The Heart of the Matter Read online

  'I don't know—I'm so happy!'

  'Then why don't you try her, Clarry?' Rob suggested with a grin.

  'All right. What's her name?'

  'Dad said to tell you to choose one for her yourself. Mum will be home some time this morning, by the way.'

  'I know. Um...' Clarissa closed her eyes tightly. Holly—that's what I'll call her!'

  'Holly? Where did you get that from?'

  'I don't know,' Clarissa said vaguely. 'But it sounds nice, doesn't it? And it goes with Kingston.'

  Both boys laughed, and forever afterwards, the pony was known as Holly Kingston.

  But at two o'clock the same day Mrs. Jacobs was in a flat spin and Clarissa's mother was looking mystified.

  'But why should she go off like this?' she demanded

  of her housekeeper and her son. 'After going to all the trouble of organizing this party for her—I don't understand it!'

  'She's probably scared stiff, Mum,' said Ian, and glanced at Mrs. Jacobs for confirmation.

  'That could be it, Mrs. Kingston,' Mrs. Jacobs agreed. 'She doesn't know any kids of her own age.'

  Clarissa's mother made an impatient sound. 'Anyway we've got to find her. Mrs. Jacobs, remind me to take this up with her governess when the new term starts. I must say I hadn't thought of it—she seems so happy!'

  'She is,' Ian muttered darkly, and went off to organize a search party.

  It was Rob who found her, in a dim corner of the old, disused shearing shed, with tear streaks on her face, her long fair hair tangled and minus one blue bow and her white voile party dress with its blue sash that had arrived with her mother that morning, sporting some dusty marks.

  He was silent for a moment or two with an odd little smile twisting his lips as he made out her dejected figure in the half gloom of the shed because the windows had been boarded up years ago, thinking that it was the first time he'd seen her in a dress since she was about three.

  'Clarry,' he said then, 'what's this?'

  'Oh, Rob!' Clarissa jumped up and cast herself into his arms. 'I don't want to go to the party. Please don't tell them you found me!'

  'But it's your own party

  'I hate parties!'

  'Have you ever been to one?'

  'No, but...’

  ‘Listen; there's nothing to be scared of. They're only other little girls and you'll play games and have a lovely tea and lots of presents ... What's wrong with that?'

  'I don't know any of them!'

  Rob Randall frowned down at her and seemed about to say something, then visibly changed his mind and said instead, 'All the same, I bet you'll enjoy it.'

  'Did you enjoy your birthday parties?' she asked him.

  He laughed. 'I didn't have any, actually. But I'm sure I would have.'

  'Oh.' Clarissa considered this. 'Is seventeen too old to start having birthday parties?' she asked.

  'Much too old,' he said with a grin, which he smothered immediately. 'Now listen,' he went on gravely, 'everyone's worried sick about you and you've got yourself into a bit of a mess again...' He put her on her feet and turned her around resignedly. 'Anything torn?'

  Clarissa screwed her head round at an impossible angle to try to look down her back. 'Don't think so.'

  'Then we'll have to hope Mrs. Jacobs can do a rush job on you. Coming?' He held out a hand.

  Clarissa slipped hers into it, but hung back. 'I don't know what to say to ... them,' she said tremulously.

  Although he was only seventeen, Rob was six foot tall and Clarissa barely came up to his waist. But his face softened as he saw the fear and uncertainty in her blue-grey eyes.

  'Why ... why don't you tell them about Holly Kingston?' he suggested. 'Look, would you like me to bring her up to show them? I'm sure they'd all love her too. And Ian can bring Cuddles and we'll give them rides. How would that be?'

  Clarissa brightened. 'Would you, Rob?'

  'Yes—if you promise me one thing—you'll be a big, brave girl this afternoon?' 'I'll try,' she vowed.

  'Where?' Ian asked laconically.

  'The old shearing shed,' Rob replied.

  'Scared stiff, I suppose?'

  ‘Mmm. And in a mess. Mrs. Jacobs nearly had a heart attack when she saw her!'

  'She's a funny kid,' Ian said resignedly. 'Even though she's my sister. Not much else frightens her!'

  'Lots of kids are shy. She reckons she doesn't know any of them.'

