4

All Miss Dane’s objections to the hotel came back. If she sat embroidering in the sitting-room the swearing of the men in the bar offended her. Don’s voice irritated her, talking to them so casually, oblivious of her. In her room she felt cooped up; she hadn’t been able to settle down to the novel for several nights. And lately she had taken to watching herself for any first warnings of a child, with the same worry as a seaman, a few days out from his last port and the woman he picked up in a dock-area dive, watches for signs of gonorrhoea. At school the children found her crabby. Rogers found her distant, as if she blamed him for Don’s insolence. Belle Hansen said, ‘The place is getting her down.’

Her worry was intensified by the rain. It had been a dry lingering autumn, and had broken lately into patchy weather with dull days, fits of shine and sharp showers. But on the Sunday after the dance it broke into a steady West Coast downpour that lasted without a stop for two days. For three weeks there wasn’t a fine spell longer than four hours. The Grey river was swollen and muddy and ate into the bank near the bridge; old branches and trunks were freed from gravel-banks and careered fiercely towards the sea. The hills were lost in fog and shower and for Miss Dane it was worse than Taranaki; life was hemmed in by raindrops, a low grey sky, continually wet feet, and the tattoo of rain on iron roofs. The children could not go outside and spent playtime and the lunch hour in their classrooms. The corridors hung with dripping raincoats and sou’westers. The school heaters were hung with wet socks.

She knew she had made a fool of herself over Don. She looked page 195 back to Roko as a period of happiness and wondered if she had become unbalanced since she had come to this godless town with its rough children, rough parents and the backbiting gossip among teachers. She had never felt so alone. She wanted to leave the school but she had undertaken to teach here for two years. At least she would have to leave the hotel.

On the Tuesday she called on Mr Rae. Mrs Rae answered the door. She was middle-aged but looked younger, she was soft of flesh and stout, and placid in her manner.

‘Oh, hullo, Miss Dane,’ she said as calmly as if she had been expecting her. ‘Come in and take your wet coat off.’

Miss Dane stared at her with a challenging look; she was pumping herself with determination not to give way on what she had resolved. ‘Thank you, Mrs Rae,’ she said. ‘I came to see your husband.’

‘Oh, you’re just in time,’ she said. ‘He was just off to see Mr Herlihy about that boy of his. Someone else has been complaining about him throwing stones at cars.’

Rae was in an oilskin and sou’wester and gumboots. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Dane,’ he said, looking her straight in the face from inside his outfit of oilskin. ‘We don’t often see you here.’

‘No, Mr Rae,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid it’s rather important. It’s about my position at the school.’

‘Oh?’ Mrs Rae went out of the room. Miss Dane reached forward and warmed herself in front of the fire that bubbled and spurted fiercely from the gassy local coal.

‘It’s really more than I bargained for, Mr Rae.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, as I’ve said before. I had no idea where Coal Flat was when I applied for the job.’

‘Well, you can hardly hold us responsible for that, Miss Dane.’ But really it’s quite unlike what I’ve been used to. It’s an ugly heathen town, Mr Rae.’

‘Oh, no, no, Miss Dane. It’s not as bad as that. Goodness me, I’ve lived here these seventeen years and I’ve never had any trouble, not since the Seldom strike.’

‘I’m afraid you don’t see what goes on, Mr Rae.’

‘Oh, now, now, Miss Dane. You’re not accusing me of neglecting my duty? It’s the first time anyone’s said that.’

‘Well, every night I can’t sleep for the noise in the bar at the hotel. They’re drinking after hours, Mr Rae. And the language.’

‘Oh, well, Miss Dane. I trust Mr Palmer to see that everything is page 196 square and above-board. Oh, yes! … Of course, if you want to make a complaint…. But, I warn you, these people won’t like it. They don’t tolerate interference lightly, Miss Dane.’

‘I’m not wanting to complain about anything, Mr Rae. I’ve come to tell you that I simply cannot continue to stay at that hotel or any hotel. It’s not fair that any teacher should be expected to stay there. What about the effect on the children? I have to connive at all that drinking and swearing. I’ve come to tell you that if I can’t find private board I’ll give up my position at the school.’

‘But you know, Miss Dane, that you can’t apply for another teaching position till the two years are up.’

‘I don’t care. I’m quite decided. It’s not fair that there should be towns like this where they expect decently brought-up women to come and teach.’

Her eyes watered and Mr Rae was embarrassed.

‘Well, I don’t know where you’ll get private board in Coal Flat…. Perhaps I’d better see Annie, Annie! … Annie, do you think we could make an effort and take Miss Dane in with us? She’s not very happy at Palmers’.’

Mrs Rae stared at Miss Dane with mild surprise. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Don’t they give you enough to cat?’

‘It’s nothing like that,’ Mr Rae said. ‘Miss Dane isn’t used to a hotel atmosphere.’

‘Oh, well, I think we could manage all right. You haven’t got any food fads, I suppose? As long as you’re prepared to put up with plain simple cooking. We don’t go in for fancy dishes here.’

Mrs Palmer said, when Miss Dane told her, ‘Of course, we don’t go in for fancy dishes, Miss Dane, but it’s good plain food. No buying cheap with me, oh no; no serving up the scraps from the last meal. You were quite satisfied, Miss Dane?’

‘Perfectly, Mrs Palmer. Only, it’s just as I said, I really do find a hotel atmosphere too much. I’m not used to it, Mrs Palmer. I hope you’ll understand.’

Mrs Palmer shrugged. ‘Oh well, I always say it takes all sorts to make a world, Miss Dane. Live and let live, that’s my motto. But when you’ve gone, drop in and see us now and again just to show you haven’t forgotten us altogether. Come and have a cup of tea, since you won’t be having many more with us,’ she said as if she was heaping coals of fire on Miss Dane’s head.

When the day came for leaving, Flora helped her put her luggage in her Morris Eight. ‘I’m sorry you’re leaving us, Miss Dane,’ she said. ‘I hope you’ll feel easier at Raes’. It’ll be more like a home for you, won’t it?’ Miss Dane warmed to Flora as she drove into the page 197 rain; at the bar window she saw Don, lazily curious, watching her go. In the bar Dad said to Don, ‘She was just a bit quick off the trigger. There won’t be much drinking in here in a couple of weeks. Jock says the boys are going to boycott the beer till the price comes down again.’