South of Capricorn Read online

  ‘He won’t have time to discover what she’s like,’ was Gail’s grim reply. ‘I shall simply dump her on him, as I’ve said.’

  ‘She might begin right away—spit at him or some such thing.’

  ‘She won’t. You don’t know Leta as well as I. She can be bribed.’

  Her mother threw up her hands.

  ‘Another vice!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, she has them all. You name it and Leta has it. Lord, it makes you wonder if it’s safe to bring children into the world!’

  Mrs. Stafford had to laugh at this.

  ‘You’ll never produce a child like Leta,’ she told her with conviction. And for a quiet moment she gazed at her daughter, taking in the fine and noble lines of her face, a face of character and determination. And yet the full wide mouth was soft and Mrs. Stafford smiled faintly on recalling all those incidents when Gail had given forth compassion in abundance, whenever it happened to be called for. The eyes, of so unusual but attractive a colour, were large and widely-spaced be neath a high intelligent forehead. The dark brown hair with its bronze glints was long and silky and luxuriously thick. High cheekbones, attractive though they were, seemed not to fit in with the short nose and pointed chin. And yet it was an extraordinarily beautiful face and one that invariably brought the light of admiration to the eyes of the men with whom Gail came into contact both in her working and her social life. Mrs. Stafford was justifiably proud of her only child, just as Gail was proud of her pretty mother, with her slender figure and happy carefree way of life. Her husband was just as attractive, in a different way of course, and always Gail had thanked the stars for her having the kind of parents whose affection and understanding had gone such a long way in preventing any dissension whatsoever between them and their daughter.

  It was less than a fortnight later that Gail set forth, with Leta, for the cattle station known as Vernay Downs, situated in the Never-Never, just south of Capricorn. The child was dressed in denims and a bright red cotton sweater; on her head she wore a bright green knitted cap with a red bobble on top and over her shoulder she carried a red leather bag containing sweets and chocolate, and a toothbrush in a waterproof case. Gail’s mother had provided the entire outfit plus the contents of the shoulder-bag. Not one word of thanks had left the child’s lips. She had told Gail that the toothbrush would never be used.

  ‘I don’t like cleaning my teeth, so Mummy never made me,’ she said.

  ‘Nevertheless, you’ll clean your teeth whenever the opportunity presents itself,’ Gail told her. ‘You’re not to eat sweets without cleaning your teeth afterwards.’

  ‘You can’t always clean them. What about in the taxi?’ Leta had said when, all the luggage having been placed in the hall, they were waiting, with Gail’s parents, for the cab to arrive.

  ‘You mustn’t eat your sweets yet,’ said Mr. Stafford mildly. ‘You’ve only just had your breakfast.’

  ‘I’ll please myself,’ returned Leta, stamping on the floor to give emphasis to her words. ‘If I want to eat my sweets I shall eat them.’ At which Mr. Stafford looked across at his daughter and silently conveyed to her his anxiety about the journey over to Australia.

  ‘You’ve taken on more than you can chew,’ he managed to get in when Leta, having seen a small insect crawling along the path, went forth to put her foot on it. ‘What a horror! No wonder her mother gave up; I’d do so myself if I had a child like that.’

  ‘Paul,’ protested his wife, ‘you shouldn’t say such things. You know how any reference to poor Sandra makes our daughter sad.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, then lapsed into silence, breaking it only on the arrival of the taxi when he gave the driver the necessary instructions for getting them to the airport. Once there another silence followed, with both Mr. and Mrs. Stafford sending worried glances at each other, and at their daughter.

  ‘I can manage her,’ Gail told them confidently, noting this anxiety. ‘You’ll remember, Mother, that I told you she can be bribed.’

  ‘Why have to bribe a child?’ was the indignant query. ‘It’s disgraceful! Sandra, poor dear child, must have had a dreadful time with her.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ murmured her husband. ‘Were she mine I’d flay her alive!’

  ‘She certainly needs controlling.’

  ‘Her father is shortly to have the task,’ said Gail grimly. ‘And the best of luck to him!’

