like this. I know what I'm doing. This young fella can take care of the place, and we two can go to Wentworth a couple times a week. I don't like you going there alone. It's not right for a woman to go to the movies on her own in a town like Wentworth."
"And why isn't it right?"
She spoke with a strong Italian accent and her voice was shrill.
"It isn't right. You're a respectable, married woman. There are guys in Wentworth ..."
"Are you telling me I go around with men in Wentworth? Is that it?"
"Of course I'm not! I'm just saying it isn't right. With this fella here, you and me can go together. That's what we want, isn't it?"
"I know one thing—I don't want any strangers here! I've told you that a thousand times!"
"I know you've told me, but you're wrong. We've got to have help. How many times did you get up last night? Six—maybe seven times. You need your sleep. With this guy to help us out, we'll get our sleep and we'll get some freedom. When he's on night shift, you and me can go to a movie. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"How many more times do I have to tell you?" Her voice was angry and excited, "I don't want strangers here. Besides, he isn't working for nothing, is he? Since when have you started to throw your money about?"
The hard shrill note in her voice bothered me. She sounded vindictive, and in a hell of a rage.
"Stop yelling at me! Let's give him a trial. If you don't like him, well okay, then we'll get rid of him. You'll be glad to have him around. Now let's stop this. How about something to eat?"
"How do you know you can trust him? Do you mean you intend to leave him here to take the money, to have the run of this place while we're in Wentworth? You're crazy!"
I felt it was time to let them know I was here. I went on tiptoe to the door, opened it and let it slam shut. Then I walked heavy footed to the counter.
"Anyone here?" I called.
The angry voices abruptly came silent. There was a pause, then Jenson came out of the kitchen. His fat, good natured face was red, and there was an embarrassed look in his eyes.
"There you are," he said. He looked me over and his expression altered a little. I could see he was relieved and pleased that I now looked presentable. "That's a good cabin, eh? Have you found everything you want?"
"It's fine," I said. The smell of the frying onions was driving me half crazy. "And this too. You've certainly got a place here, Mr. Jenson."
He nodded, but the beaming pride wasn't there. I could see he was still bothered about the argument he had been having with his wife.
"Yeah, it's pretty good." He rubbed his jaw, his eyes shifting away from me. "I guess you must be hungry. I'll see what I can rustic up for you."
"Don't worry about me, Mr. Jenson. You tell me what I'm to have and I'll fix it."
"You stick around. I'll talk to my wife."
He was so embarrassed I felt sorry for him. He was starting back to the kitchen when a dusty Packard pulled up by the gas pumps and the driver honked on his horn.
"Shall I take care of him?" I said.
"It's okay. I'll do it. Time enough for you to start work when you've had something to eat."
He went out and I watched him through the open window as he began to service the car.
I heard a sound behind me and I looked over my shoulder, then I turned right around.
A woman was standing in the doorway. She was staring curiously at me.
She had Titian red hair: a lot of it, piled to the top of her head, rather sloppily. She was a beauty although her mouth was too big and her lips too thick. There was a sensual quality about her that would attract any man: it attracted me.
She was wearing a crisp white overall, pulled tight around her, and as she moved through the doorway, I could see she hadn't a stitch on under the overall. She was about thirty. She had cold green eyes and her skin was the colour of old ivory.
She didn't say anything. We just stood there, looking at each other. Then Jenson came in, grinning nervously and introduced
"And why isn't it right?"
She spoke with a strong Italian accent and her voice was shrill.
"It isn't right. You're a respectable, married woman. There are guys in Wentworth ..."
"Are you telling me I go around with men in Wentworth? Is that it?"
"Of course I'm not! I'm just saying it isn't right. With this fella here, you and me can go together. That's what we want, isn't it?"
"I know one thing—I don't want any strangers here! I've told you that a thousand times!"
"I know you've told me, but you're wrong. We've got to have help. How many times did you get up last night? Six—maybe seven times. You need your sleep. With this guy to help us out, we'll get our sleep and we'll get some freedom. When he's on night shift, you and me can go to a movie. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"How many more times do I have to tell you?" Her voice was angry and excited, "I don't want strangers here. Besides, he isn't working for nothing, is he? Since when have you started to throw your money about?"
The hard shrill note in her voice bothered me. She sounded vindictive, and in a hell of a rage.
"Stop yelling at me! Let's give him a trial. If you don't like him, well okay, then we'll get rid of him. You'll be glad to have him around. Now let's stop this. How about something to eat?"
"How do you know you can trust him? Do you mean you intend to leave him here to take the money, to have the run of this place while we're in Wentworth? You're crazy!"
I felt it was time to let them know I was here. I went on tiptoe to the door, opened it and let it slam shut. Then I walked heavy footed to the counter.
"Anyone here?" I called.
The angry voices abruptly came silent. There was a pause, then Jenson came out of the kitchen. His fat, good natured face was red, and there was an embarrassed look in his eyes.
"There you are," he said. He looked me over and his expression altered a little. I could see he was relieved and pleased that I now looked presentable. "That's a good cabin, eh? Have you found everything you want?"
"It's fine," I said. The smell of the frying onions was driving me half crazy. "And this too. You've certainly got a place here, Mr. Jenson."
He nodded, but the beaming pride wasn't there. I could see he was still bothered about the argument he had been having with his wife.
"Yeah, it's pretty good." He rubbed his jaw, his eyes shifting away from me. "I guess you must be hungry. I'll see what I can rustic up for you."
"Don't worry about me, Mr. Jenson. You tell me what I'm to have and I'll fix it."
"You stick around. I'll talk to my wife."
He was so embarrassed I felt sorry for him. He was starting back to the kitchen when a dusty Packard pulled up by the gas pumps and the driver honked on his horn.
"Shall I take care of him?" I said.
"It's okay. I'll do it. Time enough for you to start work when you've had something to eat."
He went out and I watched him through the open window as he began to service the car.
I heard a sound behind me and I looked over my shoulder, then I turned right around.
A woman was standing in the doorway. She was staring curiously at me.
She had Titian red hair: a lot of it, piled to the top of her head, rather sloppily. She was a beauty although her mouth was too big and her lips too thick. There was a sensual quality about her that would attract any man: it attracted me.
She was wearing a crisp white overall, pulled tight around her, and as she moved through the doorway, I could see she hadn't a stitch on under the overall. She was about thirty. She had cold green eyes and her skin was the colour of old ivory.
She didn't say anything. We just stood there, looking at each other. Then Jenson came in, grinning nervously and introduced
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