Women and War (19 page)

‘The
Manunda
is leaving tonight. I think we should try to get you a berth. You'd be far better off in the south.'

A hint of rebellion flickered in her eyes. ‘I'd rather be here. I have work to do. Aunt Sylvia …'

Richard smiled ruefully. He had come across Sylvia Crawford once or twice – a formidable lady, tough as old boots and twice as stubborn. Could it be that Alys took after her for all that she looked so vulnerable now?

‘How much work could you do in your condition?' he asked reasonably. ‘ Besides, Darwin is going to be a garrison town from now on. Almost all the civilians have gone – and the ones who haven't soon will. Even your redoubtable aunt. There won't be a Red Cross unit here any longer – it will have to be run from Katherine or The Alice.'

He did not add that many enlisted servicemen had joined the exodus, going ‘bush' or running south down the gravelled road to the Adelaide River which locals knew as ‘the Track'. Some had thought in the frenzied aftermath of the raids that they were under orders to disperse, some had simply taken the opportunity to desert in the mayhem. Nor did he add that Darwin was in a state of chaos with private houses as well as businesses being looted, food eaten by hungry wharfies and seamen, furniture carried off to add comfort to mess rooms or to be sold for cash. The bank managers had gone – Alys' uncle, James Crawford amongst them – in a commandeered 3-ton truck, taking with them all the cash, securities and records of their banks by order of the Administrator. And most of the rest of the population had gone too, any way they could – by bicycle, on horseback, in cars or on foot. Soon, he believed, the hospital would be evacuated back down ‘the Track'. Darwin, always untamed and a law unto itself, was no longer a safe place to be. In a few short hours the marauding Jap planes had proved that.

Alys sighed and moved her head on the pillow and something caught and twisted deep inside him, he warned himself. You have a golden rule never to let personal feelings intrude into professional relationships – don't break it now.

‘I suppose if there is no one left in Darwin I'll have to go,' Alys said resignedly.

‘Come on, don't sound so fed up about it,' he teased her. ‘I would have thought you'd be glad to go home. Melbourne, isn't it? The centre of civilization.'

Her eyes flicked up and he saw the spark of interest in them before the drowsiness claimed them once more. ‘You know it?'

‘I certainly do. I trained at the Royal Melbourne. And I don't mind admitting if I had the chance to walk up Bourke Street now I'd take it.'

‘Bourke Street.' There was a dreamy tone to her voice as if she was drifting in time and her eyes began to droop.

‘I'll see what I can do,' he said. He smoothed the counterpane across her shoulders and as his fingers brushed the tangle of her hair he let them pause for a moment. So fine. So delicate. She looked like a wax doll lying there. Would he be doing the right thing by having her moved? But as he had said, everything and everyone bar the military would be leaving Darwin soon. A few more days and she might have to endure a jolting ambulance ride down the track with a wound festering from the steamy heat. No, better that she should go on the hospital ship tonight.

He straightened up and saw Tara watching him. He had almost forgotten she was there, now he remembered that she too was still in Darwin – and there because of what she had done for Alys. If she had not insisted on being on hand to supply more blood should it be needed, she would have been safely on her way south by now.

‘You should go too,' he said. His voice was slightly raw now from tiredness and it came out sounding harsh. He saw her eyes darken then look away and he stood up.

‘I may be able to arrange for you to go on the
Manunda
too.' He crossed to the door. She did not speak until he reached it, then her voice, still softly lilting yet oddly urgent, stopped him.

‘I don't want to go.'

He turned, surprised. She was standing with her hands clenched into tight fists. ‘I don't want to go,' she said again. ‘I'd rather stay here in the hospital. I could help. I'm not a trained nurse, I know, but I'm learning. And there are so many jobs to be done …' she broke off.

‘That's true, but …' He shrugged his shoulders wearily. ‘ I don't have the authority to take on staff. And you're not a VA, are you?

The dimples tightened a fraction, blue fire flashed in her eyes.

