I was silent, thinking: It’s my fault I was careless. What a lot I have to learn about this country where sudden death seems constantly to be lying in wait for the foolish and unwary.
“Oh Nora,” he said, ‘to think you came out here . to my country . for this. “
“It was my fault, Stirling.”
“No.” His voice was tender.
“It could happen anywhere. Who knows what’s happening at the house even now. The fire was getting closer.”
“But Lynx will know …” And then I thought of the house being surrounded by fire; I pictured its coming close, so fierce, so all-consuming that not even Lynx could hold it off. The thought of Lynx in danger made me forget that which threatened us. But I told myself he would know what to do. No harm could come to him. I realized then that I had learned to think of him as Stirling did: he was godlike, immortal.
Stirling was whispering: “I remembered this cave. An aboriginal family lived here. They came to work for my father, and the boy who was my age used to bring me here. It’s got to save us, Nora. It’s our only chance.”
I knew he was trying to comfort me. Outside, the fire was encircling us; soon the ground above us would be ablaze. How could we possibly survive?
In the darkness he seemed to read my thoughts.
“There is a chance,” he said.
“A slight one; but a chance.”
For the first time in my life I was close to death. I felt lightheaded, as though I were dreaming. Stirling and I would lie forever underground and this would be our grave, though no one would know it. I reached for his hand; it was as though it were on fire.
Everything seemed on fire for the heat was becoming unbearable.
His lips were close to my ear.
“The fire will be right above us presently,” he said.
“Soon, Stirling,” I answered.
“Very soon.”
We could hear the roar and crackle, the sudden explosion; and the acrid smell was creeping into the cave.
“If we can keep the smoke out,” said Stirling and paused.
“If not .. ” He didn’t go on. There was no need to. I understood. Our chances of survival were very small.
“Stirling,” I said, “I’m not sorry I came out here.”
He did not answer. We had moved away from each other because the heat was so great but we kept our fingers entwined. There was comfort for me in this; I wondered if he felt it too.
“Nora.” His voice seemed to come to me from a long way off.
“We loved you, Nora. It was different when you came.”
I was loved as I had been when my father was alive. But what did it matter now. He used the past tense as though we were already dead. It can’t be long now, I thought. I couldn’t die . not now that I had found my home and people to love me. I felt angry with fate which had made me suffer and then when I could be happy again to say: This is the end. Now your life is over.
“No,” I said, but so quietly that he did not hear me.
There was nothing we could do but lie still waiting. I had never known there could be heat like this. I was gasping for my breath.
“It’s all right, Nora.” I heard a voice—or at least I believed I did.
“Nora, my love, we’ll be all right. Lynx would never forgive us if we died.”
It’s true, I thought. We have to live . for Lynx.
I can’t describe the ever-increasing heat. I believe I must have been only half-conscious because there were times during that fearful period when I was not sure where I was. I lay perfectly still, having no strength to move, for in that terrific heat all energy had left me.
There was only one thing to do: to lie and wait either for death to come or for life to deliver us.
But all through this terrifying experience I was aware of Stirling close to me; and I knew that he loved me. I was certain that if only I could escape from death the future of which I had dreamed would be mine.
I think I was in a sort of trance, dreaming of a future in which we were all there—the three of us, because I had learned now, if I had not known it before, that Lynx must always have a place in my life—on the lawns of a beautiful old house. My children—mine and Stirling’s—were there with their grandfather: a new Lynx, a man who had come to terms with life, who had thrown aside a dream of revenge for one of contentment.
“Nora! Nora!” Stirling’s face was close to mine. There was a little light in the cave. The first thing I noticed was the smoke. I started to cough.
“Oh God, Nora, I thought you were dead.”
“What’s happened?” I asked.
“The wind’s changed. There’s a light drizzle falling. The fires will be damped down and they’ll stop spreading. We’re going to get out of here.” He pulled me to my feet and I staggered, falling against him.
He laughed with relief because I was alive, I knew; he held me against him briefly but with an inexpressible tenderness.
“We’re going to get out of here,” he repeated.
My limbs were stiff; I could scarcely move. The temperature in the cave must have been about a hundred and forty degrees, although it was much cooler than it had been.
“You follow me,” he said; and I watched him crawl through the hole.
Soon he had dragged me out to stand beside him. It was like walking into an oven; then I held up my face and let the light drizzle fall on it.
A fearful sight met our eyes. The remains of trees were black and smouldering. There was a quietness everywhere and it occurred to me that one subconsciously heard the birds and insects of the bush without being aware of them. Several trees were still burning.
I turned to Stirling who was scarcely recognizable. His face was black; so were his clothes. I knew I presented a similar spectacle.
He put his arms about me and held me close to him. We just stood there, too emotional to speak.
Then I said: “We’re alive, Stirling. We have a future after all.”
He released me and took my hands, looking searchingly into my face. I saw the joy rather than the grime of smoke and dirt, and for a few seconds I was happy.
He said: “I wonder what’s been happening at home.” A terrible fear had taken possession of us both, for although we had just been assuring ourselves that we had a future, neither of us could be happy if it did not contain one other.
“We must get back quickly,” I said.
“We must find out.”
The countryside was devastated and it was difficult to know which scarred and mutilated road to take. I should have been lost without Stirling. He had known this country all his life but even he was bewildered. We were both driven by an urgent desire to know what had happened at Little Whiteladies. Stirling loved me; I was sure of that. I believed that e happy again?
I don’t know how we made that journey. We were weak from shock; we must have been at least six hours in the cave. Our limbs were cramped, our throats parched; we struggled on and there was only one thought in our minds:
Night fell and Stirling said we must rest awhile; we lay down but our minds could not rest.
“How far?” I whispered.
“It can’t be more than six or seven miles.”
“Stirling, why don’t we go?”
“We must rest for a while.”
“I’d rather go.”
“So would I, but you’d collapse before we got there.”
“Oh Stirling,” I cried.
“You do take care of me.”
“Always, Nora,” he answered.
“For ever,” I murmured; but even then I was thinking of Lynx.
I slept at last and felt it was a measure of Stirling’s love for me that he let me sleep. I was apologetic when I awoke. It seemed so wrong to sleep when we did not know what had happened to Lynx.