Women and War (23 page)

‘Listen to me now – you must say a rosary to our Blessed Lady. Do you know the Hail Mary?' Kate shook her head. ‘Wait now and I'll show you.' Tara fiddled beneath the neckline of her uniform and pulled out the beads, set in their decades and hung with the crucifix. ‘ This is the Our Father and this is the Glory Be and each of these you use for a Glory Be too … Oh Kate, I can see you think it's strange but She will hear, you know.'

Kate smiled and shook her head. She had been raised strict Methodist, not allowed any reading matter but the Bible on Sundays, packed off and sent regularly to Chapel in her Sunday best.

‘My grandmother would have a fit. She'd call it worshipping idols.'

‘That's nonsense! When we pray to the Blessed Virgin it's asking her to intercede we are. And who better than Her to do it, for isn't She His own Holy Mother? If I were you I would say a rosary every night and ask Her to pray to God to keep him safe …'

She saw hope flicker briefly in Kate's eyes and die again.

‘No – no, I couldn't. I don't suppose it would do any good anyway.' She gave her head a little shake and Tara knew the moment for confidences had passed. ‘The others are miles ahead. We'd better hurry and catch them up, don't you think?'

Tara shrugged and tucked the crucifix back inside her uniform. Some people would never understand the truth if you waved it under their noses. Well, it was their loss. But Tara felt a moment's compassion for Kate who had a boyfriend who might be dead or in enemy hands and had no faith to sustain her.

I'll say a rosary myself tonight for his safe return, Tara thought. Then, forcing her tired legs into action, she plodded along behind Kate.

Tara was dreaming. She was back in Sydney in the Canary Club. It was dark – too dark to see anything but the spot illuminating the centre of the stage, the spot which was waiting for her. The piano had played her introduction and she knew she should be leaving the sanctuary of the darkness and stepping out into the blinding pool of light. But her limbs seemed to be frozen by fear. She could hear the audience becoming restless. Gathering all her strength of will she moved and her legs felt as heavy as if she was ploughing through water.

What was she afraid of? She did not know. Only that there was danger out there in the darkness and terror too great to contemplate lurking at the core of her memory, grasping the edges of her mind.

The pool of light was very close now. One more step and she would be in it, with the brightness making her glow, catching every facet of the diamonds round her wrist and at her throat. She stepped forwards but the light seemed to move with her and draw her on – a strange tantalising will o' the wisp full of hidden menace.

And then suddenly someone else was in the light. A figure – just a dim silhouette, but she did not need to see the face to know who it was and why she had been afraid.

‘Red,' she said and the name brought the silhouette to life. She could see his face clearly now and he was smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile.

‘So you came, Tara,' he said.

She nodded.

‘Come closer,' he said. ‘You must come closer.'

Her lips were dry. ‘Why?'

‘Because, my dear, I am going to kill you.'

His hands flashed beneath his jacket and she knew he was going for his gun but she could not move. Transfixed she waited, knowing how it would feel even before the gun cracked, smelling the acrid smell of spent bullets, feeling the sharp pain, the burning sensation, the certainty that her head would burst wide open. And still the gun cracked – again and again – and she was falling … falling …

Slowly, she came through the layers of sleep. For a moment she lay motionless, her body bathed in sweat. Then suddenly the whole hut was brightly illuminated and the loud crack which she had believed a moment ago was coming from Red's gun came again, volley upon volley, echoing around the corrugated iron sheets that formed the walls of their quarters.

Oh, Holy Mother, not another raid! she thought, sitting bolt upright. Then, as the rain began hammering down onto the tin roof like a hail of bullets, she awoke sufficiently to know that the noise was neither a gun nor an air attack.

Thunder and lightning and rain. A thunderstorm.

Goodness only knew she liked storms little enough. As a child she had clung to Maggie when they came and Maggie had been no help at all for she had been as afraid as Tara. In fact, Tara thought, maybe it was Maggie's fear that had planted the seed for her own. But just now the reality of the storm had paled into insignificance compared with the horror of her dream. Even awake she could see Red's malevolent face, hear his voice – ‘ I am going to kill you' – and a fresh sweat broke out on her already clammy skin.

