Nurse Abroad(30)

“I’m loving every moment of being here, except that I feel I’m crowding them at the cottage. I don’t think Sarah really likes sharing a room with Pauline. And then, of course, Sarah—”

She had hesitated. Grant said, “Sarah what?”

Elaine had spread her hands out. “No, Grant. I was speaking without thinking.”

“I detest half-finished sentences, Elaine. What were you saying?”

Elaine gave in with the gesture of surrendering to a big, masterful man.

“Well, Sarah has always given me the impression of preferring her own company.”

Very clever, sniffed Mrs. Mac to herself. Grant had said, “I’ve been thinking much the same thing. Why not move over here? We’ve so many rooms. You could have one with a dormer window. It looks right out to sea. A very faraway glimpse, of course. I’m sure Mrs. Mac would be only too delighted to have you.”

Mrs. Mac sniffed again. Would I now? Really, men were the limit. She gave a vicious swipe at the banister with her lambswool duster that Sarah had contrived. Then she disciplined herself into looking gracious and hospitable when Grant came out to tell her the news.

Yes, Elaine was clever all right. She made no pretence of being useful. No faded slacks and T shirts for Elaine, feeding calves and poultry. No peeling of potatoes, or gathering of eggs. No kneeling and digging out weeds with garden forks.

She said to Grant, “New Zealand women work hard, don’t they? I mean so few have help in the house—in fact many of them lend a hand outdoors ... it doesn’t seem fitting.”

Grant frowned. “It’s often a necessity.”

Elaine waved her ringed hands. “I think it’s an admission of inefficiency.”

“What?” Grant’s puzzlement was complete. “How?”

“I’m certain efficient help could be found, if a woman really gave her mind to finding and training and keeping paid help. Of course I’m used to hiring staff in my position ... I’m sure if I was a New Zealand housewife, I’d achieve that first of all.



“The first essential of wifehood ... after all, men don’t marry for housekeepers, yet they so often find, it seems to me, that the gay companion they looked for simply turns into a drudge, going down to the sheds, cooking for shearers, until in time he finds his house becoming slovenly ... no variety in the meals, the wife with no time to prepare anything except cold mutton, salad, and potatoes.

“Life here could be run on the same lines as some of the beautiful estates in England. One could do it, suppose one had to import staff from England to achieve it. Imagine how different it would be for a man coming home to a wife always changed for dinner, ready to divert him, to be civilized, to entertain.”

“You interest me, Elaine,” said Grant, “you interest me greatly. I’ve never met up with anyone with quite your ideas before.”

He thought suddenly of Sarah. Sarah carting manure from the sites for her garden, digging trenches to irrigate it scientifically, Sarah hot and untidy, bending over trays of loaves, riding Russetty bareback over a paddock in the dewy morn, helping Wiremu put sheep through the foot-rot troughs, changing a tire on the Austin rather than interrupt the men with their work...

The spring had gone out of Sarah’s step. She thought the time would never go until Elaine’s visit would come to an end. The ache in her heart had become a permanent one; for the first time in all her twenty-four years she felt life was drab.

Even though the first weeks at the farm had been full of distrust and enmity, they had still been stimulating. Out of all that turmoil and antagonism had come something approaching friendship or but what was the use of thinking along those lines? All Grant’s doubts were being revived now with the sly hints Elaine dropped, the two-edged meanings, the way she accentuated Sarah’s good fortune in having the share of the estate left to her.

Sarah felt that it was only too evident why Elaine had come all the way from Australia, ostensibly to see her. It had sprung out of the letters she and Grant had written to each other, no doubt, and the chagrin that Elaine had suffered when Duncan Alexander had resisted her.

He’d said to Sarah, “Cloying, isn’t she? And clinging?” He had chuckled. “And with an eye, both eyes, to the main chance. She hasn’t a hope. My wife was such a fine woman, a real pal, full of fun, sincere, lovable. She spoiled me for anyone else ... that side of my life was so entirely satisfying that I can live on the memory of it for the rest of the time I must spend without her. Having known the best, I’m not likely to be taken in by yon cheap woman ... looking for a rich husband, preferably elderly. My wife was like you, Sarah. I wish she could have known you.”

