Maralinga

by Judy Nunn

  Over the next hour, as Lionel Brock continued to relax, he found it progressively easier to talk to Elizabeth J. Hoffmann. Perhaps it was the pinstriped suit and the fedora, or perhaps it was Elizabeth J. Hoffmann herself, but he talked to her the way he’d never talked to a woman before. Indeed, it was rather like talking to a man.

  Elizabeth didn’t telephone Daniel until the following Monday, aware that he was on duty over the entire weekend, and when she did speak to him, she refused to say one word about her business in London.

  ‘Not over the phone,’ she said, ‘it’s far too exciting. I’ll see you in the teashop, usual time, and I’ll tell you absolutely everything.’ She laughed. ‘Oh, Danny, you won’t believe what I did!’

  Come Saturday, true to her word, she not only told him everything that had happened, she acted it out from her first entrance in the doorway of Lionel Brock’s office to the final man-to-man handshake upon her departure. And Daniel, watching in silence, aware that the several other customers in the teashop were enjoying the show, wondered how she could have thought he wouldn’t believe what she’d done. To his mind, it was so very Elizabeth.

  ‘And you know what I’m most proud of?’ she said in triumphant conclusion.

  He shook his head.

  ‘I smoked every inch of that hideous cigar!’

  Daniel joined in her laughter. He had mixed feelings about the possible outcome of her trip to the city, but for now he wasn’t thinking of where he fitted in. He was happy because Elizabeth was happy. He was excited for her and proud of her and so in love with her that he wanted to shout it out.

  ‘God, I wish I’d seen you,’ he said.

  ‘You will. I’ve kept the suit and the fedora, and I shall present E. J. Hoffmann to you in person.’

  ‘Complete with cigar?’

  ‘Oh yes, definitely with cigar. You’re entitled to the full performance – it was your idea, after all.’

  He was mystified.

  ‘Don’t you remember, Danny? When The Times turned me down sight unseen? I read you the letter, we were sitting right over there.’ She pointed to the table tucked in the far corner. ‘And you said if they hadn’t known I was a woman, they might well have offered me a job.’

  He remembered the day clearly – he’d been trying to cheer her up. How ironic, he thought, if this should prove to be all his own doing. But he smiled jokingly. ‘Are you really telling me that the whole ludicrous idea of your going to an interview in London dressed as a man and smoking a cigar was mine?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted, ‘the cigar was Henry Wilmot’s. But as for the rest of it, yes, you’re entirely to blame, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’

  She was radiant in her excitement, and he thought that she’d never looked more beautiful.

  ‘Isn’t it strange, Danny,’ she said, suddenly thoughtful, ‘that until you gave me the idea, it never once occurred to me to keep my identity a secret?’

  ‘No, I don’t find that strange at all,’ he replied. ‘You’re not accustomed to lying.’

  ‘But I didn’t lie. Not once.’

  His look was sceptical.

  ‘I didn’t, I swear. Admittedly, I didn’t say I was a woman when I sent the Aldershot article to The Guardian, but then I didn’t say I was a man either. And when they replied telling me to phone for an interview and I made an appointment for E. J. Hoffmann, I didn’t say I was Hoffmann, it’s true, but then I didn’t say I wasn’t. I didn’t lie and they didn’t enquire. It was their automatic assumption that made everything so easy.’

  Daniel studied her knowingly. He recognised the passionate gleam in her eyes. Elizabeth was out to make a point.

  ‘They’d assumed the application for employment had come from a man,’ she continued, ‘and they assumed when I telephoned that I was that man’s secretary. At least, I assume that’s what they assumed,’ she added in all seriousness, feeling she should be fair, ‘but I know I’m right. Now I ask you honestly, doesn’t that say something?’

  ‘Yes. It says you’re cunning, devious and manipulative.’

  ‘For goodness sake, Danny, I’m talking about the male attitude to women in the workplace and –’

  ‘Of course you are, and your tea’s stone cold. Shall I order another pot?’ He’d drunk two cups while hers had remained untouched.

  ‘I’m raving on, aren’t I?’

