There was dimness all around her as she opened her eyes. She put a hand to her head, aware of a throbbing pain in her temples. Where was she? What had happened? She lifted her head from a snow-white pillow and looked around dazedly. Then in a flash she remembered! She had stepped off the pavement and a car had hit her. She remembered the flaring headlights, the scream which she knew was not her own. Her eyes moved slowly to take in the drawn curtains with a concealed light sprinkling them with amber—the only light in the room. She saw a white wardrobe and matching dressing table trimmed with gold-painted scrolls; she noticed that the rug matched the walls and the bedspread matched the flowered curtains—a dainty bedroom, very feminine. Her ears became alerted to the sound of voices drifting plainly to her from the corridor beyond the half-open door of the bedroom.
'We ought to have taken her to the hospital, Josie. She seems all right, I know, but it's illegal to knock someone down and not take them to the hospital. And even if we took her now we'd be in trouble for not informing the police.'
'I agree, but I wasn't enamoured with the idea of the police examining the car. I'd have been put in jail.'
'You could have explained that the brakes had failed only minutes before and that you were just trying to get the car home.'
'You are not supposed to drive a car which you know has faulty brakes. I should have stopped, phoned a garage and had someone come out to it. I'd have got us home all right, no doubt of that. But she just happened to step into the road and I couldn't stop.'
'You'd not have been able to stop even if the brakes had been all right. You didn't have a chance, Josie, and I'm a witness to that.'
'Once the police examined that car and found I had faulty brakes they'd have had me up in court. And that would have been bad enough in the ordinary way but now, at this present time when I've inherited the farm in Australia and we're getting ready for the move—I just had to protect myself, Gwen. I'd never even have contemplated bringing her here if I hadn't been absolutely sure she'd sustained no serious injury. She had a nasty bump on the head and there are the few grazes here and there as you saw, but nothing else at all.'
'I'd not argue with you about that. You're a nurse and should know.'
'Let's go in and have a look at her. She ought to be coming round any time now.'
Sally turned her head as two girls entered, one aged about twenty and the other a couple of years older. One was as fair as the other was dark; both were attractive in their different ways.
'You're awake.' The unnecessary comment came from the younger girl who had moved closer to the bed so that Sally found herself staring up into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
'Yes. And I heard what you were saying. It was my own fault,' she added earnestly, 'so no one else is to blame for what has happened.'
'That's how you feel? Oh, what a relief!'
The older girl moved to the bed and took hold of Sally's wrist. 'Thank you for being so understanding.' Josie's voice was brisk but edged with gratitude. 'If you heard what we were saying, there's no need for further explanation. Your pulse is okay, and the bump isn't serious. Now that you're awake I'll see to those grazes.'
'I'm in your home?' Sally addressed Josie who nodded her head.
'I'll take you home later. Meanwhile, will you have something to eat and drink? I daresay a cup of tea would go down well?' She smiled, her hand moving to a rather nasty scratch on Sally's cheek.
'Yes, I'd love a cup of tea.' Sally had run her hand inside the covers and found she was naked. 'I'm not hurt anywhere on my body, then?'
'You've a bruise on your thigh.' Josie examined her face curiously. 'What made you step into the road like that?'
'I—I…' Sally's voice trailed as memory flooded in. 'It was just that I felt a little unhappy,' she said.
'Domestic trouble?'
Sally nodded, having half expected to be questioned, for Josie was all nurse at this moment, professionally cool and unemotional.
'I'd quarrelled with my sisters and brother.' She stopped, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. 'No, it wasn't a quarrel,' she amended, colouring slightly. 'I made a complete fool of myself by an outburst of—of hysterics. I feel awful.'
'Hysterics?' repeated Josie, her gaze intent. 'You don't strike me as being a high-strung person.'
'I'll make some tea,' interposed Gwen and left the room.