‘Nobody stopped to ask if I was a VA when they left me to look after that man with his eye blown away. Or when I gave blood to Alys.'

‘No, but then …'

‘I've learned a lot in the last few days,' she went on. ‘I could have taken to my bed and stayed there – the Lord only knows I felt like it often enough! But I haven't, only to rest for a little while. I've done all the odd jobs around here and the nurses have been glad enough to let me. They've been under pressure enough. I've learned to change dressings and make beds the way they like them done. I've sterilized bed pans and made tea. Oh, not very skilled jobs, I admit, but somebody has to do them. And I've been glad to do it. So couldn't you
please
put in a word for me?'

Richard passed a hand across his aching eyes. Why anyone, a girl in particular, should be so anxious to remain in this hell hole he could not imagine, yet here were two of them and neither of them wanted to leave. In a way, he could understand Alys'reluctance to go. She had been working for the Red Cross for months now, since before he had been posted to Darwin himself and he could imagine her feeling that she was deserting her post. But Tara … why on earth should Tara be so anxious to remain in the Territory? Did she have some pressing personal reason? He looked at her intently now trying to read what lay behind those sparkling blue eyes. But they gave him no clue. Perhaps I am wrong, he thought. Perhaps she simply does want to help. Certainly she had worked as hard as anyone on the day of the raid, tackling one unpleasant task after another until she had been forced to stop while her blood count recovered, and he had to admit her pert good looks and her personality had been good for the morale of the patients. Despite all this, could he take her on? She had no qualifications, not even the First Aid and Home Nursing Certificates that were asked of a girl who wanted to enlist as a VA. But he had the feeling that this was shortly to be waived. The services were desperate for as many women as they could get to release men for the front.

‘Well …' he began.

Her face brightened and the dimples played in her cheeks.

‘Oh, you can fix it for me! If anyone can fix it, it's you!'

He smiled, tiredness forgotten. Perhaps if the redoubtable Sylvia Crawford were still here – and he suspected she would stay to the last – she might be able to help. After all, the Red Cross was represented on the Joint Council. I'll see what I can do,' he promised.

The
Manunda
sailed that night and Alys Peterson was aboard her. She lay in her bunk, weak and dizzy after the performance of having been moved by stretcher and ambulance and stretcher again, feeling far removed from the bustle about her.

A nursing sister paused by her bunk, leaning over to neaten her blankets.

‘What is happening?' Alys asked. ‘Have we started moving?'

Her voice, though weak, was taut. The sister smoothed a strand of red-gold hair away from the ashen face. ‘Don't worry about a thing. You're going to be fine. You are on your way home now.'

Home. On the way home. The words echoed in her ears repeated by the lapping of the waves. But there was no comfort in them. She did not want to go home. Darwin was where she belonged now. Aunt Sylvia was still here in spite of the raids, hanging on to the last because she hated the idea of abandoning her responsibilities and was determined to fight for them, although Uncle James had been forced to go to ensure safe passage of the bank's cash reserves and records. Everything she had come to care about was here. Not to mention the rather attractive Dr Allingham. Whilst Melbourne …

At the thought of it Alys felt as if sinewy fingers had tightened around her heart and all the bitter memories came flooding in to swamp her. And not only the more recent ones, either. The claustrophobic boredom of growing up there was as vivid now in her mind as the pain of Race's death, and the fear of finding herself once more under the domination of her mother pressed like a weight on her chest. Already, she could imagine Frances' cautionary tones: ‘I knew something like this was inevitable. If only you had taken notice of me, Alys, and come home as I asked none of this would have happened. I only hope it will have taught you a lesson.'

A lump rose in Alys' throat.

‘We are on our way,' the sister said. ‘Try to get some sleep now.'

Alys could not reply. She turned her face into the pillow and felt the weak tears trickle down her nose.

Tara closed the door of Matron Swift's office behind her and stood with her back pressed against it, eyes half closed, drinking in deep breaths of pure air. It was a trick she had used when she had been a singer, a way of steadying herself after a performance and what she had just given, she thought, was the performance of her life. ‘Well – and how did it go?'

