The Coral Tree (11 page)

Cary got up. She inquired too evenly: “That is all, then, Doctor?”

He said briefly: “Good morning, Miss Porter,” and, getting up, he went and opened the door for her.

There was a waft of light perfume as the girl passed him by. It was frail and flower-like, oddly sweet and suitable to the clear day. Suitable, too, to this fair, fresh, uncluttered young woman.

Had Julia used fragrance like that? he thought. Had she too been outwardly kind and sincere and lovely?

“You, too, will love Julia
...
” He read the words in his twin
’
s letter again. Had Gerard still loved her, he wondered drearily, as he had run out into the street and—been killed?

All at once his face was in his hands and his hands on the desk.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CARY RANG Sorrel after she had returned to the hotel.

“How soon can you start earning a weekly salary, Sister Browning?”

“Cary, you
’
ve done it; you
’
ve cajoled permission.”

“It was not exactly that,” said Cary dryly. “No cajoling was needed, Sorrel.”

“You mean they—at least Mr. Stormer—greeted you with open arms?”

“I don
’
t mean that, either. I
’
m simply accepted because aftercare homes are not very prevalent in this country, and any attempt to open one, even my poor attempt, is not to be sniffed at.”

“Who said it
’
s poor?” protested Sorrel indignantly.

“Doctor Stormer implied it, and quite openly doubted my purity of purpose in proposing to do it.”

“Did you find him hard but thorough, as I said?”

“I found him hard.”

“But thorough?” persisted Sorrel.

“I expect so,” agreed Cary unwillingly.

There was a pause.

“Don
’
t think, Solly,” Cary began again, “that I
’
m saying that he is hard simply because he is thorough. I expected thoroughness. I wanted it. But”—taking a deep breath—“I did not expect flint.”

“Oh, well,” said Sorrel cheerfully, “the main thing is we can start.”

“Yes, and at once.”

“Equipment?”

“Can be ordered from Sunset. I
’
d like to buy as much furnishing as I can locally. I want to win local support. Also, I think it best for you to look around with me up there to add your suggestions. I have made a list, and I have the Bokkers
’
list, but another opinion
would clinch matters.”

“What of the children? When do we receive them?”

“We
’
ll discuss that after you
’
ve looked over the bedrooms. Don
’
t forget we
’
ll be having varying ages and both sexes, so all that will have to be gone into as well.”

Sorrel agreed. “There won
’
t be any trouble filling the place, that I can promise,” she said sadly to Cary as she had said once before. “Why, I could gather a dozen this afternoon even from my old training hospital. You
’
re right about discussing it first, though. When can we start?”

“Tomorrow
’
s plane. It
’
s quicker than train, and we
’
ll only be taking personal luggage.”

“I’ll
be ready,” said Sorrel. She found out the time of departure and promised to be out at Mascot the next day.

Cary spent the rest of the afternoon with Mr. Farrell. They added up items, discussed salaries, came to financial agreements, and finally Mr. Farrell saw her out, wishing her well.

“You must come in every time you
’
re down, Miss Porter.
”

“You must come up. I suppose, as my supplier of golden eggs”—and Cary smiled—“you
’
ll be doing that, anyway.”

“If I find the opportunity, I
’
ll be happy to. But in the meantime, of course, I must call upon Doctor Stormer to supply the reports.” Cary froze. She was about to tell Mr. Farrell that her project was as good as doomed then, but stopped. She could see the reasoning in the solicitor
’
s answer. It was only natural that he must depend on such a source. If only, she thought futilely, emerging once more into the street, my fate was not in such prejudiced hands.

The Western Slopes plane left at three the following afternoon. Sorrel
’
s parents brought her out to Mascot, and the four of them sat in the airport lounge trying to fit a friendship into a few minutes, and, thought Cary, succeeding extraordinarily well.

The journey, so long by train, was accomplished by air in an unbelievably short time. Soon they were stepping out at a satellite and getting into a coach that served five districts, Sunset the first of them, and half an hour later they were being greeted by the eager O
’
Flynns.

