Beneath the Southern Cross (48 page)

She walked to the starboard side of the ferry and looked at Manly Pier looming ahead. No, she didn't feel guilty. Not even a little. She'd done her bit.

‘Gene!' Caroline opened the front door to Lieutenant Gene Hamilton of the US Marines.

‘Hello, Caroline.'

It had been eighteen months, but he was as handsome as she remembered. His composure seemed a little ruffled, however, as if he wasn't sure as to how he would be received.

‘Come in,' Caroline opened the door wide, ‘we're having a cup of tea in the kitchen.' Of course, Gene thought, when were Aussies not having a cup of tea in the kitchen. ‘Gran'll be thrilled to see you. She always said that she owes you an apology.'

That smile. She was irresistible. He wished he could suggest they just go for a walk, he longed to be alone with her. ‘A cup of tea'd be great,' he said as he stepped reluctantly inside. Kathleen De Haan owed him an apology? He'd all but accused the woman of being a spy.

‘It's nice to see you again, Gene,' Kathleen shook his hand warmly. ‘I owe you an apology, you were right about Stefan.'

‘I know, I heard.' Confused by the warmth of his reception, Gene wondered whether she knew it was he who'd reported Brandt; she certainly couldn't know that he'd also reported her as a possible accessory.

‘You thought my Gran was a spy, didn't you?' said Caroline, embarrassing him. ‘That's what the police told us.'

‘Caroline, stop it,' Kathleen ordered.

‘They interrogated us for hours,' she continued, ignoring the admonishment, aware of Gene's discomfort. She didn't intend to
be cruel, but he should have come to see them at the time, she thought, so she decided to make him squirm, just for a moment. ‘We only got off the hook because we had Tim Kendall for a character witness.'

‘Gene, sit down, please,' Kathleen interrupted.

‘Kendall Markets, do you know them?' Caroline asked.

‘Of course,' Gene nodded.

‘He's my godfather, Tim Kendall, the police were very impressed.'

‘Would you like some tea?' Kathleen asked. It was time for Caroline to shut up, she'd had her fun.

‘I'm sorry.' Gene directed his apology to Kathleen. ‘I didn't intend to cause trouble.'

‘Of course you didn't,' she said. Of course he did, she thought. If he'd suspected her, as he obviously had, then his very intention had been to cause trouble. And so it should have been. ‘You did the right thing, now sit down and I'll get you some tea.'

‘What about a beer instead?' Caroline suggested and, before he could answer, she'd fetched a bottle from the icebox.

Gene didn't much like Australian beer, he was a bourbon man himself. But he drank the beer, and joined in the conversation and, to hisamazement, an hour later, the three of them were laughing about the fact that he'd thought Kathleen might have been a spy. This Aussie beer had quite an effect after all, he realised, feeling rather light-headed and enjoying the women's company, but most particularly Caroline's.

Gene had chosen to spend his furloughs in Brisbane over the past eighteen months. He'd even had an affair with a girl there. Convinced that he would no longer be welcome in the De Haan household, he had decided to put Caroline O'Shea out of his mind. But it had been impossible. And when he'd found himself posted to Sydney he hadn't been able to resist visiting the little old house in Woolloomooloo.

And now here she was, enchanting him once more with her beauty, delighting him all over again with her candour and earthy humour. How could he ever have thought he could put such a creature out of his mind? Gene Hamilton was more smitten than ever. In fact, he had to admit it, he was head over heels in love.

‘How long are you on leave, Gene?' Caroline asked, hoping it
would be long enough for him to ask her out, she'd forgotten how attractive he was.

‘Well, I'm not actually. I'm on secondment to the Aussies.'

‘Oh?'

‘Which means I'm in Sydney for a month.'

‘Oh.'

‘Would you like to go out to dinner? Or the theatre maybe?' Then he recalled that she didn't like being seen out alone with a Yank, so he quickly added, ‘or we could go to The Trocadero with your friend … er …'

‘Ada?'

‘Yeah, Ada, that's right. We could go dancing with Ada.'

