The Ten-pound Ticket (6 page)

The next day, like every other, Susie woke early and toiled in the kitchen, percolating coffee on top of the stove and whipping eggs in a large bowl, while she fired up the oven. Mitch, Slade and the Jackaroo were seated on the terrace, waiting as usual. As she tipped a hot omelette from the metal skillet onto her employer’s plate, she felt Mitch’s brawny hand snake over her buttocks, gripping what little there was to grab.

‘Reckon, I’ll get rid of the boys early tonight, give you and me a bit of time alone, how’s that sound?’

The Jackaroo snorted laughter through his nose, and Slade looked flustered. He lowered his face and stared at the cracked table top. Susie tried to free her tongue, which had stuck to the dry roof of her mouth. Her hand was shaking, causing the spoon to bang against the edge of the skillet. Mitch laughed, ‘What’s a matter, love? You want flowers first?’

She shook her head. She didn’t want flowers first, she just wanted to go home
.

‘That’s just as well. And it might be good to remember that you were a fucking good-for-nothing in your own country and you’re a fucking good-for-nothing here, you just talk different. You’s on my land now and that tin roof over your head can be taken away with the click of my finger, d’y’understand?’ She nodded, too terrified to speak and achingly grateful that baby Nicholas slept soundly; his crying would only have inflamed the situation.

Mitch spat, ‘Reckon you need breaking in and reckon I’m growing a little lonely in the big house all by myself. What d’you think girlie, that I pulled you all the way from England so as you could fix me soup? Your duties go way beyond that and you’ve been shirking up till now. Don’t think I don’t know your game. Hiding away with the boy in your little shed. I’ve stopped by once or twice, watched you sleeping all pretty in your undies. Out for the count you were, didn’t hear a thing, but I watched you.’ He ran his tongue over his top lip. ‘And your sweet little boy.’

Susie swallowed the bile that leapt in her throat, the very idea of him watching her, of being close to her, was bad enough, but now was he threatening Nicholas? It was more than she could bear. Slade busied himself, cleaning under his nails with a paring knife that he kept in his top pocket. His cheeks were bright scarlet.

That afternoon as Susie took a break and lay on her mattress with Nicholas sleeping soundly in her grasp, she contemplated the night ahead of her. She thought about what was to come, tried to imagine Mitch’s skin against her own, and tried not to think about the smell of him or the way his eyes shone when he grabbed at her flesh. She sniffed up the tears that clogged her mouth and nose and cried harder than she had in a very long time. The thought that Mitch might come to the room tonight and force himself on her was almost too much to bear. She wiped away her tears, ‘Think, Susie, come on think!’

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but a full two hours later she was woken up by a commotion outside; shouts, the sound of horses and the Jackaroo’s voice raised, as a blanket of panic settled over Mulga Plains. Placing Nicholas in his cot, she smoothed her hair and wiped away the residue of her tears. Walking out into the sun, she shielded her eyes as the late afternoon rays pierced her vision with their glare.

Slade ran towards her, with his small head wobbling like a pea on a drum, his question left his mouth when he was within ten feet, ‘When’s the last time you saw, Mitch?’ His cheeks were flushed, he sounded breathless, a little hysterical.

‘I don’t know, earlier, I gave him his lunch on the deck, he ate it and then I came back here. Why, where is he? Is everything all right, Slade? What’s going on?’

‘No it aint. I’ve just been in to find him. Thought he was crunk, out cold, but he’s not.’

Susie considered this, ‘Well he’s probably gone out with one of the hands, he’ll turn up, Slade.’

‘No you dozy Pom, it’s not that he’s missing. I know exactly where he is.’

‘Oh. Well I don’t understand, I thought you couldn’t find him.’

‘I found him all right, but here’s the thing, he’s dead!’

‘He’s what?’ As the strength left her legs, she needed it repeating.

‘He’s dead!’

She flung her hand to her mouth; her heart beat loudly in her ears. She felt elated, relieved and guilty all at once. Then, slowly, the fear crept in. What would happen to her and Nicholas now? With no sponsor and no job, what exactly would happen to her and her son?

