Gallipoli Street (14 page)

Veronica looked at Jack, unshaven, reeking of alcohol, dishevelled. And hurt. Lifting her chin she began to dance. Tom made hasty motions to the band to play something and they quickly did so. Slowly others filled the dance floor as Veronica and Jack whirled around, missing steps but never taking their eyes from each other's. Neither said a word and, as the song ended, they continued to dance the next. And the next. They danced until the couples gradually fell away. They occasionally nodded and smiled at passers-by but they kept on dancing.

And when the final song ended and the band packed up, he bowed and kissed her hand, staring at her for a moment before whispering, ‘Thank you, my Vera.'

Her eyes filled with tears as he stumbled away, shoulders heavy, and she stood alone for a while, the pavilion empty, save for the maids clearing away. Finally her mother came and gently took her arm, leading her up to bed and helping her into her nightie as she had when she was a child.

The moon sailed across the sky through silver-lined clouds that turned gold as it passed. Veronica watched its voyage until her eyes finally closed against the night, one that would change the course of her life.

Because she knew before she opened them again in the morning that her Jack would be long gone.

Bobbin Head, Turramurra, August 1914

‘Last one in is a rotten egg!' called Pattie, running into the shallow waters of the bay, Clarkson chasing her. Gum-lined hills rested in a eucalypt haze and the sound of their laughter echoed through the valley. It was sunny but still a cool winter's day and Veronica smiled as Pattie shrieked from the splashing of cold water.

‘Mad.' Dan shook his head, watching them and grinning.

‘As a hatter's tea party, I'm afraid,' Veronica said agreeably. ‘Speaking of which?' She offered him a cup from the Thermos and they sat in companionable silence, watching the others and enjoying the view. It's peaceful here, Veronica reflected, if one discounted the raucous yelling and screams. It felt good to smell the earth and the damp and touch the sand. She had felt boxed in these long winter months, going through the motions of dreary household duties with a heaviness that woke her in the morning and drugged her to sleep at night. And it was more than that. It was an emptiness in her heart that made her feel as if nothing could ever be right in the world again.

Dan looked at her over his tea. ‘Must feel good to get outdoors for a while.' She smiled at him, thinking not for the first time how alike he was to her. If not for him things would have been worse, she admitted. Over the past months she had found a kindred spirit in this country lad. He too felt most at home in the bush, barefooted and close to the earth. Both enjoyed socialising, but preferred not to be the centre of attention, and she knew that he shared her restlessness, a feeling that life was on hold until the real adventure began. And so they had waited together, sometimes just sitting in companionable silence, like now, other times chatting as he milked the cows, shot the crows or fixed fences. And other times, when they could steal away, they had hiked down the creek to talk about possibilities and secret ambitions. He filled a void now that Pattie spent all her spare time with Clarkson and she knew she had made a true friend. But lately she feared something reckless was building in him, a new edge to the wilder side of Dan, and something more she wasn't ready to face.

‘Feed me, you fool!' cried Pattie from the water.

‘What's this? I expected you to have baked for days preparing my luncheon!' Clarkson replied, his long arms spread in mock outrage.

‘Open the larder sir or pay the forfeit!' She laughed, running from the water and wrapping herself in a towel.

‘And what, pray tell, is this forfeit of which you speak?' he demanded, shaking his hair dry as he followed.

‘I'll set Buggles on you!' She pointed at her furry winter hat, so named by Clarkson.

‘No! I surrender! In fact I may have just the thing…'

Clarkson moved to the ‘larder' as Pattie called the large trunk he had strapped to the back of the Sunbeam and began to produce an array of foodstuffs, including a baked ham, several bottles of lemonade, a loaf of bread and an enormous cauliflower.

‘A token of my esteem,' he said, kneeling and placing the last in front of Buggles.

The laughter continued throughout lunch and Veronica found that she was truly enjoying herself, relishing the simple fare, the beautiful surrounds and the excellent company. She had been looking forward to this picnic for weeks and it was well worth the wait.

‘If only every day could be like this,' she sighed, packing the dishes as they finished.

‘Come on, it's not over yet. Let's go for a ramble.' Dan helped her to her feet and they set off for the carriage track nearby, leaving Pattie and Clarkson to laze on blankets in the sun.

It was steep going at first but it soon levelled out as they reached the edges of the rainforest, and Dan hoisted her onto a large sandstone ledge to sit and soak in the view. The blue-green river lapped against the narrow sandy shores, occasionally disturbed in expanding circles by jumping tailor fish.

Dan broke the silence. ‘Do you think the water is the same colour in Germany?'

Veronica pondered the question for a moment. ‘Well, they are quite deep, I suppose, and they wouldn't have the sandstone, so I'd say no. Definitely darker.'

He nodded, considering that. ‘I imagine I may have the chance to find out soon. If it comes to it.'

Veronica felt her insides tighten. ‘No, I'm sure it won't. It can't.'

‘But if it does…' Dan picked up a few rocks, rubbing them against the ledge thoughtfully. She stared at the water, searching for words that would stop what he would say next. What the young men would all say if it came to pass.

‘Veronica, I'll be joining up.'

It sat there between them, a giant rock, bigger than the one beneath them and just as immovable and dense. And there was nothing to say because of course he would go.

‘It's not just for duty, is it?' she asked. ‘You want to go.'

‘I don't want war, Veronica –'

‘Yes you do.' She said it simply, detaching herself.

He seemed to struggle then, frowning. ‘No, I don't want war, but I do want to go. It's true. All the fellows will be going and it's the other side of the
world
, Veronica! Just think! The fighting will probably be over by the time we get there anyway. I just…I don't want to sit here twiddling my thumbs and leave my mates to it.'

