Forgiven_BooksGoSocial Historical Fiction Page 6

  “Well boys, I think we’re done with this place. The police

  are none the wiser about anything and there is no fresh news

  from our friends in Cape Town, so we may as well enjoy our

  stay tonight an’ get on our way tomorrow. First, we’ll go south

  to Illwe and from there to Sterkstoom Junction to check the

  telegraph for news, after which we’ll make our way north via

  rail to Molteno and Stormberg Junction, checking the telegraph

  and the constabulary stations as we go.”

  Finally, I downed my drink and feeling its numbness

  beginning to spread through my limbs, I decided I’d had

  enough of whisky and got to my feet.

  “Right oh, then gentlemen, I’m off for a bath.” They

  looked up, surprise etched on their faces.

  “Now?” came the reply, all three of them busy refilling

  their glasses. “What’s the big hurry?”

  Back in my room, I up-ended the carpetbag and tipped its

  contents out upon the bed. Spotting the suit, I separated it from

  the pile, as well as the shoes and clean underwear, before

  leaving the remainder as it lay. While I rummaged I noticed

  there was a daywear suit consisting of a striped jacket, boater

  hat and cream trousers that I hadn’t seen before, plus a bag that

  34

  contained a grooming kit. I smiled. I hadn’t peed into a

  ceramic toilet bowl or had a hot bath for months prior and was

  looking forward to the novelty of it.

  Then I went downstairs to the desk to ask the clerk on duty

  to have hot water for a bath brought up and was assured the

  staff would get onto it straight away. I returned to my room

  and busied myself with repacking the items I didn’t require.

  Ten minutes later, there was a knock upon the door and three

  attendants entered, each carrying two large enamelled pitchers

  of hot water, while a fourth carried a tin bath. They placed the

  bath on a towelling mat and poured the water in, then left,

  leaving a couple of hand towels and a cake of soap on the bed.

  I locked the door and stripped off, about to step in the bath,

  when there came another knock on the door.

  “Sir, we have more water for you.”

  Wrapping a towel around myself I stepped over to the door,

  unlocked it and swung it open to find someone who was

  definitely not a hotel attendant, standing with his hands

  clasped behind his back and a smirk on his face.

  “Who’re you?” I growled, more than a little annoyed at this

  intrusion. I took a step forward and a quick look left down the

  hallway to ensure there were no women around to see me

  draped in a towel, and it went through my mind that this bloke

  looked like one of the layabouts we had passed on the way into

  town. Then, something slammed down on my head.

  35

  Chapter Five

  PATEA, Early December. 1898

  The postbox in Patea hadn’t been cleared for a while and more

  hardware was required for the farm, so early one morning I

  harnessed lofty and the grey to the wagon and hit the road for

  town. The wind was fresh and the sky was covered in cloud

  when I left, but by the time I had reached Patea, the sun was

  hot and directly overhead.

  It was now mid-afternoon and I couldn’t be bothered with

  supplies by then, so I headed for Aunt Zelda’s and un-

  harnessed the horses in the paddock next to the house. Zelda’s

  husband had died tragically about six years before, so Zelda

  and her daughters, Agnes and Emma, had returned to Patea

  where they would be closer to family and friends.

  The horses went straight to the water trough and with tails

  swishing they commenced to drink, while I shouldered the

  carpetbag and the portmanteau that contained my clothes and

  opened the gate in the hedge. I hadn’t been to Patea since my

  return from Whanganui and it was good to be away from the

  farm for a while.

  After closing the gate I could hear voices from the back of

  the house, so I crept down the side and glanced around the

  corner, ensuring that I couldn't be seen. I saw Agnes and

  Emma, which was no surprise, but I was stunned to see who

  they were talking to - it was her, the girl from Whanganui; the

  one with the extraordinary eyes! In dismay I pulled my head

  back, realising now that there was no possibility she could

  avoid me. I stepped into view, casually announcing my

  presence and surprised, they turned to look.

  Agnes and Emma were pleased to see me and seemed to be

  more excited than usual. Agnes beckoned and I tried my

  darnedest not to be seen to be holding my breath while Agnes

  glanced at her friend.

  36

  “Richard, meet my new friend Rachel Purdue.” As I

  looked, Rachel’s face registered an expression that bordered on

  shock.

  I gazed back benignly, trying not to seem forward, or be

  seen to stare, while acutely conscious of her proximity at the

  same time.

  “Hello Rachel,” I managed in a subdued tone, still taking

  her in.

  “So,” she began, her composure restored. “You are the

  Richard I have heard so much about.”

  I was surprised she said that.

  “The only one I’m sure.” I glanced at Agnes, who blushed

  and quickly looked at Emma before both looked away.

