Authors: Margaret Tanner
“I sava him.” She pulled out from the front of her gown a bedraggled shivering little puppy and the story soon poured out. Someone had put three puppies in a hessian bag weighted down with stones and dropped them in the river, this little fellow being the sole survivor. Somehow he had managed to get out of the bag and scramble on to a protruding branch and Rosa rescued him.
“We’ll have to keep him,” Glory said. “I could do with a watchdog. What are you going to call him?”
“Giovanni is whata I call him.”
On the way back, they called into the homestead so Jo could pick up enough clothes for herself and Mark to last them a few days. Katie insisted on milking, while Rosa and Glory fed the chickens and ducks.
“Gawd, haven't enjoyed myself like this in years.” Glory collapsed into a chair in the parlor and kicked off her shoes. “Ah, that's better.” She lifted up her gown, sticking her legs out straight in front of her.
“A stool for Madame.” Jo lifted her feet on to another chair. Surprisingly her legs were as slim and dainty as a girl’s.
“I used to be a dancer once,” Glory chortled. “Still got the legs for it but the rest of me is too fat.”
They sang all the way back into town, their voices overloud in the afternoon stillness of the main street. A few people strolling along stared in disbelief, but Benny, when he saw who made the noise, rushed out to greet them.
“Can't stand to see anyone enjoying themselves.” Glory waved her parasol and called out, “Halleluiah Sister,” to a middle aged matron who stood talking to the Minister outside the parsonage. Jo roared with laughter.
“Did you see the look on the old dear's face?” Katie wiped the tears from her eyes. “I thought she might have a seizure.”
They laughed even more at Glory's rendition of 'Onward Christian Soldiers' as they passed the general store. No one came out, of course, but the front blind twitched.
Later, after tea, they all sat around a roaring fire in the private lounge, drinking hot chocolate. Sunday was the one day of the week that the establishment did not open.
There was no sign of Luke until Wednesday, when he arrived just after they had finished eating lunch.
“Good afternoon, Glory, ladies, I want to speak with Jo.”
“Here will do.” Jo got up from the table. “There’s nothing you've got to say to me that can't be said in front of my friends.”
“I'm in a hurry. I went to your place Sunday and again yesterday. Benny told me you’re staying here.”
“I'm having a holiday.”
Giovanni sidled up and Jo watched in surprise as Luke scratched the puppy’s ear with a slim tanned finger. He had well-shaped hands for a man. Wondering why she was being so idiotic she snapped at Luke. “It's Rosa's pup, she saved him from the river.”
He picked the little creature up and inspected him. “It's a she, not a he.” He grinned. “Didn't you know the difference?”
“We didn't check.” Jo glared at him to hide her turmoil.
Luke put Giovanni down. “Do you mind, Glory? I want to speak with Jo alone.” His arrogant assumption everyone should leave the room made her seethe.
“This happens to be Glory's house and she doesn't have to leave the room on your say so.”
“Come outside with me then. I'm in a hurry.”
“Anxious to get back to your loving wife?” Jo took a perverse kind of pleasure in watching his face darken with temper.
“It's about the boy.”
“Mark?”
She followed Luke into the back garden. “What is it?” Standing with her head thrown back, she placed her hands on her hips.
“I've seen the parson. The christening takes place next Sunday during service.”
“What!” Her hands fluttered to her face. Had he gone mad?
“You heard me, ten o'clock. I'll meet you in the church.”
“I won't do it. Standing up in front of all those people, it isn't right. We should have him christened in private.”
“Don't you have the guts to face them, Jo?”
“It isn't that. I'd feel a hypocrite.”
“Too bad. When I acknowledge my son, I intend doing it in public, and what better place than the sanctity of the church,” he sneered.
“Did the parson agree?”
“Needed a little persuasion.” His lips twisted into a gloating smile. “A donation to the new building fund had him agreeing to everything I wanted.”
“You've got no conscience, have you? No sense of decency at all.”
“I always get my way. You of all people should know that,” his voice softened, washing over her in a gentle caress. “I'm going to Melbourne this afternoon, be back Saturday. Why don't you come with me?”
“I couldn't.”
“Why not? We'll stay in the best hotel. You can buy yourself some pretty things.”
“What about Mark?”
“We can take him with us. What do you say? We can spend nearly the whole time together.”
“I don’t know, Luke.”
She was wavering. He watched her gnaw her bottom lip, rub at her cheek. Exhilaration surged through him because she wanted to spend time with him. She was as desperate for him as he was for her. He pressed home his advantage. “I've got some business to fix up, but it won't take long. I'll take you to the theatre, wherever you like.”
“I would like to visit Melbourne again. I do miss it.”
“On Friday evening, I have to attend a reception at the Governor's residence.”
“You want me to accompany you?”
He hesitated for a split second. “No, I couldn't take you there.”
“Why not?”
“Because the Governor and his wife are related to Cassandra's family and they know about our marriage.”
“Oh, I see. It wouldn't do for them to associate with your mistress, would it?” She wondered why she felt such a crushing, all-consuming hurt.
“For God's sake. You can see the position it would put me in.”
“You selfish bastard,” she yelled as fury surged through her. “It's all right for me to share your bed, bear your son, as long as I'm well hidden from your society friends. Well, you can keep your Melbourne trip and all the bribes that come with it.”
His lips snapped together.
“Take Francy with you,” Jo raged on. “For a gown or two, I'm sure she'd be delighted to remain hidden and be available when and wherever you say.”
“I don’t need you. I can buy any woman in Melbourne.”
“Go to hell, Luke.”
