Authors: Margaret Tanner
“I have beautiful hair, mother says so.”
“Yeah, well, you're a prissy stuck up snob.”
“Children, please, this is a schoolroom not a sideshow.”
She moved Myra to a different seat, with order restored they went back to work, but she started mulling things over in her head. How would Benny go if he had some paints?
She would write to the Misses Dalgleish, her colleagues from the school in Melbourne, they might be able to provide some for him. It would be a shame to let such talent go to waste. Regretfully, she wasn’t competent enough to give an authoritative assessment on his work.
“I don't like this school.” Myra's petulant whine interrupted the calm. If ever a child needed a good spanking, she did. Eleven years old and unfortunately growing more like her mother every day.
“Why don't you like it here?”
“Because it isn't proper for someone like him,” she pointed at Benny, “to be here.”
“When you're in the position to conduct your own school, you can choose whoever you want to attend. Until then I might remind you this is my school, I say who can and cannot attend.”
“My parents pay in money. They don't.” She glared at the Johnson boys.
“Don’t be so horrible, Myra,” Jo admonished her, but with a mother like Mrs. Kilvain, what could one expect?
Benny went home at midday as was his usual practice, promising to do at least one drawing that evening. “Might do this many.” He held up four fingers.
“All right, but I don't want you sitting up half the night.”
Except for Myra, the other children accepted him quite well. Henri and Jacques were quick to learn, so she started them on more advanced work after a few days. Young Sam was a methodical plodder. The Carson twins had a limited attention span and every now and again let out a loud giggle. They were inseparable, and Ethel Kirkman, when not with Will, tagged along in their wake.
What a full day. After the children left, she tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear and allowed herself five minutes to relax. Even though she had done some chores in the morning before school, she still had evening jobs to do after tidying up after the children. She thrived on being busy; otherwise she never would have coped with such a heavy workload.
Chapter Six
Jim Talbot came over one evening for an hour or so. What a pleasant, uncomplicated companion. He devoured Fiona's scones with boyish enthusiasm.
“How's your stallion going?” Jo asked.
“Extremely well, thank you.” He grinned. “Thanks to Luke Campton's announcement on the day of the race, he's a busy fellow.”
Fiona gasped in shock at such candor, but Jo enjoyed it. After Fiona left them together, Jim said. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, Jo. Tha... that isn't quite right. What I mean is. I'm in love with you.” It came out in a rush.
Jo’s hands fluttered at her breast. She took a couple of deep breaths and decided honesty was the best policy. “Jim, I do like you a lot, but I don't love you.”
“Well, at least there’s hope for me. I'm going on a cattle drive tomorrow and won't be back for two or three months at least. You will think about what I said?” He shocked Jo by kissing her on the lips before standing up. “You're the prettiest girl I've ever met. I’ve written to my mother about you.”
“You shouldn't have. I will think about what you said, though, but it's too soon.”
“I didn't tell her about being in love with you.” He gave a boyish grin. “But she might read between the lines. I wanted her to know there are beautiful young ladies out here. She thinks the place is overrun with convicts, kangaroos and women of ill repute.”
They were still laughing when she saw him off from the verandah.
After he rode away, Jo could not bring herself to go inside. She wandered down to a nearby paddock and patted the mare she now claimed as her own.
“Why is it?” she whispered, resting her chin against the top rail. “Men have to spoil things by wanting to get serious.” She liked Jim more than any other man she had ever known, but there wasn’t the extra spark, the fiery urgency between them, the feeling of not being able to live without him.
***
Benny brought several drawings to school, all excellent, mostly of people, but he had captured their essence in a few bold lines and brought them to life. There was an especially good one of Luke Campton mounted on his horse.
“You know Mr. Campton, do you?”
“Lets Benny mind his horse sometimes, gives Benny money.”
“Your pictures are wonderful. I know a lady who is a painter. I'd like her to have a look at these. I think they're good enough to sell. Would you like to draw people for money?”
“Yes, like money.”
He started bringing her small gifts. A juicy red apple one day, some daffodils that he said the doctor let him have from his garden another time.
Jo dismissed the children early on Thursday as she and Fiona wanted to go into town for supplies. Much as she liked the little school, it felt good leaving the farm for a change.
Even though summer had still not officially begun a ferocious sun beat down on them. A moving, dusty haze shrouded the main street, turning everything to a dirty brown.
“I hope Lucy and I don't get too dusty.”
Fiona didn't mean to be thoughtless. Jo lifted Lucy down and saw to the horse, while Fiona waited in the shade of the verandah. On her own, she fronted Griffith at the bank begging for more time to pay their mortgage.
“Well, I don't know, Miss Saunders.” Mr. Griffith played with his cuff. “It's highly irregular.”
“I'm not asking you to forgo the money completely, just give us a little more time. I'm prepared to pay two pounds.”
“Two pounds!” He gave a derisive laugh. She might well have said a penny.
“Please, my brother is away. He'll be sending money soon. Could you give us a little extra time to pay?”
“The party holding the mortgage wants his money.”
She turned to find Luke Campton almost at her elbow.
“Oh, and we all know who holds the mortgage don't we? You think because my brother is away, you can come down heavily on us. Well let me tell you...”
“No, Miss Saunders, let me tell you. Five pounds on the last day of each month until the debt is paid or I'll have you evicted.”
The cold finality of his voice shocked her, but she gave no sign. “You'll get your money. It isn't the end of the month yet, you know.”
“Three days to go.”
