‘I guess you don’t meet many Australians, so I’m on my best behaviour,’ he said when Marianne told him he hadn’t eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive. ‘I’ve heard all about your rations – come to that, we’re rationed too, though not as meanly as civilians. I don’t know how you’ve managed to produce such a wonderful breakfast, Mrs Delamere.’
‘I’m a provident Frenchwoman, that’s how,’ Marianne said, twinkling at him. ‘Tess disapproves, but you note she eats with a good appetite.’
‘Well, the eggs came from our own hens, which is fair enough, but I daresay the bacon was the under-the-counter sort,’ Tess said. ‘Never mind, don’t let’s argue about hoarding now, Marianne. Mal and I are going to take the boat out on the Broad, if that’s all right with you. It’s a nice day, so I’ll get some food and we can have a picnic.’
‘And later, I shall prepare you a delicious dinner,’ Marianne said, batting her eyelashes at Mal quite as vigorously as her daughter had done, earlier. ‘For Maurice is coming over tonight, so we’ll have two large men to feed, Tess. Do you play bridge, Mal?’
Mal admitted that he did not and Marianne, a recent convert, said that it might be fun to teach him.
‘And Tess, of course,’ she added rather as an afterthought. ‘We could have a hand or two after dinner, before you have to catch your bus back. Tess will ride her bicycle over to Willow Tree Farm, as she always does, but it is quite possible that Maurice could give you a lift, Mal, since he has a motor car.’
Mal thanked his hostess politely and as soon as Tess had made their picnic the two of them escaped down to the Broad where Tess waited until they were afloat before giving vent to the mirth which was consuming her.
‘Mal, you should have seen your face when she asked you if you could play bridge – and when she said she’d teach you . . . but you’ve made a real impression on her, because she’s never suggested teaching me bridge.’
‘Your stepmother is a flirt; she wants to teach me bridge because I’m a feller and she likes fellers,’ Mal said gloomily. ‘I
hate
card games, always have. It’s bad enough avoiding them in the mess when they want a fourth for whist or whatever it is, without having your mother land on me.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll be so late back that there won’t be time for a game,’ Tess said consolingly. ‘I thought we’d row over to Catfield and then walk up to the farm. You could meet my friends and Mr and Mrs Sugden; they’re awfully nice.’
‘Oh, sure,’ Mal said, brightening. He looked round the great, gleaming expanse of the Broad. ‘But where’ll we kiss?’
Tess, rowing, giggled rather breathlessly. ‘We’ve come out to get to know each other and to have a picnic and see the sights, not to kiss,’ she said. ‘And incidentally, it isn’t just because you’re a young man that Marianne wants to teach you bridge because she’s never tried to teach Ashley or Andy. You’ve obviously got hidden attractions.’
‘What do you mean, hidden? Women fall for me all the time, hook line and sinker – you did it yourself! The fact is, darling, I’m a bloody fascinating bloke.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Tess said. ‘But Ashley’s attractive too, and so’s Andy.’
‘Oh? How come you won’t be marrying them, then?’
Tess stopped rowing. They sat for a moment in complete silence whilst the heat slowly rose in Tess’s face, then she said, ‘What?’
‘How come you won’t be marrying Ashley or Andy?’ Mal repeated gently. ‘How come you’re going to marry me, if they’re so attractive?’
‘You haven’t asked me . . . you hardly know me and I hardly know you,’ Tess said, gabbling a little. She felt sure she was red as a turkey cock, damn him! ‘You shouldn’t . . . it isn’t fair to . . .’
She dug the oars into the water so hard that the boat almost lifted up and Mal said soothingly: ‘Row for the shore, darling, it’s easier to quarrel on dry land. Easier to kiss and make up, too.’
‘I don’t know why you’re talking this way,’ Tess muttered, rowing for the shore. ‘Just because Marianne likes you, and Cherie, and the Throwers . . .’
She drove the boat into the reeds and Mal, on hands and knees, crawled the short distance which separated them and took her in his arms.
‘Tess, I love you and I want to marry you,’ he murmured with his mouth an inch from the crown of her head. ‘War’s a bitch, there’s no time for all the gentle, beautiful things, like courtship. I want you desperately badly and that means marriage. Soon. As soon as we can arrange it in fact.’
