‘Next Tuesday,’ she said. ‘He’s flying to Perth on Monday, staying the night there, then on to here the next day.’
‘The man must have more money than sense, coming all that way,’ Ross said churlishly.
‘More heart than sense,’ Dulcie corrected him. ‘He wants me to see Noël, he thinks it’s more important than the time or money involved. I can’t wait to see Noël, I hope it will be warm enough to go on the beach.’
Ross just sniffed. ‘Well, I’m going up to Kalgoorlie this weekend.’
He had been going to Kalgoorlie with some of his drinking mates from the pub every month for some time, leaving early Saturday evening and coming back on Sunday. Dulcie didn’t mind, she enjoyed an evening all to herself and a lazy Sunday. Besides, he was always nicer when he returned, jollier and chatty. But the way he announced it this time was a bit irritating, as though he wanted to prove he too could have friends outside their marriage.
‘Just don’t get into any fights,’ she said. ‘And sober up before you drive home.’
‘I don’t get in blues any more,’ he said, grinning down at her. ‘You cured me of that.’
Once Dulcie would have used that as an opener for discussion on the effects of his breakdown. But as her need and desire for love-making had faded, so had the compulsion to try to dig more out of him. He had said once, when he was making the first steps towards recovery, that telling her what had happened to him was like putting oil on rusty hinges on a door.
He said he’d always been aware of what was behind the door, the only difference now was that he was able to open it and look at it, and close it again easily. And then said that he saw her as the only purity in his life, and that by attempting to make love to her, it would soil the image he had of her.
By that Dulcie could only surmise this meant the hideous memories of Doyle came back whenever he became aroused. As she felt she was responsible for bringing on his breakdown, she wasn’t anxious to do anything more to him that might result in a relapse. Ross seemed happy now, even playful and joyous sometimes. They got on well together, there were few rows, and that was enough for her.
Stephan seemed concerned at her attitude the last time she spoke to him on the telephone. He said such a view might be okay when a couple were in their fifties or so, but not at her age. She had been a bit sharp with him, indeed she’d implied it was none of his business, and she hadn’t spoken to him since.
‘You have a good time up there,’ she said with a smile. John said he couldn’t imagine what the attraction of Kalgoorlie was. Dulcie didn’t much care, as long as Ross came home in a good mood. She hoped it would last right through the time Rudie and Noël were here. Besides, it meant she could go down to the house Rudie was renting on Sunday morning. She wanted to make sure it was clean, make up the bed and cot with aired bedding, leave the toys she’d borrowed for Noël in there, and put some food in the fridge.
‘What will you do while I’m away?’ he asked, then grinned broadly as she glanced across the room to a half-finished painting on the easel she’d bought just recently. ‘That’s a daft question, you’ll be finishing that off, won’t you?’
Dulcie smiled, for even the thought of painting made her happy. It had become her passion, and she could hardly wait to show Rudie her work. Inspired by his remark that she could maybe illustrate children’s books, her pictures now were all fantasy – fairy-tale castles, princesses on white horses, wicked witches, goblins and fairies. As she painted she often made up the story in her head too, and it lifted her away from the farm, memories of her own bleak childhood, the death of her sister, and Ross’s troubles.
‘Yes, I’ll be painting,’ she said, even though for this once it was a lie.
As Dulcie waited for Rudie’s plane to arrive on Tuesday morning she reflected on how Bruce had predicted several years ago that one day there would be regular planes coming into Esperance. Maybe it wasn’t much of a service yet, just a Douglas DC3 seating around eight people, twice a week, but Esperance was growing fast. At the last count the population had risen to 4,500, so it was conceivable that in a few years there would be a daily service.
She wondered too as she stood there looking up at the sky, waiting for the plane to come into view, how it was going to be to see Rudie again. A year had passed since they said goodbye on the train in Sydney, and though she thought at that time he was in love with her, maybe it was only all the emotional pressure at that time, the worry about Noël, the shared grief for May and living in such close proximity to one another, for in his many phone calls since, he had said nothing to make her think he thought of her as anything other than a friend.
Yet even so, she had still felt compelled to get her hair done yesterday, to wear her newest dress, a figure-hugging pale blue one that John claimed she looked like a pin-up girl in. And her pulse was racing.
