Women and War (55 page)

‘Mrs Allingham has arranged for a professional to come in and take some studio style ones next week.' There was a hard note in Tara's voice. For the moment Alys wondered if it was directed at her, then as Tara went on: ‘Nanny doesn't think it's good for Margaret to have too many flashbulbs popping,' she relaxed. No, it was probably the nanny arousing Tara's venom. This suspicion was reinforced when Tara replaced the baby in the cradle and the nanny immediately swooped to rearrange her position and re-tuck the covers in her own fashion.

Poor Tara! Alys thought, then smiled ruefully. Tara was more than capable of holding her own with an overbearing old woman. And what a small price it was to pay for all she had! Not only a man like Richard in love with her, but also his baby.

Not poor Tara – lucky, lucky Tara!

It was only as she left the house that the moment's insight flashed briefly once more. She turned to wave and was struck by an impression of utter loneliness surrounding the girl in the doorway.

Loneliness! Oh ridiculous! She dismissed the thought and instead repeated her earlier mental comment.

Lucky, lucky Tara!

‘You are very quiet, Alys,' John said.

They were in the big rambling kitchen at Buchlyvie. It was Flora's day off and Alys had cooked them a meal – steaks and fried potatoes, followed by tinned passion fruit. Haute cuisine was not one of Alys' talents but she had wanted to do it and had managed well enough. The steak, from John's own beef cattle, was too tender for even a novice cook to spoil and the potatoes, luckily, tasted better when burned a little around the edges. Now they were lingering over their coffee, hot, sweet and freshly brewed so that the kitchen was full of the aroma.

She glanced up at him, smiling briefly. ‘ Sorry. Am I being dreadful company? I didn't mean to be.'

He stretched his legs. ‘You couldn't be dreadful company if you tried. You're just not yourself, that's all.'

‘I know. I came to cheer you up and here I am behaving like the original wet blanket.'

He smiled. He was looking better, she thought, much better than when she had last seen him, better than she had expected. Except, of course, that the underlying sadness was there, waiting to be uncovered in unsuspecting moments. ‘ You don't have to make an effort to cheer me up, Alys. You do that just by being here. More coffee?'

‘Mm, yes please.'

He stood up and crossed to fetch the coffee pot from the range.

‘This damned war has gone on for too long, that's the trouble.'

She was silent, remembering her thoughts on the journey.

‘Too long for most people. Certainly too long for you. But me …'

He turned, coffee pot in hand, looking at her questioningly.

‘I don't know what I'm going to do when it's over,' she confessed. ‘I've been thinking about it for a while now. I shall be like a fish out of water.'

‘You'll find something.' He refilled her cup and handed it to her. ‘Something will turn up. It always does.'

She nodded. ‘ I suppose so. The trouble is I don't really fit in anywhere any more. I went to see Tara yesterday. You remember Tara – Richard's wife. She has a baby now, a lovely little thing. For a bit I almost envied her, especially since having a baby of my own is something I'll never be able to do. And then I thought … would I really want to be her anyway? All the things she has are the things I tried to escape from – luxury living, everything done for you so that you feel totally useless, even a nanny to take care of the baby. So what do I want? A challenge, I suppose so, but …' she broke off, sipping her coffee. ‘It's funny, last time I was home my father said something that made me think. He said he wished he had taken me into the business, treated me like the son he never had. And you know I think I would have liked that. But it's too late now, of course. No, I'm not looking forward to the war ending, John. It's a terrible thing to say, I know. I'm being utterly selfish. But I simply don't know what I shall do.'

For a moment he said nothing. The silence in the kitchen was broken only by the comfortable burping of the coffee pot and the regular tick of the mantle clock. He sat down, propping his feet on a low table and easing his back to the lines of his chair.

‘I could make a suggestion,' he said. ‘But I don't suppose it would appeal to you.'

‘I'm open to any suggestions. Try me.'

‘You could always marry me,' he said.

She froze, her cup halfway to her mouth. ‘ Marry you?'

