Uncommon Enemy (17 page)

Brendan and Susan had been comparing stories of university life and she was looking a little brighter. The pamphlet stimulated further discussion but Stuart, keen to finish his task, let them do most of the talking. By 11.45 he had finished putting all the files into brown paper bags ready for disposal when his phone rang. He picked it up.

“Stuart Johnson.”

“Hello, Stuart. I met you this morning by the wall and gave you some information.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You read the information?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did you think of it?”

Stuart paused. “I found it thought provoking.”

Both Brendan and Susan looked up at this point and he nodded to them.

“Would you be interested in learning more?”

“Possibly.”

“Good. In half an hour be at the band rotunda in Albert Park. Sit on the seat facing Wellesley St. Someone will drop an item next to you. Pick it up and walk away. Find a place where you won’t be observed and read it.”

“Will I be-------?” The phone went dead.

Stuart sat staring straight ahead.

“What did they say?” asked Brendan.

“I’m to walk over to Albert Park in half and hour, sit down by the band rotunda and wait for someone to drop a package. I then have to take it away and read it.”

“Bit cloak and dagger,” ventured Susan.

“Yes.” He shrugged. “Sign of the times. But our choices are pretty limited so I’m going to do it. I’m meeting Carol there anyway. Why don’t you two join us in our usual spot? We’ll discuss it together.”

As they crossed the road they saw Carol walking towards them. They gathered in a group on the footpath while Stuart quickly updated her on the morning’s events. Appalled by what had happened to Professor Sterling, Carol, having reassured him that she hadn’t heard from Hamish, questioned his wisdom in going to the rendezvous.

“Yesterday we agreed that something should be done.”

“True, but I didn’t think it would involve risky circumstances like this - and so soon.”

“Neither did I but I can’t stand by and do nothing while people are being beaten and killed. And you three can keep an eye on me in case anything goes wrong.”

Seeing that he was determined, Carol nodded her agreement. The group chose an area near the central fountain that gave them a clear view of the rotunda. The strength of Carol’s hug had a desperate feel about it. “Please be careful, Stuart,” she whispered. He smiled reassuringly, turned and walked slowly towards the rotunda.

Albert Park looked no different from any other day of the week but as Stuart moved slowly forward he imagined hostile eyes behind every tree. The welcome shade that the giant gnarled trees normally provided now took on an ominous appearance as a light breeze caused the shadows to flicker back and forth on the path in front of him. Familiar bird sounds and the occasional noise from the city took on a sharp edge and even his own soft footfalls on the grass seemed to contain a gentle menace.

Reaching the green slatted bench by the rotunda he sat down and tried to covey the impression of a relaxed spectator. On the circular seat inside a vagrant was asleep. On an adjacent seat a woman was scattering crumbs for sparrows and pigeons. The plump pigeons moved slowly in contrast to the rapid darting movements of the sparrows who, although wary of their larger counterparts, still managed to secure a share of the spoils. As he watched the birds Stuart resisted the strong temptation to seek reassurance by looking back at Carol and the others.

A mother and two children walked noisily past, followed by a couple holding hands. Suddenly a groan behind him caused him to jump. He turned quickly and saw that the vagrant had woken up and was shuffling slowly towards the steps, muttering to himself. Annoyed at his own nervousness Stuart wrinkled his nose at the smell of alcohol emanating from the scruffy figure. The man reached the bottom and gazed blearily around. He shuffled forward and sat down heavily next to Stuart. Already gripped by increasing nervousness Stuart cursed softly and stared fixedly ahead in case the man tried to engage him in conversation.

A few more uneventful minutes elapsed before the man, with a stupid giggle and an incomprehensible muttering, rose and shambled off down the path towards Wellesley St. Stuart sighed with relief.

A nearby clock striking 12.15 caused him to start and look around. Perhaps something had gone wrong. Perhaps he’d better get out before he was arrested. Perhaps….

He looked down and immediately spotted the small grubby brown parcel on the seat next to him. It hadn’t been there before. The drunk. Of course! Quickly he scooped it up and thrust it into his inner blazer pocket. Then, trying to contain his excitement, he slowly got to his feet, stretched and walked back up the path towards the group.

Catching Brendan’s eye he jerked his head briefly to the right and then turned towards the campus. Crossing the road and walking down a winding path half hidden by trees he glanced back to check that the other three had followed him across Princes St.

The contents of the parcel, opened behind Stuart’s locked study door, were anticlimactic. They consisted of a short letter and a hand-drawn map.

