Fire in Summer

by JH Fletcher

  ‘You’re far away.’ He had been watching her.

  Smiled wryly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Your husband?’

  None of the men she knew would have been capable of asking a question so kind, so intimate. He deserved an honest answer. Yet she was frightened to reveal too much.

  ‘No. Well, perhaps. In a way.’

  ‘All this…’ He gestured about the room, his eyes watching hers. ‘Given the way things are out there, it seems kind of wrong, doesn’t it?’

  His perceptiveness was frightening. She was routed, her thoughts and emotions naked before him. She felt the blood in her cheeks. ‘Something like that,’ she said.

  Supper was over. Escorted by the gorgeous officers, people made their way towards a pair of inner doors that now stood open.

  ‘Join them, shall we?’ Jeth suggested.

  Kath laughed. ‘You’re saying there’s more?’

  ‘Believe me,’ he told her, ‘this shindig’s hardly started.’

  Beyond the doors was a second, larger room, with a boarded floor, a uniformed band on a low dais.

  ‘Dancing?’

  ‘When the Rangers do something, they do it right.’

  She looked at him. He had mimicked perfectly Colonel Gruber’s tight, hard speech. Somehow, as she watched, his lean young face put on flesh, became stern and a little pompous; he was Colonel Gruber, to the life. Then he winked, and Kath laughed.

  She knew it was a moment she would remember, the first time he had made her laugh so freely and joyously. It was wonderful — it seemed years since she had laughed like that — yet frightening, too. The idea that he, so effortlessly, could provoke such a response; that she, so effortlessly, could respond …

  Enough to frighten anybody.

  The music began, the notes silvery in the expectant room. A waltz. Colonel Gruber, very grave, led out Lil Brewer as to a temple, with solemn, measured steps. Others followed.

  The notes of the music pirouetted light-footed about the leaden shuffling of the dancers, most of whom would have been more at home with sheep. She saw Beth with Clark Luther, heard her laughter.

  In her ear Jeth said, ‘Shall we?’

  She smiled, too brightly. He took her hand. She had expected their first contact to trigger some physical response — a feeling of shock, perhaps — but felt nothing, only the firm fingers enclosing her own as they walked together onto the floor.

  Jeth put his arm about her. It was no more than a formal gesture, a part of the public and blameless dance, yet this time she felt it, a slow, hot tremor that prickled the skin on her arms.

  Dear Lord, she prayed behind her wide and joyous smile, protect me now.

  Kath and Beth were driving home. It was a final luxury, precious petrol for a night out, but as Beth had said, they could hardly have walked or cycled into town.

  ‘In our glad rags?’ Beth had said. ‘No bloody chance!’

  ‘Enjoy it?’ she asked now.

  Kath’s eyes watched the road. ‘It was fun.’

  ‘That bloke you were with … Ever so good-looking.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That Clark…’ Beth laughed. ‘All he wanted was to tell me about his girl back home.’ She rounded her eyes and waggled her tongue, comically. ‘In darkest Illinois.’

  They turned onto the rutted track that wound its way through gum scrub until it reached Beth’s house.

  ‘It must be so difficult for them…’ Kath ventured.

  Beth was not given to reading other people. ‘Difficult? Why?’

  ‘So far from home. A strange country …’

  ‘I’d have said they’d made themselves pretty much at home, what we saw tonight.’

  Kath did not want to agree, preferred to think of them as alone in a landscape without markers.

  ‘It’s not right, is it? Hoicking them out of their normal lives to kill people on the other side of the world?’

  Beth thought it out. ‘It’s what they’re all doing.’

  ‘I know. Hedley was, too, until they nabbed him. Doesn’t make it right, though, does it?’

  ‘There’s a war on,’ Beth said. ‘Somebody’s got to do it.’

  Kath supposed she was right, yet, after she’d dropped her and was driving homeward, she wondered. Australia must seem strange to them, surely? These lonely young men … She certainly hoped so; it was the excuse she had used to herself, earlier.

  The end of the evening. Waiting, while a waiter fetched her coat. Jeth said, ‘I want to see some more of you.’

  Kath opened her mouth to say it would not be a good idea, to say …

  Said, ‘Do you?’

  ‘Very much. I understand how you’re placed, but —’

  ‘Don’t say it!’ She did not want him to shatter the fragile bubble of romance and fantasy that enclosed her now. He’s lonely, she told herself. So am I. That’s all it is. Which didn’t mean they could afford to be careless, if they planned to do anything about it. ‘I’m going to Kapunda, next Thursday. There’s a place you can have a cup of tea.’

  ‘I know it. I can’t be sure I’ll be there,’ he cautioned. ‘My time’s not always my own, you understand.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Now, driving the last quarter of a mile before her own turning, she was troubled neither by the arrangement nor the possibility that Jeth might be unable to make it.

  A lonely man in a far country, she told herself, as she made the turning and began the climb up to the house. I hope other people would have done the same for Hedley, in the same situation.

  Even as she thought it, she knew with absolute certainty that it was a lie. It made no difference. I am going to see him again.

  There was a warm glow in the thought. Whether it would be next Thursday in Kapunda or some other time or place didn’t matter. If he couldn’t manage Thursday, there would be another day.