‘You see, I told you the idea wouldn't appeal to you.'

‘It's not that. But you must admit it's a bit sudden.'

‘It is, isn't it? And selfish of me too. I'm a selfish old man, Alys.'

‘Don't be silly,' she said. ‘You are not selfish and you are certainly not old. It's just that – well, it had never occurred to me. I thought we were just friends.'

‘Just friends.' He nodded. ‘That's what makes me say I'm old, Alys. To me, at my age, it seems that is the best possible basis for marriage. To get on really well together. To enjoy one another's company. And I'm selfish because to you, at your age, it's quite plain you want – need – more than that.'

‘Oh John!'

‘It's true. I know that. You want to be swept off your feet. I'll never do that – we've gone past that, you and I. And I'm too damned old to play games, anyway.'

‘Will you stop saying you are old!'

He ignored her. ‘Do you know that once I had this crazy idea that perhaps you and Stuart …? Don't know where I got it from – I'd have been jealous as hell if it had happened! But that's all in the past. Foolish dreams – all broken now. I've lost my son. I don't want to lose you too, Alys.'

‘You'll never lose me!' she said vehemently. ‘ I enjoy being here with you too much for that.'

‘Of course I'll lose you. It's inevitable. When you make a new life for yourself you'll have less and less time for me. There you are. Now you can see how selfish I am! But I do have a few things to offer you. If you married me you certainly would not have a life of luxury as you call it. This is a working house – a very busy one. You could help me run the farm; take over the business side of it, perhaps. We could work out the details. And, of course, there's always my car …'

‘Your car!' she laughed. ‘ Do you really think I would marry you for your car?'

‘Well, I have to be able to offer you some inducement.'

‘You underestimate yourself. What makes you think I would need inducement?' she hesitated. ‘You know I can't have children?'

‘At my age I'm not at all certain I would want to start again anyway.' He drained his cup. ‘If you had wanted children, I might have thought twice about what I'm suggesting. As it is … well, think about it anyway. You don't have to give me an answer in a hurry. I shall still be here waiting when the war ends and you are demobilized. And don't think I shall tell you never to darken my door again if the answer is no. I hope we can still be friends.'

‘Oh John, of course!' she crossed to him, taking his hands. ‘ I'm very flattered that you should ask me. And I will think about it. But I can't give an answer now. You've taken me too much by surprise.'

‘Take your time.' He smiled at her. ‘But I can't pretend you wouldn't make me a very happy man if your answer was to be yes.'

She thought about it all the way home, she thought about it while sharing a bedtime drink with her father, she thought about it most of the night, getting up when she finally accepted that sleep was impossible and sitting in her dressing gown at her bedroom window looking down over the sleeping city of Melbourne.

Her mind had been set awhirl by the suddenness of it, yet at the same time she was aware of a soft glow of something very like peace suffusing the core of her.

This was not the way she had imagined it would be when a man proposed marriage to her – there were no wild bells of joy, no heady currents of excitement coursing through her veins and setting up whirlpools of anticipation in the deepest parts of her. But then her relationship with John had never been like that.

Briefly, she found herself remembering the way it had been with Race – dizzying desire, crazy all-consuming longing – and uncertainty and heartache, pain and despair. Maybe she would never reach the heights with John, but there was no danger of falling into the depths either. Did she really want to risk that kind of total misery ever again? For a while, foolishly, she had thought she might – that perhaps Richard Allingham could have tempted her to take that risk. But Richard had married Tara and she had glimpsed – just glimpsed, no more – the bitter truth that she could still be hurt.

But John … John was different. John would never hurt her as Race had done. Partly because he was John – and partly because she would never give him the emotional weapons. She loved him, yes she
did,
but in a different way. This was a quiet love, enduring, a love born of friendship and respect, nourished by caring and sharing.

