“They’d got off to a bad start. All sorts of complications. And their pride got in the way. So Matron said.”
“What a pity. They’ve found happiness now, but they could have had a family growing up around them, have had years of memories. All for the small price of sinking one’s pride ... of asking for the truth. What a pity to let misunderstanding flourish.”
Sarah found she was holding her breath.
Then Grant said abruptly, “You said once you didn’t know if Elaine was a widow or not. Has she told you since she came here? I’d like to know.”
He’d like to know ... a pity to let misunderstandings flourish ... to ask for the truth ...
Sarah said, her eyes on the ground, “If you want to know, Grant, there’s only one person to tell you ... and that’s Elaine herself.”
“You’re right, of course,” he said, and walked back with her to the house.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Somehow the days wore on towards the date of Elaine’s departure for the great mountain ... Aoarangi the Maoris called it ... the Cloud-piercer. If only Elaine had been going back to England ... but this was only a respite. She would be back.
Sarah threw herself into her work, filled every moment to the brim, and even at night, when the children had gone to bed, she baked, ironed, mended, prepared their meals for the next day.
Then, all tasks ended, she would sit down to eat her solitary supper, and pick up a book so that she could still keep her thoughts at bay. Sometimes she would think about the story she was reading ... yes, but even if these characters have their problems, their misunderstandings, you know it will all come right at the last ... the misunderstandings will be cleared up, the problems solved ... mine can’t be.
I did take half the estate, and that is something that will always be between us. It’s an impossible situation ... and even if it could be surmounted, there’s Elaine. If Grant loves her ...
Grant stopped Sarah on the last Friday morning before Elaine was to leave, as she drove away to the hospital. He put an elbow on the hood of the Austin and looked down on her, his checked shirt open at his muscular throat, the atmosphere of the farmyard and good tobacco about him.
“You aren’t working this Saturday, are you, Sarah? How about a last picnic? I thought we’d take Elaine to the mineral springs at Hanmer. It’s an interesting place.”
Sarah swallowed. She couldn’t stand another outing with Elaine. The less she saw of her the better. And to have Elaine hinting afterwards that she had played gooseberry was more than she could bear.
She said, “Sorry, Grant. Thanks for asking me, but I’m going over to Nancy’s. She’s having a crowd of visitors and finds it so hectic with the twins. I’ve promised to help her.”
Sarah was amazed at herself. The lie had come so naturally. She’d ring Nancy up as soon as she got to the hospital.
Grant’s brow was like a thundercloud. “I should have thought you’d have kept Saturday free—it’s Elaine’s last one here.”
Sarah was suddenly impatient with it all, with herself, with Grant, with Elaine.
She revved up the engine. “Don’t bother to try to sound disappointed, Grant, when it’s obvious that you and Elaine would rather be on your own. Three has always been a crowd.”
For just a flash, her sapphire eyes blazed into his hazel ones.
“I’m going, Grant. Look out ... I’m a demon for punctuality and you’ve delayed me already.” Grant hastily removed his elbow, the car shot away, he stood and watched it as it disappeared in a cloud of dust on the shingled road.
He started to go to the barn, stopped in his tracks suddenly, changed his mind and went over to the house.
He went straight to the phone.
“Is that you, Nancy? Look, Sarah’s just left, and I forgot to ask her about some arrangements for Saturday. I have an idea you and she had something cooked up for that afternoon, is that right?”
Nancy sounded surprised. “Why, no, Grant. You must have been mistaken. We haven’t arranged anything.”
“I must have been,” agreed Grant suavely. “That’s okay, then. I’ll go ahead with these other arrangements. Thanks, Nan. Cheerio.”
Nancy echoed “Cheerio,” replaced the phone, and switched on her washing machine. With a bit of luck she’d get these naps out before either baby woke. Funny about Sarah.
Twenty minutes later the phone rang again. Sarah.
“Nancy? Good, Nancy, be a pet and ask me over tomorrow. I want to use you as an excuse to dodge an unwelcome engagement. You will? Oh, you’re an angel: And, Nancy, if you happen to see Grant, don’t let on I wangled the invitation, will you?” Nancy opened her mouth to say, “But Grant has just rang,” then decided not to. Whatever stupid game these two were playing, she mustn’t put her foot in it, but try to find out what was wrong, and if possible put it right.