At the sound of his voice her eyes flew open and she jerked upright.

‘Captain Allingham! I didn't hear you coming.'

‘It's these damned gumboots we have to wear.' He glanced ruefully at his rubber shod feet amply splashed with red mud. ‘But you haven't answered my question. How did you get on at your interview?'

‘All right, I think,' she said in a low voice. ‘But we'd better not talk here. These doors aren't very thick.'

He smiled. ‘You're right – this place is Jerry built. Come on, we'll find somewhere a bit more private.'

He turned to walk along the corridor with long even strides and she followed feeling her heart pump strangely the way it did every time she looked at him.

Oh, but he was handsome – the handsomest man she had ever met. And a gentleman too, that was obvious from the way he spoke and the easy grace with which he wore his uniform. Even in gumboots he still managed to look well-bred. And that was not all. Tara felt a quirk of excitement as she remembered the cool way he had taken charge on the day of the raids and the skill and compassion she had seen repeated day after day in his work since then. The pace of life in the hospital had been hectic, every facility stretched to breaking point. In addition to the casualties who had come to them direct, the entire RAAF hospital had been evacuated to 138 AGH, as had part of the civil hospital, and many of the staff were cracking up under the strain. But not Richard Allingham. He remained as cool and efficient as ever, managing to carry on with apparently effortless ease.

He even remembered it was my interview today, Tara thought, gratified, though of course his remembering probably had more to do with the fact that he had arranged it for her than it did with any real interest in the outcome …

Richard threw open the door of one of the vacant offices and stood back for Tara to enter.

‘That's better. No one will be able to eavesdrop now. So, how did it go?'

Tara perched herself against the edge of the desk. ‘All right, I think. But it was nerve racking! There were two of them …'

‘Matron Swift and Sylvia Crawford.'

‘Is that who they were? They were both rather large …' Tara broke off picturing again the two women who had faced her across Matron's big oak desk. Perhaps it was the fact that they both wore uniforms that had made them so daunting – Matron in her cesarine, crisp and fresh in spite of the humid conditions, Mrs Crawford smart in the dress of an officer of the Red Cross – while Tara could manage only a blouse and skirt borrowed from Sister Kate Harris for the occasion, since all her own clothes had been lost in the raid.

It could simply have been that it was so very important to Tara that they should consider her suitable to become a Voluntary Aid that had made her so nervous. Waiting to go in for the interview, willing her knees not to knock, she had realized just how much it mattered. If they took her on it meant she had a place to stay – somewhere Red was very unlikely ever to think of looking for her, if not, she would be forced to move on – but where? She did not know. And besides …

Perhaps hiding from Red was only part of her reason for wanting to stay. Perhaps it also had something to do with Captain Richard Allingham.

‘What did they ask you?' he enquired now.

Tara raised her eyes to heaven. ‘What didn't they ask! They wanted to know just about everything about me.'

‘And they were satisfied with what you told them?'

‘Oh, I think so.' She did not add that the answers she had given bore very litle resemblance to the truth. ‘It was funny really. Matron put the fear of God into me, but the other lady Mrs Crawford did you say her name was? – I would have quite liked her if I hadn't been so darned scared!'

‘Yes, she's quite a lady.' Richard's eyes softened almost imperceptibly. ‘She is Alys Peterson's aunt, of course Alys has been living with her while working for the Red Cross.'

Tara noticed, but was determined to ignore, the change in Richard's tone. Alys had gone now, shipped south on the
Manunda
and she had no intention of worrying about a rival who was far away.

‘Maybe that's why she wasn't so bad to me,' she said. ‘Maybe she thinks she ought to do something for me, seeing I saved her niece's life.'

Richard dug his hands deep into the pockets of his white coat. ‘So what was the final outcome?' he asked.

Tara grinned mischievously. ‘I think I got the thumbs-up, though they did say the final decision lay with the CO.'

‘Colonel Adamson,' Richard said thoughtfully. ‘ Have you got to see him?'