Mitch’s death left Susie in a state of flux. Rather than provide her with instant sweet relief, she instead felt anxious, frightened. She was torn between enjoying her new-found freedom away from the pawing hands of the deceased and the daily fear of what might happen to her and Nicholas now.

Without her defined role, she tended to hover, awaiting her fate in a different way than before. She cooked for the visitors and ranchmen, staying in the background and waiting until rooms were empty before scuttling in like an old retainer, clearing crockery and sweeping crumbs from the table. At least with Mitch gone, the guests ate in the dining room and not on the veranda where the heat of the sun was enough to make her faint as she looped from table to kitchen and back again, carrying trays, plates and bottles.

It was on a hot, hazy morning as she balanced the unwieldy bowl of liquid on the edge of the card table, when she looked across the terrace and saw the car pull up. This was not unusual, for the last few days, many a vehicle had kicked up a dust as it stopped in front of the gates and poured forth people from all over, neighbours from a few miles away and suppliers from other side of the state. All were keen to pay their respects to the sheep station owner who had provided them with a living and was at present laid out in his best and only suit on the dining room table. She had avoided setting foot in there since the funeral home had delivered him earlier that day and this was how she would remain until he was buried tomorrow. The thought of witnessing him dead was almost as repellent as seeing him when he was alive.

Susie noted that many of the visitors were just as keen to enquire about his will as they were to drink and reminisce about good old Mitch who had in death, for many, lost his vulgar air. Indeed the man to whom they referred bore no resemblance to the hard drinking, foul smelling creature that had manhandled her until her heart beat in her throat with naked fear. It was strange how death could do that to a person.

She rolled the long white sleeves of the shirt up over her elbows, revealing her muscular forearms. She noted how tanned her skin was against the pale cotton – without a mirror or the time to study herself, she assumed her face was similarly coloured; certainly the ends of her hair had gone from chestnut to blonde.

Dipping the cloth into the metal bowl full of soapy water, she wrung out the excess before wiping it over the window sill and submerging it again beneath the bubbles. Bringing the cloth out and wringing it once again. Susie watched as the back door to the shiny cream Holden opened. She wondered which land owner or supplier would lumber out and remove his hat and loosen his tie. She would of course offer cake and a cup of tea or something stronger, steering them towards the parlour where they could sit with the other mourners and Mulga Plains staff, who hadn’t sobered up for the best part of a week. They were eager to greet any new arrival, as it was a good excuse to top up their glass. And yet, the man who stepped out from the back of the car was not a land owner or supplier. He was a smart-looking man with pressed white trousers and a blue jacket. Looking closer, Susie was shocked to see that he was wearing the uniform of a naval officer.

He looked to be a couple of years older than she was, tall and straight-backed, with thick, dark short hair visible beneath his hat. His skin was weathered, and under neatly arched brows, his blue eyes were cold and clear. Most importantly, he wore the uniform of the British. Susie had seen this cap, badge and shirt countless times in the harbours and seaside towns in which she had grown up.
Home…
he reminded her of home. A pang of longing twisted in her stomach. Ironically, he was just the sort of man that her mother would approve of – the sort of man with clean fingernails and a commanding stature. The sort of man that she would always have run a mile from.

She felt flustered at seeing him and as she turned, she caught the edge of the precariously balanced bowl, sending the water cascading over the deck and the metal clattering against the timber with an almighty crash. She crouched down and mopped ineffectively at the soapy pool that gathered on the floor. Tuning to her right, she came face to face with the shiny toes of two black, polished shoes.

‘Hello down there!’ He had the merest hint of an Antipodean twang to his vowels.

She shook her head, too nervous to speak. He reached down and with his palm towards her, urged her to stand. She placed her hand inside his and stood slowly. His eyes flitted between her face that was upturned towards his own and her braless form that was perfectly visible beneath her wet shirt.

‘Any more water in that bowl and I’d be ditching the car and heading back for one of my ships.’ He smiled, an odd half smile that used only one side of his mouth. She glimpsed his white, even teeth, and Susie smiled back before immediately casting her gaze downwards, ashamed by her appearance. He was not to be deterred, ‘I’m Phillip, Phillip Gunnerslake. Mitch was my uncle. Haven’t been to this old dump for years, I’ve just arrived with my wife.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Susie whispered, although what she was apologising for wasn’t quite clear. She stared at him; noticing the tiny rivulets of sweat that gathered on his top lip. He pushed his dark hair away from his forehead and seemed not to notice her, casting his gaze around the terrace. Her heart hammered in her chest and her face flamed. She hoped he couldn’t read her thoughts.

