Midsummer's Eve (32 page)

I really felt I loved him then. He was like a saviour. He was different in every way from Gregory Donnelly; yet not less a man.

I said: “They are putting you in the nursery.”

“I suppose there is not much room here.”

“There are two rooms which I haven’t let them touch yet. Their things are there—my parents’ and Jacco’s.”

“I understand,” he said. “They’ll have to be cleared out before we go. Perhaps I can do it.”

“No, I will. It is just that I couldn’t bring myself to before.”

“It’s understandable. My poor, dearest Annora. How you must have suffered.”

When he had eaten I took him to the room which would be his for the two nights he would be here. Maud had already taken out Jonnie’s cot and put up the bed.

“It’s only for two nights,” I said.

“It will be absolute comfort after those inns.”

“Rolf, it was so good of you to come.”

“I had to, Annora. I thought of you all alone … without them. I’m so glad I found you. I pictured myself arriving to find you gone.”

“I expect I should have gone but for my illness.”

Maud came in with hot water for him to wash. He had brought a small bag with him and I left him to change.

It was later when he met Gregory Donnelly.

They stood face to face and I was aware of a certain bristling resentment in Gregory and a curiosity in Rolf.

Rolf carried off the situation with a good grace.

“Rolf Hanson has come to escort us home,” I explained.

“You’ve come a long way,” commented Gregory.

“I regret I did not get here earlier. One just can’t step on to a ship without formalities. Arrangements have to be made. My great fear was that I should arrive to find Miss Cadorson had left.”

“How did you get out to the property?”

“On horseback. I had instructions and stayed at the two inns on the way—the only two, I fancy.”

“Oh, the accommodation houses. I know them well. You didn’t lose your way?”

“I came near to it once or twice, but I had very good instructions and was given a rough map which was of inestimable worth.”

Gregory was a little taken aback. Rolf had an easy manner. The difference in them, I decided, was that Gregory felt he had to be constantly reminding people of his superiority; Rolf didn’t have to; it was obvious.

“When do you propose to go back?” asked Gregory.

“The day after tomorrow. I’ve arranged for a man to bring a buggy. We shall travel in that.”

“The best way really. Mind you it takes longer. Who’s your man?”

“A fellow called Jack Tomlin.”

“Know him well. He’s one of the best. He’ll take care of everything.”

“I can see I made a good choice.”

I wondered what Gregory was feeling. He knew that I was definitely going now and that his grandiose schemes for marrying the little woman and acquiring her fortune were foundering.

“There will be a good deal to do,” I said to Helena.

She agreed.

The evening passed. We sat for a long time over the table, talking. Rolf and Gregory had one passion in common: land. Gregory was greatly interested to hear that Rolf owned a large estate in Cornwall. They talked at great length about the differences in the land here and in England. I could see they were both very curious about each other—possibly regarding their relationships with me—but they talked amicably until it grew dark and Maud brought in the oil lamps.

When I retired I felt a lightness of spirit. I felt better than I had since the tragedy.

The tension had lifted, the eerie feeling had disappeared; I was being gently lifted out of a situation which had begun to alarm me. There was nothing to be afraid of now.

But that night I dreamed of Midsummer’s Eve. Then we were back in Australia and Rolf had just arrived. He was wearing a grey robe. They were cooking out of doors as they sometimes did and he leaped high over the fire and disappeared.

A strange dream. During the last weeks I had forgotten all about that Midsummer’s Eve.

I was up early in the morning. Before me lay the task of going through their clothes … something I had shunned until now. But it had to be done. I had to sort out the little jewellery my mother had brought with her and her clothes. I would give the latter away. Many of the people on the property might be glad of them. And the same went for my father’s and Jacco’s.

I knew it was going to be harrowing and the sooner I did it the better.

Maud offered to help me. So did Helena; but I declined their assistance and set about the task on my own.

It was even worse than I imagined. I did Jacco’s first. I tried not to let my emotions get the better of me, but each garment seemed to have some special significance. At one moment I just sat on the floor and gave way to my weeping.

It was no use. It had to be done. The clothes at least would give pleasure to some of the young men on the property. Or would they? Some of them might well despise the elegant cut and the good material. But what did that matter? They were only clothes.

I went to my parents’ room and worked steadily.

In the pocket of one of my father’s coats I found a little notebook. I remembered that I had given it to him. I sat down on the bed and looked at it. It was in red leather with his initials on it in gilt lettering. I thought about the Christmas Day two years ago. My gift to him …

I opened it. He had used it for addresses. There were several in London … often people I knew. And recently he had written in some in Australia. They were not in alphabetical order. In fact there was no index in the book; it was just a plain notebook with a little gold pencil fixed at the side.

I turned it over idly and came to the last address he had written.

“Stillman’s Creek on the borders of Queensland and New South Wales? Some eighty miles from Brisbane.”

That had been written in rather hastily and my mind went back to a scrap of conversation I had heard between my father and Gregory when my father had asked in what direction Stillman’s Creek lay.

I wondered why he had been interested in that place.

I shut the book and put it into that pile which contained my mother’s jewelry and those things I wanted to keep.

With an intense relief, I shut the door of that room and went out.

The heartrending task had been completed.

The buggy was at the door. The baggage had been put into it. It only remained for us to say goodbye and we would be off.

They had assembled to see us go. Most of the people who worked on the property had come out. Standing a little apart from them was Gregory. Maud and Rosa were beside him.

I put my arms round Maud and kissed her.

I sensed her mingling emotions; sadness at parting and relief that I was going. She had believed until the last that Gregory would find some way of forcing me to marry him. Now the field was free for Rosa. I conveyed to her somehow that I understood.

“Good luck, Maud,” I whispered. “I hope all goes well for you and Rosa.”

