Blue Smoke (11 page)

And that wasn’t all. The girl was wearing heels that were too high to be anything but tarty, her cheap green and red dress was a little too tight across her considerable bust, there was at least quarter of an inch of brunette visible in the part of her otherwise blonde hair and her lipstick was an altogether inappropriate shade of red for day wear.

Tamar’s face remained set in a welcoming smile. ‘Hello, Evie, how nice to meet you. Please, sit down.’

As they arranged themselves Tamar glanced surreptitiously at Liam. She took in his glossy fair hair, still tending towards curls in spite of the best efforts of the base barber, his big frame and long legs, and the handsome, open and perennially cheerful face that so resembled his father’s. She noted his soppy smile as he gazed at Evie, and allowed herself a moment’s reflection regarding his sweet, trusting nature.

Then she turned all of her attention to the girl.

‘Now, Evie, tell me all about these wedding plans.’

‘God, Kepa, she was awful.’

Kepa, who had not arrived at Kenmore until after Liam and Evie had gone, sat at the kitchen table eyeing a steaming loaf of bread just out of the oven.

‘Awful in what way?’ he asked, succumbing to temptation and
cutting himself a thick slice. ‘I should not be eating this. My trousers seem to have become smaller.’

Tamar struggled to find words that would not sound too judgmental, and gave up. ‘She was a bit of a tart.’

‘Oh yes, and how do you define a tart?’

‘I can’t say exactly, but believe me, I know one when I see one. And so I should,’ Tamar added, thinking back to her long ago brothelkeepings days. ‘Myrna’s girls were good sorts, most of them, and a few even went on to respectable marriages, I’ll grant you that, but there’s something about a woman who’s prepared to sell herself. For whatever gain. Much as I liked them, Myrna’s girls had whatever it is, and so does this Evie.’

‘And what is it that makes you think she is selling herself?’

‘Well, I could say the way she was dressed. Really, Kepa, you should have seen her frock — it was so snug I could see the outline of her suspender belt underneath.

And her shoes, I’m surprised she made it up the front steps without toppling over.’

Kepa raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

‘But it wasn’t just her outfit,’ Tamar went on, picking at a corner of the loaf herself. ‘It was more than that. It was the expression on her face. She looked at me, right into my eyes, and I swear she knows that
I
know damn well what she’s up to, but couldn’t give a hoot!’

‘And what is she up to?’

‘She’s taking advantage of poor sweet Liam, that’s what!’

‘Really?’ Kepa was interested now. ‘How?’

Tamar gave a derisory snort. ‘She’s
trapped
him, of course. She’s bewitched him into marrying her. And I know how, too. He couldn’t keep his hands off her.’

Kepa smiled broadly. ‘There is a name for his condition, but I will not tell you what it is.’

‘It’s not funny, you know,’ Tamar snapped. ‘And I am familiar with the term. I’ve seen more than enough men with the same problem silly enough to do just about anything for a woman’s favours. Including spending a week’s pay.’

‘Do you think Liam is paying this woman?’

‘No, of course not. But he’s agreed to marry her, hasn’t he? And he is an heir to the station; she must know that. She was taking a damn good inventory when I walked into the parlour.’

‘Ah, a … what is it? A gold-digger?’

‘Yes, I suspect so. She can’t be anything else.’

‘Why not?

‘Because … because she
can’t
be, that’s why.’ Tamar was horrified at the idea that this girl might genuinely love Liam and that he might love her back. She was just so
unsuitable
.

Kepa brushed crumbs off his shirt, then thoughtfully eyed the woman he loved across the big kitchen table.

‘You, my dear, are becoming a snob.’

Tamar, a piece of warm crust halfway to her mouth, stopped, aghast.

‘A
snob
! What do you mean, a snob?’

‘You are judging this woman when you do not even know her, and you are judging her based on your own expectations and standards.’

‘Rubbish! I’m looking out for my grandson!’

Kepa smiled in the knowing way that irritated Tamar intensely. ‘Are you?’ he replied. ‘Who are you to say what is right for him?’