‘I don’t know your name.’ Phillip asked with indifference.

‘I’m just, Susie…’ She reached out, trying to grasp the sud-covered bowl in her wet hands, but it slipped further out of her reach.

‘Do you need a hand there, Miss Susie?’

He spoke slowly, and smiled his strange half-smile again.

‘Phillip!’ It was almost a scream. He practically leapt from the terrace. The woman, seemingly his wife, was a generous-hipped redhead who stood with her hands on her waist and several suitcases around her feet, ‘Are you going to help me with these or do break my back doing it alone?’ The woman’s English accent would, under different circumstances, have been a balm, but her nasal tone irritated Susie. She wore a lemon-coloured paisley mini dress with matching coat and pill box hat. It was more suited to a wedding than a funeral, Susie thought, but then who was she to comment, she was wearing men’s clothes that smelt of moth balls. The woman’s hair had been curled and set, the dry ends were starting to frizz in the heat.

Phillip gritted his teeth and barked a short laugh. ‘No drama, Joanne, I’m coming.’

The night was pulling its blind on the day when Susie slunk back to her little shed after the drunken ceremony that had been Mitch’s funeral. Her print frock, one of Mitch’s wife’s, was soaked with sweat and clung to her back. Susie had been glad of the gift, it would have been worse to skivvy for these people in her usual shirt and trousers. Nicholas was awake, sitting up in his cot, chatting to himself as he often did; Loulou was by his side. She stood, ambling towards the house in the darkness, ready to get back to washing dishes in the kitchen, trying to keep up with demand from the funeral guests outside.

‘Hey there little man! Here I am.’ Susie lifted him from his cot and wrapped her arms around him. It had been over an hour since she had last seen and fed him, ‘I missed you!’ She covered his face with kisses. Nicholas clapped, which was his new party piece.

‘You are so clever! Look at you clapping, my clever baby.’

Slade’s drunken voice bleated from the door way, taking her by surprise, ‘Well let’s face it; he’s probably a darn sight cleverer than his mother! How did you get things so wrong, if is this the best life you could manage for that boy?’

Susie placed Nicholas in the cot and walked outside. In her time at the ranch, she had learnt how to keep these brutes away from her son, using every diversion tactic possible. Nicholas didn’t murmur, he was now accustomed to being raised up and plonked down at regular intervals. It made her heart ache at how adept he was, asking for so little of her time, tolerating the hours of abandonment.

‘Please go away, Slade.’

He laughed. ‘That’s it, give me orders why don’t you!’

‘You are a nasty creature.’ She was certain that Loulou had been going to name him as having some part in her attack, ‘Don’t think I don’t know what happened to Elouera. You may think you’ve got away with it, but these things have a habit of coming back to haunt you. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you treat me so badly, I really don’t, but you’ve been awful to me since the day I arrived and I’ve done nothing to deserve it, I’ve only ever cooked for you and tried to keep out of your way.’

‘You think I’d hurt Loulou?’ he took a step closer, ‘You know nothing! Think you can judge me, Miss High-and-Mighty? Think you’ve got it all figured out don’t ya?’

‘No, Slade, I think I’ve far from got it all figured out, but I’ve got the measure of you!’

‘No you haven’t. Not even close. And if you think the gallant naval officer is the answer to your prayers, you better think again. I saw the way you were looking at him.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Susie felt her cheeks flush.

Slade chuckled and shook his head, ‘I think you do, but that’s not what I came to tell you. I heard good old Phillip list you today as part of the fixtures that go with Mulga Plains! That’s how’s he sees you, a thing, for sale along with the gateposts and the creaking old refrigerator!’

‘What are you talking about?’ she shook her head in confusion. He wasn’t making any sense.

‘I’m talking about the will, which was read this arvo and there you were, listed along with Loulou. ’

Susie sank down onto the red dusty floor, not caring for her pretty cotton dress.