'I'd been working up to it for some time,' admitted Sally, surprised that she should be wanting to talk, to confide. Apart from Mrs Wentworth, no one even guessed that she was becoming discontented with her lot.
'I see.' Josie sat down on the edge of the bed. 'Like to tell me about it? It always helps a patient to chatter away to a sympathetic nurse.'
Sally looked at her and smiled. 'Yes, I'd like to tell you about it,' she said, and for the next ten minutes Josie listened in total silence, her face a mask.
'It would appear that you're being put upon in a big way,' was her brusque comment when at last she spoke.
'They don't understand my feelings. I wouldn't mind if only the girls would keep their rooms tidy and do their own washing and ironing. Everything else I could manage.'
'The cooking and cleaning, the shopping?' Josie lifted her eyebrows. 'Mind telling me what they pay you for your twelve or fourteen hours a day?'
Sally made no answer and silence fell awkwardly between her and the nurse. It was a relief to see Gwen arrive with the tea tray and put it down on the small table by the bed. She poured Sally a cup while Josie fetched a pink knitted bed jacket, putting it around Sally's shoulders as she sat up.
'What time is it?' enquired Sally after she had taken a drink of the steaming hot tea. 'I must be getting back.'
Another silence and then, 'I've decided you're not fit to go home tonight. You can stay here with Gwen and me. What's your name?'
'Sally Baxter—'
'Gwen's surname's Colby and mine's Marshall. You were about to interrupt?'
'I can't stay the night,' Sally said urgently. 'My sisters and brother would never get up for work in the morning if I wasn't there.'
'If I'd taken you to hospital, they'd probably have kept you in for a couple of days,' commented Josie unconcernedly. She took the empty cup from Sally's hand and placed it on the tray. 'You'll have something to eat? We haven't eaten yet so we're going to cook something. Stay there until it's ready.'
'But—'
'Your clothes are on the chair over there; they're okay, it was only your coat that came to grief. It's torn, I'm afraid.'
'I was very lucky,' murmured Sally sliding down into the bed again and resting her head on the pillow. She was in no mood to argue with Josie and in any case, she was quite sure it would prove to be futile. She gave her the telephone number and asked her to ring to see if anyone was in at her home.
'I don't think they will be,' she added. 'It can't be very late?'
'It's a quarter past nine.'
'Is that all?' exclaimed Sally. 'It seems much longer than two hours since I left home.'
'So much has happened.' Josie smiled at her, pulled up the bed cover in the professional manner of a nurse and left the room, following Gwen who was carrying the tray. Josie was back within five minutes and she cleaned and dressed the scratch on Sally's cheek. One or two minor scratches were dabbed with cotton wool soaked in lotion that made Sally wince but she was very conscious of her good fortune in not sustaining any serious injury. She looked up at Josie and smiled her thanks.
***
It was two hours later that Sally, having listened with deep interest to what the girls had to say, sat in thoughtful silence, a little ripple of excitement rising above the less pleasant sensation of guilt that was assailing her.
'I don't know what to do,' she murmured, glancing from Gwen's fair features to the darker ones of her friend and flatmate. They had talked over dinner, a delicious meal which Sally thoroughly enjoyed, surprising herself that she was able to eat at all, especially after the proposition had been put to her.
'You're under no obligation to that family of yours, Sally,' said Josie with gentle persuasion. 'Give yourself a break and get away while you have the chance, while you're young and pretty. Do you realise that the life you're leading at present could continue for another ten or twenty years?'
'No,' shuddered Sally shaking her head vigorously. 'My sisters will marry young.'
'And if they do? What about your brother? And how long will it be before they're married? It seems to me that they're on such a good thing that they'll be in no hurry to get married and take on the responsibility of a home and the chores of housekeeping.' She shook her head and added emphatically, 'I'm sure you're wrong in surmising they'll get married young.'