‘I’ve known him since he was three months old. I raised him, Kepa, you know that. And I
know
that a girl in high heels and a too-tight dress is not the right person for him. Liam needs a sensitive girl, someone who’s loyal, and decent and honest. This Evie is imminently unsuitable, doesn’t even appear to have had an education, and … and I just don’t trust her!’

Kepa raised his eyebrows again. ‘I was unsuitable, I did not have a Pakeha education and you certainly did not trust me in the beginning, did you? But that has not stopped us enjoying what we have now.’

‘That’s different. And we are not married.’

‘Only because you will not accept my
frequent
proposals.’

Tamar stared at the loaf moodily — Kepa was not reacting as she had expected.

He said, ‘Did you talk to him about your concerns?’

‘No, I couldn’t really. They weren’t here long enough, and then they went back into town, at
her
insistence, I expect.’

‘If she really is a gold-digger as you say, surely she would have relished the opportunity to have a good look around the house?’

‘I think she’s too cunning for that. I think she knows she has Liam well and truly on the end of her hook, and that when she’s his wife she’ll have all the time in the world to wander around out here.’

Kepa shook his head sadly. This was not amusing any more — Tamar was getting herself into a state, which would not be good for her health. He rose, moved around to her side of the table and stood behind her, gently and wordlessly massaging her tense shoulders. He noted that her hair, which smelled like lavender, was now almost entirely silver, with only a few faded streaks to remind him of the glorious colour it had been when they’d first met. He thought now that she was more beautiful than she had ever been.

At the touch of his big hands, Tamar made a noise that was halfway between a sigh and a sob. ‘I just don’t want him to make a mistake, Kepa!’

He bent and wrapped his arms around her, and she covered his hands with her own.

‘I know, darling, I know,’ he murmured, ‘but the fact is he is old enough to make a mistake, if that is what he chooses.’

‘But he doesn’t know what he’s doing!’

‘I think he does.’ Kepa’s words were blunt but his voice was gentle. ‘And is it not better that, if there should be a child, it should have two parents to raise and care for it?’

‘Well, we did quite well with Joseph, in the end, and we weren’t married.’

‘No, but do you think this girl would be able to do that?’

‘I’d have the child.’

Kepa sat down then, and touched Tamar’s cheek softly. ‘You are too old now to be raising children, and you know it. Let him be. He is going away soon. Life changed very much during the last war, do you remember? And it will again during this one, I am sure of it. It may be for the best that he have this, if only for a few weeks before he goes. It may, as you say, turn out to be a grave mistake. But you cannot make his decisions for him, Tamar, you cannot stop him.’

And in the end she didn’t.

Liam and Evie were married a week later, just days before he left for Britain. The ceremony was modest, as weddings often were these days, and apart from Liam’s family was attended only by Evie’s sister and brother-in-law, and her parents, a mousy, pleasant, middle-aged couple from Palmerston North who looked rather grateful to be passing the responsibility of their daughter on to someone else.

Tamar, for their sake and for Liam’s, made up her mind to be at least pleasant and polite to Evie, although she would certainly not be inviting the girl to stay at Kenmore while Liam was away, as she had when James had bought Lucy home on the eve of the last war. This one was not pregnant — she hoped — and had a job and therefore her own means, so there was really no need.

She sat quietly against the wall of the small reception room the Joneses had hired for their daughter’s wedding breakfast, watching her family and wondering how Evie would ever fit in with them.

Joseph and Erin had come, with Robert and Ana, who had left school now and had grown into a very pretty, dark-eyed girl. James and Lucy were here, too, with Kathleen, and so of course were Keely, Owen and Henry, marching about in his little suit with a mutinous expression on his face. Thomas and Catherine had sent a telegram from Dunedin expressing their regret at not being able to attend, but public transport was increasingly being redirected to the war effort, and everyone understood that it would have been impossible for them to get train and ferry passages at such short notice.

