Uncommon Enemy (4 page)

“The key?”

“No, the library,” he laughed. “It’s got its own outside entrance.”

“But what if someone is there?”

“Not likely. This war news will bring everyone out on the street or send them hurrying home. Come on. Have you ever been inside the university?”

“No. But are you sure that--------.”

“Course I’m sure.” He struck an exaggerated pose. “Step aside, you fellows. I am the new research assistant to Professor David Sterling.”

He was delighted by the spontaneity of her laughter. He took her hand. “Come on, it’s just down here.”

The exterior door, unmarked, was in a secluded part of the complex. The key fitted easily and with a quick glance round Stuart pushed it open and stepped back. “In you go. I’ll find the light.”

His mouth was dry as he closed the door. It was partly due to her nearness but also the knowledge that if they were caught, his new position could be seriously jeopardized.

The interior was almost completely dark save for a faint light from an unseen street lamp that cast shadows over the room.

“Not sure where the light switch is,” he muttered reaching out towards the wall. Carol had shifted her position and his groping hand, instead of reaching the wall, found the outside of her left breast. Before he could even gasp an apology she swung round towards him and placing her hand behind his head pulled his mouth down on hers. His response was instantaneous. All the hopes and frustrations of the day and the excitement of her in the dark room overwhelmed him as he kissed her long and hard. His tongue found hers and their shudder was mutual. He felt her legs beginning to wilt and, reluctant to let the moment go, supported her with his left arm while his other explored the nape of her neck and her long soft hair. She moaned and her hips moved spontaneously towards his, her left leg sliding upwards over the outside of his right thigh. Through his mounting excitement he wondered if there was a couch in the library or, at the very least, carpet on the floor.

Suddenly, without warning she jerked her head back and tried to pull away. “No! Sorry, Stuart! No!”

“Carol, what is it? What’s wrong?” Although she was standing quite still he could feel her trembling. “Carol, I’m not just, I’m not just out for what I can get.”

She reached her hand up towards him and placed two fingers over his trembling mouth. “I know you’re not.”

The breath of her sigh enveloped him before she slowly placed her head on his chest. “Stuart, just hold me.”

Puzzled, he wrapped both his arms around her in a protective embrace. Yet his arousal had not subsided and her nearness rekindled his desire. Loosening his grip, with his left arm he tried to lift her chin up towards him but, guessing his intention, she kept her head down.

“Carol, you don’t have to----.”

Her smile was genuine as she looked up and gazed steadily into his eyes.

“I know, Stuart. Please, just kiss me, slowly and gently.”

He did, keeping himself in check even when he felt her begin to respond and push towards him again. The thrill of her presence swept over him in tingling waves but concerned that she would shy away again, he limited himself to a long lingering kiss. Not that it was too much of a challenge. She was lovely to touch and to hold. And, in any case, he smiled to himself - it was he that was doing the kissing and not that other fellow.

The distant chime of a clock brought them both to a realization of reality. Moving slightly apart they stood, trembling slightly. Stuart’s long sigh stirred the hairs on top of her head. “You’re beautiful, Carol. Just beautiful.”

Her response was simply to bury her head in his blazer and murmur, “Do you think we’d better go. If we miss the last ferry------.”

Her voice tailed off. Stuart sighed again. “I’m afraid you’re right. We’d better be off.”

No one was in sight as he carefully opened the door and peered outside. Quickly exiting and, holding hands, they headed towards the ferry terminus. Neither of them spoke, and Stuart after the dramatic turns of events during the day, was content to walk with this beautiful girl.

The ferry was half empty and they found a spot at the rear of one of the large cabins. Usually the taciturn Auckland passengers maintained their own silence during the 20-minute trip to Devonport but tonight most of them were engaged in animated conversations with their neighbours. “Nothing like a war to turn strangers into friends,” Stuart mused. Carol had rested her head on his shoulder and appeared to have drifted off to sleep. Feeling protective, Stuart sat listening to the chatter that mingled with the rhythmic thumping from the ferry’s engine room below decks. All too soon the clanging of the ship’s bells and the change in the engine’s rhythms signalled the end of the trip.