  'I don't think she does, actually,' remarked Ian.

  Then where are they all from?'

  'Neighboring properties, I guess. Come to think of it, that's how I made my debut into society, on my seventh birthday, only I was really looking forward to it! I think Mum didn't stop to consider that we're not all the kind of social animal she is.'

  'Perhaps it will only take practice for Clarry,' said Rob after a moment. 'By the way, Nip,' he went on, 'I've got a job for you this afternoon.' He explained.

  'You're kidding’ shouted Ian, his fourteen-year-old voice slipping into an upper register as it still did occasionally, which annoyed him because he liked to think he was nearly grown up, and often affected a world-weary kind of cynicism which was very much in vogue at his very exclusive boarding school. 'And don't call me Nip!'

  'I'm not kidding. It was the only way I could get her to feel ... happier about this damn party, and she's your sister, anyway!'

  'Dear Ian and Robert,' Narelle Kingston said warmly, 'what would I do without you?'

  She was an extremely young-looking thirty-four-year-old brunette with a fabulous figure and sense of style that carried her frequently into the society pages. She also had speaking grey eyes, and it had more than once been said of her that she could charm you out of your last cent and have you congratulate her at the same time. In fact it was also often said that Bernard and Narelle Kingston were the perfect couple—that she was the perfect foil for the rather strong, silent type of man Bernard was.

  So far as looks went, Ian had inherited his mother's dark vitality, while Clarissa took after her father, whom she adored but from a distance. One of the reasons for this might have been that the Kings tons spent very little time at Mirrabilla. Another undoubtedly was that Clarissa had once heard herself described by her mother as 'my little afterthought'. Not that she'd understood what it meant at the time, but the rather wry way it had been said had alerted her imagination, always extremely vivid. The result had been an instinctive decision not to be any trouble to both her parents, for that matter.

  Which could have been why Narelle Kingston got such a surprise when Clarissa had disappeared just before her party, and Bernard Kingston had taken time to ponder why Clarissa's gratitude for the pony he'd bought her had had a slightly anxious quality to it.

  'Well, at least Clarry seems to be enjoying herself,' Ian remarked to his mother as the three of them stood on the front lawn and watched eight little girls tucking in with great gusto to the party fare laid out on a table.

  Narelle waved a hand. 'She'll get over this shyness,' she said. 'Do you know, I feel quite exhausted. If you

  two hadn't arrived with the horses I was beginning to think I was staring my greatest social failure in the face! Why Robert,' she marveled, 'how you've grown! Or have I been away for too long?'

  'I'm not that far behind Rob, Mum,' Ian said.

  'No, you're not, darling. But goodness me, it only seems like yesterday when you were two little nippers. How's your father, Robert?'

  'Very well, thank you, Mrs. Kingston.'

  'I must go down and see him. What are you doing now Robert? Still at school?'

  'Yes. But I finish at the end of the year.'

  'And then?'

  'I'm going to college.'

  'Will you come back every weekend as you've done in high school?' she asked.

  'Probably.'

  'Until a little girl-friend arrives on the scene, no doubt,' Narelle Kingston said rather archly.

  Ian Kingston glanced at his best friend and mentor—apar
t from school, and that because Rob had spent his high school years at an ordinary state school as a weekly boarder—they had been inseparable since he could remember. But he couldn't help wondering if Rob was going to blush at his mother's unfortunate remark as he himself still had the regrettable tendency to do at the mention of girl-friends.

  Not a flicker of colour disturbed his friend's lean, suntanned cheeks, though, as he looked up briefly at Narelle Kingston out of those remarkably blue eyes. And he said equably, 'I mightn't have time for girlfriends.'

  'What are you going to study?'

  'Engineering and mining. But part-time.'

  'Well! I must speak to Mr. Kingston about this. He mused. 'I think, he went on slowly, 'he's inherited some sort of driving force, Clarry.'

  'From his mother?' Clarissa knew Rob's mother had died when he was very young.

