Authors: Di Morrissey
‘Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to cause you both any distress or embarrassment … ’
‘You should have thought of that earlier then,’ cut in Olivia.
Tyndall’s eyes blazed as he turned to her. ‘Haven’t you ever let your emotions get the better of you? Look, Niah is going to be around for the foreseeable future. I’ve set her up in my house.’
The boldness and the bluntness of the announcement left Olivia speechless. Tyndall had no intention of even making an effort at some face-saving pretence.
‘Look, I could pretend she was a servant or a cook, but no one in this town would be fooled by
that.’ He looked challengingly at her, then went on. ‘I’m not going to be a hypocrite. Do you want me to invent some grand lie?’
Conrad stepped in before Olivia had composed her tumbling thoughts and emotions. ‘Look, John, let’s not allow things to get out of hand. I understand your point of view, but you must realise that Olivia and I don’t find it easy to accept, particularly so suddenly. If that’s the way you intend to play it, then we will have to come to terms with that.’
Olivia fussed with her glass, took a sip to give her a little more time to take control of her anger. ‘If that’s how it’s to be, then I will go along with it. However, I have to say that while I am very sympathetic towards Niah, I cannot accept her in my house as a guest.’
Tyndall nodded in agreement. ‘Understood and accepted. I am sorry that it has caused some pain but let’s hope time will heal today’s wounds.’ He finished off his drink then leaned forward in a clear signal that the matter was closed and he was moving to a new item on the evening’s agenda. ‘Now, some business matters.’
Olivia looked out into the twilight gardens, with-drawing from the conversation as the men talked business. A sadness crept over her as she felt the beginning of a rift in her relationship with Tyndall. She blamed him entirely for the seduction of Niah and for spoiling a friendship which she now admitted had become very special to her.
After dinner the magician performed in the main dining room and was well received by the relaxed
crowd. He juggled, ate fire and did sleight-of-hand tricks which had the crowd gasping. For his finale he drew out a pack of large tarot cards and picked on members of the audience to tell their fortunes. It was highly amusing and, in most cases, very accurate, though for some a bit close to the bone. The crowd applauded, gasped and tittered, unaware the visitor had done his homework round the shops, sheds and pubs gathering details of the lives of some of the town’s personalities. For his last victim he pounced on Tyndall, who with mock reluctance allowed himself to be led to the small table and chair in the centre of the room.
The performer dealt the cards then turned them face up, studied them for a moment and pronounced, ‘Luck and fortune are soon to come your way.’ This sent a murmur round the room and a few good-natured ripostes about what pearls he may have found last trip. But the magician’s next remark brought the house down. ‘You are very lucky in love. I see four women in your life … ’ When the laughter had subsided the seer added softly, ‘Their love will come at a high price, but be assured their love will be special.’ The cards were shuffled quickly into the pack and Tyndall had the fleeting impression that the magician had been about to tell him something else and changed his mind.
Against a background of considerable laughter, cheering and ribald comments Tyndall sat down with the Hennessys and Olivia raised her eyebrows. ‘Four ladies in your life?’
‘Well, I hope he’s right about the riches,’ said
Conrad quickly. He took Olivia’s hand and helped her to her feet. ‘It’s late, we’ll be going now. I’ll see you tomorrow at the camp.’
Tyndall yawned. ‘I don’t think so, old friend, I’m taking the day off. Staying home.’ He gave them a broad wink and a grin which Olivia ignored, bidding him a cool goodnight.
The following morning after Conrad had left for the foreshore camp, Olivia set out for Tyndall’s house. She had spent a restless night and needed to talk to Tyndall and vent her feelings.
Tyndall’s house sat on pillars, its peaked, sloping roof giving the rooms high ceilings. Split cane blinds were tied around the verandah that encircled the house. Drooping poinciana and frangipani trees scattered tangerine and cream blossoms on the dry grass by the front path. Olivia stood for a moment by the row of trees outside the fence, then closed the gate with a purposeful click and marched to the front door. She called out at the open door and eventually a plump Chinese man shuffled out, wiping his hands on a cloth and peering at her myopically. She asked to see the master and he turned and disappeared without a word.