Elaine had been furious at the friendship between Sarah and Duncan, something that was as healthy as the relationship between an uncle and favourite niece. Then Duncan and Sarah’s stepfather had recognized each other for kindred spirits as soon as they met. Duncan had even suggested to Father that the whole family might come out to New Zealand some time.

“Plenty of vacant parishes,” he had said, “and a fine chance educationally for the youngsters.” Sarah thought how different it might have been meeting Grant under those circumstances.

Mrs. Mac was quite outspoken to Sarah about her dislike of Elaine. Sarah was apologetic.

“I feel it’s imposing on you, having her here—”

“Och, don’t fash yourself, lass. It was no doing of yours. Yon besom made all the running. Now don’t pretend with me that she’s a real friend. You need feel no responsibility for that one whatever. If you’d not been so kind-’earted you’d have sent her a cable ‘Impossible to have you.’ Though I guess she would have wormed herself in, just the same. It’s not you she’s interested in, but a wealthy colonial. She’s the sort women’d see through in a tick ... but men ... I’ve always liked the menfolk, but they make me sore impatient sometimes. They haven’t the sense they were born with!” Sarah knew the old stab at the heart. This added up to the fact that Mrs. Mac too feared that Grant was falling for Elaine.

“Oh, well, no doubt the time will get over. I don’t mind admitting she can’t go too soon for me.” She added, almost to herself, “If she goes!”

Sarah went into the pantry to get her oatcakes and fruit loaf. She brushed a hand over her eyes. So Mrs. Mac too was afraid Elaine might become mistress of Challowsford.

Despite the heat Sarah suddenly felt cold. Not only for herself. If Grant should marry Elaine, Sarah would fight that battle herself. Even if it robbed life of all its joy, she would right it, triumph over herself—but in spite of all living here meant to the children, she knew with an intolerable weight of inner despair that she could never stay on at Challowsford.

For the first time in her life real loneliness descended upon Sarah. Not even as a young probationer, in London, with all England, Scotland, and the Pentland Firth separating her from her loved ones, had she known loneliness like this.

But then she had not known the world held Grant. True, wasn’t it, that once love entered your life, you never belonged to yourself again.

Meanwhile, in front of Grant, Sarah tried to play the part of the friend, anxious that a visitor should have a good time, and see as much of the country as possible. So at weekends they went for many trips.

But this had been Sarah’s day off. They came back to Challowsford in the late afternoon. Sarah had tried to manufacture an excuse for staying home, but thanks to Grant had failed. Sarah had thought resentfully: he’s just making me do my duty by Elaine.

They had gone north to Kaikoura to show Elaine some of the coast. It ought to have been a day to remember, full of sunshine and sea breezes, the sound of birds calling, cicadas chirring, bush sweeping down to the bays from dizzy heights, air like wine ... but all through the hours Sarah had been conscious of the irritant of Elaine’s presence, aware that in everything she said and did, Elaine had purpose ... and that purpose to belittle and disparage Sarah.

For once Sarah was defenceless against it. When she fought back with Grant it was clean fighting, thrust and parry and stab. She couldn’t use Elaine’s weapons, had no use for subtlety, for innuendo and malice disguised under honeyed phrases. When she was blunt and forthright, as she preferred to be, she was aware that she was showing up badly against Elaine’s apparent sweetness.

If only Mrs. Mac had come! But she’d been decided. “No, lass, I’ve more than enough of her as it is. God forbid I should spend longer in her company than I must. I’ll be downright glad to have the house to myself. I only hope Grant’s got the sense not to—”

“Not to what?” asked Sarah, chill at her heart again.

“Not to get tied up with her in any way. He’s so sensible in all things other than women ... first that synthetic blonde ... then this one with a synthetic heart!” She paused, looked amused and added, “My word! I’m getting quite witty, but I daresay having a woman like that about the house would sharpen anyone’s wits, not to say their temper!”

Sarah had to laugh.

The housekeeper went on, “She’ll go too far one of these days ... I hope. I heard her last night telling Grant this house could be done over till he wouldn’t know it. Painted pink, she said! Give it a continental air. Said if the wall with the french windows was taken out altogether, and the porch extended to make a loggia, with pillars and wrought-iron work and Swedish wood tables and what-not, we’d not know it. She’ll overstep the mark yet. Grant’s the mahogany and carpet kind.” But Sarah hadn’t been so sure.