Carol stirred and opened her eyes. “I fell asleep,” she murmured.

He grinned. “Bit early in the relationship for you to start sleeping with me.”

Expecting her to respond with a cheeky grin or a playful dig in the ribs, he was nonplussed by the long clay-cold look that she gave him.

Behind them came the clattering of chains and a thump as the heavy gangway was lowered onto the ferry’s upper deck.

“Come on,” she stood up.

As the tide was at its peak, the ferry was riding high causing the gangway to slope steeply. Pausing at the top Stuart reached out and took Carol’s hand firmly as she gingerly made her high-heeled descent. As he stepped off the bottom onto the terminal’s concrete floor she stumbled forward. He caught her in his arms as she fell against him. She leaned her head on his chest for a moment and then looked up and smiled.

“Sorry. Bit tricky in these shoes.”

Heedless of the other passengers pushing past them he ran his right hand lightly over her hair.

“You OK?”

She held his gaze and reaching up touched her fingers to his lips.

“Stuart, I---.”

“Carol!” The angry voice cut through the clatter of the passenger’s footsteps on the concrete floor. They both turned abruptly at the sight of Hamish, his face twisted with fury. Lurching forward he reached for Carol’s arm hissing, “Come here, girl.”

Instinctively Stuart put his arm protectively across her shoulder and drew her back.

Hamish lunged again. “I told you to come here!” he snarled.

Stuart, stepping in front of Carol clamped his hand around Hamish’s outstretched arm.

“Not so fast, mate.”

Hamish’s look was of undiluted hatred. The force and unexpectedness of the heavy punch to the right side of Stuart’s mouth staggered him. Instinctively he put the back of his hand to his mouth and looking down saw that it was smeared with blood.

Furiously Stuart lashed out with a roundhouse right hand that, had it landed, would have certainly floored the other man. In a smooth action Hamish evaded the blow, swaying backwards, his eyes never leaving his opponent. Boxing was a regular feature of the sporting curriculum of many secondary schools and Hamish, by his blow and his stance had obviously been taught the basics of the craft.

Stuart who’d been the university’s middleweight boxing representative in the previous year’s Easter Tournament sensed Hamish’s expertise and adopted a defensive crouch just in time to block a second vicious left hook.

“Hey, you chaps, that’s enough!”

“Save it for the bloody Germans, mates, not each other!”

The pair had been rapidly encircled by a group of male passengers one of whom, a burly Maori, stepped between them.

“Cut it out! Both of you!” he ordered.

“I haven’t finished with you, you bastard!” shouted Hamish trying to push the Maori aside.

Gently but firmly the man pushed Hamish back and, holding him at arm’s length snapped, “Watch your language. There’s a lady present.”

“Perhaps the lady’s part of the problem,” said another man looking admiringly at Carol who was standing helplessly to one side her hand covering her mouth.

Angry at the attention that he had attracted and unwilling to challenge the well built Maori and his mates, Hamish swung round to Carol, and seizing her firmly by the arm growled, “Your aunt rang me. You weren’t on the 8.30 bus. She was worried sick. I said I’d bring my car down to find you.” He glared at Stuart, who stood angrily dabbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “And what do I find? Have you no shame, Carol? Consorting with this varsity bugger!”

“I’ve already warned you about your language,” said the large man, menacingly, “Can’t you see the lady’s upset?”

“Alright. Alright,” responded Hamish hastily. His grip on Carol tightened. “I’m taking the lady home. Her aunt’s worried about her.”

He tugged at Carol but she freed herself with a quick backward jerk. Reaching into her handbag she pulled out a small white handkerchief and stepping forward handed it to Stuart.

“Here, Stuart,” she said. “I’m awfully sorry about your lip.”

Hamish with a growl of protest moved forward to grab her arm but several of the men, whose sympathies were clearly with Carol, quickly blocked his path.

“Thanks,” mumbled Stuart. “He took me by surprise. But the blood on your handkerchief? It’ll make a frightful mess.” She smiled wanly and, ignoring the increasingly angry Hamish reached up and touched him on the cheek.

“It’s alright, Stuart. It’s the least I can do.”