  “Rachel’s from Whanganui, you know. She’s the pen friend

  I told you about.”

  “Yes,” piped Emma, “she’s come to stay and now you are

  here, you can help us keep her entertained.”

  I scarcely heard them. My attention was solely on Rachel.

  She was so damn adorable that I couldn’t stop looking. Her

  hair was pulled backwards and wound loosely behind her head,

  exposing her slim neck and shoulders. She moved slightly and

  partly crossed her arms, while her eyes seemed to linger; there

  was something deep and absorbing in the way they lingered

  that was almost startling.

  Aunt Zelda broke the spell.

  “Is that you Richard? Everyone come inside and I’ll put the

  kettle on.”

  “I’d better put my things in the bunkhouse,” I murmured,

  almost apologetically, scarcely able to look away. As the girls

  filed inside I noticed a smile had flicked discreetly across her

  features, then I carried my gear to the bunkroom. I always slept

  out there when I stayed, because it wouldn’t do for a virile

  young man like myself to sleep in a house full of excitable

  young women.

  That evening I found myself sitting directly opposite her at

  the dinner table. She was dressed more formally than she

  needed to be, but she was so god-awful extraordinary that I

  made a point of looking at the others and made a conscious

  effort to contribute to the conversation – but she wasn’t fooled.

  37

  She knew exactly what I was thinking. She was like no other

  girl I had ever seen and my eyes couldn’t get enough. I was

  hugely relieved to realise that there appeared to be no

  embarrassment in her demeanour; to my encouragement,
she

  seemed to be comfortable with my attentiveness.

  Next morning, I was up early and while the girls were still

  wandering about in their dressing gowns I left in the wagon. I

  drove to the main road and stopped at the hardware store to

  buy fencing wire and staples, a handle for the fencepost

  shovel, spirits of salts for making flux, a lock to replace the

  broken lock on the tool shed door and several reels of twine.

  Then I moved to the haberdashery shop where to mother’s

  instructions I bought white linen for shirt making, a packet of

  sewing needles and an assorted packet of pearl-coloured

  buttons. After that, I made for the smithy and picked up the re-

  welded eyebolt for the hay mower before heading back to

  Zelda’s.

  By the time I arrived there, it was just about noon and I

  found that Agnes and Emma were still excited and awaiting

  my return.

  “We’re taking Rachel for a picnic and you must come with

  us.” Rachel alone seemed to be calm, and looked on while

  Aunt Zelda raided the pantry for food.

  “Besides,” Emma added brightly, “we need a man to drive

  the gig now, don’t we?”

  I smiled inwardly. I needed an excuse to hang around.

  Since the wagon was already harnessed I threw the

  hardware out, collected the bench seats from the front of the

  house and in five minutes had them fixed inside the wagon

  with twine. A light stepladder was produced from the garden

  shed and after everyone had clambered aboard I flipped the

  tailgate up. Then we were off.

  I drove to the river, where a reserve wound its way along

  the bank and there were some shade trees close to the water.

  There I stopped and while the women spread their blankets I

  made several trips with a canvas bucket to retrieve some water

  for the horses, before we helped ourselves to fresh bread, ham,

  pickles and cheese, after which we settled in for an idle

  afternoon and equally idle conversations.

  38

  Rachel was a model of social decorum and butter wouldn’t

  melt in her mouth. She was acutely aware of my fascination

  for her, but she was doing a darn good job of not showing it.

  Her hands were so angelic that I wanted to kiss them and hug

  them. I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking like that and I

  could feel the colour rise in my face.

  She sat with her legs folded beside her, her ankles

  protruding from the bottom of her skirt. They were so slim and

  elegant. My eyes focused on where they disappeared under her

  hem. I looked away. When I turned to look back, she casually

  reached up with a subtle arch that thrust out her chest, grasped

  her hat and slowly removed some hatpins before sliding the hat

  from her head.

  While her fingers probed and pulled, I noticed that her

  blouse tightened around her breasts; the buttons strained. I

  looked away in case anyone noticed I was staring. Agnes and

  Emma were oblivious and continued to chatter, but it was all

  too apparent from the smirk on Aunt Zelda’s face that she

  hadn’t missed a thing.

  Not long after, Zelda suddenly stood up and to my surprise,

  dragged Agnes and Emma away on some pretext or other. I

  was so absorbed with Rachel that I didn’t catch what the

  reason was and anyway, all that really mattered was that

  Rachel and I were alone.

  I realised that I needed to converse with style, but my brain

  was too stuck to function; I was compelled to resort to

  mundane things.

  “What do you do in Whanganui?” Her eyes smiled

  benignly and my confidence soared. “I work part time in a law

  office.”

  That brought me down with a jolt. Brains as well as beauty,

  I thought despairingly. Only a handful of the smartest girls

  could ever get a job like that.