It had been just a dream this time, but next time it could be real. Oh, she had hidden herself as well as she possibly could without leaving Australia altogether. But Red had friends – and enemies – everywhere. Sooner or later he would catch up with her and then the dream, horrific as it was, would become the reality.

She shivered, pulling the sheet up over her as if to shut out her fears but there was no escaping them. They were there in the dark beside her, so real that she expected to see Red or one of his henchmen there beside her as the lightning illuminated the hut, gun at the ready as it had been in her dream.

Almost directly over her bed a leak developed in the corrugated roof and water began dripping through with monotonous regularity. But Tara scarcely noticed it. Determined to exorcize the demons she reached beneath her pillow and pulled out the rosary which Kate had spurned. Then, counting the beads between finger and thumb, she began to pray.

Tara filled the kettle and set it to boil on the ring in the ward kitchen. She was on night duty now and, as usual, tired out. The previous few days had been hectic ones – the rain which had accompanied the thunderstorm had continued remorselessly for twelve hours, lashing down furiously to lie in pools on the sodden ground and seeping into every nook and cranny. The downpour had delighted the frogs who frequented the camp – and particularly the toilet tents; they seemed to multiply in the space of a few hours and their croaking could be heard even above the lashing of the rain. Eventually, the river had threatened to burst its banks and there had been talk that the entire hospital would have to be moved to higher ground.

‘Sure why didn't they think of that before they chose their site?' Tara had asked Kate and was unfortunate enough to be overheard by Anastasia Bottomley.

‘If you spent more time learning to be a good nurse and less in criticising the decisions of others you would be a great deal more help to us!' she had snapped.

The rain had stopped now but the river was still high and would be until the Dry came but that, everyone said, could not now be far off.

As she waited for the kettle to boil, Tara set out the cups and poured milk into them, but she did so absent-mindedly. Since the night of the storm she had been unable to get Red out of her mind and the vividness of the dream was as real to her now as it had been then.

How much longer would it be before he was released from prison and came looking for her? His sentence had been a long one but with Australia now so involved in the war she wondered if excuses might be found to empty the gaols of as many prisoners as possible. Even in time of peace she could not imagine Red remaining in prison very long. It was only surprising he had been sent there in the first place considering his power and his friends in high places.

Perhaps it would be wiser to get out of Australia altogether, Tara thought. Though where on earth could I go with half the world fighting?

The kettle boiled and Tara was pouring the water into the pot when a low whisper from behind her made her jump out of her skin.

‘Hello there, nurse!'

She swung round, kettle still in hand, to see Dev grinning at her.

‘Sean Devlin! What are you doing out of bed? You should be asleep!'

He pulled a mock frown. ‘Don't be such a spoilsport! I'm a big boy now.'

‘Not so big you won't be in a deal of trouble if Sister catches you wandering about in the middle of the night!'

‘She won't.' His eyes twinkled. ‘Col Dempsey is making a fine job of keeping her busy for a while.'

‘Col Dempsey! When Sister Harris was called to his bedside a minute ago it was made to sound as if he had taken a turn for the worse. Are you telling me now there is nothing wrong with him?' Tara exploded.

Dev put a finger to his lips. ‘ Shh! You don't have to tell the world, do you? I just wanted her out of the way for a minute or two and Col is a sport. He obliged.'

‘And why did you want her out of the way? Because you could smell the teapot I suppose and fancied a drop. Well, it's wicked of you!'

‘Tara!' He laughed and put a hand on hers. ‘ Just listen for a minute. I didn't come for a cup of tea. I came to tell you I've been discharged. I'll go in the morning – if I can get transport out of this place.'

‘Oh!' she said and wondered why she felt unexpectedly bereft.

‘I didn't want to go without saying goodbye to you – and ask you the little questions I couldn't in front of a wardful of wounded men, like when can I see you again?'

