Gallipoli Street (50 page)

‘Goodness. When did Jane Russell arrive?' Theresa teased.

‘About one minute ago and she's waiting for Lana Turner,' she replied, throwing her a lipstick.

‘I think Lana is having a quiet night in.'

‘To pine the time away thinking about a certain lieutenant? Not tonight she's not. Come on!'

Theresa laughed. Daphne's playfulness was infectious. ‘Maybe just some dinner…'

She put on a new uniform, feeling fresh and rested for the first time in many weeks, and let Daphne curl her hair before they headed out together, marvelling at the smells, sounds and sights of a wartime base at night. The air was thick with a sticky sweetness that clung to them: a mixture of sea salt, earth and rain with a good dose of fumes and garbage thrown in. There were uniforms everywhere they looked – marines, infantry, cooks, officers, nurses like them. Some rushed about, intent in purpose, others lazed against the walls and called out as the two women moved through the throng, causing them to laugh more than once. It felt good to just be a girl, Theresa reflected, realising she was actually having a real ‘night off' and enjoying the distraction from her constant thoughts of Pete and the war.

They saw light spilling out from one corner building, the music drawing them closer as they peered inside. The rest of the port might be organising a war but this room seemed to be intent on forgetting it. It was loud and raucous, the native band playing over the din as soldiers danced, sang, yelled and laughed, the beer flowing.

‘Over here!' beckoned a few of the lads, and Theresa and Daphne recognised some of the marines from the convoy earlier that day. They made their way amid several loud catcalls and appreciative comments, soon finding themselves inundated with drinks and surrounded by admirers.

‘This is quite a party.' Theresa laughed with Jerome, the young man they had been talking to on the truck.

‘A few crates didn't make it to the Officers' Mess,' he yelled back. ‘You can thank the Aussies for that!' he added, pointing to some very cheerful Australians, swaying near the band and singing an enthusiastic, off-key version of ‘Ac-cent-tchu-ate the Positive'.

She laughed, drinking the beer she was handed thirstily as the Australians serenaded the room.

‘Care to dance?' Jerome asked.

‘Why not?' she responded, feeling the effect of the first real drink she'd had in weeks begin to take its pleasantly fuzzy effects. There were roars of approval as they began to jive. Jerome turned out to be a wonderful dancer and her old stage routines came flooding back so she could match him. Daphne and another soldier joined in and, what with the definite shortage of women in the room, they were soon surrounded by would-be partners. As the band began to play ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' they caught each other's eyes and laughed. They'd both forgotten what fun felt like.

‘Strewth, what a turn-out,' Bluey exclaimed as they approached the crowded doorway, dozens of soldiers cramming to see the scene inside. ‘Come on move aside, move aside, officer in the house.'

A pathway was forced as Bluey pushed and bossed his way in and Pete followed him, distracted by the sight of some marines hooting and singing from atop a pile of crates in the corner.

‘What's all the commotion?' He laughed, turning to Bluey just as the scene ahead came into view.

‘Cor…' breathed out Bluey in one long exclamation. But Pete couldn't speak. There, on a table, was Theresa, dancing for all she was worth with a grinning marine, flashing the legs that kept him awake at night to the whole room and a long, long way from a small hospital in the middle of the jungle.

Theresa was flying. The music pumped in her veins and her legs kept responding, remembering all those hours on stage.

Jerome picked her up and swung her about and the crowd cheered, handing her drinks, which she drank, and smiles, which she returned.

She laughed with the blur of faces, waving at Daphne who was dancing and cheering too. Everyone was happy. No one was hurt or sad. This was the way life was supposed to be. Everyone smiling. Except that man. That man looked like he'd just been slapped.

The information registered and her steps faltered, slowing her to a standstill.

That man was Pete.

Theresa stood frozen, dropping the drink she'd been holding; it crashed to the table, the noise lost in the din as the throng cheered for more. Jerome stopped too, following her line of vision as the crowd began to realise something was going on with the gorgeous blonde as she stared across the room at a tall Australian officer.