The twins, Bonnie and Leila, had turned up too, dressed in the most modern of outfits with very smart little hats perched on their identically coiffed hair. They were not identical themselves, however — for which the Murdochs had always been eternally grateful: God only knew what extra mischief they might have caused had they looked exactly the same. Leila was still almost as blonde as she had been as a child, while Bonnie’s thick auburn hair had deepened only a shade. They were both very attractive girls, perhaps not classical beauties, but very pretty with slim, curvaceous figures, ready smiles and wicked senses of humour. Of the pair, Bonnie was possibly the more level-headed, but both were well known for their energy, gregariousness and sheer
joie de vivre
. They had been holy terrors as children, were only marginally better now and Tamar loved them dearly.

After they had graduated, with not very flying colours, from Iona, they had come home to Kenmore and lounged around the house for almost a year deciding what they wanted to do with themselves. As female children of a wealthy farming family, they were not really expected to do anything except marry suitably
and have babies, but neither of them was particularly keen on that idea. They were, they insisted, having too much fun being single. And it was true; they had both had suitors telephoning them constantly — which had greatly entertained their cousins listening on the Kenmore party line — or roaring up the long driveway in their jalopies, tooting horns and generally making nuisances of themselves. That had all been marvellous fun, until the novelty of not having to go to school any more had worn off and they had become bored.

They decided they should get jobs. They didn’t want to be nurses or teachers — really the only two professions open to women of their social standing — and they couldn’t go on to university, like some of the Murdoch men, because they had not done anywhere near well enough at secondary school. So what was left? Shop assistants in town? Hardly. Hairdressing? Too common. The public service? Possibly. After several days of seriously debating their options, they drove into town to investigate the possibility of employment in a government office. They could both type and do basic shorthand — they’d taken these subjects as a lark at school — and there were certainly vacancies for young women with those skills, so clerical work it was. And it didn’t sound too difficult or demanding.

Tamar thought they were being awfully cavalier and rather irresponsible in their attitudes towards working for a living, especially so soon after the Depression when many people were still trying to recover from the economic havoc, but she held her tongue, knowing that the girls would soon tire of having to get up at a reasonable hour every morning, turn up somewhere on a regular basis and put in an acceptable day’s work. Owen kept his mouth shut too, for more or less the same reason, but Keely had been too busy with Henry to notice what her girls had been up to, beyond asking Owen if he thought they would be safe.

Then of course they’d had to move into town, as the return trip from Kenmore five days a week by car was just too gruelling and time-consuming, and any way petrol rationing put an end to that. Their mother and father had refused to buy them a house of their own, so they’d been forced to board with an elderly woman who, fortunately for Bonnie and Leila, was hard of hearing and retired to bed early, and was therefore unaware that her charming and beautifully behaved boarders were climbing out of their windows for night-time jaunts with the local ‘in’ crowd.

But although their social lives flourished, performing typing and shorthand duties soon palled almost as quickly as had sitting around at Kenmore. And the twins suspected that their efforts were not being taken seriously by the senior members of their department — although they were often called in to take shorthand in the office of Mr Dimbly who, they decided, had an eye for a nice pair of legs — and certainly not by their younger female colleagues. In fact, their initial reception had been distinctly frosty, and had barely thawed since. Although they genuinely tried to make friends they were just too casual about everything, and perhaps, they were forced to admit, considered by some to be just a little too privileged to be doing that sort of work. They didn’t mind it themselves, apart from the fact that it was dull, but they were not stupid and were aware that others resented their presence. But, rather than throwing in the towel and going home to listen to their grandmother telling them I told you so, they’d decided to stick it out for a little longer just in case anything interesting developed.

Nothing had, in the department, but then the war had been declared and almost immediately there were rumours about women being called up to do various types of work for the war effort — even men’s work! — so they had stayed on for a few months more until the rumours had become a little less ephemeral, then resigned and a week ago had returned to Kenmore to ‘wait for the call-up’.

Tamar disapproved of their attitude towards this as well. In her opinion women were already ‘doing their bit’ by waving goodbye to sons, husbands and brothers, perhaps forever, but there was no telling Bonnie and Leila that. They were young and simply did not, or could not, understand.