'I'm sure I shouldn't if I had a mug like you to do everything for me,' put in Gwen in support of her friend's continued persuasion. 'Get away, Sally, come with us to Australia and make a completely new start.' She flicked a few strands of wavy blond hair from her forehead, staring at Sally across the table. They were still sitting there, with their coffee cups being refilled several times, and Sally felt she had not been so relaxed for a very long time. She had liked both girls on sight, had listened to their proposition, her mind wandering to the visions of wide open spaces, of peace and tranquility with no one having calls on her time and her liberty. But intruding into this pleasant picture were her sisters and brother, who had depended on her for five years, and because she had pampered them, doing everything for them all the time, they would have the utmost difficulty in getting down to the household chores, the shopping and its tiresome planning, money-wise, because of the necessity to economise. She thought of Jean and the way she squandered most of her salary on clothes and cosmetics, on posters and gramophone records and sexy magazines. How in the world would she cope?
'Mrs. Wentworth, my neighbour, says they'll never marry young,' murmured Sally, her mind recapturing what Josie had said.
'And she's right.' A small pause, an exchange of glances between Josie and Gwen, and then, slowly and quietly, 'This neighbour—she lives close-by?'
'Next door. She sometimes makes me a lunch.' Sally breathed a sigh and added with a reflective smile, 'It's nice to have a meal prepared for me. Mrs. Wentworth makes me stay a while and relax.'
Another swift exchange of glances between the other two which did not this time escape Sally, but although she was puzzled by it, she made no attempt to understand what it was all about. She was so peaceful and happy here that she felt she could have stayed like this for days, just to get her nerves settled again. She frowned as she recalled that outburst and swift colour fused her cheeks. They had driven her, though, and she knew she could never have faced the chores of all that ironing plus getting food and drinks ready for her sister's guests.
'Are you going to join us?' Gwen looked anxiously at her as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips. 'We've been discussing the position ever since Josie inherited this farm which, by the way, is called a station in Australia. At first Josie's intention was to sell it, and in fact there is a purchaser waiting, so she was informed by her solicitors here. But then we suddenly both had the idea of going out there and trying to run it. But we decided we needed another girl to join us and we advertised. We've had many replies but weren't impressed by any of the girls we interviewed. It's a very risky business as you can imagine, taking on another person who might or might not be compatible. Josie and I have been flatmates for three years and know we can get along. We want to make quite sure that the third one will be a kindred spirit.'
'But how do you know I'll be a kindred spirit?'
'We talked while we were preparing the dinner,' interposed Josie, 'and decided you would be. We also felt that you needed a break badly, so if you accept, we shall all be happy.'
'We haven't asked Sally how she feels about us,' said Gwen with a little laugh that lit up her big blue eyes.
'I know I could get along with you,' she answered with a smile. 'And I must admit that your proposition sounds most attractive to me. You haven't said what my duties would be but I guess we'd all share everything—not financially, of course,' she added with haste, 'but the work in the house and any work which had to be done outside.'
Both girls nodded, then Josie went on to say that the whole thing was as new to them as to Sally. They would all be going out there not knowing what to expect.
'I've read a bit about the Outback,' she continued, 'but books can't possibly give you the complete picture. The man who wants to buy the property which Uncle Patrick left me doesn't sound very nice at all. He wrote to my solicitor in the most arrogant kind of way, saying that the Outback was no place for a woman and that he was sure the niece of Mr. Southern would be wanting to sell out. He made an offer which my solicitor said was generous but, somehow, the gist of the letter riled me and it was then that Gwen and I got the idea to go out there ourselves.' Josie paused but no one spoke so she went on, 'I've not been too happy in my job lately, owing to the changes taking place in hospital management, and Gwen was also becoming a bit fed up with the office stool from nine till five so she doesn't mind throwing up her job either.'
'This man who wants to buy your farm—er—station, he lives near to it?'
'He has a vast station of his own and wants the land to add to it. From what we can gather these Outback graziers think of little else but expansion and some of them have farms as big as a whole country.'