  There were a few tears on Mrs. Stafford’s cheeks when at length the good-byes were being said, and Gail, herself deeply affected but managing to hold back the tears, reminded her mother that she would in all probability be back within a fortnight.

  ‘I wish it were a shorter period, dear,’ sighed her mother. ‘Can’t you manage it in a week?’

  Gail shook her head, saying that the journey fallowing the flight itself would be a very long one.

  ‘I shall have to hire a car, or something. There’s in Overlanding bus, I’ve been told by the girl in the travel agency, but I’ve enough money to hire a car.’

  Her father glanced at Leta, who was deliberately pulling threads out of the new knitted gloves she had taken from her hands.

  ‘I am of the opinion,’ he remarked significantly, ‘that it will be preferable—and certainly less wearing on your nerves, my dear—to taking that young brat on a public conveyance, especially for as many hours as that.’

  ‘I agree wholeheartedly,’ said Mrs. Stafford, handkerchief held to her face. ‘Darling, do be careful!’

  Gail had to smile.

  ‘There’s no danger, pet,’ she said soothingly as she put an arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘Anyone would think I was taking a load of explosives to Australia!’

  At this her father sent another glance at the small child who was now scraping the shiny toe of one shoe with the sole of the other, determined to take the gloss off completely.

  ‘I’d feel rather less apprehensive if you were,’ he rejoined with a crisp sort of chill in his voice which neither his wife nor his daughter had ever heard before. ‘That, over there, is more destructive than any load of dynamite!’

  ‘What’s dynamite?’ inquired Leta, suddenly interested in the grown-ups.

  ‘Something that explodes—blows you up!’

  ‘Ooh ... I’d like to blow somebody up!’

  ‘And kill them?’ Mr. Stafford was frowning heavily, but Leta was totally undaunted by this.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Come along,’ snapped Mrs. Stafford. ‘Take hold of Gail’s hand! If you’re not careful the aeroplane will go without you!’

  ‘I don’t want it to!’ Leta exclaimed, running to take the proffered hand. ‘I’m going to live with my daddy!’ And to the utter amazement of Gail and her parents Leta’s eyes took on a glow of excitement which transformed her whole appearance.

  ‘She really wants to go!’ Mrs. Stafford looked be- wilderedly at her daughter. Gail could only shake her head, recalling how, since the first mention of the father with whom she was now going to live, Leta had retired completely into herself, showing emotion only when she had one of her tantrums. Not a tear had been shed when she was told that she would not see her mother again and, troubled by the child’s long silences, Mrs. Stafford had sent for the doctor. It was he who told Leta that, if she did not go to her father, then she would have to live in a children’s home. Gail was furious about his, but the doctor did manage to convince her, after a while, that some threat was necessary in order to make the child go quietly, as it were.

  ‘Unless she is willing you’ll never get her on that plane,’ he had warned, and as he had the support of both her parents Gail at last forgave him for the ultimatum he had offered the child. For it was an undisputable fact that, if Leta made up her mind not to board the plane, then she would fight like a tiger to obtain her own way. Gail certainly did not relish a scene where Leta, lying on the ground, would scream and kick and eventually have to be dragged or carried to the plane.

  The threat having don
e what it was intended to do, Leta became resigned to the idea of living with her father. But apart from one occasion when she had said, quite unexpectedly, ‘I hope my daddy’s nice,’ she had not until this moment displayed an atom of enthusiasm, and Gail had surmised that, as far as the child’s reaction was concerned, living with her father was the lesser of the two evils.

  ‘Are you really looking forward to seeing your daddy?’ asked Mr. Stafford, and Leta nodded her head.

  ‘I want to see what he’s like. If he’s nice then I’ll be a good girl for him!’

  This left no impression on Gail. She knew Leta far too well to take any notice of a promise like that.

  ‘Good-bye, darling.’ It was the last time this was to be said, and mother and daughter had one final hug. Leta was again engaged in mutilating her shoe, but soon Gail had her firmly by the hand, and it was not until they were on the plane that she let go.