At this season the days were very long, so the two girls could have reached Clairhill before dusk, but Cary wanted Sorrel to see it in natural light; she did not want her to be prejudiced by windows still nailed up and lighting still dependent on oil lamps or candles. She wanted everything in readiness by the time they arrived.

But even, nailed windows and candles would not have prejudiced Sorrel, she suspected later. The nurse loved the place instinctively right from the start. Even the overgrowth of the undergrowth did not dismay her, the dingy-washing look of the yellowing walls. She
’
s seeing it with fresh eyes, thought Cary, and that is how I must see it. I must see it
w
ithout the ghosts of Ian
and
Megan and Alison in it. I must see it as it will be when our vision—Mrs. Marlow
’
s vision, mine—is fulfilled.

She and Sorrel chose and established themselves in their bedrooms. Cary elected to remain in her old room, and Sorrel said she would do fine in the equally small but snug one next door. “That will leave the very big bedroom free for our
‘
guests
’
,” she smiled.

“Good,” breezed Sorrel, “that makes a first forward step.”

They decided on four beds in that room, three in the other. Downstairs, the reception-room was to be turned into a dormitory to sleep five. “If they
’
re bigger nippers we can put up a dividing screen to match the bed-covers, but if they
’
re littlies they can all go in together,” said Sorrel.

She did not entirely approve of Cary
’
s plan to close in the veranda. “There is hot weather here, too,” she reminded. “Why not close only one end?”

“None of it will be enclosed,” said a cool voice, and both the girls turned sharply.

In their absorption they had not heard the man
’
s approach over the thick turf and his silent mounting of the shallow steps.

He stood leaning almost indolently against a railing, and though he looked at both of them, Cary knew he was addressing her.

“Even special glass, if such was the idea, is not as beneficial as the sun
’
s own rays. These kiddies will be needing more than their share of Vitamin D.”

“Mr. Richard Stormer, Miss Sorrel—Sister—Browning,” murmured Cary perfunctorily. Already, she was thinking resentfully, he is making good that threat of the watchful eye. Aloud she reminded as coolly as he had: “What about
cold
weather, Mr. Stormer, and don
’
t tell me that it doesn
’
t exist? I
’
ve lived in Clairhill longer, I believe, than you have in Currabong, and I know the winters can be hard.”

“I suggest a sun-trap in a northerly aspect. Presumably Miss
Porter, you are like most women and don
’
t know the points of your compass, or, if you do, don
’
t bother to acquaint yourself with aspects before you stumble in with orders that should be quite the reverse. In summer, for instance, the way you would have this veranda a child would not only get uncomfortably hot, he—or she—would cook.”

In his usual unhurried manner he had been rolling a cigarette. He offered it to Sorrel, and she accepted, bending near him for the spark from his lighter.

“That
’
s unusual,” she said, looking at its setting. “Opal, isn
’
t
?”

“Yes. Australia is the opal-hearted country, didn
’
t you know? Shame on you, Miss Browning. Miss Porter here is well aware of the fact, and she is only a planted flower, not a home-grown one.”

Cary was silent. She was conscious of the fact that he was speaking of Jan Luknit and the little pin she had given him. She felt contemptuous that he could consider her small action worth even a passing comment.

The telephone, which had been connected once more, rang at that moment, and Cary excused herself and went indoors. It was the local general store telling Clairhill that the material that had been selected had been brought down from the store-room. “Seventy yards,” said Mr. Mallarkey.

“I said forty,” protested Cary.

“And I say seventy,” said Mr. Mallarkey. “A gift from the firm.”

When she had thanked him she returned to the veranda. Richard Stormer and Sorrel were deep in conversation. It was not the cold parry with which the doctor always spoke to her, it was cordial, interested, that of any man and any woman in friendly accordance. So he does not dislike all women, thought Cary; he dislikes me. For a moment she stood regarding the couple. They made, she thought, a fine pair. Both dark, both tall, both strong and capable, both slender, but with the slenderness of physical discipline and good health.

Sorrel noticed her at that moment and included her in the circle with her quick, wide smile. With reluctance Cary rejoined the group.

“The doctor flew up,” the nurse said eagerly. “He tells me he always flies.”