‘I think dinner would be nice.' Caroline was less self-conscious these days. The Yanks had been in town for so long now that people accepted Aussie girls in their company. Besides, dinner with the urbane American would make a welcome change from the Saturday arvo pictures with Ada's big brother Brian.

‘How about tonight?'

‘Why not?' she grinned.

They dined out that night, and when he brought her home, he kissed her on the lips. Chastely, his hands resting gently on her shoulders, resisting the urge to take her in his arms and feel her body against his.

‘Sunday, tomorrow,' he said, ‘would you like to go out for the day? I could hire a car. Adrive into the countryside maybe?' He was rushing her, he knew it, she wouldn't wish to spend the whole weekend in his company, but he didn't want her out of his sight, he'd spend every minute with her if he possibly could.

‘How about the beach? We could go to Bondi.'

 

‘No taxis, Gene,' she said the following morning, and she took his hand as they walked up William Street. ‘Everybody catches the Bondi tram, it's what going to the beach is all about.'

She was right, Gene thought, as the tram turned the corner and he caught his first sight of Bondi Beach. The broad sweep of sandy bay and rocky headland was spectacular viewed from the front seat of the tram which rattled down the hill at an alarming speed.

He was a good swimmer, she noted, admiring his athleticism from the distant safety of her deckchair up near the sea-wall.
Caroline enjoyed the beach, but was no water baby, preferring to plonk herself in the ocean every now and then simply in order to cool off.

She studied him more closely as he started to run up the beach towards her. Naturally olive-skinned, his body was as tanned as his face. Broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, his was the physique of a soldier, fit and well toned. She closed her eyes as he joined her.

‘That was fantastic,' he said, sprawling panting and soaking wet in the sand, ‘absolutely fantastic.'

‘Oh you're back,' she opened her eyes, ‘I must have dozed off. Don't you want a towel?' She leaned down to pull a towel from the bag.

‘No, I like the feel of hot sand on my skin, I'll rinse it off later.'

They bought icecreams and ate them sitting on the stone steps which led down to the beach, gazing out over the endless hordes of sunworshippers burning to a crisp in the baking-hot summer afternoon. Then they had a dip together, Caroline allowing herself to be teased out of her depth in order to feel Gene's body against hers as he supported her in the water.

After they'd dried off and dressed in their respective changing rooms at the Pavilion, they walked hand in hand up the grassy knoll towards Campbell Parade where they sat in the corner shop eating pies and watching the passers-by promenade in the cool of the late afternoon, the breeze whisking in from the sea.

‘Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?' Caroline asked when they returned home in the early dusk. ‘Or a coffee, or a beer?'

‘No thanks,' Gene said. ‘I'm still carrying a bit of sand around, think I'll go back to the hotel and clean up.' Much as he enjoyed Kathleen De Haan's company he didn't think he could bear to share Caroline with anyone. Not right now. Not after the day they'd had. ‘It was a perfect day, Caroline.' It seemed natural to take her in his arms.

‘Yes it was.' She responded wholeheartedly to his kiss until, aware of their conspicuousness on Kathleen's front porch, she drew away, a little out of breath.

‘May I call on you Tuesday? Dinner? The theatre?'

‘Whatever,' Caroline said, ‘Tuesday'd be beaut.'

She closed the door behind her, then opened it to watch him
striding off down the street. She had been taken aback by her response. Did it happen as quickly as this? Was she falling in love with the man, she wondered as she relished the tingle of sea salt on her skin, her body felt so alive.

Three weeks later she had no doubts whatsoever. She was desperately in love with Gene Hamilton. And he with her, she knew it. If he'd asked her to go back to his hotel room she would have agreed. But he didn't. He always kissed her goodnight on the front porch, both of them by now fully aware of the other's desire. But never once did he suggest they go to his hotel.

Gene was in a dilemma. He knew full well that Caroline would sleep with him, but he'd already made one terrible mistake. Less than two months ago, the girl in Brisbane with whom he'd been having an affair had fallen pregnant. They'd been careful, as careful as they could be, but it had happened. He'd given the girl enough money for a proper abortion by a qualified medical doctor. A number of general practitioners were carrying out the illegal procedure and it cost ten times as much as a backstreet job, but at least it was safe, most of the time.