  ‘Not yet, but you’re about to,’ he said agreeably. ‘And I’d rather hear the outcome of the interview if that’s all right with you. Shall I order more tea?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Elizabeth was not in the least offended. She adored having a friend like Danny who knew her so well and always spoke his mind. ‘I’d much prefer a walk.’

  ‘Good.’ He stood and offered her his arm. ‘So would I.’

  The late summer sun was warm and the day inviting as they turned into High Street, automatically heading for Princes Gardens.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Daniel asked, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘I presume they’re going to offer you a job?’

  ‘They already have.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Well, more or less. Lionel has to run everything by the editor-in-chief, but he says that’s really only a matter of courtesy.’

  ‘Lionel. First names already – I’m impressed.’ Daniel was desperately reminding himself that London was only thirty miles away, and that this wasn’t exactly the end of the world, although he was starting to feel it might be.

  ‘Yes, I was impressed myself, but he was quite insistent. All my feature writers call me Lionel, my dear.’ Her impersonation was amusing. ‘I see no reason why E. J. Hoffmann should be an exception.’

  They’d arrived at the gardens, but they progressed no further as Daniel came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Feature writer? You didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘Of course not. I was leaving the best bit till last.’

  ‘Elizabeth, that’s incredible.’ He was genuinely amazed. ‘It must be, surely. I mean, how many women feature writers would there be at The Guardian?’

  ‘None. Well, none working under their own names anyway. Perhaps there are other E. J. Hoffmanns lurking behind closed doors – how could one possibly know?’ She laughed lightly. ‘From now on, I shall be highly suspicious of any newspaper article featuring the journalist’s initials.’

  ‘Really? Do you think that’s true?’

  ‘No, Danny, I don’t think it’s true at all.’ She was no longer joking but in deadly earnest. ‘I think I’m being offered the chance of a lifetime, perhaps even the opportunity to create history.’

  His look was curious, although he didn’t doubt her for a moment. In his opinion Elizabeth was capable of anything.

  ‘My articles will appear under the name E. J. Hoffmann,’ she explained, ‘but once I’ve proved myself, I intend to fight tooth and nail for my own by-line. I want to be recognised as the first woman feature writer in the history of The Guardian.’ She smiled as she once again took his arm. ‘In the meantime, of course, I shall have to report a whole lot of rubbish. Come on, let’s sit down.’

  They entered the gardens and headed for one of the wooden benches that bordered the broad, grassy square.

  ‘What do you mean rubbish?’ he asked. ‘E. J. Hoffmann doesn’t write rubbish.’

  ‘That’s the catch. I don’t know how often they’ll let me be E. J. Hoffmann. Lionel’s given his personal guarantee that he’ll assign me features, but I’m not sure how regularly. In the meantime I’ll be a nameless staff writer who covers matters of interest to women.’ She grimaced. ‘Everything from fashion parades and hair trends to family nutrition, childcare and kitchen appliances – in other words, everything that either bores me witless or upon which I’m totally unqualified to report.’

  They sat on a bench, and as Daniel gazed at the fountain in the centre of the square, he recalled the army’s centennial celebrations and the day they’d first met. He’d known from that very first day that he loved her
. Just as he’d known that he wanted to marry her. Now was obviously the time to tell her, he thought, before she walked out of his life. But how should he go about it?

  ‘Lionel says it’ll do me good working as a staff writer,’ Elizabeth continued, unaware that she’d momentarily lost her audience. ‘He says that I’ll learn a lot covering such a broad spectrum, and I grant he may have a point, but I’m not so sure about the other aspect of his reasoning.’ She launched into a further impersonation. ‘Serving as a lady writer will establish credibility with your colleagues, my dear.’

  Jolted from his thoughts, Daniel stopped gazing at the fountain and gave her his full attention.

  ‘Lady writer,’ Elizabeth added with a moue of distaste. ‘I don’t know why, but I find the term demeaning. They never refer to male journalists as “gentleman writers”, do they? Anyway, Lionel’s intimation is that in getting to know my fellow journalists as a “lady writer”, I’ll be somehow protected from the harsh masculinity of their world. But of course we both know what he’s really saying.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘He’s sounding me out. He’s buying time while he assesses my value as a journalist and also my stamina in the marketplace. I appreciate his concern, unnecessary though it is. Poor Lionel’s wondering if I’ll be able to handle the slings and arrows that may come my way, or whether the pressure will be too much for me.’

