Gallipoli Street (17 page)

‘Neddy-no-ride! How's the paw?' Tom greeted him.

‘Gettin' 'sential function back.' He grinned, showing the cigarette perched between two fingertips poking out of the bandages. ‘Fella in there's been bashing away on the pinny all arvo, and them Gippo birds are making a killin'! Saw some blokes lining up six deep for a go.'

Mick, Tom and Jack looked through the door with interest.

‘Better not go for it, Ned. Half the blokes I'm treating at the moment have VD,' Mick warned him, peering over his head for a better view of one particular ‘bird' just the same.

‘Bit late for that,' he grinned. ‘They know a thing or two, lemme tell ya. And get a load of this gay 'n' frisky!' He held up the whisky glass and Tom took a swig, smacking his lips in surprise.

‘Blimey, I can still see,' he said, making his way in to the party.

‘Wouldn't mind having a closer look, just in the interest of medical responsibility, you understand,' Mick declared, walking through as well. Jack followed, his eyes wide at the sight of bare-breasted women dancing with half-dressed soldiers. The room was filled with smoke and the noise was deafening as the men sang along to the piano.

‘Tom! Mick! Jack! Over here!' called out a familiar voice and they recognised Dan Hagan approaching, drink in hand and shirt off. Tom and Mick shook hands and greeted Dan joyfully, excited to see a face from home. Jack turned away to grab a drink first from a passing tray, trying to hold his resentment and jealousy down with the whisky. When he turned back Mick and Tom were already trying to chat up some of the girls.

‘How are you, Jack?' Dan yelled over the din, clinking his glass.

‘Dan. Good to see you,' Jack responded, noticing he'd grown taller and broader and disliking the fact. It was easier to see his competition as a boy.

‘Hear you fellas in the Light Horse are coming over to Turkey with us,' he yelled.

‘Yeah, can't take the horses with us, which seems a bit pointless after all the training,' Jack yelled back, pleased to be discussing war and not home. ‘Seems we're all destined for the infantry after all.'

‘Still it's got some perks.' Dan nodded at Jack's riding boots. ‘Women go wild for the uniform. Might have to get myself a transfer over.'

‘Well we Beecroft lads should be able to bowl over a few maidens if we stick together,' Jack ventured, wondering if Dan had lost interest in Veronica.

Dan laughed, shaking his head. ‘I've still got my eye on one back home to be honest,' he said, ‘although you tried to scare me off her one night, as I recall.'

Jack smiled through gritted teeth, remembering that night and the argument he'd had with Veronica. And that first kiss. He wondered how he ever could have been so stupid as to push her away, let alone let Dan get another chance.

‘You know the girl,' Dan continued. ‘Gorgeous blonde – couple of brothers with a few mental problems though.' He nodded at Tom, who was wearing a veil and doing his own version of a belly dance, his drink perched on his head.

Jack continued to nod amiably, resisting the urge to punch Dan's happy face through the wall.

‘How about you? I'm sorry about what happened with Rose, mate. Hope that it's all right to mention it…'

Jack looked at Dan who was offering him genuine condolence while still obviously a little nervous of him, and he felt slightly ashamed. ‘Of course. Ancient history now,' he assured him.

‘In that case, I have a surprise for you,' he declared, relieved, and nodded over to the piano in the corner.

Jack craned his neck, welcoming the sight of Iggy playing his heart out and whistled over to the brothers, pointing. Tom, Mick, Jack and Dan all made their way over to the piano, clasping hands with Iggy and laughing.

‘I thought I recognised that out of tune tinkling!' Jack grinned.

‘Outa tune nuthin! Who's this clown?' Simmo roared, overhearing.

‘Easy there, big fella. Feeding time's coming,' Tom reassured him.

‘Uh Simmo, these are my mates from Sydney; the fellas I've been telling you about.' Iggy stood up. ‘Mick, Tom and Jack. And you met Dan earlier.'

Simmo's thunderous expression transformed into an enormous smile; and, as Jack felt his arm get pumped by a massive paw, he reminded himself to have a word with Tom about potential head-thumping incidents for future reference.

By now the crowd were becoming restless for more music and Iggy played a few opening chords, raising his eyebrows at Jack. The latter didn't need much prompting and soon the room resounded with a rousing rendition of ‘Waltzing Matilda'.

‘Give us one for our lovelies!' called a shirtless lad at the song's end, holding a photo in the air then kissing it. The cheers of approval were deafening as Iggy began an old favourite.

The room quietened to a man, the laughter dying and the dancers stilled as the words reached them, drinks remaining in hand.

The sun burnt in deep orange surrender across the ancient city of Cairo, resting on the walls behind Jack as his clear voice filled the room.

The words travelled out to the dusty, foreign streets, out towards a future the Australians were trying to drink away. But for each, they knew the time was coming, and as sure as this day was ending, the days of war were about to dawn.

Beecroft, May 1915

‘
We publish today a brilliant description of the landing of the Australians and New Zealanders on Gallipoli Peninsula by that experienced war correspondent, Mr Ashmead-Bartlett. It is a thrilling story, a story that will make us all feel proud of our soldiers
.' Alice read the newspaper aloud to the Ladies' Auxiliary as they knitted that afternoon. It was raining outside and Veronica found herself staring at the patterns on the windows as the words came alive.

‘
They have shown that, though transplanted to these southern skies, the breed is still the same as that of the men of Mons and Waterloo, and a hundred other great batt
les.
'

‘Hear, hear,' said Constance Dickson, the woman in charge of the local Red Cross.

Veronica wondered why the author felt that being under southern skies would somehow have rendered them less than worthy of being killed in the name of the British Empire. She decided Mr Ashmead-Bartlett was a pompous fool.