She could hear Tyndall grilling the cook about just who was at the door and in exasperation he came down the hall demanding, ‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s me, Captain Tyndall, I want to talk to you.’
Tyndall arrived at the door looking surprised. He wore cotton trousers and only his undershirt. A towel was slung over one shoulder and his hair was
damp. Apologising for his appearance, he led her along the verandah to a comfortable chair and excused himself. He called for cold lemon drinks and returned a few minutes later buttoning his shirt.
‘I suppose I know why you’re here. So?’
‘What is the situation, Captain Tyndall, and how are you going to resolve it?’
‘Resolve what? I thought we had it all settled.’
‘Just what is the situation between you and Niah, exactly?’
‘It’s pretty straightforward, I guess. We’re lovers. She’s moving in here. I’ll find something to keep her busy, she’s a bright thing, learns fast.’
‘I’ll bet,’ Olivia snapped. ‘Really, it’s disgraceful. How could you? It’s not fair to the girl, nor to Conrad and me. There is no future in this, I thought you were better than … ’ she struggled with the words, ‘ … than those other womanisers who have secret native mistresses.’
‘Is that what’s bothering you? Her colour? You had no trouble accepting Aborigines as friends when they helped you.’
‘It’s not just that. She’s so young! She sees you as a means of staying here and being cared for.’ Olivia was getting angry at Tyndall’s questioning and complacency.
An edge crept into Tyndall’s voice. ‘What’s wrong with that? In other cultures Niah would be married by now. I thought you were a bit more progressive in your thinking than this. You sound like the ladies at the Residence teas.’
Olivia hesitated for a moment. She had developed
an acceptance of the Aborigines which was considered unconventional. She had prided herself on these views and on being a bit of a rebel in local society. So why should she mind so much that Tyndall was also flaunting the rules of white society?
Before she could answer Tyndall went on with rising anger, ‘Don’t be a hypocrite, Olivia! You think it’s all very well to hold those views so long as they don’t impinge on your nice little home life. You’re just jealous of a girl who is brown, has no education and is culturally different. I thought
you
were better than that!’
‘Leave me out of this! It involves all of us! Especially the girl! She’s a simple girl and you seduced her—not just physically but by offering her security and false promises. She doesn’t understand and just what is to become of her?’
‘Do you really care, Olivia? Or is it just appearances you care about?’ he shouted.
‘Of course I care! And I care about you, John! Moving her in with you is madness.’ Olivia, too, was shouting.
‘You’re jealous, Olivia. Pure and simple as that. Leave us be and let the future take care of itself. And you might look at your own feelings while you’re about it and stop judging others by standards you only
think
you uphold.’
‘You might also question your own motives, John Tyndall,’ she retorted, getting to her feet and brushing past the bewildered Chinese cook who was holding a tray with a jug and glasses on it.
Olivia was hurt and angry and, as she hurried
down the crushed shell path, Tyndall’s voice, sounding slightly amused, called after her, ‘Well at least we’re on first name terms at last!’
Olivia slammed the gate and, with her head high, stomped furiously along the street towards home. As she walked, her anger cooled, and the sun beating through the white linen parasol began to weary her. She tried to go over the entire conversation again but she couldn’t get past the idea of Tyndall accusing her of being jealous. Why should she be jealous? She was a married woman, Tyndall could sleep with whomever he liked. Would she have been so upset if the girl in his bed was an attractive white girl? She realised she had to confront her prejudices. Was she annoyed because Tyndall had chosen a girl the rest of their friends and associates would regard as inferior and of little consequence? Or would she have been jealous of any girl Tyndall chose?
