the ones you denied me last night. Then we go shopping.’ He rose quickly from his chair and threw the dishes in the sink, and then he gathered her in his arms and carried her giggling form to the bedroom.
* * *
They left the town three days later, the two-ton dodge truck packed neatly with a careful selection of her inherited belongings, and her father’s camping gear in case they had a mind to live rough from time to time. They had sold everything else. They called at the small farm to say goodbye to his parents and shared a few strained minutes in the little farmhouse over a cup of tea. Later his parents had waved them off, a look of detached relief on their faces as they watched the small truck recede down the lane before a billowing cloud of dust.
Derwent seemed so happy as they drove away that day, and the happiness and good spirits continued for a long time. They travelled widely, chasing the seasonal work around the countryside, defying the tyranny of distance in the old truck and growing closer as the months wore on. They worked the sheep farms around shearing time, Derwent worked in the shearing sheds and she usually found work cooking or helping out somewhere on the stations. When the shearing cut out, they looked for the wheat farms and the harvests, or the fruit picking seasons along the granite belt of the state. Life was good, free and easy and their love for each other provided the bond that held it all together.
Then for some unexplained reason Derwent began to drift away from her again, as if the stability in their relationship was too rich for him, too far removed from his troubled upbringing, a happiness he didn’t deserve. He began to drink heavily, withdrawing from her and finding a new interest in the ready supply of women who also adopted the nomadic life they had. Many of the seasonal workers were from other countries, ‘New Australians’, as most people called them in hushed, condescending tones, as if their inability to speak English was a sign of some inherent stupidity.
The women among these newcomers often had more relaxed morals and attitudes, and Derwent was popular with many of them. His free spirit somehow appealed to people who had fled a war-scarred Europe or England. His shyness and gentleness about sex had disappeared as well, and his new confidence gave him a raw earthy charisma. Now he was often rough with her, and he appeared to feel the need to prove himself at every opportunity. Perhaps that was why he began to look at other women, to prove that he could be a man with them as well. It was as if he had consciously thrown off her hold on him and rebelled against her as he had done for most of his life with his father.
Derwent soon became well known and popular in every labour camp they found, and they began to follow the same crowd of workers to each new employment opportunity. His musical talents and good looks, coupled with his carefree but shy sort of charm, endeared him to most people. His interest in other women was just the occasional flirtation to begin with, but she knew the time would come when it would be more than that. She wished she had been more open with him in the beginning, and that she had not simply married him and expected him to adapt without question into the life she had in mind for them.
Despite the growing tension in the marriage, they travelled about the country working at a variety of jobs for two years. Their marriage, like so many others, seemed to settle down to one of comfortable indifference. He did his things and she developed interests of her own. Sometimes, when they were alone together, they would suddenly begin to relate, often in an unexpected sort of way, almost like old friends meeting after a long absence. Then the passion of their relationship would flare anew and she would be on a high for days. These times were rare; mostly they just continued to coexist with remote indifference.
They were working with a shearing gang on a large property near Goondiwindi when the first serious indiscretion occurred, or at least the first that she knew of. There was a large gang of shearers and support staff on the place, rough men and their wives and children, people who worked hard and played hard. Every night there was a singsong and party around a large campfire that they lit at sundown each day to cook a wide range of cultural dishes. Men played mouth organs and accordions; others played guitars and sang with talent or gusto, rarely both, often well into the night. Derwent became the star of these nightly banquets and concerts and she watched him with a sort of detached pride as he performed.
While there was sometimes a brooding tension between them, she loved him and felt that the troubles would pass once the job ran out and they were again in the intimacy of their own company. She was determined to make him happy, if only she could find out what he really wanted. Derwent was working on this gang as a wool classer, grading the fleece as it came from the sheep, and directing the shed hands to pile the wool in the appropriate boxes ready for baling. His job was quite easy and he had plenty of free time when new sheep were being mustered, or there was a break in the shearing process for one reason or another.
One day she made a tray of fresh scones and went to visit one of the other wives in a worker’s hut that stood on the opposite side of the courtyard. She walked into the open hut without formality, as people were apt to do in this casual lifestyle. She found the plump woman naked on the floor in a passionate sexual embrace with Derwent. She was too shocked and heartbroken to utter a sound as she fled the cottage, running back to her own quarters with tear-filled eyes.
She sat on the bed in her cottage, staring at herself in the mirror, looking in wonder at the confused pretty face that stared back at her. She knew that she was beautiful and desirable; she had seen the way that men looked at her. Why then did Derwent betray her for a rather fat, plain Italian woman who had three children and a husband of her own? She threw herself on the bed and surrendered to the tears of anger and hurt that crept through her like a cold sharp wind.
She was still huddled on the bed crying when Derwent came home from his shift in the shed. He sat quietly as she challenged him over the incident; he did not attempt to deny it, simply shrugging his shoulders dismissively. ‘I just can’t seem to help it,’ he said simply. ‘They come on pretty strong sometimes, I don’t feel I have much choice, I can’t knock them back.’
She stared at him. ‘They?’ she said, her voice rising with her anger, ‘How many have there been, for God’s sake?’ He shrugged again, not answering.
‘You are mentally ill Derwent,’ she screamed. ‘Do you think you have to have sex with everyone who wants you? My God, how would you feel if I was like that? Every man in this camp, and every other camp we’ve been in might have wanted to fuck me. How would you have felt if I’d obliged?’ She was walking about the room while he watched her, a look of detached amusement on his face. He had never heard her swear before. ‘But I love you, you bastard, I don’t want anybody else. I thought you felt the same about me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, simply, as if he’d just broken her favourite piece of china rather than her heart. ‘I do love you, but it’s just not enough sometimes, I don’t know why.’ He took her in his arms; she did not resist but sobbed a little against his chest.
‘Oh Derwent,’ she sobbed, ‘please help me make this marriage work. We made vows to each other, you are all I have in the world, please don’t break my heart.’
He squeezed her quickly. ‘I’ll try harder,’ he said, unconvincingly. ‘I gotta go to the concert now, they’re waitin’ for me. Come over later if you like.’ Then he was gone. Just like that, she thought, the tears coming again to her eyes. Should she leave him right now? The question loomed large in her mind and she shivered in fear at the thought of it. Derwent was her family, her life, and she did not know what else she could do but stay and work on the marriage. True, he had betrayed her, but she had no money left from her inheritance and nowhere to go.
Where could she go, and what could she do, she wondered. And why