“Thought there’d be a Luger or at least a dagger or two,” Stuart muttered.

“Or a couple of suicide pills,” responded Brendan darkly.

The map provided details of a rendezvous point near the village of Albany, well north of the city environs, and a brief set of instructions. Stuart read them aloud to the others.

Stuart put the instructions on his desk and gazed around the group.

“Sounds like something out of a war novel,” said Carol after a pause.

“Trouble is,” muttered Susan, “it’s no novel. It’s going to be our war story.”

“If we go ahead,” said Brendan. “it’s not going to be a jolly jaunt in the country. We’re going to be leaving here, discarding our careers, turning our backs on our family and friends and throwing in our lot with a group of people we’ve never met. It will be hard, dangerous and if we’re captured we could be tortured or killed.”

“You backing out?” Stuart’s voice was quiet but he looked his friend straight in the face.

“You know my views on war,” replied Brendan quietly. “But this is my home, my country, my fellow citizens. These people have come here and, despite their smooth propaganda, have resorted to terror and intimidation to establish a fascist government. And anyway, Stuart, what choice have we got? That Beavis character is out to get you and if either of us stays here at university we’ll suffer the same fate as Prof. Sterling unless we agree to collaborate.” His look was hard. “As things stand you and I have no alternative.”

Stuart nodded slowly and then turned to the two women. “But, it’s different for you two. I’m not sure if the partisan group wants women and if you do join you’ll run the risk of capture and God knows what from the German troops and their collaborators.”

They looked at each other. Carol nodded and Susan, after a brief smile, spoke in a low voice.

“We’ve talked about it and decided the situation has given us two choices - collaborate or escape. My relationship with Uncle David, my work here, Carol’s vengeful boyfriend who has now joined the Nazis…” Her voice tailed off and she shrugged.

“The whole situation makes it impossible for us,” continued Carol. “Both of us have been horrified at the way the Professor and the students have been treated. We can’t stand around and do nothing and we’d never collaborate. And in any case the whole system is threatening our lives and our plans. Even at work I’m surrounded by it. The Germans and their cronies have now completely taken over the Northern Club. All Germans of officer rank or senior bureaucrats have been given a ‘Privileged Membership’ status. The place is full of them. The original members hardly ever come in any more.”

“Do they bother you?”

“Not so far. Most of them are excessively polite. But I can feel their eyes on me. Probably regard me as part of the spoils of victory.” Seeing that Brendan was about to speak, she held up her hand. “When this war started, women were called on to do their bit, join the forces and learn to assemble weapons, drive trucks, that sort of thing. The war didn’t last long but what it showed was that women are capable of far more than we’re given credit for.” She breathed in deeply and spoke again, more softly. “Two days ago the Nazis shot university students. Yesterday they beat up an elderly university professor. Several months ago they killed my brother. We have to fight back and ‘we’ means women as well as men.”

“Women as well as men,” echoed Susan softly.

There was a moment’s silence and then Brendan nodding his approval, slowly mimed a handclap.

“I’m going fishing, tomorrow,” announced Stuart at the family meal table immediately after grace had been said.

“Oh, that’s nice dear,” responded his mother. “Sit up straight please, Claire.”

“Who with?” asked Stephen.

“With whom, dear,” corrected his mother.

“Oh, a couple of mates from varsity. One of them has a small launch that his Dad said we could borrow for the day. Going out off Rangitoto Island to catch snapper.”

“What’s your friend’s name?” asked his father.

Stuart was about to use Brendan’s name but immediately had second thoughts. “Oh, D’Arcy. He was in my History class.”

“Fresh fish would be very welcome. Hope you have plenty of luck, son,” said his father.

“Yes, so do I,” responded Stuart, relieved that he was not going to have to answer any more questions. As the family members commenced their meal his eyes flicked around the table at each of them. The reality of his decision was starting to dawn on him. They were his family and although at times it wasn’t a particularly harmonious home, the possibly that he might never see them again caused him to sharply catch his breath.

His mother looked up. “Are you feeling alright, dear?” she asked.

“Yes, thanks, Mum. I was just thinking that it would be nice to, um----.”

“Yes, dear?”

“Well, how about we have a game of Monopoly after dinner?”

His parents exchanged glances.

“Yes dear,” said his mother uncertainly. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Time we did more things together as a family.”

“Yes,” said Claire excitedly. “Last time I got Mayfair and nearly beat Stephen---.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t win,” responded her brother. “You wound up in jail and couldn’t collect your rents and I won.”