  Peter Randall smiled. 'No. I once made a very difficult decision, Clarry, regarding Rob. I won't bore you with the details, but while I'm not sorry I made it, there is someone I would like Rob to know and make his own judgment about, and not, for that matter, feel bound by any judgments I made now that he's been brought up the way I saw fit. Because he and this person are very much alike and nothing can change that ... I don't suppose I'm making the least bit of sense to you, which is a pity, Clarry,' he added meditatively, 'because I think you understand Rob rather well, if not better than most.'

  Clarissa said nothing, because she had been puzzling the first part of this speech and wondering if this someone was a relative—it had to be, but who she had no idea. Rob and Peter Randall didn't seem to have any. As to how well she understood Rob, how could she tell even his father that she loved and trusted Rob as a special friend? Ian, for example, still teased her mercilessly upon occasion, having overheard her asking Rob to marry her—a proposal spoken in perfect innocence before her seventh birthday, but a cause for more and more embarrassment to her as she grew older.

  But she did say finally, 'I... oh!' The clock on the wall caught her eyes. 'I'm late for lessons. 'Bye, Mr. Randall!'

  And she flew up the track towards the house with her long fair plaits flying and feeling a certain sense of relief.

  Her other cause not so much for worry but regret during those years was that she saw less of Rob. Because he was doing his degree part-time and working, he didn't get the advantage of the long vacations, but he did often hitch a ride home at weekends, and if Ian was home, it was almost like old times. But Rob did come home every long Christmas holiday, and was paid to help his father out and also to lend a hand up at the homestead, mostly acting as barman at the endless house parties Narelle seemed to give over the festive season. He was even presented with his own black dinner suit for the grander occasions.

  'Doesn't Rob look nice?' Clarissa had said shyly to her mother, the first time she had seen him dressed in it.

  Narelle hadn't answered immediately, and Clarissa had glanced up enquiringly to see that she was staring thoughtfully at Rob.

  'Mum?'

  'Mmm? Oh yes, he does. I might have to keep an eye out for our younger, more impressionable lady guests,' Narelle said then, with a twinkle in her eye. 'Well, seen enough, poppet? I think it's time for bed.'

  'All right. You look super too, Mum. Better than anyone else.'

  'Thank you darling!' And she had looked superb, in a figure-hugging strapless dress in a shimmering watermark taffeta that matched her eyes.

  Then Ian had come up with their father and Clarissa had felt rather like the odd man out. Ian was allowed to attend these parties now, but not only that—he and Bernard Kingston seemed to have grown very close together lately. Not that Clarissa had resented this—she was happy for Ian and her father.

  She just wished she was old enough to be included.

  Then the blow fell.

  It was not so much that she hadn't known about it for several months, but that she'd pushed it to the back of her mind, hoping it would mysteriously go away. But there came a day in late January when reality was only an afternoon and a night away. And it seemed only natural that the only person she could confide in was Rob, although she'd vowed not to. But he found her crying quietly and quite hopelessly into Holly Kingston's neck.

  She didn't know it, but he'd come into the stables silently and watched her for a minute or two. Then he walked over to her and lifted up one fair plait.

  'Clarry? What's wrong?'

  She tensed convulsively and lifted her tear-streaked face. 'N-nothing!'

  He smiled slightly. 'It must be something, but I think I can guess anyway. Boarding school?'

  Clarissa looked away and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

  'Do you know,' he said slowly, 'there's one thing to be said for being away from home. It makes it even more special to come back to.'

  'But it couldn't be more special to me than it is now,' she said huskily. 'I don't want to go away. And,' her next words echoed an old torment, 'I won't know anyone!'

  'Clarry, come and sit over here with me.' He led her towards some lucerne bales and they sat down side by side. 'Do you know something else? A whole lot of people feel like you do.'

  'Scared, you mean?' she whispered.

  'Shy and scared. In fact most of the kids at your new school, the new ones, will be feeling nervous and

  worried, just as most of them will be nice kids and wanting to make friends.'

  Clarissa was silent.

  'The other thing is,' he said after a while, 'being very shy is something you can't help, but it is something you can try to change, otherwise you'll be miserable often. Just remember there isn't anything to be frightened of.'

  'They'll all laugh at me,' she muttered.

  Unseen, Rob looked upwards for heavenly assistance. 'Try thinking of Holly Kingston,' he suggested.

  'Th-that's another thing,' she blurted. 'She'll forget me.'