At last she saw the small plane descending, its wheels lowered for landing. It hit the dirt runway, bounced up again once, then down again, ran for a few hundred feet then gradually came to a halt.
A man and woman got off first, followed by two young men and another couple, then suddenly Dulcie saw Rudie bending slightly to get through the plane doorway, Noël in his arms.
She couldn’t contain her excitement a moment longer, and ran to them regardless of the curious looks from the other passengers she passed.
‘There’s Auntie Dulcie,’ she heard Rudie say, and he began to run to her too, making the child laugh.
‘Oh, Rudie,’ she gasped as she reached him. ‘It’s so good to see you both again. Let me look at Noël!’ She held out her arms and he went to her eagerly, even though he was far too young to know who she was.
At almost eighteen months he was a real little boy now, and very much like Rudie, black hair curling at the back of his neck, with soulful dark brown eyes. Yet there was a glimpse of May too, he had her delicate little nose and the same wide mouth. ‘Was he good on the plane?’ she asked.
‘Extremely,’ Rudie grinned. ‘Though he did stand on the seat and yank the man in front’s hat off. From Sydney to Perth he slept nearly all the way, so I had a pretty easy time of it.’
They just stood there for a moment or two smiling at one another, Noël sitting astride Dulcie’s hip, and in that moment she knew that nothing had changed between them.
‘I’ve got the car out front.’ She pointed to beyond the airport building. ‘I checked out the house I got for you on Sunday, and everything’s fine. I hope you’re going to like it here.’
‘With you here, how could I fail to?’ he said, pulling a silly face. ‘I don’t know this part of Australia and I’m looking forward to exploring it and doing some sketches.’
By the time Rudie had collected his luggage and Noël’s pushchair and loaded them into the car, and they had taken off to the rented house, they were chatting and laughing as easily as they had a year earlier. The only difference now was that Noël wasn’t a helpless baby but a bright toddler who sat up on his father’s lap commenting on just about everything he could see out of the car windows, albeit in baby language.
The house was an old-style clapboard one, similar to Rudie’s own, just a two-minute walk from the Pier Hotel, overlooking Esperance Bay. The owners, acquaintances of Bruce, had a farm up in Norseman and used it for holidays. It was a bit post-war austerity standard, with a Rexeen-covered three-piece suite, a chunky sideboard and a poky kitchen, but Rudie was delighted with it.
‘Nothing much for that little pickle to damage,’ he said laughingly as Noël ran around exploring. ‘I had visions of one of those places packed with ornaments and spindly furniture. That could have been hell.’
‘It reminds me of homes back in England,’ Dulcie said, looking at the old drop-front kitchen cabinet and a cooker on legs. ‘But the hot-water system works properly, and it’s not cold or damp. Mrs Collins – that’s the policeman’s wife I told you about – offered to baby-sit for you too, if you want to go out to the pub one evening.’
‘I wasn’t aiming on going out boozing while I was here,’ he grinned. ‘But it might be nice to take in a bit of the local colour one night.’
Dulcie gave him the Collins’ address and telephone number, and said they’d hoped he would call round anyway for a drink and a chat. ‘You’ll find people very friendly round here, they love to meet anyone from the big cities, and of course they met May when she was here, so they are dying to see Noël.’
There was a shriek of delight from Noël, who had just gone into the dining-room and seen the box of toys there. He came hurtling out on a wooden-wheeled horse to show it to them.
‘I wish you could have stayed at the farm,’ she said wistfully. ‘We could’ve spent so much more time together.’
‘That’s exactly what Ross didn’t want,’ Rudie said. ‘I can’t say I blame him either. You’re quite a prize!’
Dulcie blushed. ‘He’s being stupid then,’ she said quickly. ‘After all, Noël is the one who’s likely to capture my heart, and Ross doesn’t mind me having him up there.’
After she’d made tea she took Noël on her lap to feed him a drink from a cup. He was very good with it, not spilling a drop, and Rudie said the only time he had a bottle now was before bed. Dulcie thought he was advanced in his speech too, for he could say quite a lot of words clearly. She thought he was the most handsome little boy, his dark lashes were so thick and long, his skin peach-coloured, and when he nestled back into her arms sleepily after his drink she felt a surge of love for him.