  “What about you then – I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Oh,” says I, feigning modesty. “What things have you

  heard?”

  “Well, I’ve heard that you are a consummate horseman, a

  fabulous carpenter, a famous marksman and a great white

  hunter!”

  39

  “Good lord! You don’t believe any of that do you?”

  She laughed. “So, you deny it then? Your cousins do

  admire you, you know. You must have done something to

  deserve it.” There was a pause. She had a smirk that hinted

  devilment. “Is it true that you won the school’s shooting

  championship with a perfect score?”

  “I was lucky. It was my turn to win I guess.”

  She gave me a shrewd look. “I also heard that you shot a

  gigantic wild boar that was a national record.”

  “It was Billy’s dogs that caught it. I only pulled the

  trigger.”

  “I suppose then, that there is no truth to the rumour that

  you are the local horse jumping champion?”

  I hesitated and smiled my own version of a coy smile. “It

  was Brownie that did the jumping. I only went for the ride.”

  Just then we could hear Aunt Zelda and the girls returning

  and I realised our time alone was almost up.

  I must have looked disappointed, because Rachel seemed

  to notice.

  “Don’t worry,” she whispered, leaning closer. “I’ll see you

  later.” Hope blossomed like an explosion, but what exactly did

  she mean?

  That evening, we retired to the parlour and the three young

  women sat together talking and laughing while I kept aside and

  watched. To the casual observer, I was looking at the group,

  but in reality, I was watching her. She had a pleasant social

  manner and smiled as she looked from one to the other. She

  would laugh spontaneously on the right occasions and

  contributed to the conversation – no small feat where Agnes

  and Emma were concerned! Occasionally, her brown eyes

  would flick in my direction, probably to confirm that I was still

  watching, but otherwise she ignored me.

  Later, I lay in my bed and visions of her kept floating

  around in my head. There was no doubt that she had tipped my

  world upside down, and when she left here tomorrow, my life

  would never be the same. Eventually, weariness made me fall

  into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  It was in the early hours that I suddenly woke; and froze. I

  could sense someone else in the room. It was a shock to realise

  40

  that someone was standing close to the bed, silently looking

  down on me.

  “Richard!” came a whisper in the darkness. I got another

  shock when it dawned on me who it was.

  “Rachel?!” I swung off the bed, failing to hide the surprise

  in my voice, and after ensuring the door was shut so that no

  one could see her, I lit the candle on the washstand.

  She was barefoot and poised in her nightdress, with her

  hair hanging long and loose. I was too surprised to say a word;

  I just stared and she stared back. We were less than a yard

  apart and I was conscious only of her, the two of us, alone in

  this room. Our own little uni
verse. Her eyes looked moist and

  luminous in the candlelight. Was this a defining moment? She

  seemed hesitant, unsure.

  Then she made up her mind. She stepped forward, holding

  out her arms, and folded them around me. She drew herself to

  me as though it were the most natural thing in the world for her

  to do. We just stood there, holding each other. I could feel her

  back through the flannel of her nightdress and marvelled how

  light she was.

  I could sense she was nervous and neither of us spoke –

  she was undoubtedly naked under that nightdress and an

  avalanche of emotions surged through me; euphoric emotions,

  feelings of reverence and tenderness I never would have

  thought I was capable of. After a while, she lifted her head

  from my shoulder and her eyes bored into mine.

  “Richard. If I come back for another visit, will you still be

  here?”

  “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

  “Good.” There was a note of confidence in her voice. “For

  if I return and you do not come, I shall be utterly miserable!”

  Then she let me go, and the last I saw of her, she was gliding

  through the moonlight heading for the house.

  On my way home, I had much to dwell on. The horses

  plodded steadily along while the road twisted and turned over

  pleasant, undulating countryside which was dotted with copses

  of native trees. Every bend in the road opened up another vista,

  the sunshine was marvellous, the wind was light and kereru

  41

  flapped lazily overhead, but I never really noticed it. My mind

  was far away.

  I was all too aware that something incredible had happened

  and the memory of it was stuck in my head like molasses

  sticks to a wooden spoon. I could still imagine her arms around

  me, her head on my shoulder and the soapy lavender smell of

  her nightdress – all of which was completely intoxicating.

  Inside, I felt a continuous wistfulness.

  I was also aware that she had taken a monumental risk in

  sneaking out like that. Aside from the ever-present danger of

  being caught doing it, there was also the uncertainty of the

  outcome, for she had no way of knowing precisely how I

  would react. I could well have been shocked that she had

  broken one of the most fundamental of social rules and tossed

  her out; but I could have also interpreted her actions as an open

  invitation to take advantage of her. As it happened, I was more