He'd breathed a sigh of relief when all had gone smoothly, but he'd felt riddled with guilt nonetheless. Abortion went directly against his Wesleyan Methodist upbringing, but at least he'd been honest. He'd never told the girl that he loved her, he'd never promised he'd marry her and take her to America like many of his friends had told their Australian girls. And when she'd become pregnant, he hadn't lied and told her he'd come back for her and the baby. He'd been honest he'd told himself over and over, but it hadn't made him feel any better.

And now here was Caroline, willing to give herself to him, and he loved her deeply. Of course he would marry her in a second, he only wished that he could. But that wouldn't solve the dilemma at all. He was leaving shortly on active service. After Guadalcanal Gene knew exactly what to expect. It was quite likely he would not return. What if Caroline was left with a child? What kind of life was that to wish upon the woman he loved?

Each time he kissed her goodnight, Gene struggled with his passion and his conscience, and each time his conscience won out. He would not risk destroying her.

‘Where is it you're going to?' she asked the Sunday before he
left. It was a balmy night and they were sitting on the back porch. Kathleen, having cooked one of her stews, had discreetly retired early to leave them together.

‘Oh, you don't need to know that,' he answered casually as though it really didn't matter, and she realised that she should have known better than to have asked. He never spoke about military matters. In fact he rarely even spoke about the war.

‘What's the point?' he'd say, ‘we've just got to get through it and one day it'll all be over.' So they'd talk about their respective childhoods instead, asking endless questions, each wanting to know everything about the other.

As only children they'd both had lonely childhoods, they discovered.

‘Gran's been everything to me,' Caroline told him. ‘Mother, father, best friend. When I was about fifteen she told me my mother was still alive, said if I wanted to meet her she'd try and find out where she was.'

‘And did you?'

‘Nope. I decided if my mother didn't want to know me then I didn't want to know her.'

‘We're two of a kind then, my mom didn't want to know me either.'

‘At least you were brought up with a silver spoon,' Caroline laughed. ‘Posh boarding schools and riding camps. Your own car when you were eighteen! My God, what a Woolloomooloo boy wouldn't have given for that.'

‘I'd've swapped them all for someone like your gran.'

‘Yep, you're right, I'm lucky.'

Gene's father had been a racing car driver, and as a boy Gene had been left in boarding school whilst his mother accompanied the famous Brad Hamilton on the international circuit, from one Grand Prix to the next.

‘I idolised my father,' Gene said. ‘He was every boy's hero. Taught me how to drive when I was ten. I was racing as an amateur at Indianapolis when I was eighteen. All my buddies were envious, they wanted a dad like mine. Course I didn't dare tell them that I never really knew him. The only thing we shared was a love of racing cars.

‘But then,' Gene shrugged, ‘I can't hold that against him, I guess
it's all he had to offer. I was twenty-one when he died. A crash in the Indy 500. Killed instantly. Mom went to pieces for a while, then she took up with a buddy of Dad's, another driver, and she was back following the circuit again. So I finished my engineering course at Harvard and joined the army. I had to get away from home and I figured the marines sounded pretty adventurous.'

‘Caroline,' he said now as they sat on the porch and he took her hand in both of his, ‘I love you, you know that don't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you love me too.'

‘Yes.'

It hadn't been a question, he knew that she loved him, but the simplicity of her reply and the fervour in her eyes thrilled him beyond measure.

‘When the war's over, will you marry me?'

‘Yes.'

They stood and embraced and, returning hiskiss, her body responded alarmingly as it did these days at his very touch.

‘Gene,' she whispered as their mouths parted, ‘if you want to …'

‘We leave on Tuesday,' he said brusquely, ‘but I won't see you tomorrow, there's a lot to be done, so I'll say my goodbyes now.'

‘Oh.' She quelled the sick feeling in her stomach, she hadn't known it was so soon. ‘Sometime next week,' that's what he'd said. ‘I don't suppose you know how long you'll be gone?' she asked, trying to sound as matter of fact as she could.

‘No.'

‘Godspeed then.'

He nodded and left abruptly before she could see him to the front door.

 

It turned out to be three months. Three months, one week and two days to be precise. Caroline had counted.