Lauren's Dilemma (7 page)

Exhaustion
weighed her down.
 
Her eyes burned with
unshed tears as she made for the sitting room where the others waited.

“He'll be
all right, Lauren,” Blair reassured. There was a strong, stubborn set to his
jaw, his light colored eyes stood out, against his straight black hair. Helen
sat next to him, one hand resting on his knee, her fair head cushioned against
his arm.

“I might go
to bed now.” She glanced towards Aunt Jane. “I'm awfully tired.”

Her lips
felt swollen from Danny's fierce kisses, but she was too drained to care
whether the others noticed or not.

“Blair.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been
wondering if you might be sent to the same place as Danny. If you are…” She
gnawed her lip. “Could you keep a look out for him? Except for me, he doesn't
have anyone else who cares. His parents are both dead and his Uncle Alf always
treated him bad, used him as slave labor. Danny’s always been reckless. I'm
frightened for him.”

“You can
rely on me, Lauren. I'll keep an eye on him. Don't worry; he'll come back to
you safely.”

He spoke
gently, his eyes dark with compassion. She could not explain it, even to
herself, but he meant every word he uttered. She believed him. Dear God, she
had to.

Chapter Four

Laurie returned
home and helped out in the store as usual. As Uncle Richard had predicted, her
father welcomed her back with his usual warmth and after an initial lecture he
never again referred to the matter of her running away. Sometimes when she
caught him off guard, his eyes would be dark with hurt, his brow furrowed. Her
willful behavior had caused him a lot of anxiety. She sighed regretfully
because things would never be quite the same as before.

She’d never
been much of a reader of newspapers, but now she devoured every article of war
news. Europe seemed so far away. Where was
Danny, why didn’t he write and let her know how he was? She fretted as the days
passed. Even though more and more young men from the district were enlisting,
the general feeling still prevailed that the war would be over by Christmas.

“A letter
for you, Laurie, from Western
Australia. Danny, I presume?”

“Dad, I've
been waiting for this.” She rushed out from behind the counter and snatched it
out of her father's hand. Eagerly ripping the envelope open, she read Danny’s
familiar scrawl.

Darling Laurie,

Things are going well. I
wasn't
even sea sick, though some of the other soldiers were in a bad way. We met up
with a convoy in the harbor near Albany
in Western Australia.
Transports from all ov
er Australia,
even a number from New
Zealand joined us.

There is still no word about our destination,
but most of us think it will be France.
We do exercises each morning, including a route march twice around the top
deck.

I'll
close now. Write to me,
won't
you? When we
arrive at our
destination
I'll write again.
All my love, Danny.

“May I
see?”

“Yes.”

She handed
the letter to her father who skimmed through it.

“Young
devil sounds pleased with himself. I don't approve of the way he opened this
letter, it's far too familiar.”

“Danny
loves me.”

“Does he?”

“Yes, and I
love him, too.”

“You've
changed, Laurie. My innocent little girl has gone.”

“I've grown
up.”

“It's more
than that.”

Guilty heat
suffused her cheeks and she turned away to hide her turmoil. Did he guess what
they had done? Inwardly she felt different somehow, a woman in the true sense
of the word, but surely it didn’t show on the outside, as well?

* * *

The weather
became warmer; in a few weeks it would be summer. I'll be glad to wear lighter,
more colorful frocks, Laurie thought. Uncle Richard wrote, telling them Captain
Sinclair had also embarked for overseas and Helen would be staying in Sydney with friends.

At the
store things got hectic. “People are frightened of food shortages,” her father
commented one day as he refilled the shelves. “That’s why they’re stockpiling
everything for Christmas.”

War news
dominated every conversation. It was unavoidable. Women started knitting socks
and other items to send off to their men-folk. If only she had persevered and
learnt how to knit.

“I’ll do
some socks for Danny,” Mrs. Trezise promised. “When I’ve finished the ones I’m
doing for my son. I told you years ago, that you should have learned how to
knit.”

“I did try,
but I kept dropping stitches all the time.”

“You were
half hearted, Miss Laurie, and didn’t want to learn.” Mrs. Tresize gave an
exasperated sniff. “And I don’t have time to teach you now.”

Two days
after Christmas another letter arrived, undated but postmarked from Cairo.

Darling Laurie,

I've
received four letters from you so far, two came in the one mail. As you
can see, we
aren't
in France yet. Things are a bit rough
here. We are drilling in sand past our knees practically. It is terrible. Once
I used to wish we lived by the beach, but not any more. I shall never be able
to go to the seaside again without thinking of this wretched place.

We are tired and bored. Our day begins at 6.15
when we go out training, and sometimes we
don't
get to
bed until close on midnight.
A lot of
men have been sick
because of overwork.
They're
not eating properly
because they are too tired.

I
don't
have a tent
yet. Ernie and I dug ourselves a hole that we covered with a piece of canvas
scrounged from somewhere and this is where I am writing the letter. Please keep
writing.
We're
all hungry for news of home. As nothing
much has happened, I will leave this letter for a few days,
then
I might have some more news to tell you.

Three weeks have passed since I first started
writing. I know I should have finished it off sooner, but I have been
exhausted. We are camped at the base of the pyramids, just outside Cairo, and at last
have been granted
some leave.