Whirling abruptly she strode straight past Hamish towards the exit. With a venomous glare at Stuart he hurried after her calling, “Carol, wait! Wait for me!” as the sound of throaty male chuckles echoed behind him.

“You OK, mate?” asked one of the men turning to Stuart.

“Yeah, thanks.” He looked at the reddening handkerchief. “I think the bleeding slowed down a bit. I’ll live.”

“To fight another day?” The burly Maori grinned.

“Yeah. There’s always tomorrow.” He looked round the group and smiled awkwardly. “Er, thanks, chaps.” He paused. “Better hurry or I’ll miss my bloody bus.”

“Mr. Johnson. Good morning. Good to see you, my boy. Sit down”

Professor Sterling was all affability when Stuart, having knocked on the office door, entered in response to “Come!” The enthusiasm of the often-dour academic to his arrival was solace for Stuart who, over the previous twelve hours had run the full gamut of emotions. His family had been bad enough, wanting to know how he’d split his lip – the dubious reaction by his father to the lame excuse that he’d tripped and fallen at varsity had irritated him considerably. It was not so much that his father did not believe his lie but that in doing so they had reverted to the all-too-familiar roles of suspicious father confronting recalcitrant son. Consequently he was in no mood to share the news of Professor Sterling’s offer. Added to this were the circumstances that had resulted in the injury, that had marred the memories of his tryst with Carol in the small History library.

His conflicting emotions had boiled over when the following morning at the breakfast table his younger brother Stephen, looking up as Stuart sat down smirked, “Hey, Stuart, looks like you’ve been trying to kiss a crocodile.”

A very restless night, the view of his swollen lip that his bedroom mirror had revealed a few minutes earlier, and Claire’s giggle at his brother’s witticism had resulted in his reaching over and smacking Stephen hard across the head. Then, ashamed at his action, he had leapt up from the table, grabbed his bag of books and stormed out slamming the door on the shouts and cries echoing from the dining room.

Arriving at the ferry buildings earlier than usual he had resisted the desire to wait for the eight o’clock boat but had caught the earlier one, with the result that there were few people about when he had arrived at university, where he had immediately made for Professor Sterling’s office.

Stuart came straight to the point. “I was just wondering, sir, what happens to the research position if I’m called up for military service?”

“Looks like you’re already engaged in unarmed combat, my boy,” smiled Sterling.

“Oh, this,” replied Stuart, touching his swollen lips and smiling ruefully. “Just a minor accident, sir.”

“I see. Well, in my opinion it’s highly unlikely that you’ll be called up. Now more than ever the research project has a direct relevance to this new wartime situation. Consequently your position will be considered as being essential war work.” Seeing Stuart’s frown he asked, “Will that pose any difficulties for you?”

“No, sir, I suppose not. It’s just that I was expecting to join up and to, well, fight.”

“Perfectly understandable. And, when one considers the appalling characteristics of the Nazis, also very commendable. But bear in mind, wars are won by brains more than by brawn. Therefore we’ll almost certainly be asked to shift the focus of our research onto German domestic and foreign policy over the past decade in order to assist our government and her allies gain a greater insight into the mind of the enemy.

“That makes sense, sir.”

“Of course it does.” He smiled briefly. “At times like these young men characteristically respond to their basic instincts by wanting to seize the nearest weapon and dash off to save the world. Of course there’s a time for rapid action but there’s also a time for a measured, well-researched response. Much more effective in the long run.”

Stuart felt considerable relief. The thought of travelling overseas to fight the foe had adventurous appeal, but his studies of World War I had made him all too familiar with the horrors of warfare and the detrimental effect it had had on many of those who survived. Furthermore, undertaking research at home would enable him to be near Carol. He heaved a long sigh. Carol. Ah, yes.

“Having second thoughts?”

Stuart brought himself up with a start. “Oh, no, not at al. It’s a wonderful opportunity for me and a chance, as you say, to help the war effort.”

“Excellent, Stuart. May I call you ‘Stuart’?”

“Yes, of course, sir,” he responded, immediately flattered.

“Splendid. Now what was it you wanted to see me about?”

“Nothing in particular, sir. Just wanted to make sure that I hadn’t been dreaming.”