That evening Conrad was occupied with the periodicals and newspapers that had arrived from England, months after their publication. Olivia sat on the darkened verandah listening to the night noises in the garden, the warm breeze carrying the heady scent of frangipani flowers and the faint smell of the mangrove flats exposed by the tide, an odour of Broome that was now a familiar part of her surroundings. She regretted the flare up with Tyndall, but was glad she’d spoken up about something that had wrenched her feelings about so strangely. She decided to let things be and hope that Tyndall would handle matters discreedy or come to his senses. She
would maintain a cordial relationship for the sake of the business, but there was no denying that her friendship with Tyndall was strained by Niah’s presence. She would go on with dignity for she had nothing to be ashamed about.
And in her head she heard Tyndall’s steady voice, ‘And neither have I.’
At the same time Tyndall sat in the shadows on his verandah sipping a nightcap, deep in thought. Niah padded quietly to him and sat by his feet, leaning her head against his knee. Absently he smoothed her hair. The day had been a draining one. He was saddened at the conflict between himself and Olivia. Only now that their friendship was threatened did he realise how much he valued it as distinct from the business partnership. He found himself wanting her approval, a feeling he had difficulty accommodating. Nonetheless he couldn’t help contrasting her frosty eyes and formal manner with the windswept vision of her on the
Bulan
in those mad pyjamas, learning to laugh again. Niah’s hands began to softly stroke his thighs and he became conscious of how she filled a hole in his life, and his thoughts of Olivia soon faded.
Slowly and subtly, the relationship between Olivia and Tyndall changed over the next three years. The business partnership strengthened as mutual regard for their abilities was recognised and while the bond of friendship was still there, their former closeness had faded. Once or twice they would exchange a
swift smile as something caused them both to react simultaneously. But when they made meaningful eye contact, a veil would drop swiftly over Olivia’s eyes and she’d turn away.
Tyndall learned where the invisible barriers were and never overstepped them. He minded his manners and rarely teased her as he’d done before.
In turn, Olivia was less judgemental and kept her criticisms to herself when she wished she could air them frankly and argue with him as she would have done before. She also missed his bantering, an art Conrad had never mastered. But they continued their use of first names, a surprising legacy of their argument over Niah.
Conrad was pleased at the stability of the relationship between them all, unaware of the undercurrent of restraint between Tyndall and Olivia. The birth of their son Hamish two years earlier had been a time of great joy and created a diversion in their lives. Conrad had been somewhat surprised at Olivia’s continuing interest and involvement with Star of the Sea, despite the claims on her time and attention by the baby. However, he realised that Olivia was deeply committed to their pearling enterprise and, as they had staff to help out, he saw no reason why Olivia shouldn’t continue to be active in the company.
Olivia took her small son Hamish by the hand and led him along the track to the old jetty. The toddler jumped up and down excitedly as he saw the luggers lined up, all making ready to sail on the tide. Dropping Olivia’s hand, he scampered along the
wooden jetty on chubby legs making for the
Bulan
. Spotting Ahmed, he waved and called, ‘A’med, Hamish come, me come!’
The Malay grinned in delight. He and the child had established a special bond, and he reached up and swung him down onto the deck.
Olivia smiled as she watched the two of them. Ahmed was a patient teacher with the child, slowly tying and untying knots, letting him turn the wheels of the pump, and teaching him Malay words and phrases.
‘All set, Ahmed ?’ she asked in Malay.
‘Yes, mem. All ready to go,’ he replied, pleased with her easy use of his language.
‘How’s the new lugger?’
‘
Bagus
. Yoshi is taking the new lugger, the
Annabella
, I’ll stay on
Bulan
, tuan will bring
Shamrock
for the mother ship. Reckon this one will be a good trip. I feel lucky.’
‘I hope so, Ahmed. Good luck.’ She lapsed back into English. ‘Hand that monkey back so we can say goodbye to Yoshi.’
Ahmed picked up Hamish, who flung his arms about the Malay’s neck and squeezed tight, then was lifted onto the jetty. Olivia walked a little further along to where the
Annabella
was tied up. Yoshi, his tender Taki and the second mate were standing on the jetty, Yoshi holding his precious copper helmet. He reacted in mock alarm as Hamish pounced, demanding he wear the helmet.