  ‘Little does he know.’ Daniel’s tone was droll, but the irony of his response was lost on Elizabeth.

  ‘Exactly,’ she replied briskly. ‘I’ve said I’ll give it a year, after which we’ll review the situation. Strictly between you and me, that’s when I’ll demand my own by-line, but I think it’s a pretty reasonable arrangement, don’t you?’

  He couldn’t help but laugh. For someone who was being offered the chance of a lifetime, Elizabeth seemed insistent upon calling the shots.

  ‘Very, I’d say.’ And now for the crucial question … ‘When do you start?’

  ‘Surprisingly enough, in a fortnight.’

  He felt a sudden sense of panic. Two weeks! So soon!

  ‘That is, presuming Lionel gets the go-ahead from the editor-in-chief. But the timing is so wonderfully coincidental, Danny. Do you know, they were actually thinking of advertising for a female staff writer.’

  Daniel wasn’t listening. Surely, he thought, she’d be required to give at least a month’s notice to The Courier-Mail.

  ‘Apparently they were employing a woman journalist on a freelance basis,’ Elizabeth rattled on, ‘but she’s given up work to have a baby, and they’ve been considering employing a female writer full-time. Isn’t that the most incredible good luck?’

  ‘Incredible, yes. A fortnight, you say? But what about The Courier-Mail?’

  ‘Oh, Henry’s been marvellous, he’d let me go tomorrow if necessary. I think he’s rather proud of the fact that he was the one to launch my career. He’s certainly the reason Lionel Brock’s taking me on. He’ll miss me, he says, but –’

  ‘So will I.’

  Elizabeth stopped mid-stream. Danny looked quite bereft, she thought – how sweet. ‘I’ll miss you too,’ she said. And suddenly she realised how very much she would. She’d never had a friend like Danny. ‘I’ll miss you a lot.’

  ‘Will you, Elizabeth?’

  ‘Of course.’ She was touched by his obvious concern. ‘But we’ll still see each other, this isn’t goodbye.’ She smiled fondly. ‘Heavens above, you’re part of my life, Danny, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.’

  That was all he needed. ‘Then marry me,’ he said.

  A stunned silence followed, and he regretted having blurted the words out so clumsily as he watched her astonishment become suspicion.

  ‘Are you making fun of me?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course I’m not.’ He spoke lightly, careful not to alarm her with any outburst of passion. ‘But surely the best friend you’ve ever had would be a good choice for a husband, don’t you think?’

  ‘If this is a joke, I’m afraid I’m missing the point.’

  ‘Why would I be joking?’

  ‘I have just announced the career opportunity of a lifetime and you suggest marriage?’ Elizabeth gave a snort of derision. ‘It’s either a joke or it’s some sort of statement about a woman’s place being in the home and her life’s purpose marriage, in which case it’s an insult. Either way, it’s not particularly funny.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t expect you to stay at home,’ he protested in earnest. ‘I’m proud of your achievements. I would never wish to change one thing about you, Elizabeth, and that includes your commitment to a career.’

  She stared at him, speechless, as the realisation that he was serious finally registered.

  ‘Your career is who you are,’ he continued, ‘I know that. Why should I want to change the very person I fell in love with?’

  In love? Elizabeth couldn’t believe what she was hearing. In love!

  ‘But … you’re so … young!’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say; she was flabbergasted. ‘You’re so very young. I mean … surely you must see that this … this …’ She fumbled foolishly for the right words; she seemed incapable of expressing herself intelligently. ‘This … feeling you have is just some sort of … infatuation…’

  His proposal had hardly met with the reception he might have wished, but Daniel laughed nonetheless. ‘I’m not a teenager, Elizabeth,’ he said. Then he added good-humouredly, ‘You’re patronising me the way you did when we first met – it’s not frightfully flattering, I must say.’