You will never guess
who
I ran into the other day. Captain Sinclair, only been here a few days, seems a
decent sort. He took Ernie and me to some fancy club run for Officers and their
friends. We had a few drinks and a meal. It was
real
good.

He asked after you.
Actually
I felt sorry for him. Your cousin has not written to him even once. He keeps on
writing but never gets anything back.
Was a bit upset.
Kept asking me whether you had mentioned her.
I told
him about your letter, the one where you said she was in Sydney going out with those society people.
He
sort of
went white. Honestly, I was sorry I
mentioned it.

I said I would get you to drop him a few lines
now and again. I know how you like writing, and Laurie, this seemed to cheer
him up. He looked so down. It must be awful not getting any mail. Some men have
not had even one letter in all the time
we've
been
here. Those of us with mail share them with everyone. I must close now as the
post is leaving. I miss you so much. Lots of love
,
 
Danny
.

As a
postscript
he wrote down Captain Sinclair's address.

Another
letter arrived, dated the twenty-ninth of March, 1915.

Darling Laurie,

There is not much doing
at
the moment
, but word has it we are set for battle soon. I
can't
wait. We are trained and ready, yet still they leave
us sitting here. I hope you are well. We had a quiet sort of Christmas,
although the food was better. I had plum pudding among other things. There were
chocolates and sweets, too, which reminded me of you, as I remember how you
like sweet things.
Can't
understand why you're such a
slim little thing the way you eat.

We
are burned
nearly
black from the sun. One poor devil in my platoon has coloring like yours, only
his hair is
real
carroty, and he got badly burned.

Did I tell you we climbed the pyramids?
 
Oh, and I saw the Sphinx. Take care, Laurie,
and keep writing. The feeling is we will be leaving shortly. I miss you, and
think of you all the time. I do love you, and wish, well, you know,
I better
not say in case your father reads this letter, but
I'll never forget. Love, Danny.

She folded
the letter up, and retrieved the others out of her jewel case. Sitting on the
bed, she re-read each of them and her eyes misted over. Danny, who had always
hated school, penned a good letter. She had done as he asked and written two
letters to Blair Sinclair. If he answered she would continue writing, if he did
not, well no-one could say she didn’t try.

* * *

0130 hours,
25 April 1915. Gallipoli Peninsula,
Turkey

Danny
shivered in the chilly air as he waited on the deck of the troopship. In the
darkness he couldn’t see land, even though someone said it was less than three
miles away. When his turn came, he climbed down the rope ladder and found
himself in a small open boat. Excitement surged through him. He had traveled
halfway around the world for this moment and was keen to give a good account of
himself. His equipment and ammunition weighed more than eighty pounds, but he
wouldn’t have cared if it had been a hundred and eighty.

He sat next
to Ernie, his friend since their training days at Broadmeadows, in what seemed
like another lifetime. So much had happened since then. All the biblical places
he had visited, the exotic foreigners he had mingled with, Laurie would be
enthralled when he told her. It warmed his heart thinking about the love they
shared, and she wouldn't cheat on him like some girls did, and he hadn’t cheated
on her, either.

I should
have finished that letter and posted it in Lemnos.
Laurie would understand, she always did. He would finish it off tomorrow, and
with any luck he would be able to tell her they had actually begun fighting.

When four
boats were full, the pinnaces towed them towards land.

“I'm
frightened.” Ernie grabbed his arm.

“Nothing to
be frightened of, mate.” Danny gave a soft chuckle. “Pretend you're back
working as a grip man on the trams. The noise of the pinnaces sounds rather
like a tram, don't you think?” Hope those Turks don't hear us, though.”

He gripped
his rifle between his knees as they had been instructed to do, and he was
surprised when his hands became sweaty. Ernie's arm shook as it pressed up hard
against his own.

“Stick with
me, we're mates. I'll look after you,” he comforted his friend, wondering
whether the slight clicking noise close to his ear might be Ernie's teeth
chattering.

In the
spooky quietness they only spoke in whispers, and the slight splashing of the
waves against the side of the boat was barely audible. About fifty yards from
shore, the pinnaces cast off the boats and the sailors started to row them to
the beach.

A light
appeared in the distance. A shot echoed in the pre-dawn darkness, breaking the
silence that shrouded them. Jumping from the boat and landing in chest deep
water, Danny held his rifle above his head to keep it dry and waded ashore,
with Ernie at his heels.

The firing
became heavier as he scrambled onto a narrow stretch of beach.

“Hell.”
They must have landed at the wrong place, because steep, scrub-covered cliffs
faced them. He cursed as bullets peppered the ground around him. Throwing off
his pack, he scrambled up the hillside, grabbing bushes to drag himself
upwards. A glance over one shoulder showed Ernie struggling along behind him. A
blood curdling scream. The soldier in front of them collapsed like a rag doll.
Danny climbed over the body to get past.

The
terrible noise of bullets and shrapnel pouring down on them intermingled with
the cries of wounded men and the shouted curses of others. They frantically
clawed their way up the cliffs. By the time he made it to the second ridge,
excitement surged through him, though his stomach muscles felt hard and
knotted.

As the
troops started digging themselves in, machine gun fire came from all sides. Men
dropped by the dozen, yet he felt no fear. Later in the day, Ernie met up with
him again. They were both dirty now, and the sharp, thorny scrub, reaching
waist high in places, had ripped their uniforms.

“You all
right, Ernie?”