  ‘You’ve pinched my fingers! I hate you !’ Leta stamped her foot, glaring at Gail. ‘You’d no need to hold my hand so hard, because I wouldn’t have run away!’ Gail said nothing. She had held on simply because she was not taking any chances. Knowing Leta as she did, she was quite prepared for trouble, even though the way had been paved by the doctor’s words, and even by Leta’s enthusiasm. However, it were better always to be prepared for the worst with a child of Leta’s temperament—a temperament of changing mood and heightened passions. ‘I’ll pinch you if you do it again! You’ve no right—’

  ‘Sit down and be quiet!’ snapped Gail at last, acutely aware of the surprised and disapproving stares of other passengers.

  ‘I won’t! I’m going to stand up all the way—so there!’

  A rather stout gentleman with heavy moustaches and protuberant eyes, noticing the scene as he made to take a seat opposite, looked down at Leta and said sternly,

  ‘Do as your mother tells you, young lady! Sit down at once! You’re a very naughty little girl! No, don’t you dare to interrupt me! My word, but you want a good smacking. Do as I tell you—sit down beside your mother and be quiet!’

  Stunned for one disbelieving moment, Leta then did no less than kick out at the man, catching him just below the knee.

  ‘Leta!’ exclaimed Gail, horrified and fervently thankful that her parents could not witness this scene. ‘You naughty girl! Say you’re sorry, at once!’

  But this was too much to expect. Instead of the apology the man received a pettish, ‘Mind your own business!’ before Leta put out her tongue at him. For the rest of the flight he spoke neither to Leta nor to Gail, but his glances at Gail from time to time left her in no doubt at all of his opinion of her as a ‘mother’. She would have liked to disillusion him, just for her own comfort, but she refrained, deciding that it did not matter much what he thought of her, seeing that she and he would never meet again.

  At Brisbane Gail and Leta changed to a train and to her relief Leta fell asleep and from then on Gail could read her book in peace. However, after reading for a while she became interested in the scenery as the train travelled through the highlands of the Great Divide into the area of brigalow scrub and sub-tropical wood lands. The sun began to sink, but there was still some time to go before the brief twilight fell.

  The twilight would last about twenty minutes, Gail had been told, and after that darkness would descend rapidly. And it was almost dark before the train drew into the station and Gail felt rather apprehensive on noticing that there was very little sign of civilization. For example, there was no real town; certainly there was no sign that cars could be hired. Suddenly aware of her failure to make the appropriate inquiries when in Brisbane, she approached a railway official and explained what she required. His eyes opened wide before he shook his head, scratching it meanwhile and appearing to think he had met a madwoman.

  ‘There’s no car here,’ he informed her at last. ‘Not one to hire, that is. Why, a car could be waiting here for a twelvemonth for someone to come along and want it. No, miss, you’ll have to wait for the Over- lander.’

  ‘When is that?’

  ‘What’s the Overlander?’ piped up Leta who, having been wakened from her sleep, was not in the best of moods. ‘I want a taxi, so you’d better get one! Gail, get a taxi!’

  Ignoring her, Gail turned again to the man, repeating her question. The Overlander would not be here that night, she was told.

  ‘Then where can we stay? Is there an hotel?’ She asked the question automatically, even though a glance around had told her that this was no place where visitors would be found. It was merely a stopping off place where the passengers would be met by relatives or someone else who happened to be expecting them. A couple had just entered a big overlanding car which was covered with yellow dust and carrying on its bumpers several canvas water bags; Gail watched as the car moved away. Another one was waiting, but no one came towards it. The train moved and gathered speed while the driver of the car stood by the door and watched it, a deep frown on his bronzed and furrowed brow.

  ‘There’s no hotel,’ the railway official was saying, his interest now with the man by the stationary car, rather than with Gail and her problems.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Your people not arrived?’ interrupted the official, calling to the man.

  ‘I can’t think what’s happened.’

  ‘How far have you come?’ Although he had put the question, the official was already moving away.

  ‘From Vernay Downs,’ replied the man, and quite naturally Gail’s heart gave a little jerk.

  ‘Vernay Downs?’ she repeated rather hastily, as if afraid the man would enter the car and drive away. ‘I’m going there!’ What unbelievable good luck, she was telling herself, not stopping to think of the difficulties that must inevitably follow in the wake of her impulsiveness. ‘Could you take us, please?’