‘But you're underage–' she began.

‘They'll take me.'

‘Your parents–'

‘Are too far away to stop me.'

He turned then, reaching for her hand. She let it lie there, still not looking at his face.

‘If I do go…I want, I mean…will you…?'

She shook her head as even more unwanted words came towards her.

‘Please…?'

The sound of horse's hooves pounded down the track and they stood as one as Mick and Tom cantered towards them.

‘It's happening…just heard…' Tom panted.

‘England has declared.' Mick looked at his sister. ‘It's war…we're at war.'

Veronica remained where she was as Dan ran over to the brothers and they made their way down to tell the others.

She stared at the rock, at the heart that Dan had carved as they'd sat, her initials inside. Suddenly her world had turned. Declarations had been made and she felt useless against the force of their pull.

Pattie squashed Buggles further onto her head as the Sunbeam bumped its way up the track.

‘Just let the rodent jump off and be free,' Clarkson suggested, yelling over the noise of the engine.

‘He's a rabbit.' She scowled.

‘Rat!'

She cast him a haughty look then continued to stare straight ahead.

Clarkson sighed, pulling over to the side of the road and cutting the engine. The stillness of the rainforest immediately engulfed them, cool and whisper-quiet save the tinkling sound of water. They had stopped near a running creek and he traced its journey through the thick bed of undergrowth, a sea of dark green ferns beneath white-pillared gums.

‘Out with it,' he said, waiting.

‘Why the Royal Flying Corps? Why not just be a regular soldier? Oh no, you can't just be a…a foot soldier! You have to be the daredevil! Give yourself the best opportunity to be
killed
.' She glared at him from beneath the fur. ‘It's not a bloody game, you know.'

‘Why would you think it's any worse than–'

‘Because you're going over there to hang upside down in front of German machine guns.'

‘We don't just hang upside down like fruit bats!'

‘It's ridiculous! What possible use could you be up there, other than providing a sitting duck?'

‘Just think what we could do, Pats. We could find out more from the air than we'd ever know in a month of Sundays on the ground! And we could drop bombs from the sky…imagine what that could mean.'

‘Yes, but you'd have to survive for five minutes first.' She sniffed, looking unconvinced. A lyrebird walked across the track and they both watched it as it made its careful way along, its delicate tail nodding behind. ‘Even he knows he's not supposed to fly…and he's a bloody bird!' The lyrebird looked at her, startled, then ran off into the forest.

‘Why London?' she asked, after a pause. ‘Why can't you be based here?'

‘We only have two planes in the country and about a thousand blokes wanting to fly them! I'm just lucky I'm half English so I can even join the RFC.'

‘Yes, lucky…' she scoffed, folding her arms and sinking back in the seat. ‘Lucky you can go and die for another country.'

‘It'll be over before I even get there,' he soothed.

‘Humph.'

He watched her determined chin jut out and her eyes flash beneath that damnable hat and knew in that instant what he had to say.

‘I can't promise that, can I? I can't promise I won't die either. But I can promise you this,' he said, tilting her chin towards him with his fingers. ‘I will love you all the days I do live.' Her eyes searched his and her face crumpled as he continued. ‘Marry me, Patricia?'

She nodded as he kissed her and he held her as tight as he could, knowing soon the memory of her would be all he had left to hold onto.

Beecroft, October 1914

Kevin O'Shay watched his sons walk up the drive of Highview together, their Medical Corp uniforms looking stiff and overly new, although he didn't like to imagine how they would appear after months of wear, stained with the blood of their countrymen. He thought of the many times he had stood here, watching them come home, children carrying fishing poles, schoolboys home for summer, lads in their cricket whites. And now young men, army doctors, home for the last time before heading off to war.

He dragged on his cigarette, noticing the lines on his own hands and wishing desperately they could be put to use. His country didn't want him; he was forty-seven years old. He and his friends were cast aside, considered too old against the fresh young bodies of their sons. Australia wanted youths, eager to show their mettle; passionate and energetic; and with their patriotic convictions as yet uncomplicated by the weight of experience. He couldn't be of medical help like his sons, but Kevin wished he could take their places on the boat and keep them at home, safe from the stray bullets and shells.

Catherine had taken to her bed again that afternoon, still too overcome to stand the thought of them leaving tomorrow, her worst nightmare having come to fruition. Some of the other young men had already gone, including Dan. Iggy was due to leave on the morrow, having volunteered for the Light Horse Brigade, which Mick and Tom were to support. Jack was due home any day and they all waited to see what uniform he would be wearing when he arrived. Pattie said he was trying for the Light Horse as well.

Veronica came out to stand next to him and Kevin looked down at his beautiful daughter with affection, grateful she at least would be staying at home with them. She had grown even lovelier over the past months, her face and figure blossoming into full womanhood in her eighteenth year, her understated style echoing her mother's quiet grace. Today she wore blue, which suited her well, and she gazed at her beloved brothers sadly, gripping onto the flowers she had picked for her mother's bedside.

‘Vera Mags! For me?' Tom grinned, kissing her cheek before grasping his father's hand firmly, clapping him on the back and marching indoors.

‘Hello, dearest.' Mick hugged her and put his arm around his father's shoulders and they all followed Tom, who was busy investigating the mail.

‘Where's the love letters from my sweethearts? I thought the girls all went dopey over a man in uniform.' Catherine had emerged and managed a smile at her son, who was bounding about like an overgrown puppy.