A pathway began to form between them and Pete walked towards her slowly, finally coming to stand in front of her, still staring in shock.

‘Pete!' Her face broke into smiles and tears at the same time and she threw herself off the table, into his arms and into his kiss. The room erupted but neither cared or noticed because as soon as their lips met that was all that mattered any more.

‘It's a…beudderful thing. Beaudderful,' Bluey was saying as he waltzed on the street with Daphne.

‘I loove this tune,' she sighed, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

‘Moonlight Serenade' played from the radio inside; Bluey pulled back to look at her face. ‘So do I!' he lied emphatically before kissing her.

Theresa and Pete pulled apart from their long, blissful kissing in an alley nearby and he smiled. ‘So do I,' he whispered. ‘It's the song that played the night I realised how hopelessly in love with you I was.'

She kissed him softly. ‘And I realised I'd fallen in love with a man I'd never see again…which was hopeless…
hic
.'

‘Told you I'd find you. I'm the Golden Digger, remember? Blessed? Lucky? All that stuff?' he murmured, kissing her neck.

‘Mmm…you didn't find me, I found you.'

‘How do you figure that? From what I could see you'd forgotten all about me.'

‘I was creating a diversion to…
hic
…attract you to me.'

‘Attract every man in Port Moresby more like it,' he muttered, kissing her behind the ear and making her shiver with delight.

‘Jealous?'

‘Horribly. Don't ever do that to me again.'

‘S'jussa little dancing…'

‘Hmmm…it seems to me alcohol clouds your judgement as to what is dancing and what is putting on a show.'

‘I told you I used to…be on stage…'

‘Hmmm…I think we'd better stick to not dancing on tables from now on though, agreed?'

‘Agreed!' She smiled, saluting him.

‘And while you're in such an agreeable mood, I think I'd better ask you to marry me.'

She gaped at him in surprise before wrapping her arms around him tightly. ‘Agreed,' she said, tears filling her eyes.

He kissed her again, laughing as Bluey's voice reached them from the street.

‘Who's up for a midnight…schwim…?'

‘I'll schwim!' cried Daphne.

‘I think we'd better get them home before they catch their deaths.' Pete laughed.

‘I don't know…sounds like fun…' Theresa said playfully.

‘Temptress.' He grabbed her hand as they walked out of the alley. ‘It's way too freezing.'

‘What are you talking about? It's so hot. S'always hot here,' she said, yawning.

‘It was boiling before but it's got really cold now. Come on, I'll see you home and we can meet for breakfast in the morning and make plans. Agreed?' he said, huddling closer to her, his teeth beginning to chatter.

‘Agreed,' she said happily.

‘I sure hope you stay this agreeable as a wife.' He grinned.

‘Only in the bedroom,' she said, feeling outrageously sexy as she said it.

He stopped walking and took a deep breath. ‘There goes any hope of sleeping tonight. Remind me to give you plenty of drinks at our wedding.'

She giggled, realising she was actually more than a little tipsy or she never would have said something like that, especially considering her secret, but also figuring her past didn't matter right now. It was all too perfect an evening. Tomorrow would suffice. Tomorrow she'd tell him everything about herself so there were no secrets, and he would understand because he was the Golden Digger with the golden heart.

They made their way home with Daphne and Bluey, the streets echoing with their laughter, and, when she finally dragged herself away from Pete and his blissful kisses and fell into bed, she did so with the knowledge that life would be better from now on. God had forgiven her all her sins and she'd never be alone again.

He was late. Very late. Theresa checked the clock on the wall against her watch. He'd said outside the hospital at ten. It was half past. Where was he?

‘Theresa.'

She turned at the sound of his voice, her smile fading. ‘What is it? Oh God…you're sick.'

‘Sorry I…just couldn't seem to get up and then…I felt so dizzy walking over here…'

He collapsed and she clung to him, arresting his fall. His face was pasty white and his clothes were soaking wet, fever burning through his body. She cursed herself for having been too drunk to take notice of the telltale signs the night before as she dragged him over to the hospital doors, calling for help.