Tess had been going to put him in his place, to tell him that she hadn’t made up her mind that she wanted to marry at all, let alone one specific person, but his words took the wind out of her sails; there was a sort of desperate honesty in them, and it reflected an equally desperate honesty in her. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, so what was the point in waiting, pretending? Any day now something could happen which would part them irrevocably and for ever. At least, if they married now, they could be properly together for whatever time there was.
She said as much, with her face muffled by his shirt, for he had removed his jacket and folded it up under his seat so that it didn’t get messed up or wet.
‘Then if we both want it, we’ll go ahead,’ Mal said. He began to kiss her, and for several moments Tess was completely carried away, no longer aware of her surroundings, the rocking of the boat, the possibility of being seen, condemned. His mouth and his hands were all that mattered, and they mattered supremely. The pleasure which was coursing through her body was a pleasure she could no longer deny – had the place been more private, she thought afterwards, she would have given herself to him unreservedly, marriage or no marriage.
But the steady swish of oars heralded Mr Thrower, coming out to check his eel-traps, Tess supposed. She and Mal sat still as statues until he had passed, and then Mal picked up the oars.
‘Right, we’re getting married,’ he said briskly. ‘Let’s go and talk to people and sign things and tell everyone. Oh my darling, waiting will be easy, now we know what we’re waiting for!’
Fifteen
MAL WENT ABOUT
his work on his first day back at the station walking on air. He had had a magical leave, they had gone ahead and done all they could towards getting married as soon as possible, and Marianne, charmed and delighted at the turn of events, or so she claimed, had suggested that they should have a large engagement party in ten days’ time, because she and Maurice had decided that they would like to get married too.
‘Many of our friends and most of Peter’s relatives have never met Maurice,’ she had said gaily. ‘And of course none of them have met you, Mal. So we shall arrange this thing for all our sakes, and very good such a party will be. It will cheer us up and help us to forget the war for a little while.’
Tess and Mal had told each other the truth, too. The whole truth, which Mal, at least, had kept until now in his own mind and heart.
Tess began it. She told him about her dream and its terrible ending, and her painful fear that her mother might have committed suicide rather than remain with her small daughter. And Mal hugged her and said stoutly that he would never believe that anyone, far less a mother, would willingly leave her. And then he told her about Petey.
‘That’s awful, sweetheart; no wonder you have bad dreams too,’ she had said when Mal had told her of the fateful fishing expedition which had ended so tragically. ‘But at least you know Petey’s death was an accident, that your father tried to save him.’
‘No,’ Mal said. ‘No. That’s the way I tell it, but that isn’t really how it was. I suppose it’s why I dream about it still, to this day. I’ve never told a living soul Tess, because it seemed so disloyal, but it didn’t happen quite the way I said. My dad was an impatient man, you see. Petey stumbled over to him, leaning on the wind, to ask for the hundredth time if we could go home soon, and Dad gave Petey one hell of a push, I saw it with my own eyes. Petey staggered, then went backwards off the rocks and into the sea. He was a weak little feller. My dad killed Petey as surely as if he’d strangled the kid.’
Tess gasped, then she had leaned over and hugged him, muttering, with her mouth against the side of his neck, that terrible though it was it had happened, it was past, and that he must forget all about it, put it right out of his head.
‘Your dad couldn’t face what he’d done, that’s why he started to drink so hard,’ she said presently. ‘And he lost everything through one moment of impatience: your love, your mother’s love, and Petey. He did a terrible thing, but he never meant to hurt your brother, did he? And how he must have suffered!’
‘Yeah, I suppose,’ Mal said. He felt physically lighter, as though the knowledge, kept to himself for so long, had at last taken wing, left him. He took a deep breath and expelled it in a long whistle. ‘Oh, Tess, I’m so glad I told you! It’s – it’s like putting down a heavy weight after years of having it on your shoulders. I guess I shan’t dream that dream again.’
And I don’t believe I ever will, Mal thought now, saluting the guard as he hurried past the perimeter gates. She’s a wonderful girl, my Tess. He thought that as long as he lived he would never forget the look on her face, the sublime mingling of desire and innocence, when he had first taken her in his arms. And just before he left her to return to his station he had told her to continue the wedding arrangements so that they might marry as soon as possible.