“You hadn’t.”

Stuart smiled. “Well the other thing was, about my exams. The finals are coming up soon and I’m keen to do well. However, as the war has broken out-----.”

“Look, Stuart, you are to concentrate totally on your studies. I’m happy, as I said for you to use the History library if you want to but in the meantime, just keep our research project in the back of your mind. When you’ve finished your finals, take a couple of day’s breather then come and see me and we’ll begin to plan our strategy.”

“OK, sir, if you’re sure.”

“Absolutely. I’ve already made a start so there will be plenty for you to do when you’re ready. Now, I expect you want to get on with some swotting for the dreaded finals, unless there’s anything else?”

“No thanks, sir. I’ll look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks.”

“Excellent.” Sterling stood up and stretching out his hand smiled warmly.

“Good luck, Stuart. I’m sure you’ll do very well.”

His early morning start meant that he had plenty of time in which to begin his final swotting binge. Finding a spot in the library by a window he spread his notes out on the desk, lit a cigarette and began the task of completing the summaries he had been preparing in anticipation of the exam questions. Initially confident of passing with a reasonably good mark, Sterling’s offer had increased his level of motivation. Now he not only wanted to pass, but to pass with high marks.

The 11.30 chime of an external clock caused him to pause and stretch. The weather was cool but pleasant and he’d already decided to cross Princes Street and sit by the Boer War statue in Albert Park at lunchtime in the hope that Carol would turn up. The situation with her was still riddled with contradictions. Her passion and her tenderness showed that she had considerable feelings for him. Yet her link with Hamish seemed puzzlingly strong. Perhaps by now Hamish had forced her to confess to their lunchtime meetings or, worse still, the library assignation. Not that he was worried that the fellow would take any action - just that he was bound to try to turn it into something sordid.

Just before noon he walked out of the main clock tower building and began to cross Princes Street towards the park. As he paused and waited for a group of cyclists to pass, he saw Carol walking towards him past the historic houses on the opposite side. She smiled, waved and hurried forward.

“I was hoping------.”

“I’d see you,” he finished and they both laughed.

“I’ve got my paper bag. Do you have any lunch, Stuart?”

“Sorry, no. I left in rather a hurry this morning.”

She touched his mouth. “Is the swelling’s going down?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes. Look, I’m sorry. I’ve still got your handkerchief.” He pulled the crumpled bloodstained piece of cloth from his trouser pocket. “It’s awfully messy. Didn’t want to give it to my mother----.”

“Awkward explanations?” she smiled.

“Yes, and I didn’t get the chance to----.”

“It’s all right, Stuart. Give it here. I’ll wash it.”

“Thanks. Look, I’m sorry about last night. I should have-----.”

“You’re sorry. Don’t be silly. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Hamish behaved like a pig. He had no business attacking you like that! And,” she paused and her smile had an edge, “I told him so!”

“Well done. What was his reaction?”

“He, he tried to order me not to see you again.”

A light breeze brushed the hair from left side of her face.

“Carol, what’s that?”

His hand reached out but she quickly drew back pushing the hair back in place.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? That mark on the side of your face. It’s a bruise.”

Involuntarily her hand went up to her face.

“It’s nothing, Stuart. I fell against the cupboard when I was getting out of the bath last night.”

His eyes narrowed. “You fell?”

“Yes, I fell against the cupboard. It’s nothing. The swelling’s already going down.”

He tried to hold her gaze but she quickly looked away.

“Carol, if I thought for one moment that he---.”

“You’d be wrong,” she interrupted quickly. “It was a simple accident. That’s all.” She put her hand on his arm. “Now, as I was saying, I told Hamish that we’re good friends and that I had a right to choose my own friends.”

“Good friends?” He smiled, and reaching out his hand, lifted her chin. “Obviously a mistress of the understatement, Miss Peterson.”

He was momentarily startled by the look of intense bleakness that filled her eyes before she stepped back and smiled brightly at him.

“Shall we sit here? We can share my lunch. It’s not much but we can make the most of it.”

As they both sat down on the grass he murmured. “If it’s loaves and fishes we could pray for a miracle.”