Sally's hazel eyes widened and she gave a little gasp. 'As big as a country!' she exclaimed disbelievingly.
Josie nodded her head. 'This bloke's station is as big as Belgium—so my solicitor said. They run thousands of cattle on these stations. On mine there are merely a few hundred. It isn't very big at all in comparison to Grant Forsythe's, but large in comparison to English farms in general.' Josie talked on, with the two girls listening intently although it was obvious that Gwen had heard it all before. Sally gained the picture of a small manor-type house which was a miniature copy of that owned by the wealthy grazier who owned the adjoining station. Gardens would surround the house but from what Josie said these had been neglected owing to the loss of interest by her uncle who, when he died a few months ago, was eighty-four.
'Who is looking after your station?' asked Sally when Josie had stopped speaking.
'Grant Forsythe,' put in Gwen with a grimace.
'He obviously expects to be the owner within the next few weeks,' added Josie grimly.
'We'd not go out there on our own,' said Gwen. 'We definitely want another girl to join us.'
'You see,' explained Josie on noticing the faintly puzzled look in Sally's eyes, 'one of us might be ill, we have to think of all contingencies, and being a nurse it's second nature for me to put that possibility high on the list. You can imagine what would be thrown on the other. Not only would there be the extra work, but she would have a sick person on her hands as well. It's a five-hour drive to the nearest town—'
'Five hours!' exclaimed Sally disbelievingly. 'It takes five hours—in a car?'
'They use a utility, or station wagon. Yes, it takes five hours. I was given this information, and much more, by my solicitor, who was trying to persuade me to sell. He said we'd never fit in because the life's so vastly different from what we've been used to.'
'And you have to travel to this town for all your supplies?'
'For the important things, yes. But Grant Forsythe's place is self-contained from what we've gathered and he has a shop, a school, a hospital—everything one needs when a large community has to be catered for. Grant Forsythe employs hundreds of range riders but of course they're not all living round the homestead.' Josie went on to explain that some of the men and their families lived in bungalows not far from the house, but there were similar small settlements on other parts of the estate. Sally listened with exceeding interest, aware of how little she knew of the way other people lived. For the past five years there had been no time to see a film or read a book. Her education had stopped when she was twenty, apart from the occasional hour or so when she had managed to find time to watch a television programme.
'It sounds fascinating,' she breathed, already seeing herself there in the Outback of Australia. 'Can other people use this shop of Mr. Forsythe's?'
Gwen nodded. 'Josie was told that her uncle had used it so it seems possible that we'd be able to do the same. But you do need to go into town occasionally, and I should think we'd look forward to it as a special treat,' she added with a laugh.
'We don't expect to be bored, though,' inserted Josie swiftly, as if she would dispel any such impression which Sally might have gained from what Gwen had been saying. 'I truly believe we shall love the life once we become used to it. I'm dying for a change and have been for some time. When this uncle left me the station, I couldn't believe it. I never even knew he existed.'
'You were very lucky,' murmured Sally, frowning as that sensation of guilt swept over her again. She would love to join these two but she could not imagine herself actually being so selfish as to walk out on her family. 'I don't think I can accept your offer, Josie,' she said, speaking her thoughts aloud. 'You see, Jean and Sue haven't the least idea of housekeeping—'
'Now's their chance to learn,' cut in Gwen. 'Supposing you'd met a young man and he wanted you to get married? Would you throw him over just to look after your sisters and brother?'
'I was looking after myself when I was eighteen,' supplied Josie before Sally could reply. 'My mother was a widow when she was twenty-eight and four and a half years ago she met a man who lived in Hong Kong. He had a business there and wanted Mother to marry him and go back there with him. I convinced my mother that I could look after myself and persuaded her to get married. Gwen's parents died within a year of one another and so she's been on her own as well, since she was seventeen.' A pause and then, 'Have I convinced you that your family can take care of themselves?'
