Authors: Jane Corrie
Lin's polite reply was hardly finished before Sean ushered the woman out of the kitchen, in a manner that told of his annoyance at the woman's intrusion. He had clearly not invited her to follow him.
Lin smiled, and nodded sagely. 'That missy mad on boss,' he said in his sing-song voice. 'No like other missy,' he added with a wicked grin. `She'll be back,' he stated, in his inimitable way, as he set to the task of providing an extra lunch.
`Does she usually come to the kitchen?' asked Sarah, wondering if there was a chance for news of her incarceration getting to the outside world, and therefore a chance for liberation.
Lin shook his head. 'Why she want see old Lin?' he asked simply, and Sarah's hopes began to rise. The woman had known that Sarah was there, that much was obvious, and in all probability was at that very moment trying to discover her identity.
Sarah's brows creased in thought. But if she knew that she was there, then surely she knew who she was! Then she had the answer. 'So that's it!' she said half to herself, but Lin heard her.
`So?' he said, waiting for her to enlighten him.
`It must have been the garage man,' said Sarah. `We stopped just before we got here,' she added, by way of explanation, which wasn't very enlightening, but Lin understood, and nodded.
`Old Joe talk too much,' he commented. 'Boss not like that,' he shook his head. 'Old Joe up for high jump,' he added, and this time gave another of his knowing nods.
Lin's confident prediction that Pauline Cook, the woman who, according to Lin, was 'mad about the boss' would be back proved a nonstarter, and Sarah could only assume that Sean, in his usual highhanded way, had made certain that she wouldn't.
Sarah had no idea what excuse he had given for her presence in his home, but whatever it was, she was sure that Miss Cook would not believe it, and would not let it rest at that.
Like Lin, Sarah was confident of another visit,
if not the next day, then the day after, and she wondered if she could contrive to have a few words with her. A jealous woman could be of invaluable help, particularly in this instance, she thought. Once her mind was set at rest against the possibility that Sarah was after her man, Sarah was sure that she would have an ally in assisting her removal from the homestead in the very near future.
In the event, by the time several days had gone by, and no sign of Miss Cook had appeared on the horizon, Sarah's hopes began to fade, more so because Sean was absent from dinner on at least three occasions, and was, according to Lin, paying his respects to the Cook Station. Colin Cook, Pauline's father, had taken over the station from the Cartiers, and built himself a homestead over the ridge some fifteen miles away.
Sean Cartier was making doubly sure of keeping Pauline away from the homestead by spending his time at the Cook station, Sarah conceded bitterly, as she tucked into Lin's delicious stuffed shoulder of lamb, with buttered potatoes and tender green beans.
Most of her evenings were spent now in either playing Chinese Checkers with Lin, or reading the books Lin provided her with from the homestead library. Sarah's province remained in the servants' quarters, and she had no wish to explore further for fear of meeting Sean and receiving another sneering reference to her `snooping'.
On one occasion she had gone out to the vegetable garden at the back of the homestead,
just to get a breath of fresh air, for it was a lovely night with a full moon, and the stars just as large as she had seen on the drive to the homestead. She had not known how long she had stood there, drinking in the wonders of the night, with the lowing of the cattle in the distant pastures adding to the pastoral symphony, but then a harsh voice had broken into her reverie. 'Wear a cardigan next time. You're not in the city now. The temperatures have a habit of dropping suddenly here.'
Sarah, furious at the interruption, spat out, 'I haven't got one,' and with tears blinding her vision stumbled back into the homestead.
The next day Lin presented her with a lambswool jacket, and a far from grateful Sarah had spurned the gift. Sean Cartier had sent it, since Lin knew nothing of what had happened the previous evening; Sarah had been too upset to face even the gentle Chinese, and had gone straight to her room.