Gregory was holding my hands and looking into my eyes with that familiar quizzical look. It was over. I had escaped him. He knew this and he accepted it as he accepted life generally, nonchalantly. He had what he had been waiting for so long … the property. He had lost the greater prize but he would take the cash in hand and waive the rest. That was his nature.

I could not help admiring him.

We set off. I gave one look back. Gregory was smiling that smile I knew so well; and Maud was standing there, her hand on Rosa’s shoulder.

A
ND SO WE WERE
sailing for England.

We should be well into the new year before we reached home, for there had been some delay in getting a passage for us all and we had had to stay in Sydney for several weeks.

Helena had written to Matthew and had left the letter at the Grand Hotel to be collected when he came there. In this she told him she was going home with me.

I knew that Rolf was puzzled by the marriage which in a short time had produced not only a baby but a husband who had gone off leaving his newly wedded wife who was not sure of his whereabouts.

But finally we were on board.

I realized that everything I did was going to bring back memories; and as soon as I stepped on to the ship I remembered the journey out and the fun Jacco and I had had, and how excited we had been at the prospect of seeing new places; but most of all I remembered that deep abiding security I had had—and which I had not realized until I had lost it—in the heart of a devoted and loving family.

But Rolf had come right to the other side of the world, leaving his beloved estates, to come to me because as much as anyone else I knew, he would understand my grief.

I must be thankful that I had such a friend.

At first I could not feel any interest in the ship. I did not care whether the sun shone or we were in stormy waters. I was hardly aware of the rough seas. Although I was glad to be on my way I dreaded getting home. I tried to imagine Cador without them.

Jonnie comforted me a great deal. I was with him as often as possible. I was sure he knew me; he was beginning to take an interest in the world about him now, and he grew more adorable every day. Helena understood and when she thought I was particularly depressed she would talk of him or bring him to me and put him into my arms.

Rolf noticed and remarked on my fondness for the child.

“He’s always been with me,” I said, “really as much as he is with Helena.”

I realized my feelings towards Rolf were getting back to what they had been before that terrible Midsummer’s Eve.

When I looked at him dispassionately it was brought home to me what a very attractive man he was. He was greatly respected throughout the ship. He was gracious; he had an easy manner; he did not thrust himself forward as Gregory Donnelly had done. In fact my acquaintance with Gregory Donnelly had made me realize how very much I admired Rolf.

I was taken back to those days of my childhood when I had set him up as a god, when my heart leaped with pleasure when I heard his arrival. How I used to fly down to meet him and he would lift me in his arms and give me a piggyback-ride when I wanted to show him something in the nursery.

Then had come that Midsummer’s Eve when I believed that my god had feet of clay.

What had shocked me almost as much as the cruelty inflicted on Mother Ginny was Rolf’s part in it. That had destroyed my feelings for him. I had continued to love him in a way, but my affection had been tainted by what I had seen and the awful realization that I did not really know him at all.

One grows very close to people during a sea voyage; one sees them every day at meals as well as about the ship. A few days of such intimacy is equivalent to months of an ordinary relationship.

Rolf was so tender, so tactful. Now and then he talked of home and when he saw that I was getting too emotional, he would steer the conversation away from that evocative subject.

It was such a comfort to know that he understood, even more than Helena did, what I was feeling.

And somehow I knew he was waiting. The fact that he had come out to Australia to bring me home, showed that he cared for me in a very special way. He had always been a good friend but this was more than friendship.

It was during these peaceful balmy nights when we were crossing the Indian Ocean that we sat on the deck together looking out on the darkening water, listening to the gentle swishing of the sea against the side of the ship as we talked.

He said: “I often think of you when you were a little girl. You used to rush to me when I arrived at Cador with my father. If you had something new, you always wanted to show it to me.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“You were very fond of me then.”

“I thought you were the most wonderful person in the world. At least, you shared that honour with …”

The tell-tale break in my voice made him reach for my hand.

“I know,” he said. “It was a gratifying feeling to be so regarded. When things weren’t going well, I used to say to myself, ‘I’ll go to Cador and get a boost to my ego from Annora.’ And then suddenly … it changed.”

I was silent.

“Yes,” he went on, “suddenly it changed. I thought sadly, She’s growing up. She’s not a child any more. She’s more discerning. And I didn’t like it at all. I did not come so much to Cador because I could not bear the change in your attitude towards me. I told myself that children were fickle and I was hurt.”

“It was after that Midsummer’s Eve,” I said.

“That Midsummer’s Eve,” he repeated. “Ah, I remember. There was an awful tragedy. The house in the woods was burned down.”

“Yes. With Mother Ginny in it. They were very cruel to her on that night. I was there … with Jacco. It was intolerable.”

“You saw it! It must have been horrific.”

“They set fire to her house. They dragged her to the river. I can never forget it. I didn’t believe in anything after that. People I had known … doing that. I felt I could not trust people any more.”

“I understand,” he said slowly. “My father was greatly shocked. He told me about it when I came back.”

“When you came back?”

“I had gone away on the afternoon of Midsummer’s Eve. I went to a friend who was in my college. He lived near Bodmin. You remember how interested I used to be … well, I still am … in old customs and superstitions. He had found some old papers in his family’s attics and he wanted me to look at them. I was going to miss the bonfires but old papers interested me more, so I went off. I was rather glad that I wasn’t there in view of what happened.”

“You weren’t there?” I stammered.

I could see it all so clearly; the figure in the grey robe leaping over the bonfire; leading the mob on to harass the poor old woman.

Floods of relief were sweeping over me. It must have been someone else in the robe. Could the truth be that which I had always tried to convince myself was so?

Why had I not spoken before? How foolish I had been. I could have learned this long ago.

“Oh, Rolf,” I cried. “I’m so glad you were not there. It was horrible …”