“That’s enough, Stephen,” reprimanded his father. He turned to Stuart. “What’s brought this on, all of a sudden?” asked his father.

Stuart shrugged. “No particular reason. Just sort of felt like it.”

Although a little puzzled his parents agreed and once the dining room table was cleared and the dishes washed and dried the family sat around the table, spread out the board and selected the pieces.

As soon as the game began Stuart saw the usual family alliances forming. He, as the oldest was supposed to set the example and play the game without becoming involved in the petty family tussles that so easily developed in such situations, particularly between himself and Stephen. His brother had immediately ‘bagsed’ the role of banker. Although an allegedly impartial role, Stuart suspected that, as in the past, Stephen would, if necessary, use the position to replenish his dwindling funds. However, aware that it was his last night for who knows how long he was determined to do his best to maintain a positive atmosphere.

As always he played his game in support of Claire. He laughed with her when she bought a string of properties and commiserated with her when, once again, a spell in jail resulted in her losing them. When Stephen was finally declared the outright winner Stuart was the first to congratulate him, which had the advantage of taking the wind out of the boy’s sails and reducing the usual boastful recounting of his success.

The result was that the family, particularly his parents, enjoyed the game more than usual. The reduction in sniping between the brothers enabled both parents to gradually relinquish their roles as monitors of acceptable behaviour and simply join with their three children in an enjoyable family activity.

Stuart slept badly that night. The success of the Monopoly game had added to the complexities of the decision that he had come to. Outside of the family he had found a new level of maturity, particularly in his relationship with Carol. Yet he was aware of the security that home gave him. Even the parental reprimands provided him with the comfort of familiarity. Several times during the evening he had wanted to share his plans with the rest of the family but each time he realized that the knowledge, however slight could severely compromise them in the future. Once again he reconsidered the wisdom of his decision to join the Fightback group. Once again he concluded that his association with the university college and Professor Sterling, and Hamish Beavis’s new position of power left him very little choice. If he stayed he would almost certainly be arrested and his family would suffer by association. Simply disappearing therefore seemed to be the lesser of two evils.

The next morning he rose early in order to pack his canvas rucksack with as much as possible without having to answer too many questions. His father and brother called out their good-byes to him and left. Although he wanted to say something to them, he wasn’t sure what, and in any case he didn’t want to rouse their suspicions.

As he pulled the rucksack’s leather straps through the buckles to tighten the top flap he noticed that both his hands were trembling. He sat down heavily on the side of his bed and forced himself to breathe slowly. His thoughts were a vortex of contradictions. With Carol he was forsaking his home, his family and his career and embarking on a journey which, although causing his blood to quicken, was riddled with uncertainties. For the umpteenth time he asked himself, “Was this the only option? Was there a better, safer way for him and for Carol? Could he be certain of her support?”

The gentle hand on his shoulder made him spin round.

“Have a good day’s fishing, you lucky thing,” said Clare.

“Oh, Clare. Yes. Thanks, I will,” he replied.

“Stuart,” she said, smiling up at him, “will you promise me something?”

“What?” he asked uncertainly, his suspicions aroused.

“Take me with you, next time. I’d love to go fishing.” His laughter of relief was tinged with a sharp sadness. He reached out and hugged her to him.

“Of course. Love to.”

“Good. Thanks. I knew you’d say yes.” She hugged him back. “I’m really lucky to have a big brother like you.”

His eyes stung and he had to make a conscious effort to reply in a normal tone.

“OK. Now behave yourself at school today.”

The grin that she gave him turned to a frown.

“Stuart, is something the matter?”

He tossed his head and laughed as best he could.

“Yes, I’m desperately unhappy because I have to go fishing instead of going to varsity today.”

She studied him for a moment and then laughed.

“Stuart, you really are silly sometimes.”

And she ran off down the stairs.

He stood listening to the sound of her receding footsteps.

“Maybe you’re right, Sunshine,” he muttered to himself.

His mother as usual, had made lunch for him and, as an unspoken reward for the previous evening, had “included a few other nice little goodies to share with your friends, dear”.

He accepted the well-filled brown paper bag and smiled at her.

“Thanks, Mum. You’re a good mum, you know.”

“Am I, dear? You’ve never said so before.”

“Well, maybe I should have.” He put his arm around her and gripped her shoulder. “I love you, mum,” he said quietly and before she could reply he walked out the front door with a renewed stinging in his eyes.