  Yes, she remembered how she’d patronised him that day. And she remembered how he’d come back with the perfect response. Men younger than me have died for this country, he’d said. She’d been impressed. Everything about him had impressed her that day, which was why she’d allowed their friendship to develop. And now he was spoiling it all.

  ‘But you’re like a little brother to me,’ she began.

  ‘No I’m not,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t demean our relationship.’ He fought to curb his exasperation. ‘I’m not your little brother, Elizabeth,’ he said as patiently as he could. ‘I’ve never been your little brother, and you know it.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m sorry.’ She was flustered; she hadn’t intended to sound so insulting. ‘Of course you’re not, you’re far, far more. You’re my best friend … you’re my one true confidant … Please, Danny …’ Her eyes implored him. ‘Can’t we leave things that way?’

  ‘Of course we can. We can be best friends and true confidants for the rest of our lives. What better basis could there be for a marriage?’

  No, she thought, no, you can’t change the rules like this. Why was he ruining everything?

  Daniel was sure he could sense her faltering, and he took her hand in both of his. ‘Marry me, Elizabeth,’ he said, dropping flamboyantly to one knee. ‘Marry me. I’m the perfect husband for you. You won’t regret it, I promise.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, get up,’ she hissed, common sense prevailing. It was time to put a stop to the charade, he was being childish. ‘You’ve no idea what you’re saying, you’re acting on impulse. This is a load of romantic nonsense and I won’t listen to another word.’

  He released her hand and sat obediently on the bench.

  ‘Pity,’ he shrugged, ‘I rather liked the romantic approach myself. But as for the rest, I can assure you, you’re wrong. I’m not acting on impulse and I know exactly what I’m saying. I’ve been in love with you from the day we first met.’

  For the second time in only minutes, she was rendered speechless.

  ‘Come on now,’ he chided, ‘you must have sensed it.’

  She shook her head. ‘Why would I have sensed it?’ she asked, her voice a disbelieving whisper. ‘You never said a word.’

  He thought how very vulnerable she looked. ‘I didn’t dare. I was worried that I might frighten you off.’

  ‘We’ve always been honest with each other, we’ve never
had secrets.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry. But be reasonable, Elizabeth, if I’d told you I was in love with you, what would you have done?’ She made no reply. ‘I doubt I would have seen you for the dust.’ He smiled. ‘We had to get to know each other first.’

  ‘I see.’ She nodded slowly, and when she finally spoke her tone was measured. ‘So everything has been a lie, right from the start.’

  Only then did Daniel realise his mistake. What he’d perceived as vulnerability was anger. And it was growing by the second.

  ‘I had presumed,’ she continued coldly, ‘that our friendship was based on trust and some form of mutual respect.’

  ‘It was. Of course it was.’

  ‘Oh, no, it wasn’t. Not as far as you were concerned, not for one minute.’ She was steadily working herself into a fury. ‘It was based upon deceit.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Elizabeth.’ Daniel’s patience ran out as exasperation got the better of him. ‘I’m a man, you’re a woman, it’s natural! Men are not the enemy! Why must you feel so threatened?’

  He was surprised by the instantaneous effect of his words. She was clearly taken aback.

  ‘I’m not a threat,’ he said firmly, ‘I’m an ally. I believe in you and I believe in your career. I love you, and what’s more I think you love me. Not to the same degree, of course, but be honest with yourself …’ He willed her to look at him, and she did, meeting his gaze squarely. ‘You do love me just a little, admit it.’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  There was an irritable and patronising edge to her reply, which strangely pleased him. She was on the defensive, he thought. She didn’t like being cornered.

  ‘I love you as a friend,’ she said with a haughty nonchalance.

  ‘Then I rest my case. What better basis could there be for a marriage?’

  ‘I said as a friend! I love you as a friend!’

  ‘So marriage should be based upon enmity, should it?’ He could see that his smugness annoyed her further, but he didn’t care. Sensing victory in his grasp, Daniel was elated. ‘I’m not the only one who thinks we should marry, you know. I have your parents’ approval.’