‘
They were in a desperate position when they landed on the narrow beach in the dawn, but they did not hesitate. They carried the Turkish trenches on the beach and on the cliffs, and, without the support of artillery, held on all day of Sunday, 25 April. Their dash and courage saved the situation, and no troops that ever marched have done better.
' Some of the ladies gave a spontaneous flutter of applause.

‘Would the 1st be there, do you think?' Catherine asked Alice.

‘I'm not sure,' Alice replied, looking up from the paper, ‘although they are bound to have to go to this Gallipoli place. Listen to this
: The latest news is that a great battle is proceeding, to prevent a division of Turkish reinforcements from joining the main forces. It is probable that it is the Australians and New Zealanders that are engaged in this operation.
' She put the paper down and rubbed at her eyes.

Veronica noticed Alice looked older these days and felt a rush of compassion. Jack's welfare was in her heart every day that passed too
.
And Dan's, she added to her thoughts quickly
.
And Iggy's and her brothers. She stood and walked over to the refreshments table, a wave of frustration overwhelming her as she poured a glass of water.

‘Iggy said naught about this Gallopololi, although he can't as you know. Very strict they are about such things,' Mildred said, holding the silver cross she wore at her throat anxiously.

‘Gallipoli,' Constance corrected her. ‘It's on the Turkish coast.' Constance knew everything there was to know about the war. Well, everything the newspapers tell her, Veronica thought, feeling bitter. She had a healthy scepticism of the accuracy of the news they received, littered as it was with ‘heroic rhetoric' as her mother described it. Only in private of course.

‘I do hope Miles takes his swim trunks,' said Priscilla Enright, the mother of an overweight, lazy lad who was now part of the infantry. ‘It sounds terribly hot over there.'

‘I think feeling the heat is the least of their problems,' Catherine said, clicking her knitting needles a little loudly. Veronica knew her mother found Priscilla and her ignorance of the realities of war a trial.

‘Oh, I'm sure they'll have time for a little bathing,' Priscilla continued. ‘Miles needs the seawater to help him with his skin. Gets dreadful rashes in the heat. I told him to make sure he told the sergeant that he'll need to bathe at least twice a week.'

‘I don't think skin rashes are a high priority during battles,' Catherine said tightly. ‘I think avoiding machine guns is more the issue.'

Veronica felt like patting her mother on the back for that comment. It was almost like having Pattie there, although the latter might have boxed Priscilla's silly ears by now.

‘Well!' said Priscilla, pushing her spectacles up onto the bridge of her nose. ‘I don't think they'll be close to much of that.'

‘Yes, I'm sure the Turks are on the run by now,' Constance soothed her, casting Catherine a warning look and changing the subject. ‘And how is Pattie faring, Alice?'

‘She's been terribly ill throughout I'm afraid,' Alice replied. ‘And miserable as can be.'

‘She's not the type to like being forced to sit idle and wait.' Constance said this with a tone of approval. Pattie was an active member of the Red Cross, Constance's favourite volunteer in fact, although Pattie didn't hold too much stock in that. Only pregnancy had been able to slow her down from the whirlwind lifestyle she usually led. She was finding the confinement of her latter stages unbearable. Veronica decided to pop in to see her later that afternoon, rain or no rain.

‘And what's all your news then, Veronica?' Constance looked over at her and she started, realising she was still standing by the table and not knitting like the rest. She went back to her chair and answered.

‘Just waiting like everyone else, I suppose. I just wish I could do…something,' she finished lamely, trying not to reveal too much of her frustration.

‘Well, you're not only waiting. You're here, helping our boys be more comfortable. That's something isn't it?' Alice suggested. Veronica shrugged, unconvinced, looking at the socks she was knitting.

‘Perhaps when yer older y' could join t' Red Cross over in Egypt,' Mildred suggested.

‘I don't think that is a very good idea,' Catherine interjected quickly.

‘Nonsense,' said Constance. ‘They can certainly use more volunteers, especially with this push in Turkey. I've heard the medical corps are in dire need of the support of young ladies who aren't afraid to work hard and show good character like this one here.' She nodded at Veronica approvingly.

‘Oh now, I'm no too sure there, Constance. Could be terrible dangerous for a young girl such as she is.' Mildred shook her head. ‘I was thinking more organising supplies and the like. Not hospital work.'

‘We old biddies can do that well enough. Veronica here has nursing written all over her. Both her brothers are doctors after all.' Constance snapped her fingers. ‘I've got a wonderful contact for you. My cousin Wilma George is the sister in charge at the holding station in Cairo. I could write her if you like.'

Veronica sat forward, hope rising. ‘That would be wonderful…'

Catherine shook her head. ‘No,' she said firmly. ‘She's too young: it's out of the question.'

Veronica stared at her, opening her mouth to object.

‘Surely she is well out of danger in Egypt,' Priscilla interjected. ‘Why, it's a whole other country. They don't put nurses near the war.'

‘Actually that's exactly where they do put them,' Alice said. ‘But you're quite right. She would be well away from the actual fighting.'

‘My brother survived battles in the Boer and was killed by a bomb attack when he was in a field hospital,' Catherine said, her voice shaking slightly. ‘Hospitals are not necessarily safe.'

The room fell silent as the other ladies digested this piece of information. Veronica had known about her uncle's death through her father but she had never heard her mother speak of it until now.

Mildred reached over and patted Catherine's hand. ‘I wouldn't want my daughter anywhere near it, truth be told,' she said, nodding at Catherine, then blushing slightly, Veronica suspected for mentioning Rose in front of Jack's mother.

‘I'm terribly sorry to hear of your loss. Truly. But surely that was a freak accident,' Constance said, seeming to be unable to restrain herself. ‘If all mothers refused to let their daughters be nurses, who would care for our wounded?'