And when this bloody, wicked war is over, his thoughts had continued, my little darling can come back to the Wandina with me . . .
The bubble had not burst at that, but it had lost some of its gloss. He had lied to her about the Wandina. So eager had he been to persuade her that marriage to him was not only right but inevitable, that he had exaggerated a little, given her to understand that Uncle Josh was a real uncle, that he, Mal, would return to the Wandina when the war was over and would, in the fullness of time, inherit the cattle station.
Still. He would own a third, or possibly a quarter, of the Magellan one day, when Royce fell off his perch. Only . . . only Royce was forty years younger than Uncle Josh and would last a good few years yet. By the time the Magellan was up for grabs, he, Mal, might well be in his fifties or sixties.
Not that it would matter to Tess. He knew that, really. She wasn’t after his money or his property. She’s after my body, he thought complacently, and I’m after hers . . . oh Tess, how shall I get through a whole week without you?
But he had to be sensible, he knew that. So he searched out his crew and they discussed their leave, had a hasty meal in the cookhouse and then, in the late afternoon, went with the others of their flight to the briefing room.
If all went well, he would see Tess again quite soon; the engagement party was to be held before long, so that he might meet her relatives and various friends. The two couples would announce their engagement – Mal was to accompany Tess into the city as soon as they both had a few hours free to buy a ring – set a date for the wedding and invite people to attend the ceremony. He meant to talk to his CO as soon as he could about married quarters, though he knew it was more likely that they would live off the station in lodgings in the nearest village.
But what bliss, to find Tess waiting for him when he came home, worn out and still buzzing with tension, after a sortie! It didn’t matter what the lodgings were like, or where they were situated. Just to be together would be pleasure beyond belief. A place of my own again, he thought, striding towards the officers’ mess. Because once we’re married wherever we live will be our home, and I’ve not really had a home of my own since I was a kid. Oh, the Magellan felt like it, at times, and so did the Wandina, though somehow I always felt a bit of an outsider, tolerated rather than welcomed. But with Tess it’ll be different. We’re meant for each other . . . I’ll tell her the truth about the Wandina just as soon as I get the chance, and she’ll understand. Sometimes I don’t even have to say the words, a glance is enough, so she’ll know I didn’t mean to deceive her.
He reached the mess and opened the door; noise hit him. Men talking and arguing, music from a wireless set, the occasional shout of laughter. Percy waved, shouted, Fred Milne stood up and lounged over towards him, talking as he came.
‘Why the grin, Mal? Lost a farthin’ and found a quid?’
Mal grinned too. ‘Sort of. I’m getting married, fellers!’
When the party was over and Mal had been walked down to the bus and lovingly waved off, Tess returned to the house to help with the clearing up. Maurice had left earlier, very dapper in his uniform, swearing undying love but unable to get any more leave right now. Tess found Marianne and Cherie washing up in the kitchen with much clattering, whilst they rendered the latest popular song at the tops of their lungs. Marianne, who always sang flat and could not hold a tune for love nor money, adored to sing when she was happy.
‘Here, let me give you a hand with that; it was my party, as well as yours, Marianne,’ Tess said, seizing another tea-towel, but Marianne, standing at the sink with her best little black dress swathed in a huge wrap-around overall, said that she and Cherie were doing nicely, and would much prefer it if Tess would put away.
‘Here goes then,’ Tess said, picking up a pile of the best plates and tottering over to the Welsh dresser. ‘What a lovely party it was – thank you, Marianne. The food was splendid, Mal couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the tea-table. Isn’t he nice, Cherie? You like him, I know. What did you think Marianne?’
‘Well, he’s a great improvement on Ashley,’ Marianne said. ‘But he’s no Adonis, my dear. He’s nowhere near as handsome as my Maurice.’
She sounded complacent. Tess laughed.
‘Oh Marianne, looks really aren’t important! He’s kind and gentle and amusing . . . Besides, he
is
handsome, in a quiet sort of way.’
‘No, Tess, he is not handsome,’ Marianne said positively. ‘Your father was handsome, Maurice is handsome, even Ashley might be considered by some people to be handsome. But Malcolm is quite plain. He’s charming, certainly, and reliable, and he’s got marvellous white teeth, but handsome – no.’