Sally shook her head; it was not a negative gesture but one of confusion. Mrs. Wentworth always said that her family wouldn't starve to death if she left them, which was of course true, but… 'I'll have to think about it,' promised Sally at last. 'You must know it's something I couldn't possibly decide on the spur of the moment.' Her long dark lashes flickered, sending shadows onto the clear ivory of her cheeks. 'Please bear with me—What I mean is, give me a little time before you start looking for someone else.'
'You obviously want to join us,' observed Gwen with a swift glance at her friend.
'I'd love to join you! It's just my family—I know they'd have difficulty for a long time simply because I never made the girls learn anything about housewifery.'
'Supposing,' said Josie slowly, 'you had someone who would look after them.'
'A housekeeper, you mean?' Sally shook her head. 'They'd never be able to afford even a daily woman to come in and clean for them.'
Silence followed and something in the atmosphere caused Sally to cast glances at Josie and then at Gwen. It was almost as if they were conspiring, wordlessly.
'Well,' sighed Josie at length, 'we can only leave it there, and hope you'll see the sense of what we've been saying. I'm sure you're very tired and want to go to bed.'
'Yes,' smiled Sally, 'I am tired. It's been a most unusual day and my head's so full of conflicting thoughts that I just want to sleep, and wake up in the morning so refreshed that I can think a little more clearly.'
Gwen had already risen from the table and had begun to clear away the dishes. 'You know your way around,' she said quietly. 'Good-night, Sally, and shout out if you want anything.'
'Thank you,' returned Sally gratefully.
'If that head aches, I'll get you something,' from Josie, rising along with Sally. 'Good-night; sleep well.'
'And don't worry about your family,' said Gwen as the thought occurred to her. 'We haven't been able to get any one of them on the phone yet but we won't go to bed until we do. What time do they usually come in?'
'After midnight but Sue should have been in because she was having guests.'
'Well, from what you told us about her reluctance to cater for them I guess she and they went off to have supper in a cafe somewhere.'
'Perhaps,' agreed Sally, stifling a yawn. 'Thank you for waiting up. I do hope it won't be too late before one of them gets in. If Mrs. Wentworth had been on the phone, it would have been easier. She could have taken a message down and put it through the letter box.'
'Not to worry,' said Josie reassuringly. 'It'll be done.'
***
Jean stared at Sally disbelievingly, tears on her eyelashes.
'You can't leave us,' she cried. 'Oh, Sally, we could never manage without you! We might not have seemed grateful but really we are, aren't we, Sue?' She turned appealingly to her sister who nodded instantly and, with a demonstration of affection never before displayed, she flung her arms about Sally's shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.
'Don't leave us, Sal,' she pleaded, a quiver in her voice. 'It would be awful to break up the family.'
Ted stood there, his good-humoured face grim. Sally had waited until they were all in and then she had told them what had happened last evening and the outcome of the slight accident.
'I can't believe you'd want to go off to some outlandish place and leave your family,' he said stiffly. 'For one thing, it's a damned impulsive decision—'
'Sally hasn't decided yet,' broke in Jean urgently. 'She's only told us what this Josie has offered, haven't you, Sally?'
'Yes, but I really want to go, Jean.'
'You can't!' Sue took a few backward steps and burst into tears. 'You don't even know these two girls! They're strangers and we're your own loving family. Oh, but it's a crazy idea, the craziest I've ever heard of!'
'Perhaps it does sound crazy,' Sally had to agree. 'But I've been driven to do something by the selfishness of you all—No, Sue, please don't interrupt. That little demonstration of affection just now didn't pull any wool over my eyes. I've had five years of your selfishness remember, and you've all known for some time that I was coming to the end of my tether. But you took no notice. It would pass, you thought, and I'd resume my role of maid of all work to the three of you.'
'I don't believe you'd leave us,' from Ted with conviction. 'You were carried away last night simply because you'd been ill.'