  The man frowned and strode towards her, his eyes running over her and taking in her travel-stained appearance.

  ‘You’re going to Vernay Downs?’ He sounded incredulous, she thought. ‘Are you expected?’ His tone said quite clearly that she was not expected.

  ‘No, I’m not expected.’ Already she knew a tinge of uneasiness, but this in no way lessened her determination to get a lift. ‘I’ve brought something very important for a Mr. Kane Farrell.’

  The man’s puzzlement increased.

  ‘Kane Farrell?’ Again his eyes ran over her, and then he looked at Leta, who at this moment was endeavouring to stuff a whole bar of chocolate into her mouth.

  ‘Something very important—and yet you’re not expected?’

  She coloured slightly, her uneasiness increasing.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t explain,’ she said apologetically. ‘I mean, I can’t tell you what it is that I’ve brought.’

  ‘It’s me,’ interposed Leta, both cheeks bulging with the chocolate inside them. ‘That’s what it is!’

  The man then produced a weak sort of grin before returning his attention to Gail.

  ‘Do you really mean to say that you didn’t let the Boss know you were coming?’ he asked with a bewildered shake of his head. ‘How did you expect to get from here to Vernay Downs?’

  Ignoring his second question, she said,

  ‘The Boss? Do you work for Mr. Farrell?’ ‘That’s right. Cattleman—stockrider. Ever heard of them?’ His sentences were drawled out, yet short. His hands, half tucked into the pockets of his slim-fitting denims, were as brown as his face; and Gail wondered if he typified the men out here. Toughened by the weather, he certainly looked the part of the outdoor man whose task it was to look after the cattle, out in the wide open spaces.

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard of stockriders,’ answered Gail. ‘But you’re the first one I’ve met.’

  He held out his hand, introducing himself as he did so.

  ‘Dave Campbell—at your .service.’

  ‘I’m Gail Stafford, and this is Leta.’

  ‘Your daughter?’

  Gail shook her head, and after a slight hesita
tion he asked if she were married. She said no, then ventured to inquire if Kane Farrell was married. No, returned Dave, adding that Kane Farrell lived only for his work, Gail felt a prickle of nerves as she heard a murmured, ‘Kane Farrell,’ coming from beside the car.

  ‘I’ve come all the way from England to live with my daddy—’ broke in Leta, and Gail said swiftly, noting apprehensively that Dave’s eyes had widened in an interrogating stare,

  ‘Leta dear, please don’t interrupt when we’re speaking. In that suitcase over there—the small one—you’ll find another bar of chocolate.’

  ‘Will I?’ Sheer wickedness looked out from those bright blue eyes—eyes vivid and large and so inordinately attractive at times. Yet for the most part of the time they might have been the eyes of some she-devil, such wicked glints did they possess. ‘I’ll get it, then,’ and off she went, carrying an air of triumph which made Gail wonder how her father would deal with her. Would he be strong enough to master the wretched child? But that was his problem, or would be soon, she thought, not without a great deal of satisfaction. There he was, sublimely unaware of what was coming to him, the man who believed he had got away with his dastardly treatment of poor Sandra. It was not as if he didn’t know about his daughter. Sandra had written to him twice, informing him of Leta’s existence. Both letters had been ignored. Would he suffer any pangs of remorse when the fact of Sandra’s death was made known to him? Gail thought not, since he must be a man totally devoid of feeling not to have given some sort of help to the girl he had treated so badly.

  ‘You didn’t answer my question about your getting from here to Vernay Downs,’ Dave was saying, having, to Gail’s infinite relief, once again taken no notice of what Leta had said. ‘Supposing I hadn’t happened to be here?’

  ‘I thought I could have hired a car.’

  At this his eyes opened wider than ever.

  ‘You did!’ he exclaimed. ‘Here?’ He spread a hand and she once again took in the dusty station with its primitive platform, the single shed that constituted the station ‘buildings’, the utter loneliness of the place. ‘You weren’t very well advised, obviously.’ The merest pause and then he added, ‘Well, your luck happens to be in. Little girl,’ he said to Leta, ‘you take the back seat—’