She had, during the course of that first week, tried to elicit a few facts from Lin, such as where they were, and how far was the nearest township, whether he did the shopping, and which day he went—all to no avail. The answers did not get her anywhere, and this wasn't Lin's fault. It was simply that the homestead was in the middle of nowhere. The supplies were brought in, and left at Joe's garage for collection, the nearest point from the main highway.
It was as Sarah had suspected at the start. Sean Cartier had chosen well when he had brought her here. But then he would, she thought angrily. He
didn't make mistakes, and certainly not where she was concerned. She longed to see a paper, just to convince herself that somewhere in the world everyone was going on with their normal business, but here she met a blank. No papers, it seemed, were to be had, and she suspected that this again was Sean Cartier's doing. She hadn't even seen an old one, and when she remarked on this to Lin, he had placidly said that all news was gloomy, better without them. He wasn't bothered, and boss wasn't bothered either.
Sarah took exception to this bald condemnation of her profession, but held her tongue. Lin did not know that she was a journalist, and she had a feeling that in his old-fashioned way he would have been astounded had he known, and not a little disappointed in her.
Almost a week after Pauline Cook's visit to the homestead, Sarah had an accident. She had balanced herself on a spindly kitchen stool in order to reach into one of the kitchen cupboards. Like Lin, she was not tall enough to reach the higher cupboards, and she overbalanced and fell heavily on to her left shoulder.
At least it was only her shoulder that had taken the brunt of the fall, and a shaky exploration of the arm had proved that the arm was not broken. Lin, returning from doing the household chores at this point, was extremely concerned to find her sitting on the floor leaning up against the wall while she recovered her breath.
He hovered over her anxiously, and assisted her to her feet and over to a kitchen chair while
he made her a hot drink. 'Boss over at Cooks',' he said worriedly. 'I can get him on the radio.'
`You'll do no such thing,' Sarah said hastily, her weakness now replaced by an abhorrence of having herself examined by that man. 'Look, I haven't broken my arm. All I've got is a bruised shoulder. It's painful now, but in a day or so I'll be okay,' she stated firmly.
She saw Lin's anxious glance at her. He wanted to believe her, but she knew what he had in mind. Had she dislocated her shoulder? Well, she was certain that she hadn't. It was painful, but not that painful. 'Look, I can move my shoulder. See?' She winced at the pain this movement produced, but it proved her point for the time being. 'He'll be furious if you haul him back for nothing,' she went on.
Lin remained unconvinced, but he promised not to put a call out for Sean's return to the homestead, and said nothing about his intentions when Sean returned later that night.
It was as much as Sarah could hope for. During the course of the day, she would somehow prove that it was not necessary for him to inform his master about the accident. No matter what it cost her that shoulder was going to make a rapid recovery!
By the time she went to her room soon after ten that evening, she was sure that she had succeeded in convincing Lin that there was nothing to worry about. She had refused to act the invalid and sit on one of the kitchen chairs while Lin prepared their lunch, and insisted on doing small chores that she was sure that she
couldn't have done if she had done any serious damage to her shoulder.
Once in her room, however, she came up against the problem of removing her cotton top. As thin and light as it was, the now stiffening shoulder sent waves of pain through her as she attempted its removal.
After several tries, she gave it up. She would have to sleep in the wretched thing. Perhaps tomorrow when the bruises came out it would be more manageable.
She had just got herself in as near a comfortable position for sleep as was possible, when after a perfunctory knock, Sean was in her room.
For a moment or so she thought she was dreaming, then she snapped out of her doziness, and attempted to sit up a little too quickly for the injured shoulder. The pain made her angrier still at the way he had foisted his presence on to her.
`Lin told me you'd had a fall,' he said abruptly, before she could vent her feelings on him.
`It's nothing,' she said between her teeth. 'I told Lin to say nothing about it, and he promised,' she added indignantly.
Sean stood looking down at her from his great height, then with a purposeful stride he came towards the bed. 'Lin is my man,' he said bluntly. 'He knew better than to obey your instructions. Let's have a look at that shoulder,' he ordered brusquely, then stared down at her. `Do you usually sleep in your day clothes?' he demanded. 'Why the hell didn't you tell me you were that short?' he said angrily. 'I thought you people always travelled prepared for stopovers.'