Something sweet yet sharply painful twisted deep inside, disturbing her. She lifted her chin.

‘And what makes you think I'd want to see you again? Haven't you been the bane of my life ever since I clapped eyes on you?' she demanded.

He pretended to wince. ‘I was afraid you might say something like that. Ah Tara, you're a hard-hearted woman. I suppose it's still that damned doctor standing in my way.'

The reference to Richard Allingham brought her upright, all the old fire blazing in her eyes. ‘And what business is that of yours?'

‘None I suppose. I just wish you'd come to your senses and realize he's not for you.'

Inexplicably she had begun to tremble. ‘What do you mean by that?'

‘He's not your type, Tara. Now ask me how I know and I'll tell you. He is a little bit better than the rest, isn't he – out of the top drawer as they say. You can tell it the way he speaks, the way he walks, the way he wears his uniform even. And you, my love? Well, you aren't out of the top drawer, are you. Oh, you might put it on a bit when he's within earshot and pretend you're something that you're not, but how long can you keep it up, eh? Not long I reckon. It would be a terrible strain, even for you.'

She was trembling in earnest now. ‘Of all the nerve! Putting me down that way and all the while thinking yourself so good …'

He laughed. ‘Not in the least. We're the same, Tara, out of the same mould. That's why we'd be so good together.'

She ignored this. ‘And supposing he does come from a better background than I do – what's wrong with that? why shouldn't I better myself?'

‘No reason – if you can get away with it. I just don't think you would. He would ask you all kinds of awkward questions, Tara my lovely, and if he didn't it's a pound to a penny his highly proper family would.' He paused, looking at her under his eyelashes. ‘
I
wouldn't ask you a single awkward question, like who you are or how you made your living before you came to Darwin. And that's a solemn promise.'

For a second he had her almost nonplussed. No one had ever been that frank with her. Red Maloney had been cruel and cutting on occasions, but his minions had been made to respect his woman. And Dev wasn't being cruel – merely mocking. Scenes of her early life flicked before her eyes – and a few more recent ones too – and then her ready instinct for self-preservation asserted itself.

‘I don't know what you're hinting at, Sean Devlin, but if you must know I was in show business.'

One corner of his mouth lifted – an easier movement now that his face had recovered a little from the onslaught of fists and boots.

‘Just as I thought.'

‘It is
not
what you thought! I was a singer and if the war hadn't come along to spoil everything I'd be a star by now.'

He leaned back against the table eyeing her lazily. ‘In that case I am surprised you're not doing your bit to entertain our long-suffering patients. They could do with something to brighten their lives.'

She looked at him intently, her annoyance forgotten.

‘I think you should organize a concert,' he went on. ‘I'm sure you'd find there are others about with talents of one sort or another and you could be the star – you'd like that!'

‘What a wonderful idea!' she was too excited even to be annoyed by his last remark. ‘But where could we put it on? There's no spare tent.'

‘The Dry is coming. You could have a stage out in the open. Somebody would be only too pleased to build it for you, I'm sure, and there would be no restriction on the number you could seat. They'd come from miles around if I know anything about it – all the camps like a concert.'

‘You're right!' Her eyes were shining. ‘But it would be at night. What would we do for lights?'

‘I could do those for you. I'm an electrician by trade.'

‘But you won't be here.'

‘I could always come back. I mean – if I can be of service to our gallant soldiers, sailors and airmen …'

‘You are the craftiest man I ever met!' she said, but she was laughing.

‘How about it then? Do I get the job?'

‘You certainly do – if I can get permission for the concert that is. Now listen – Sister Harris will be back in just a moment and if she finds you here you'll be for it, especially if she's been taken for a ride by Col Dempsey.'

‘Don't I get a goodbye kiss?'

‘What are you thinking of? You really would be in trouble then!'

‘Like I said, you're a hard woman! Well, in that case, Tara, I'll bid you goodnight.' He paused in the doorway. ‘Don't let the tea stew now!'