look at me like that. Going to your aunt's is the only sensible thing to do."
"She won't want me." Harry hunched her shoulders. "I'm not genteel enough."
"If you were only three or four years older."
"I'm nineteen."
"You don't look it. Anyway, I'm twenty-nine. It couldn't work between us. You know it as well as I do." He tilted her face upwards with a finger under her chin. "Don't make things harder on yourself."
"I can't help it," she sniffed and glared at two elderly women who sat watching them. "What are you staring at?"
Ross rolled his eyes. "Don't start a brawl in here. I couldn't stand it."
The sandwiches arrived, a mixture of ham and pickle, curried egg and tomato. He poured the tea as Harry's hands shook too much. She picked at a sandwich, but drank every last drop of the milky tea.
As he devoured the sandwiches, she noticed his white, even teeth, his slightly full, sensuous lips. She hadn't lied, the scar had faded, but what a tragedy for the perfection of such a handsome face to be marred.
"I think there's a late morning train leaving for Melbourne. I'll get you a ticket to Benalla."
"You don't have to. Give me the wages owing and I can pay for it."
"No arguments, Harry."
"What's the use?"
She lowered her head. She would get on the train, but wouldn't be getting off at Benalla. She was going to Devil's Ridge to hide out in the mountain hut. Unlikely he would go up there again in the near future. She needed somewhere to lick her wounds and grieve for Gil. No way could she do it at Auntie Bertha's. Later on she would get a housekeeping position somewhere. Train to become a nurse and help the war effort, maybe.
"You're not plotting anything, are you?"
"Who me?" she asked meekly.
"Here." He pulled out his wallet and peeled off some notes. "I'll pay you Gilbert's wages as well."
"Thanks."
He placed four five pound notes in her hand.
"That's too much."
"Keep it." He closed her fingers around the money.
Harry saw the old dears staring at her again.
"Oh, thank you, sir. I hope you enjoyed your time with me?"
One of the women nearly choked on her tea, and Harry hid a grin behind her hand—pious old biddies.
"Harry!"
"They think I'm a prostitute."
The breath hissed noisily through his compressed lips.
"So I only confirmed it for them."
"Thank heavens I won't be passing through here again in a hurry," he muttered. "They look as if they want to lynch me."
"Tar and feather I think you mean."
"They'll put you in a ducking chair for being a witch."
They left shortly afterwards, and stepping out into the street, a furnace blast of heat hit her like a physical blow.
"It's going to be a long, hot summer," he predicted as they went to their horses. He suddenly halted. "Wait here for a moment. I want to get a paper, see how the war is going."
At the station, she insisted that he buy only a second class rail ticket. They waited without speaking as the train steamed into the platform.
"Goodbye, Harry." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Good luck."
Warmth surged through her. "Thanks, same to you. If they find Gil, you’ll let me know?"
"Yes."
He stood on the platform, feet planted slightly apart, hands shoved deep into his pockets. As the train pulled away, she waved to him, but he did not return her salute.
When she finally sat down in her seat she peered into the paper bag he had thrust into her hands at the last minute. It contained a pretty cardboard box full of sweets. This kind gesture warmed her heart. Gave her hope that he felt something other than annoyance for her.
Her carriage was empty, thank goodness. She looked untidy and scruffy and not too clean. Rolled up in a blanket tied with a piece of string were her and Gil's belongings. Pathetic really, not much to show for nineteen years on the earth.
I'll buy a horse. No point wasting money on a saddle when it would be easy enough to ride bareback to the outstation. Plenty of food there, and spare saddles as well.
She could hide in the
"She won't want me." Harry hunched her shoulders. "I'm not genteel enough."
"If you were only three or four years older."
"I'm nineteen."
"You don't look it. Anyway, I'm twenty-nine. It couldn't work between us. You know it as well as I do." He tilted her face upwards with a finger under her chin. "Don't make things harder on yourself."
"I can't help it," she sniffed and glared at two elderly women who sat watching them. "What are you staring at?"
Ross rolled his eyes. "Don't start a brawl in here. I couldn't stand it."
The sandwiches arrived, a mixture of ham and pickle, curried egg and tomato. He poured the tea as Harry's hands shook too much. She picked at a sandwich, but drank every last drop of the milky tea.
As he devoured the sandwiches, she noticed his white, even teeth, his slightly full, sensuous lips. She hadn't lied, the scar had faded, but what a tragedy for the perfection of such a handsome face to be marred.
"I think there's a late morning train leaving for Melbourne. I'll get you a ticket to Benalla."
"You don't have to. Give me the wages owing and I can pay for it."
"No arguments, Harry."
"What's the use?"
She lowered her head. She would get on the train, but wouldn't be getting off at Benalla. She was going to Devil's Ridge to hide out in the mountain hut. Unlikely he would go up there again in the near future. She needed somewhere to lick her wounds and grieve for Gil. No way could she do it at Auntie Bertha's. Later on she would get a housekeeping position somewhere. Train to become a nurse and help the war effort, maybe.
"You're not plotting anything, are you?"
"Who me?" she asked meekly.
"Here." He pulled out his wallet and peeled off some notes. "I'll pay you Gilbert's wages as well."
"Thanks."
He placed four five pound notes in her hand.
"That's too much."
"Keep it." He closed her fingers around the money.
Harry saw the old dears staring at her again.
"Oh, thank you, sir. I hope you enjoyed your time with me?"
One of the women nearly choked on her tea, and Harry hid a grin behind her hand—pious old biddies.
"Harry!"
"They think I'm a prostitute."
The breath hissed noisily through his compressed lips.
"So I only confirmed it for them."
"Thank heavens I won't be passing through here again in a hurry," he muttered. "They look as if they want to lynch me."
"Tar and feather I think you mean."
"They'll put you in a ducking chair for being a witch."
They left shortly afterwards, and stepping out into the street, a furnace blast of heat hit her like a physical blow.
"It's going to be a long, hot summer," he predicted as they went to their horses. He suddenly halted. "Wait here for a moment. I want to get a paper, see how the war is going."
At the station, she insisted that he buy only a second class rail ticket. They waited without speaking as the train steamed into the platform.
"Goodbye, Harry." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Good luck."
Warmth surged through her. "Thanks, same to you. If they find Gil, you’ll let me know?"
"Yes."
He stood on the platform, feet planted slightly apart, hands shoved deep into his pockets. As the train pulled away, she waved to him, but he did not return her salute.
When she finally sat down in her seat she peered into the paper bag he had thrust into her hands at the last minute. It contained a pretty cardboard box full of sweets. This kind gesture warmed her heart. Gave her hope that he felt something other than annoyance for her.
Her carriage was empty, thank goodness. She looked untidy and scruffy and not too clean. Rolled up in a blanket tied with a piece of string were her and Gil's belongings. Pathetic really, not much to show for nineteen years on the earth.
I'll buy a horse. No point wasting money on a saddle when it would be easy enough to ride bareback to the outstation. Plenty of food there, and spare saddles as well.
She could hide in the
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