`We do!' Sarah replied just as angrily. 'Only I didn't come prepared for a four week stopover!' she added furiously.
To her further annoyance, Sean seemed to think this was amusing, and a brief grin flitted over his usually stern features.
He didn't have to ask which shoulder it was by the crooked way Sarah was sitting, and she had to suffer the indignity of his probing fingers around her collarbone first, then on to the shoulder-bone.
For such a big man his touch was gentle but sure, because Sarah was prepared to shout like mad if he hurt her, but to her disappointment no such display was warranted. 'You've only bruised it,' he said, after a perfunctory examination. 'Be s
ore for a few days,' he added, b
ut nothing to worry about.'
She glared up at him. 'I could have told you that,' she said pithily. Now, do you mind if I get some sleep?'
`After we've made you a little more comfortable,' he replied, and left the room before she could reply, and she was left wondering whether he would bring her a couple more pillows, or perhaps a couple of painkillers to help her sleep. Her mind rambled on; she didn't think she would need anything to make her sleep, it was taking her all her time to stay awake now, she thought drowsily, then recalling what he had said about her sleeping in her T-shirt, she gave an ironic smile. She didn't think he would have any spare nightdresses about the place. Of course, there was always one of Lin's nightshirts!
She was rudely awoken out of these amusing imaginings by the return of Sean, and her wide eyes went first to the bowl of hot liquid that he was carrying, then to the flimsy nightdress slung over his shoulders. The smell emitting from the bowl reminded her of her bygone youth when she had helped out at a local stables to pay for her riding lessons. The liniment that they had put on lame horses' forelegs had had a similar smell, but that was nothing to the indignation she felt on sight of that flimsy nightdress. If he thought—
`Just what,' she demanded dangerously, 'did you have in mind?'
Sean's blue eyes met hers. 'This will ease the soreness,' he said, indicating the bowl he put down on the bedside table, and slung the nightdress across the bed. 'I don't think I have to explain that,' he added.
`Have a stock of them, do you?' asked Sarah, taking refuge in sarcasm. She was both embarrassed and furious.
Sean's eyes glinted dangerously. 'Watch your words, my girl,' he warned her. 'You're in no position to fling out any challenges.'
`Who's challenging?' Sarah bit out. 'Well, you can leave the liniment. I'll put some on,' she added grudgingly, 'and thanks for the thought,' she tacked on. He was right, she was in no position to antagonise him.
Sean gave her a long look. 'Take that shirt off,' he ordered, as he dipped some cotton wool into the liniment.
She stared at him. 'I said I would do it,' she declared, feeling panic rise up.
Sean's blue eyes looked like chips of ice. 'Look, I'm tired. So let's get this over, shall we? How the hell can you do it? You're not a contortionist, are you? Don't tell me you're shy,' he sneered at her. 'I'm not exactly a country boy—I've been around.'
Hence the stock of flimsy nightdresses, thought a frantic Sarah; anything to take her mind off her predicament. 'I'll let Lin do it,' she replied obstinately.
Sean let out a long sigh that showed that his patience was at an end with her. 'I wouldn't dream of causing him such embarrassment,' he said through clenched teeth. 'He'd have to be blindfolded first, and that could lead to a few problems.'
They seemed to be at stalemate, but Sarah had not bargained for Sean's determination. He caught hold of the bottom of her shirt and proceeded to ease it up to her shoulders, but even in her fury, it was plain to see her pain at attempting to raise her arm.
Without more ado, Sean went over to the dressing-table and opened one of the top drawers, and after a short search emerged with a pair of nail scissors in his hand, then he strode back to the utterly miserable Sarah, who was through complaining. It was like coming up against a stone wall, and the sooner you stopped banging your head against it, the better!