By now, she and Aggie had reached the kitchen and they hurried into its steamy heat to begin the task of serving out the huge beef stew with dumplings and carting it across to the veranda whilst Violet mashed potatoes into a snowy heap. The beef was followed by Debbie’s apple mousse. When the meal was finished, everyone would go along to the camp for the corroboree which the staff had planned. Debbie glanced up at the sky, dreading rain, which would ruin everything, but the black clouds had passed them by this time and pale sunshine glinted off the water in the lagoons, whilst steam rose gently from the backs of the cattle grazing nearby.
By the time the staff had been fed and the family were sitting down to their own meal, Debbie had remembered that Andy had been in hospital and was profuse in her apologies for not enquiring about his health before.
Andy laughed. ‘It’s the biggest compliment you could pay me, because I’m obviously looking like a healthy man and not an invalid,’ he told her. ‘As for myself, I’ve forgotten the snake bite except that I’ll be a good deal more careful in future. And now let’s change the subject. Ever been to a corroboree before?’
Debbie admitted that she had not but told him that there had been great excitement and carryings-on amongst the stockmen and their families ever since the date of the Sullivans’ arrival home had become known. ‘Frankie and Porky seem to have made themselves wigs out of dried grass and Slim was all done up in green leaves, ever so cleverly sewn together,’ she told him. ‘I didn’t get the significance but I’m sure it’s something to do with the corroboree.’
Andy and Nancy both laughed. ‘I know,’ Nancy crowed. ‘I’ve seen at least a part of it before. The grass wigs are Andy and myself . . .’
She would have gone on but Andy interrupted her. ‘That’s enough, old lady,’ he said chidingly. ‘Half the fun is in gradually realising just what’s happening.’ He turned to Debbie. ‘And if you were responsible for that apple mousse, then I hope you mean to stay with us for a good long time.’
Pete had docked in Sydney but after that he had not followed the same route as Debbie. Instead, he had taken a berth aboard a steamer making its way up the coast. It was cooler at sea than it would have been in the train, yet he found himself impatiently pacing the deck and longing for the moment when the voyage would end and he could begin the cross-country journey to the Walleroo. Also, he found himself thinking, increasingly, of Debbie. He had left Liverpool within hours of Millie’s telling him that her friend had gone to Australia, and had travelled straight down to Southampton to claim his berth on the ship that would take him home. Afterwards, he had regretted not questioning Millie more closely because he realised that Debbie could have left England weeks before, or could have delayed her departure for various reasons and might even have been in England still, though he did not think this likely. He wondered about the baby, too – not that she would be a baby any more . . . my word, she would probably be at school. But he found he trusted Debbie; she had said she would find the child’s mother and hand her over, and he was sure she would have done just that. Then there was the dog; she had loved that dog. He could not imagine her abandoning it. But a dog could be left with someone reliable; he was pretty sure that the shipping line would not undertake the carriage of a dog with much enthusiasm.
He kept reminding himself, of course, that it was no use becoming obsessive over a girl he had not seen for nearly five years. She would have changed as he had, and they had met only briefly, but the memory of her small pale face, wide eyes and straight, shining hair had remained crystal clear in his mind. He thought this a good sign since, when he tried to remember the faces of various girls he had taken out whilst stationed in Norfolk, he could not do so. Oh, he could say one was blonde, one brunette, one small and plump, another tall and thin, but that was about it; their actual features he could not bring to mind, no matter how hard he tried.
The ship docked at last and Pete hurried ashore. He caught a train, then hired an ancient truck. For a wonder, the weather had cleared and he thought there was a good chance that he might actually arrive home in a matter of a few hours, though he would probably have to abandon the truck by the river’s edge and holler until he got someone’s attention, since he doubted that the river would be fordable at this time of year, even after a spell of dryish weather.
The old truck rattled and plunged, and Pete’s excitement and impatience grew. The journey was never-ending and it gave him too much time to think. For all he knew, Debbie might have a boyfriend back in England . . . no, that was unlikely; if she had had a boyfriend, she would scarcely have abandoned him to visit her mother’s old friend in Australia. But of course she might have met someone since, a young officer aboard the ship which had brought her to Sydney, or someone en route. Good God, he was being downright ridiculous, fretting like a fool over imaginary situations. He slowed to negotiate a pothole in the dirt track and told himself to stop making mountains out of molehills. Half a mile on, it occurred to him that Debbie might have arrived at the Walleroo and fallen in love with Jamie, or Jacko. The truck lurched and he spun the wheel with such force that he narrowly missed a gum tree. He must keep his mind on the road and not allow himself even to think about Debbie. Determinedly, he drove onwards.