But marriage. It had never occurred to her – now she wondered why not. They would be good for one another, that much was certain. The easy warmth of their relationship would extend far beyond the marriage bed. And she liked the idea of living at Buchlyvie, being mistress of the house and learning to deal with the business side of the farm. And, of course, giving John some of the comforts of home he had been missing all these years.

As dawn began to lighten the sky behind the roofs and spires of Hawthorn, Alys knew she had decided.

Buchlyvie's paddocks were withered and yellow from the continuing drought and the hooves of the sleek bay kicked up a fine haze of dust as he cantered towards the ridge where a clump of gums stood in sharp relief against the deep blue of the sky.

From the ridge John saw him coming and though he was still half a mile away knew who the rider would be. The bay had a wicked reputation so that none of the Land Army girls would go near him and the only other person to ride him with that reckless skill was dead in the islands. John untied his own horse from the wilga gum where he was tethered, mounted and rode down the slope towards the cantering bay.

As he drew nearer he was able to make out the figure of the rider and knew he had been right. She was wearing well-tailored breeches and shirt, but her hat had slipped back down her head to rest against her shoulders and her hair had come loose to stream in the wind. She reined in the horse and he obeyed her, slowing to a trot and then a walk with a slight contemptuous toss of his head that seemed to say: I did what you wanted but only because I thought I would!

‘Alys! What are you doing here?' he greeted her.

She was straight in the saddle holding the reins firmly yet tranquilly with one hand while the other caught the loose strands of hair, tucking them behind her ear. ‘I thought I ought to find out if you have changed your mind about that brainstorm you had yesterday – when you asked me to marry you, remember?'

He tipped his own hat further down to shade his face.

‘Yes, I remember – and no, of course I haven't changed my mind.'

‘Just as well!' she smiled, using both hands now to hold the restless horse steady. ‘You see, once this war is over – well,
I've
decided to take you up on your offer.'

Alys sat back in the mess chair crossing her long legs and looking at Richard from beneath the sweep of her eyelashes.

‘Well, there you are. I did your visiting for you and I am glad to report you have a fine and healthy daughter, every bit as beautiful as I had been led to believe. She is a sweetie, Richard. No bald head, dry red patches or pressure marks on your Margaret. She would be a perfect advertisement for baby oil or shampoo – or anything!'

Richard smiled broadly making no attempt to conceal his pride.

‘I wish I could get to see her. She'll probably be toddling before I make it. Still, they are getting some photographs done of her, you say. That will be something. But it won't help her to get to know me. She'll scream her head off no doubt when I do finally put in an appearance, wondering who in the world is this strange man.

‘I'm sure your bedside manner will soon win her over,' Alys said impishly.

‘You have to be joking. Any bedside manner I ever had got left behind in the Holy Land. Since then I have discovered bluntness is the best policy when dealing with servicemen. When I eventually get back to civilian life I am going to have to completely relearn my “bedside manner” as you call it. And find out how to deal with a daughter into the bargain!'

‘Deal with a daughter – don't know that I care for the sound of that!'

‘I never imagined I'd have a little girl! A son and heir – that's what I wanted. The funny thing is that now I've got her I can't imagine anything nicer than having a daughter. A little girl in frilly petticoats holding onto my hand and looking up at me as if I was the greatest bloke in Australia.'

‘Hmm.' Alys pulled a face. ‘ That sounds like a typical man's view to me. Just don't forget she is a person in her own right. She might not fit your image of what she should be at all.'

Richard held up a placating hand. ‘All right. Point taken.'

‘I hope so. She might be like me and prefer motor cars to dolls.'

His eyes met hers. ‘ If she was to turn out like you, Alys, I should be very pleased.'

Colour flooded her cheeks at the unexpected compliment. Then she said quickly: ‘ I have some news of my own for you. John has asked me to marry him.'

She was looking directly at him and she saw his face change. The momentary surprise – and something else. Dismay? Surely not! Why should he be dismayed that she was going to marry John? Then it was gone … ‘I take it you have accepted.' His voice was even yet she could have sworn for a moment that same quality which she had glimpsed in his expression was reflected in it.