'Not ill, Ted, just affected by nerves. I'm sorry for the demonstration but, quite honestly, I couldn't have controlled myself at the time.'
'If it hadn't happened, you'd never have met those two stupid girls who think they can run a huge farm.' Jean turned on her younger sister. 'It's all your fault, Sue, for wanting to bring those people here for supper! Sally told you she couldn't be bothered with getting sandwiches when she had such a lot of ironing to do!'
'Don't you dare blame me!' flashed Sue hotly. 'Just look at the work you cause—'
'Shut up,' snapped Ted, glowering at them in turn. 'We've enough to contend with and we don't want disunity in the camp! Sally, you can't do this and you know it. You're just trying to frighten us. Well, you've succeeded and we shall mend our ways.'
'How long for?' inquired Sally, her spirits in her feet because she knew she could not leave them. They all looked so helpless, with Jean and Sue almost in tears and Ted grim but pale and a little drawn, trying to convince himself that Sally didn't really mean what she had been saying—that she would like to accept the invitation of Josie and Gwen and go out to Australia to help them run the home and the farm inherited by Josie. Josie had said that, should she promise to go with them, she must also promise to stay at least a year. Josie was paying the fares and she would give Sally and Gwen a salary in relation to the profits. At the end of every six months Gwen and Sally would get their fair share of any extra profit that might have been made.
'For always,' Jean was promising in a choked little voice. 'I'd never make a mess of my room again, Sally, and I'd help at the weekends.'
'I'd not leave any jobs again,' said Ted seriously. 'I'll stay in tonight and do the washing machine.'
'If you want me to help with the ironing, I will….' Sue's voice trailed off and a heavy sigh escaped her. She had said many times that she hated people who made martyrs of themselves but her expression was certainly one of martyrdom at present. 'I hate it b-but I'll m-make myself do it for y-you, Sally.'
A long silence followed, profound and tense. 'I'll not make a decision yet,' said Sally at last. 'Josie and Gwen won't expect an answer today.'
'Please make your mind up,' begged Jean, allowing the tears to roll down onto her cheeks. 'If you promise us you won't go, then we can relax. But I feel ill, Sally, inside! It's terrible, not knowing if you're going to run out on us. I know I won't enjoy the party this evening unless you've given us the promise.'
Sally uttered a deep sigh. 'So you're going to a party,' she said flatly.
'Yes—er—it was arranged weeks ago, or I'd have stayed in with you, Sally, and helped with whatever jobs have to be done.' She looked inquiringly at her sister, waiting for the promise. Sally looked at her, noticing the tears still falling, and the rather dainty, feminine touch with a light finger to remove them from her cheeks. How helpless and pathetic she looked, but although Sally's heart was touched, her mind was not deceived. Jean's act was by no means new; it was merely different, as she had never been faced with a situation like this before.
'I'm making no promises tonight,' Sally said. 'And now, if you two girls will help to put out the dinner, and then do the washing up, I can go in and have an hour's chat with Mrs. Wentworth.'
'Oh, her! She's a funny, drab old thing! She was talking to someone at her door when I came in. I think she had a visitor who was just leaving.'
Sally said nothing. She had to smile at the way the two girls helped put out the dinner, Jean spilling gravy all over the kitchen table as she ladled it from the pan. Sue was cooling a burnt finger under the tap. She had picked up a pan whose handle always got hot, and Sally had forgotten to warn her to use a cloth. The meal was a silent one for the most part, and as soon as it was over Sally got up, leaving the girls to clear away and wash up. The last thing she heard as she went through the back door was a petulant cry from Sue.
'You're not leaving us to do all this washing up, Ted! That machine can be done later!'
'Yes, because I'll be late for the party if I don't leave here in half an hour!' supplemented Jean.
Sally hesitated on hearing Jean's remark. Then, with a determined glint in her eye she closed the door and hurried along the garden path to the little gate leading into Mrs. Wentworth's backyard.