He touched his hat and smiled at an elderly bank customer before handing Mr. Griffith a large bundle of notes. How could a man with so much squeeze the lifeblood out of others?
“I hope you burn in hell one day,” she hissed.
“I'll take you with me when I go, Yankee woman.”
She turned on her heel and left. Three days to get five pounds, then a month in which to find another five pounds. Ian, how could you do this to us? He should have sent money by now, he must realize how desperately they needed it.
“Howdy, Jo.”
“How are you, Benny?”
“You sad, Jo?”
“No, I’ve got a lot on my mind.” She forced a smile.
“Did you send my pictures to the lady?”
“I'm on my way to do it now, but it might take a few weeks for us to hear anything. I've asked my friend to send you some paints, too.”
“Howdy, Mr. Campton, Benny mind your horse today?”
“No, I'm on my way home, next time all right? Here catch.” A gold sovereign flew through the air and was deftly caught in a pudgy paw. Ignoring her, and brushing aside Benny's thanks, Luke strode off.
At the general store where Fiona and Lucy waited, Jo watched in surprise as Mrs. Kilvain left a customer to attend to them.
“Miss Saunders, it has come to my notice that you have that deformed creature mixing with our children.”
“If you're referring to Benny, then yes, he does attend my school.” Several heads swiveled in their direction.
Mrs. Kilvain raised her voice several decibels and Jo realized the woman liked having an audience.
“I don't want him mixing with our Myra, a most unsavory situation, I call it.”
“If that's the case, Mrs. Kilvain, it might be best if you removed your daughter from my school. Of course, I'll refund part of the fees you've already paid.”
“Well, really.”
One of the listeners snickered when Mrs. Kilvain minced off, leaving her husband to deal with the customers. Hypocritical old biddy. Jo fumed. She ordered the bare necessities. After paying for her purchases and giving Mr. Kilvain back the money he had paid in advance for school fees, she was practically penniless. How on earth could they raise five pounds for the mortgage payment?
Fiona asked if the store held any mail for them. Mr. Kilvain scurried to the postal section and came back shaking his head. “Sorry, there's nothing for you.”
He gave a hunted glance around to make sure his wife wasn’t present, before giving Lucy a stick of candy.
“We can't pay for it,” Jo said bluntly.
“I saw her staring at them. It’s all right, so long as the wife doesn't find out.”
“Thank you. Sorry I snapped before,” Jo apologized, feeling sorry for this pathetic, birdlike little man who was dominated by his vicious wife. “Do you know of any place where I could sell some jewelry?”
“The bank might take it.”
“Isn’t there somewhere else?”
He cracked his knuckles loudly. “I can't think of anywhere else.”
“Thank you.” She would have to sell her one piece of jewelry, a gold locket with a ruby in the centre. It was an heirloom handed down from her father's family.
All the way over to the bank, she debated with herself. Why is it me who always makes the sacrifice? Why hasn't Ian sent us some money? Surely he wouldn't have to wait until the drive ended before being paid.
This thought made her hurry towards the bank, remonstrating with herself for being a selfish beast, when he had left his home and family to try and earn some money. How could she let him come back to find his property gone?
She removed the locket. It was a strange feeling not having it resting between her breasts, as it had done for years. Akin to severing a limb, she bit down on a note of hysteria.
“Eight pounds,” Mr. Griffith said.
“It's worth much more,” she argued.
“Take it or leave it.” She was beaten and they both knew it.
“I want three pounds in cash, the rest to be taken off the mortgage payment.”
Once again, he flicked the imaginary speck of dust off the dark sleeves of his coat. What had Jim said, sent down from Oxford after only a few days? Yes, he did look shifty.
When he handed over the money, she stared at his hands--lily white, feminine, and yes, purposely he let his fingers brush against hers. She clenched her teeth to stop herself slapping his face before making a hasty, undignified exit.
***
The next day, Myra Kilvain did not attend school and two other children dropped out also. By the end of the fortnight, only Benny, the Kirkmans and Johnson boys still attended. No doubt Mrs. Kilvain had viciously spread her poison.
When Jo answered a knock at the door, she gasped in shock on finding Luke Campton and a police constable standing there.
“Go on with your work, children,” she instructed. “What can I do for you?” She ignored Luke and directed her query to the policeman.
He shuffled his feet. “Has there been an accident?” she prompted.
“No, I'm sorry, Miss Saunders.” He fidgeted.
“Do you have permission to run this school?” Luke growled.
“I don't need permission.” She angrily faced him. This battle was between the two of them and she would never back down, no matter what it cost her.
“If you don't have official permission, Miss, I have to close you down,” the policeman said.
“You put him up to this, you and that pious hypocrite Mrs. Kilvain,” Jo flared. “I'm not closing; in fact, I plan to expand.”
“Like hell you are,” Luke grated. “What you’re doing here is illegal.”
“Please, Miss,” the policeman almost pleaded, and she felt sorry for him. It wasn't his fault Luke Campton owned the law, and Mrs. Kilvain had elected herself keeper of the town's morality.
“I won’t close my school down and no one can make me.”
“You’ve delivered your message, leave Miss Saunders to me.” Luke dismissed the policeman who scuttled off like a frightened rabbit.
“Your school is finished, and so are you, Yankee woman, but before you go, a little token to remember me by.”
His arm shot out and slammed her body against his own, and he held her so tightly her breasts were crushed. His mouth swooped to capture hers in a hard, punishing kiss.
The force of his mouth parted her lips, giving his probing tongue access to her mouth. His grip relaxed and his hand cupped her breast. His thumb started caressing her nipple.