Golden Hope (16 page)

‘Don't you dare say you're sorry,' Clytie said softly in warning.

When his answer came his eyes were serious. ‘I won't let you down.'

She watched him walk away, Shadow at his heels.

If he doesn't look back I'll never see him again.

At the last point before the bush concealed them, Rom paused to look back. He rolled his eyes and kissed the fingertips of his hand, exaggerating the French sign of ultimate pleasure.

Then man and dog were lost from sight.

‘Who was it said the mirror never lies?'

Clytie pressed her nose against the mirror hanging on the wall. She stared into the mysterious depths of her eyes, drawing back slowly until she was unable to restrain a smile crinkling at the corners of her mouth.

‘I'm now a woman, yet I look exactly the same as I did last night before . . .'

She glanced at the door of the small room where Dolores lay sleeping. Even the sudden wave of anxiety about her mother's possible reaction could not diminish her desire to see Rom again.

‘The Creator of All Things certainly knew what he was doing when he made human beings.'

Her mother had brought her up with a natural acceptance of people of all races, and the fact that love was not necessarily limited to men and women – or to the procreation of children.

That subject now had fresh significance. Only recently she had cornered her mother with a direct question. ‘Why didn't you have children with Vlad?'

Dolores had looked her straight in the eye. ‘There are ways to invite children – and ways
not
to invite them. No need for you to know the boring details right now. Ask me when the time comes.'

Boring details? Clytie decided the right time had come to take a serious look at them.

She wasted no time acting on the decision. As luck would have it today was Doc Hundey's morning surgery at the Diggers' Rest Hotel. She left a hasty note for her mother stating the half truth that she had gone to Midd's General Store.

In fact she had two things to resolve. Her new status as a woman made her old roustabout boy's clothes obsolete – she had few items of girls' clothing beyond her circus costumes.

Entering the Charity Bazaar, she found a middle-aged woman seated behind the counter knitting khaki socks. The woman's mousy
hair was tied back in a bun, her face scrubbed clean as if to defy any suggestion of make-up, but her smile was warm when she introduced herself to Clytie as Mrs Binstead, the wife of the Methodist minister.

‘Welcome to Hoffnung, Miss Hart. You're new here so I'll explain how things work. All the churches' women take turns to man this store. All the proceeds go towards parcels for our Volunteers in South Africa. Do you know the army doesn't even supply our boys with soap?'

She steered Clytie to the racks of women's clothing.

‘We have a nice new batch of gowns donated by Noni James. Like as not they'd be a perfect fit for your size.'

Clytie thanked her and took special note of Noni's former dresses to make sure she avoided them. While searching through the racks of clothing, she was aware that all of them would be recognised by their previous owners. To be seen wearing them in Hoffnung would advertise the borderline poverty that her proud mother was determined to avoid.
I'll design new clothes from mother's old ones – or buy a bolt of plain cotton and dye it different colours.

Mindful of how important it was to establish a new reputation, Clytie thanked Mrs Binstead politely when leaving without a sale.

‘You and your mother are welcome at our services, dear,' the minister's wife said, ‘whether you are of our faith or not.'

There was an unspoken question mark in the words. Unused to defining her relationship to God, Clytie was caught off guard.

‘Thank you, but Mother and I don't belong to any particular faith. We simply pray to The Creator of All Things.'

The woman smiled benignly over her knitting. ‘In that case no doubt you'll be at home in any of our churches.'

Hopeful that she could steer a course between the sectarian tensions that were known to split many townships, Clytie crossed the road to the side entrance of the Diggers' Rest.

The first patient to arrive at Doc's surgery, she found him writing in a distinctive gold-tooled diary. He looked up and smiled, turned the key in the diary's lock and replaced it in his medical bag.

‘Good morning, Miss Hart. I take it you and your mother are settling comfortably into your new home. Good, then how may I help you?'

Clytie took a deep breath and released the words in a rush.