That night Sarah was to have dinner at the homestead. Mrs. Mac insisted sometimes. She worried over Sarah. The girl’s face was much thinner than when she first came to Challowsford—she had smudgy shadows under her eyes too. She said as much to Grant now, as he scrubbed up at the basin on the verandah.
“No wonder she looks thin and pale,” he said shortly. “She works too hard.”
He looked up to see Elaine come round from the side verandah. Mrs. Mac went in with her bunch of mint. The less time she spent in that Madam’s company the better.
Elaine said softly, so she shouldn’t be overheard, “She does work too hard ... it’s odd.”
Grant said, “Why odd? Most nurses work hard.”
Elaine agreed. “Yes ... most. Not Sarah. At least not the Sarah I knew.”
Grant went on scrubbing his nails. “What do you mean exactly?”
“There are always shirkers in every group of nurses. Sarah was one who went into it thinking it meant a becoming uniform, smoothing brows and holding hands ... and meeting people, people it might be advantageous to know.”
Grant pulled out the plug, ran cold water over his hands. “Yet she passed all her exams, became a sister.”
Elaine shrugged. “Oh, she’s brainy enough ... in fact, clever. Look where she’s got to. Not many nursing sisters find themselves the part owner of a sheep-station.”
His eyes were keen, penetrating. “Then why does she work so hard now, when she has no need?”
Elaine laughed. “Oh, Grant, dear ... it puzzled me too at first. But women are quicker at summing up a situation. That was the only way she could appeal to you. She deliberately set out to disabuse your mind of any idea that she was mercenary.”
She paused, to let that sink in, since Grant appeared thoughtful. Then she added, “And she’s not above distorting the truth to serve her own ends too. Haven’t you found that out yet? Have you always found her strictly truthful, Grant?”
He gave a short, unamused laugh. “No,” he said, “I’ve certainly not found Sarah strictly truthful. This conversation interests me. Go on, Elaine. This is most revealing.”
There was a step on the porch. They’d not heard Sarah came along the path, nor seen her because that end of the verandah was screened with a tangle of clematis vines. They both swung round, Elaine looking triumphant, Grant guilty.
Sarah didn’t have much, color, but her head was high, her step brisk.
“Oh, hullo,” she said disarmingly. “I hope dinner’s nearly ready, I’m starving,”—and she preceded them into the kitchen where savoury odors greeted them from the casseroles Mrs. Mac was removing from the oven.
Strange, then, that Sarah had to force herself to eat. Hard to find any taste in food when Grant’s voice kept echoing in her mind: “I’ve certainly not found Sarah strictly truthful.”
That rather settled it, she thought. If, though all these months, Grant had not learned to trust her, she could not continue here. She would have to find some other way of providing for the youngsters. At the thought bleak despair settled upon her. When Elaine left for her tour perhaps she could think things out. Oh, Tuesday, come quickly.
Sarah was on duty next Tuesday. Elaine could have caught a bus, but Grant was taking her to Christchurch. That was only to be expected. He was going to stay overnight and attend the Addington Market sale on the Wednesday.
So Grant had said, though Sarah guessed that it was really to take Elaine to the theatre, and to see her safely on to the Mount Cook bus the next morning.
In the Saturday night’s paper, Sarah saw a position advertised in Christchurch, and applied for it. A private hospital wanted extra staff, but not to live in. Salary and conditions sounded good. If Sarah could obtain a flat somewhere, they could still be together. It would mean the children starting new schools, but then Rory would be going to High School next year in any case, as a day boy, and children were adaptable. In years to come Rory could work on a farm, and perhaps eventually own one.
If Pauline wanted to train as a vet, she would have to try for a bursary. Sarah told herself that time would solve all her problems.
Elaine came across on the Monday night to say goodbye.
“Grant and I are leaving so early to-morrow morning, Sarah. We’d like as much time in Christchurch together as possible. It’s practically impossible to be alone here.” She laughed. “Isn’t it strange? When first I introduced Duncan Alexander to you, little did I think that that meeting would change both our lives, bring us both to the southern hemisphere.”