The corroboree was everything that Debbie had imagined and more. She and the Sullivans were escorted to a raised platform, upon which had been placed the cane chairs from the veranda. Then the men treated them to a display of war dancing; brandishing spears, stamping and yelling. After that came what was obviously the high spot of the corroboree, a faithful enactment of Andy’s being bitten by the snake. It was at once hilarious and carefully rehearsed, for they began at the very beginning with Porky, white grass wig in place, clutching some sheets of paper. One of the men, clearly representing the wind, danced around, whirling leaves up into the air and shaking the branches of a nearby tree, before pouncing upon the man representing Nancy and carrying the paper across the compound and into one of the humpies. And then ‘Nancy’ shrieked and began to gabble that this was an important letter from an important person and must be retrieved at once, whereupon Frankie, representing Andy, rushed across the compound and dived into the humpy, emerging immediately and wrestling wildly with Slim, clad in green leaves and taking the part of the snake. The two actors were obviously enjoying themselves immensely and strung out the fight until someone shouted, ‘Get on with it!’ whereupon the snake grabbed Andy’s arm and Andy gesticulated dramatically before crawling over to the veranda and collapsing at his wife’s feet.
Debbie watched, fascinated, as the men went right through every aspect of the episode. The doctor was deliberately funny, wearing a stethoscope made of vine stems, and chasing Andy round and round the ward to give him an injection. Then, of course, there was her own arrival, the stranger from England, and finally the corroboree came to an end with the feast which Debbie had helped to make, and now helped to serve to the chattering, laughing, excitable crowd.
When it was over, the three of them walked back towards the homestead and Nancy put her arm lightly round Debbie’s shoulders. ‘I’m going to let my old man go straight to bed now, because though he’s nearly as good as new, he still needs his rest. But you and I will sit on the veranda a while and watch the moon come up, because the corroboree made me remember something you might not know. I’ll make us a cup of tea and explain as we drink it.’
Pete reached the river and abandoned the truck as he had planned. He went to the river’s edge and hollered, but nobody came. He was wondering why when he heard a tremendous roar coming from the camp and groaned aloud. It was just his luck that they should be holding a corroboree when he needed someone to row the boat across the river. No one would hear him, not if he hollered for hours, so unless he wanted to spend the night in the truck he had better start testing the water. Cautiously, he began to wade across, being careful to feel for potholes as he went. The light was fading in the west but it made little difference to his progress since the water was always muddy in the wet, and anyway, if he plunged into a pothole he could always swim.
Another roar, this time definitely of laughter, came from the direction of the camp, just as Pete’s foot found a deep hole and he began to swim. The water was welcoming, like cool silk against his hot skin. Pete swam steadily on.
‘. . . so you see, my dear, it was the first page of your letter which blew away and sent Andy scuttling under the veranda,’ Nancy was saying. ‘I didn’t mention it before because I was afraid you might think we blamed you for the accident. But that was why the letter never even got read until a week or ten days after we received it. I wouldn’t have said anything, but watching the re-enactment just now it occurred to me that either Aggie or Violet might refer to it as “your letter”, which would have been unfortunate, to say the least.’
‘I’m glad you told me, and I feel more honoured than guilty,’ Debbie said honestly. ‘After all, Andy must have thought it was important otherwise he wouldn’t have taken such a dreadful risk. But did he know, at that point, that the letter was from me?’
‘Oh yes, most definitely. You see, I . . .’ Nancy was beginning to explain how she had read the first few words and then turned to the last page to read the signature when she realised that Debbie was not listening. She was half out of her chair and leaning forward, like a runner waiting for the start of a race. Nancy turned to gaze in the same direction and saw that Debbie’s eyes were fixed on a tall figure approaching the homestead from the direction of the river. Immediately, her heart gave a joyful bound; it would be one of the boys, and judging by what she could see in the fading light, it was her dear Pete. She started to her feet, but Debbie was ahead of her. She flew down the steps and halfway across the compound, then drew to a halt within a yard of the tall figure, and Nancy saw that it was indeed her eldest son.
‘Debbie?’ Pete’s voice was low and husky.
And there was a long pause before Debbie spoke. ‘Hello, Pete.’
‘I had to swim the river. I’m awful wet.’
‘So I see. Oh, Pete, it’s been a long time!’
‘Yeah. You been here for a while?’
There was another silence and Nancy realised that the two young people were simply staring at each other. She moved nearer until she could see their faces and thought, with a stab of something very like pain, that she had never seen such hunger expressed merely by a glance. Hesitantly she cleared her throat, wanting to break the silence which was suddenly so charged with emotion that she felt tears prick behind her eyelids. ‘Pete, my dear, it’s good to see you . . .’ she began, then realised that neither Debbie nor Pete had heard a word.
‘I arrived two weeks ago.’ That was Debbie, her voice a little shaky. ‘It’s a grand place, Pete.’
‘Yeah.’
Andy woke as Nancy climbed into bed beside him. He said huskily: ‘Everythin’ all right? Young Debbie wasn’t too upset about the letter?’
‘Oh, the letter,’ Nancy said. ‘Andy, darling, Pete’s home, and it’s the weirdest thing. Debbie saw him before I did and she just flew across the compound, then stopped short. They exchanged a few words, nothing very much, but the way they stared at one another . . . oh, Andy, it was weird, truly it was. I tried to tell Pete how wonderful it was to see him after all this time, but I don’t think he heard me at all. He’d asked Debbie how long she’d been at the Walleroo and she told him a couple of weeks. And then he said, “You staying?” and she said, “Would you like me to?” and he gave a sort of grunt and took hold of her hand – it was the first time he’d touched her – and they just walked away together. They didn’t take the slightest notice of me. I don’t believe they even knew I was there.’