‘Mother said she would explain things to me when the time was right but she's got a lot on her mind, so I thought I'd ask you. The thing is, last night – I became a woman.'

‘Your first menstruation? How old are you? Fifteen?'

‘Sixteen. No, I didn't mean that. I meant a
real
woman.'

Doc nodded and gave her his full attention. ‘I trust your first experience was a happy one – not painful as it is for many young girls.'

‘It was wonderful,' she said quickly, unsure of the etiquette of the situation. Should she reveal Rom's name?

‘May I ask if your young man took
care
of you?'

Clytie suspected there was a hidden meaning in the question.

Doc withdrew a small object from his medical bag that looked to her like a rag used to clean spectacles.

How could this protect me? What does he mean by ‘withdrawing from me at an important moment'?

She shook her head in confusion.

‘Forgive me for asking, Miss Hart, but do you have plans to marry?'

‘We didn't talk about that. It all happened so quickly. One moment we were reading a book and then the next . . .'

Doc's eyes were smiling. ‘That's usually the case with first love. You were wise to come to see me straight away. In case you have already fallen with child.'

Clytie was shocked. ‘After just one night?'

‘Conception is like a lottery. It can take years or occur within the very first hour of intercourse.'

Conception. Intercourse. What cold words for such a magical experience.

Doc seemed to read her thoughts and said quickly, ‘Forgive me. I have no wish to deflate your first romantic experience. Children are a wonderful gift when the time is right.'

He removed a pamphlet from his medical bag. Clytie was reminded of the childhood myth that doctors brought babies to mothers in bags like this.

‘We pride ourselves on being modern in this exciting new century,' Doc said. ‘The fact remains it is professionally dangerous for physicians to give advice about contraception. This pamphlet by Dr Allbutt
in Leeds has helped poor families the world over – but the author paid a bitter price. He was struck off the British Medical Register – but he continued to fight his cause.'

Clytie felt intimidated by the title,
The Wife's Handbook
.

Doc smiled. ‘Don't worry, it is easy to understand. I suggest you and your young man pay special attention to Chapter Seven – how to prevent conception.'

His examination confirmed that Clytie was in excellent health. He waved aside her attempts to pay him. ‘Wait until I send you a bill.'

She paused at the door. ‘There's no need to mention any of this to my mother, is there? She has enough to worry about.'

‘I assure you what is said between doctor and patient is strictly confidential.'

After leaving the surgery she felt several years older than she had on her arrival.

I would never have made love to Rom if I hadn't loved him. But the question is, does he love
me?

This thought was doubly sobering when she realised that he had not actually made any firm plans to see her again.

The nagging grey edges of doubt were dispelled as if by a sudden burst of sunlight. A rider galloped towards her waving his hat, his eyes narrowed against the sun.

Rom drew rein and looked down at her with all the confidence of possession.

‘Going my way, girl?'

Without a word Clytie leapt up on the horse's back to ride pillion, her skirts flashing above her ankles, her arms entwined around his waist. After years of performing bareback she had no need to hold on to him for support, but the intimacy of the gesture, the sense of belonging to him thrilled her.

As they passed the General Store, two young women emerged. Noni James was dressed in a frilly apricot gown. Her flower-bedecked hat would have passed muster at a Royal garden party. She walked arm in arm with a mousy young girl who looked up at her adoringly, clearly privileged to be seen in her shadow.

‘Good morning, Miss James – and Millie.' Rom casually doffed his hat to them.

The girl Millie gave him a timid smile and was on the point of acknowledging him, but a sharp elbow in the ribs from Noni silenced her.

Rom was in a teasing mood. ‘We're off to Whipstick Pool for a picnic. It's a beautiful day for a swim if you care to join us. I hear you're a good swimmer, Millie. You could give me a race.'

Millie blushed at the compliment, her plain face sweetened by her smile, but her intended response was cut short by Noni's sharp aside.

‘Come! We don't want to be seen talking to the likes of them!'

