long awaited, was less than happy; there were so many things to explain about the two months he had been away. ‘Here am I, slaving away at the hardest job known to man, and you let the breeding ewes die. I give up.’ He slumped on the bed. ‘They were the start of a good flock.’

Luke had guessed immediately he saw her that a baby was on the way; it was beginning to show. They had both changed. Luke was thinner and grimmer than before, with taut, hard muscles. Rose
would have liked to cook him a good dinner to welcome him home, but she had no notice of his coming. In fact, she had been at the school when he arrived home that afternoon. It was not a good start.

‘Wild dogs killed the sheep, Luke. They’ve been a menace here for some time, people say. They go for small calves, of course, and cows when they’re calving and helpless. And they go for sheep.’ Rose paused. ‘You must have heard them howling at night, although you’ve never mentioned them to me.’

‘Well, you must have done something different. They never came close when I was here. Did you throw some meat out in the bush or something that attracted them?’ Luke was evidently
determined
to blame her, but Rose had decided not to tell him the full story. He would not like to hear that Erik had been involved.

Without meaning to, Rose sighed; she was feeling weary. ‘Luke, I have had hardly any meat since you went away.’

‘Sounds as if you’re sorry for yourself. Well, let me tell you cutting wood is harder than sitting here. So this baby – when is it due? I suppose it’s mine, then?’

Rose felt her heart sink, a physical feeling; his words were like a blow. Luke was so hostile she wondered whether they could ever be happy together. ‘I don’t think you mean that.’

‘Maybe not, but when a man goes away he wonders sometimes what his wife gets up to. I’ve heard the others talking….’

Rose’s patience suddenly snapped. She had always tried to turn Luke’s bad temper away with soft words, but not now. ‘A man has no right to go away and leave his wife to fend for herself in a place like this! I will not put up with it any longer, Luke. You must stay at home and build a house, and let’s be sensible and make some progress.’

Luke flung on his coat and went to the door. ‘You won’t tell me what I must do! I’m going down to the All Nations for some decent conversation and maybe a better meal.’ All she’d had to give him was cheese and potatoes.

Luke came back the next day with a sore head and apologized and Rose managed to get him to give her the money he had brought home. He also shot two ducks and they had roast duck for dinner.

The next week, Luke made an effort to be pleasant and Rose thought she felt a hint of spring in the soft breeze, a sense of hope. She watched a parrot with a scarlet head and bright green body pecking seeds on the ground with the hens, so different from an English bird and not so shy. ‘It’s time to go to the sewing class,’ she said to Luke and he nodded.

‘You enjoy it, don’t you?’ he said affably. ‘Just as long as you don’t spend too much time with big bad Erik.’ He still harped on about Erik, but she was used to it now and ignored it. She pushed away the thought that he was partly right.

Erik and Rose gradually managed to talk to each other again, but warily, not quite as before. Rose felt the danger and she was
determined
to fight it. There was plenty to talk about and ideas to share with Freda, and Erik sometimes joined in. The shaky, excited feeling gradually gave way to a calmer one. She had to stay calm, for the baby.

Sometimes the Jensens lent books to Rose. It was a new world and her mind grasped it eagerly. Only sometimes when Erik looked at her with laughing eyes, or saved something special to show her, she felt a fierce longing for something that could not be.

When Freda told her casually one day that Erik was interested in a girl in Moe, Rose felt a stab of jealousy. It soon gave way to guilt. She had hoped that the onion selling trips would pay off for him, hadn’t she? He was not hers, could never be hers and she was glad that he might be on the way to finding a wife. It would ease the feeling of tension she sometimes had with him. She hoped that his wife would be good enough for him, but his private life was nothing to do with her. This must be how he felt about Luke.

Rose was very proud of her garden that spring, and the little orchard she was starting. The fruit trees blossomed and the
vegetables
were a welcome addition to their diet. Sometimes when mist hung in the trees near the creek she thought about the dark people and wondered whether they would come back. Life was good, Rose felt well and it was even better when Luke started to make
foundations
for a new building. The long-awaited house was on the way and he took advice from Bert Carr, who had just finished building their house on the hill.

One day when Luke had gone over to Carr’s to borrow some tools, Rose went down to the creek for water. It was warm and the trees were shimmering in the heat. She bent to the water and when she straightened, two Aboriginal women were looking at her. She thought it was the same ones she’d seen before, but the baby was not with them.

‘Good day,’ she said uncertainly, not wanting to frighten them. ‘Are you fishing?’

‘Yabbies,’ one of them said, and they both laughed at her puzzled expression. ‘They’re crayfish, you know? Yes, we speak English. We were at the mission over there,’ the younger one continued, ‘but no good. Too many rules! So we went walkabout.’