This compliment was so unexpected, she could feel herself flush slightly.
He led the way inside, where he introduced her to Cook, a large motherly woman whose hands never stopped working.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Gracie. You look a cheerful lass. The last housemaid was a sourpuss, but she still got herself a husband. They’re real short of women in the country.’
‘I’m not looking for a husband, thank you very much!’
Cook laughed. ‘They’ll come looking for you.’ She wiped her hands. ‘I’d better show you your bedroom, then you can come and help me.’
The room was large, with a single bed and a mosquito net. A black and white uniform was laid out on a chair and several maid’s caps on the chest of drawers.
Cook pointed towards the uniform. ‘That should fit you nicely. She likes the servants to dress up all fancy when we have guests. Just a print dress and apron will do the rest of the time, but she does like her maids to wear a cap.’
Gracie sighed.
Cook smiled sympathetically. ‘I know. Young women don’t like caps, but she’s a bit old-fashioned. She’s all right otherwise, not stingy with the servants’ food.’
Once alone, Gracie stared out of the window. Only cows and fields to be seen. She’d expected there to be other farms nearby, at least. She had a little cry, then scolded herself and changed into a print dress, sighing as she pinned on the starched white cap provided. She hated the dratted things. But at least Mrs Gilsworth paid good wages, far better than they did in England.
Later in the afternoon Cook told Gracie to ring the bell on the back veranda, then take the weight off her feet for a few minutes.
An elderly man who joined them was introduced as the gardener. Finn followed, shirt sleeves rolled up, collar open, looking very manly and energetic. He took a piece of cake and winked at Gracie.
She sipped her tea, grateful for its familiar warmth. ‘How far away is the nearest town?’
‘We drove through it—Beeniup, five miles back.’
She stared at him. ‘That’s not a town. It’s not even a village. What am I going to do on my days off? Is there a cinema anywhere near?’
‘No, but there’s a church social one Saturday a month for the young folk. The missus lets me have the car to drive us into town.’
‘Who’s “us”?’
‘Just me and you at the moment. The other servants are too old for dancing.’
Cook pretended to slap him for saying that and he pretended to be afraid.
He turned back to Gracie. ‘Do you like dancing? You look like you’d be good at it.’
She loved dancing, knew all the latest dance tunes. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to go to a social event with Finn. He was more than a bit cheeky, if you asked her.
Trouble was, he was really good company and as the days passed he made her laugh, cheering her up when she was feeling homesick, which he seemed to sense even though she tried to hide it. He had a little dimple at one corner of his mouth and she kept watching for it. But he was a thinking man, too, asking her about England, where he’d been stationed for a time during the war.
Without his company, she’d have gone mad.
But, occasionally, he stood too close and, for some reason, that set her pulse racing. She always moved away quickly, trying not to let him see how he’d affected her. She didn’t intend to marry another servant, so it was no use starting anything—however attracted you were to a fellow.
Three weeks later, fed up with the isolation, she agreed to go to the church social.
Anything to get away from the homestead. And maybe she’d make some friends in Beeniup.
Her sister had been right: Gracie had made a mistake taking a job out in the country. But six months would soon pass and at least she’d save money. She kept reminding herself of that.
On the day of the church social, Gracie wore her best summer dress, calf-length in soft voile trimmed with lace. It was the same blue as her eyes.
Finn waited for her in the kitchen, looking very spruce in a dark suit and white shirt, his skin rosy and newly washed. He smelled of shaving soap and fresh air.
He let out a long, low whistle at the sight of her. ‘We’re in trouble,’ he told Cook.
Gracie looked down at herself in puzzlement. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Mrs Gilsworth will have a fit when she sees you in that outfit.’
She studied herself in the mirror. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Nothing! But you look so pretty, she’ll start worrying about you getting married. She’s lost three maids that way in the past eighteen months.’
Flustered, Gracie picked up the small iced cakes Cook had prepared, because women had to take something for supper, it seemed. ‘Well, are we going?’
‘Your carriage awaits, madam.’ He flourished a bow and opened the door.
Their eyes met and her heart skipped a beat. He was a very attractive fellow. But she wasn’t getting tangled up with a servant. She wanted to escape from that.
At the doorway of the church hall she hesitated, suddenly nervous.
Finn smiled at her. ‘Come on! I’ll introduce you to a few people.’ He led the way, nodding and smiling, seeming to know everyone.
He left her with two young women and she enjoyed chatting to them.
‘You are lucky, working with Finn,’ one said, sighing.
Before Gracie could ask why, the music started and fellows crowded round. There seemed to be twice as many young men as there were young women. She danced with three different fellows, enjoying the fuss and attention, even though none of them was a good dancer.
Finn elbowed another man aside as she came off the dance floor the third time. ‘Fancy cooling down outside, Gracie?’
‘That’d be lovely.’
As they walked out together she could see heads turn their way. ‘Why is everyone staring?’
‘Oh, they always watch newcomers.’
A few couples were strolling up and down the scruffy sunburned square of grass behind the hall. The night air was cool and the moonlight bright. Finn made her laugh and they stayed out there for two whole dances.
As they went back inside, he put one hand on his heart. ‘May I ask you for a dance, Miss Bell?’
‘Why certainly, kind sir.’
It was a waltz, her favourite, but being held closely by Finn made her feel breathless again. He was so tall, his teeth white in his suntanned face, his smile seemingly for her alone. He was a good dancer and she relaxed, letting him lead her round the small dance floor.
‘Our steps match well, don’t they?’ he murmured as the waltz ended. ‘Another dance?’
‘That’d be lovely.’
Just before the supper break she went out to the lean-to at the back of the hall to powder her nose.
‘You certainly didn’t waste any time,’ another girl said. ‘Getting Finn for your fellow! I’d give a week’s wages to have him smile at me like that.’
‘What? He’s not my fellow. We just work together.’
‘But he took you walking outside. Round here, that’s a sign you’re courting.’