Rom seemed unperturbed and rode on. Clytie glanced back to see Noni crossing the road. Her timid companion trailed behind her, saddled with Noni's shopping basket.

‘Whatever did you do to offend
her?
' Clytie asked with a giggle.

‘Damned if I know. I treat her the same as any other girl. Why worry? She's Sonny Jantzen's problem.'

Clytie noted the knowing looks cast by passing men en route to their next shift at the mine. In contrast they exchanged a cheerful ‘G'day' with Rom.

‘Those blokes may be living on borrowed time,' Rom told her.

‘From miners' lung diseases?'

‘That too. But blokes get laid off at the Golden Hope every month.'

Clytie gave an involuntary shiver, but the moment passed.

Today the sun was shining so strongly it bathed her skin with its warmth. She felt like a stranger happily inhabiting her own body.

The thought of Dolores brought her sharply back to earth. ‘I must tell Mother where we're headed.'

Dolores emerged at the front door in a kimono robe, arms akimbo, her dark hair flowing around her shoulders.

‘Good morning, Rom. Where exactly are you taking my girl?' she asked reasonably.

‘Just for a quick swim in the billabong,' Rom assured her.

‘I'm not too happy about that. Clytie has had few chances to learn to swim – at St Kilda beach. I'm told it's easier to stay afloat in salt water than a fresh water creek.'

‘True, Mrs Hart, but I'm a strong swimmer, I'll see her right.'

Rom leapt down from the horse and stood hat in hand. His manner was reassuring but Clytie knew her mother could never hope to follow his casual bush directions.

‘I'm taking her to one of the loveliest spots on the Lerderderg. You're most welcome to join us if you feel inclined.'

‘Thank you, but you'll be relieved to know I have two readings booked today. Besides,' she added with a wry smile, ‘three's a crowd. Just bring her home safely, mind?'

Rom raised a hand as if swearing an oath.

•  •  •

On the track to his cabin they saw a figure approaching. Once tall and strong, the ageing Chinaman was now thin, bent like a sapling under the weight of the twin baskets hanging from his shoulder brace.

‘Hey, Long Sam. Have you got a moment? I've got some work for you, if you're interested.'

Sam's crestfallen face assumed a hopeful smile as Rom halted Goldie and leant down to shake his hand and introduce Clytie.

‘This lady and her mother are new in town. They could do with your help in setting up a vegetable garden. What to grow and when. They're both circus performers – so they've never had a chance to own land before.'

‘I know, I know. I see Little Clytie and Missus Dolores at circus. Very clever, very clever.'

‘So it's agreed. I'll pay you for your work, not Mrs Hart, right? I'm a friend of the family.'

Sam's face was wreathed in smiles and he eagerly agreed with Clytie's suggested date for him to commence work.

As Goldie continued on their way, Clytie kissed Rom's neck through the shirt that was mottled damp with sweat.

‘That was a lovely thing you did. Both for us and for Sam. But we can afford to pay him.'

‘I won't hear of it. Brass always turns up when I need it. Stick with me, girl, and you'll never want for anything.'

That's the nearest thing he's said about us and our future.

There was no mistaking Shadow's loyalty. He bounded ahead of them as if he could picture precisely where Rom was headed.

•  •  •

Whipstick Pool was only known to the initiated. Otherwise you needed luck and an explorer's compass to find it. They traversed veins of creeks through dense bushland that looked as if it had not been
penetrated since it was the sole domain of whichever Aboriginal tribes knew it to be their territory for untold centuries. No traces of them remained except occasional walking tracks that Rom pointed out were made eons before the invasion of gold diggers. They continued on foot.

‘I want to show you something. Lead Goldie and stick close by me. Watch out for snakes.'

‘They don't scare me. Snake-charmers have been in circuses for generations,' Clytie said airily, but took care to follow closely behind Rom.

He used a stick to slash the dense scrub that blocked their path, then halted at the mouth of a small clearing. At the heart was a small oblong patch of ground bordered by white quartz stones.