“Ten o'clock Sunday.” He stalked off. “Oh, and I'll be choosing a gown for you to wear to the ceremony,” he threw back over his shoulder. “Any particular color you favor?”
“I want nothing from you.”
“I'll provide an appropriate christening robe, too.”
“Why don't you get the Pope or the Archbishop of Canterbury to perform the ceremony?”
She was tempted to throw a rock at his retreating back.
Who the hell did he think he was? The minute he wanted her, she had to be available. Damn you, Luke Campton, damn you to hell. So, he wanted Mark christened during the church service, did he? Well, she would make sure the baby received plenty of support. She hurried back into the building to find Glory.
“Have you ever been to a christening?”
“Gawd no, I'm not the type. A bit too vulgar, wouldn't you say?”
“Would you come to Mark's christening on Sunday?”
“You're not joking?”
“No, I've never been more serious. Please.”
“Me?”
“Yes, I'd like you to come, Katie and Rosa, too, Mary and George, as well if they want to.”
“All right. I'll wear my most sober gown. There's a wine color taffeta I wore to a funeral once. Do you think that would make me look respectable enough?”
“Clothes don't make the person. You're my friend and I want you there, so wear whatever you like.”
Katie and Rosa happily agreed to attend. What about Benny and the smithy, too, Jo thought, they had always been decent to her. To think was to act. Glory promised to mind Mark who had recently been fed, while she dashed off to deliver her invitations.
The street bustled with people. There were a few strangers in town. They waved and smiled, obviously word of her immorality and depravity had yet to reach them.
Benny was mucking out the police stables, but she had no hesitation in ignoring the policeman's instruction to wait until he finished.
“Benny,” she called out to him
He rushed out of the stable with a slobbering grin all over his face. “Howdy, Jo.”
“You’re busy?”
“I got lots of work.”
“Are you doing anything on Sunday?”
He scratched his head. “No.”
“Would you like to come to a christening?” At his look of non-comprehension she gave him a brief explanation and he agreed to attend.
“I hope you've been keeping up with your painting.”
“Yes.” He nodded vigorously.
“Good. Did Mr. Johnson give you the parcel that contained the paints and brushes?”
“Yes.”
“I'll see you in church on Sunday.”
Her reception from Mrs. Kilvain when she met her outside the store was predictably frigid. She held her head high, pretending not to notice two young women whispering together as they edged away.
Next port of call was the smithy. He beamed his delight at the invitation.
“Bring Jacques and Henri if you like,” she invited.
“Those boys of mine won't go to church.”
“Tell them it's a special occasion. Could you pick up Benny please?” She now looked forward to Mark making his public debut. Why shouldn't their friends attend? She wondered whether Luke would bring Cassandra.
On her arrival back at Glory’s, she discovered her friend in the throes of planning a celebration party.
***
On Saturday afternoon, a man from Kangaroo Gully arrived with two boxes for Jo. She wouldn’t be wearing anything provided by Luke, she was adamant about that. After the man left, she lifted the lid of the bigger box and there in all its beauty, lay a white spot-patterned black muslin gown with a black lace and white silky fringe. She soon changed her mind. She wanted to look her best for Mark's sake.
The intricately embroidered skirt of the white christening gown would almost touch the floor when the baby lay in her arms. The exquisite outfit brought a lump to her throat.
Did Luke walk into a shop and buy the most expensive gown available, or had he chosen it himself? If so, why pick such an exquisitely fragile thing? Sheer male pride and arrogance? Or did he feel real affection for their little son? Sometimes she would have sworn he did but at other times… you could never be sure of anything with him. He was so unpredictable.
On Sunday, she swept her hair up over a pad from a centre parting, pinned two horizontal ringlets one below the other at the crown and left the rest of the hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. She wore the black velvet hat that Luke had provided, tipped well forward.
Glory wore a wine-colored silk gown, trimmed with darker mauve. Her large hat was covered in purple and mauve feathers. Katie wore a pale pink gown, edged with a white and gold fringe. Rosa’s gown was blood red. She had never seen the Italian girl in any other color.
Mark was a beautiful baby, but her mother’s heart especially filled with pride today, although nerves tempered her excitement. Rosa's eyes swam with tears, her voice choking as she kept calling him a beautiful bambino.
The smithy had promised to pick up Benny, and Jo's excitement became tempered with nerves. George drove them over in an open carriage. Strange seeing the plump barman dressed in a dark suit instead of his usual trousers and gold and green silk waistcoat.
A number of carriages were already lined up outside the yellow sandstone church. The smithy and Benny waited for them, wide grins on both their faces.
“Gawd, haven't been in a church for forty years. Hope the roof doesn't collapse on us.” Glory’s face was as heavily made up as usual, her plump fingers adorned with numerous large rings. She would have hundreds of pounds worth of jewelry on her fingers alone.
They entered in a group, Jo a step or two ahead of the others. As they walked in single file down the aisle, an audible buzz rippled through the congregation. The Minister's face blanched and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
Luke sat alone in the front pew. His head did not move so much as an inch, but he must have heard the gasps.
“Ullo, Mr. Kilvain.” Rosa waved to the storekeeper who squirmed in his seat.
Jo stifled a laugh.
“Gawd, he'll be for it later, poor little bugger.” Several heads turned at Glory's over-loud whisper.
As they filed past, Luke sat stony faced, only his eyes seemed mobile, they fairly blazed. Jo couldn’t decide whether this was from anger or admiration.
Before they sat down, Rosa and Katie made the sign of the cross.
“Lo, Luke.” Benny's greeting received a nod of acknowledgement. George and the smithy merely nodded.