  'She will not,' he said positively, but put an arm around her shaking shoulders. 'Dad will think of something to keep her occupied,' he assured her. 'Anyway, it's only going to be a couple of months at a time. And if you really feel... down, sometimes, you could think of how proud we all would be to know you're coping and really trying to make a go of it.'

  Clarissa lifted her head. 'Would you be proud of me, Rob?' she asked tremulously.

  'Would I ever!'

  'Oh, Rob,' a glowing smile lit her thin, dirty little face. 'I'll try, then, I promise!' And she hid her face in his shoulder for a moment, and he hugged her. 'I'm awfully proud of you,' she said then. 'For doing so well in your exams. Soon you'll be an engineer, won't you?'

  'Still a couple of years to go, Clarry,' he said wryly, and didn't know how happy the thought of this made her. 'Tell you what, seeing that you're going away tomorrow and I am the day after, should we go for a ride?'

  'Oh yes, please!'

  For months afterwards, Clarissa could remember every detail of that ride. The smell of heat and dust in the paddocks, the creaking of their saddles, the way Rob handled the frisky chestnut gelding he was riding that took about one stride to Holly Kingston's four... The creek they stopped at to have a drink and rest the horses and the slow amble home through the paddocks as the sunset ...

  The next morning she sat upright in the back of the car beside her mother, dressed up in her new school clothes and waved bravely to the unusually large number of people who seemed to have gathered.

  'At least she's not crying,' said Ian.

  'No,' Mrs. Jacobs agreed, and wiped away a tear of her own on her apron.

  'Well, all kids like us have to go through this,' Ian offered. 'I don't remember creating such a stir when I first went to boarding school!'

  No one replied, and Ian suddenly realized that the reason for his vague feeling of moodiness was actually caused by a feeling of concern for his young sister. 'She just looks so... little,' he explained, which caused Mrs. Jacobs to take a deep steadying breath that failed her so she turned away precipitously and ran back into the house.

&n
bsp; 'Now what I have said?' he enquired irritably of Rob, who had stood quite silent since Clarissa had said goodbye, her face pale with the strain of composure.

  'You hit the nail on the head,' he said, 'that's all. Small and vulnerable.'

  'But she's got to learn, hasn't she, Rob?'

  'Yes. This seems a bit like throwing her in at the deep end, though. Couldn't she have gone to a day school in Sydney first?'

  Ian was silent. Then he said cryptically, 'That might have cramped Mum's style a bit. I mean,' he added hastily, 'she's not home a lot, what with dinners and balls and lunches and the races—Clarry could have been as lonely at home, lonelier.'

  Rob shrugged. 'I guess so.' He turned away.

  'Hey, Rob, I've been meaning to ask you something!' Ian brightened. 'What are you doing over the Easter break?'

  'Nothing that I know of.'

  'Come down and spend it with me.'

  ‘I...' Rob hesitated.

  'Now if you're going to start all that nonsense, forget it,' said Ian forcefully. 'You're not only an employee, you're part of the family. Anyway, you deserve a break in the big smoke, surely! You've worked like a slave for years. Besides which, I'm giving a party, a formal party, and I promise you,' he said slyly, 'there'll be some gorgeous chicks there.' Ian had quite lost his initial embarrassment over the matter of girls.

  Rob Randall regarded his friend amusedly. 'Why are you giving a party?'

  'For my eighteenth birthday. What's wrong with that? Just because you're twenty now ...'

  'Nothing wrong with it,' Rob admitted.

  'Then come! I've got lots of friends now, I'd like you to meet. We could also,' added Ian as if struck by a sudden thought, 'take Clarry out somewhere.'

  That outing was to cause Clarissa immeasurable joy, only when she thought about it afterwards, which she did often, it was to feel some confusion and a lot of pain.

  Confusion because Rob had been different. Not towards her, but she'd detected an inner tension that

  she couldn't account for. She had wondered if he'd felt out of place in the big Sydney house on the Harbour, but he hadn't seemed at all out of place. Confusion too, because it had slowly begun to dawn on her that her parents weren't getting along as they always had, and they'd been at unspoken loggerheads—or so it had seemed to Clarissa.