“How otherwise,” asked Stormer, “could I maintain that watchful eye?”

He straightened himself from his leaning position and putting his fingers lightly under Sorrel
’
s elbow led her further along the veranda. “There,” he indicated, “is Paul.”

“Paul?” It was Sorrel who asked it. Cary still stood deliberately and stubbornly out of sight of the craft.

“Come again, Peter; fly away, Paul,” explained the doctor; “or is it the other way about? My first venture, a Firefly, was Peter; so the second, a Skyfarer, had to be Paul.” He laughed almost boyishly. It seeme
d
odd to Cary that he could laugh like that, could remember a childish couplet. It seemed, in him, out of place.

“Don
’
t tell me you
’
d forgotten, Nurse,” he was chiding. “I
’
m not so sure myself, but I know there was a Peter and a Paul. Perhaps you had better have Miss Porter add a book of nursery rhymes to your essential equipment. Can
’
t have the nippers mixing up Jack Horner with Boy Blue. I expect”—turning to Cary at last, his dark eyes flickering, as he note
d
how she had not changed her position and come, as Sorrel had, to view the plane— “that all the essentials have been ordered by now.”

“I think so.” Cary
’
s voice was as clipped as his own. “Of course there are the medical supplies.” She glanced towards Sorrel, whose avenue this was.

Doctor Stormer, however, kept his eyes on Cary. “And those, it appears,” he said coldly, “have been left as an afterthought.”

“Nothing of the sort; I only held them over until Nurse could tell me just what she wanted.”

“Then shall we see now?” He was looking at Sorrel, leading her indoors. There was something unmistakable in the way he opened the door for her, then shut it deliberately behind him
.
It was, thought Cary, not just a closed door, but a closed corner. In there is not my territory, she thought, and he is telling me so. With a shrug she went down the steps and along to the stalls.

Sorrel and Richard found her still there an hour later.

“The list is pretty formidable, but necessary,” Sorrel grimaced. “Do you think Mr. Farrell will stand it?”

“It Doctor Stormer says so, I
’
m sure he will,” said Cary blandly, “since it
’
s the doctor to whom he will be referring for my progress reports.”

“You mean the reports that will bring in the flow of money,” put in Stormer just as blandly. “That, of course, is all-important.”

“Most certainly it is,” laughed Sorrel. “A girl has to live, and I
’
ve
been out of work too long.”

“Miss Porter, too, must be feeling the pinch,” suggested Stormer, “or is she the type who is soul, not body, an
d
thus unneedful of the weekly pay envelope?”

“It will be fortnightly,” said Cary, in a voice so level she could not credit it was her own.

“But a
pay
envelope,” he insisted.

Cary turned and ran her fingers down Molly
’
s soft nose. She did not answer.

“This is the only angle of the scheme that I dislike,” admitted Sorrel. “Horses, ugh!”

“You don
’
t ride?”

“I don
’
t ride, drive or willingly stand within fifty yards, of them. I have tremendous admiration for anyone who does. Cary is marvellous.”

“Of course, but then she is the brave and courageous type.”

“She certainly is as far as I
’
m concerned.” Sorrel had missed the sarcasm in his voice, and was looking at Molly with patent distrust.

“Any ideas as to how you
’
ll go about all this?” Stormer asked it perfunctorily of Cary, nodding his head at the stables.

“I
’
ve written to Mrs. Bokker.” Cary felt her cheeks going absurdly pink. Almost she had said “to Jan.”

“Of course,” she added, “there will have to be gym preparation first.”

“You have ordered the gymnasium equipment?”

“I believe everything has been ordered now that you and Sorrel have come to an agreement regarding our medical needs.”

“So everything has been attended to. It now only needs the grounds put in order”—his eyes took in the untidy gardens—“a coat of paint, then the glossy press can step in.”

“Will they?” asked Sorrel eagerly.

“Why not? It
’
s what you
’
re after, isn
’
t it?” This time his eyes studiously avoided Cary and laughed at Sorrel.

“Of course,” agreed the nurse brightly, “it
’
s what every hospital is after.”