‘He’s got May’s nose and mouth,’ she said as he began to drop off as she stroked his forehead.
‘I only ever see your face in his,’ Rudie said with a smile. ‘But tell me how you are. And how things are between you and Ross. You’ve never said when I phoned. I know too that you don’t call Stephan any more.’
Dulcie had never told Rudie what caused Ross’s breakdown, and she knew Stephan had far too much integrity to divulge it.
‘Ross is well and happy again,’ she said. ‘Everything’s fine between us. But you’ll see for yourself on Sunday, Bruce has invited you up for the day.’
Quickly she changed the subject to her painting, and pointed to the folder she’d brought with her and left on the table. ‘Please look at them, I really want your opinion.’
Noël was now fast asleep, his little body curled right up against hers. Rudie took the folder and began slowly turning the pages. When after a few minutes he still hadn’t made any comment Dulcie felt foolish. ‘You don’t have to go right through them, I don’t want to bore you,’ she said.
He looked up at her, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Bore me? Dulcie, a man would have to be in a coma not to want to look at this work. It’s fantastic! If I’m silent it’s only because I’m stunned.’
‘They aren’t too bad then?’ she asked timidly.
He threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘That’s a real English understatement. “Not too bad!” It’s stupendous work, absolutely brilliant. I just can’t believe that you’ve progressed so far since Noël’s rabbit painting. That was good, but not in the same league as all these.’
‘You’re just humouring me,’ she giggled.
‘I’m certainly not,’ he said, continuing to turn the pages. ‘All I can say is, if all this came out of Ross’s breakdown, then I’m glad he had one.’
‘That’s a terrible thing to say!’ she exclaimed. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’
He just looked at her and shrugged. ‘No, I shouldn’t. It’s the truth. I can see from this work that you escape while painting. As your ability grows, so your imagination grows wings and flies to places you never could have reached if your life had been untroubled. I’m frankly envious, my work is banal compared to this.’
‘Rubbish,’ she retorted. ‘Your paintings are uplifting, so vivid and compelling.’
He smiled. ‘They’re a good substitute for a view, that’s all. The people who buy them take home a bit of Sydney Harbour on a sunny day. I’m not a
great
painter. Mine isn’t work of imagination, I just sketch and paint what I see. If I was to be locked into a room with enough paint and canvases for a year or two, I’d run out of ideas in no time. But this has all come out of your head, unless of course there’s a few goblins and fairies up at the farm you haven’t told me about.’
Dulcie laughed. ‘A few kangaroos, emus and snakes, that’s all. Do you think I could get some work illustrating children’s books now?’
‘I’m absolutely certain of that,’ he said, his eyes sparkling. ‘May I take a few of these back home with me? I’ve done a couple of designs for book covers recently, so I know a few people in the publishing world and I’d like to show these to them and get their opinion.’
Dulcie glowed. ‘That would be wonderful.’
Rudie went off upstairs to unpack, and Dulcie continued to sit with Noël asleep in her arms, happily day-dreaming of a day when she’d get paid for doing what she liked most. While she thought Rudie was being over-effusive, and perhaps biased about her ability, he was famous back in Sydney and he did have good connections.
She looked down at Noël and smiled, imagining a new series of pictures with a little boy like him and farm animals. She could hardly wait to take him to the farm and show him lambs, calves and horses.
Glancing at her watch, she saw it was already one o’clock. She had made sandwiches for the men’s lunch this morning before she left, but she thought she’d better get back soon, or Ross might be grumpy. Fortunately he’d come back from Kalgoorlie in high spirits, he’d even brought her a present, a pair of gold earrings. She wondered what it was that he liked so much about Kalgoorlie. Was it just the wildness of the place, that you could get as drunk as you pleased without anyone caring? Or something more? She hoped he wasn’t getting caught up gambling at Two Up, she’d heard so many women complaining that their husbands lost a small fortune that way.
‘So how is the little man?’ Bruce asked eagerly when she got back around four that afternoon.
‘Oh, he’s so beautiful I could eat him,’ Dulcie enthused. ‘But I’m going to collect him tomorrow at eleven and bring him back here, so you’ll see him for yourself.’
‘Everything all right with the cottage?’ Bruce asked.