  For the rest of the week, she thought a good deal about Jeth Douglas. His grave smile. His intense eyes, watching her in silence. She played with Walter, took him for walks, helped her mother about the house, lived every second of every day as she would had she never met him. She felt neither anxiety nor remorse. She laughed, frowned, chatted away, waiting for Thursday. Jeth waited with her; in her mind and heart she saw him constantly, felt his slow smile warming her.

  When Thursday arrived she left Walter with her mother, made some excuse, went off to Kapunda on the bus.

  11

  HEDLEY

  1944

  A new officer had arrived. Captain Hideki Okamura spoke good English and, before the war, had spent two years in Australia. He had visited the mid-north of South Australia. When he discovered that Hedley came from there, he liked to reminisce with him about the countryside, its vastness, its fertile soil. As far as possible they became, if not friendly, at least less hostile.

  And so, finally, into the depths, as beriberi brought Hedley to face the certainty of death.

  He was drowning. First feet, then legs, then his whole body became swollen, hideous, sodden with retained fluids. Corporal Nakajima looked and mimed drowning. He laughed. ‘Soon you free,’ he said.

  Hedley could not work, could not even walk. When he pressed his flesh, his fingertips left dents that remained for hours. He could feel his heart battering frenziedly against his ribs.

  Soon you free. It was true. Now the visions of home mocked. He cursed them for having beguiled him so long, so uselessly.

  That night, Father Mike, a priest who was nevertheless one of the boys, brought to him, most furtively, a bottle of tablets. ‘Don’t let them see …’

  ‘What are they?’ Speaking as a drowning man might speak, straining for breath, yet with the faintest glimmer of hope where seconds earlier there had been none.

  ‘Vitamin B.’

  ‘Where’d you get them?’

  ‘From Okamura.’

  ‘He gave them to you?’

  A wry smile. ‘I stole them.’ The bottle was nearly full. Hedley swa
llowed over half and, for the next few days, lived at the latrines while the wastes poured from him.

  12

  KATH

  1944

  She felt detached, caught in a dream from which, later, she would awaken. It helped her to stay calm — none of this is happening — yet, by the time the bus drove up the hill into the main street, her heart was beating so violently that she could hardly breathe.

  She got out. The town was busy, as always on market day; not many cars, but bicycles everywhere. As she watched, a pony and trap clattered past. In addition to its more serious horrors, the war had put civilian transportation back thirty years.

  She crossed the road to the cafe, forcing herself to take her time, when every instinct told her to run. Thankfully, she saw no-one she knew. She opened the door. A bell clanged, harshly.

  There was a scattering of tables. An elderly couple sat in a corner, the man whiskery, grump-faced, the woman faded and grey. They did not look up as she came in but sat, staring past each other, saying nothing. At another table a woman sat, while a child scrawled with crayon upon a piece of paper.

  The air waited as Kath sat. The shop lady came. Kath ordered a cup of tea, a bun.

  ‘No buns.’

  ‘Tea, then.’

  It came presently. She sipped and waited. She had chosen her seat with care: not with her back to the door but not facing it, either. That would have been too obvious. Even at an angle she remained acutely aware but it stayed shut, obstinately.

  He warned me he might not be able to make it. She had told herself it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t turn up but now was not so sure. She doubted she could bring herself to go through all this again if he didn’t come.

  A test, she told herself. If he turns up, it will prove … Then shifted on her seat, irritated by the idea. Prove what? A cup of tea, that’s all it is.

  She fiddled with the spoon of the now-empty cup. The old couple lumbered out, the man grousing the moment his feet hit the street, his voice, harsh as a shute of coal, lingering until pincered out by the closing door.

  ‘Can I have another cup of tea?’

  I’ll give him ten minutes, Kath thought. Then I’ll be off.

  The tea came amid a smell of steam. Kath closed her eyes, wanting so desperately …

  She could not be sure what she wanted.

  The doorbell clanged, flat as flat.

  ‘How you going?’

  Slowly, she opened her eyes. She looked up at him. Her body tingled as she smiled. ‘I’m fine.’

  And was. She was fine; the world — despite the war, despite Hedley, despite all the complications she could foresee only too clearly, the looming face of disaster — was fine. Everything on earth and in heaven was fine. Because Jeth, who in her heart she had written off, had come.

  He sat down, facing her across the table. He reached out and took her hand. She flinched, instinctively drawing back.

  He released her at once.

  ‘Someone might see,’ she apologised, although there was no-one to see, apart from the woman and child whom she did not know. Now she let her hand lie on the surface of the table, hoping he might take it again, but he did not.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get away.’

  The shuffling feet of the shop lady. Jeth looked up at her.

  ‘Coffee? Oh. Okay, tea, then.’ He looked back at Kath. ‘You?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m awash already.’

  He watched her, smiling gravely, while her eyes ate him up. They talked. He told her a bit about South Carolina, nothing at all about the war or why the 19th Ranger Battalion was marooned in Hunter; he asked her a million questions about herself, her life, her parents, her son, her husband.

  Kath knew the only thing was to be straight with him, discovered she could not bear to be anything else.

  ‘We’d known each other since we were kids —’

  He smiled. ‘If this place is anything like Gainsborough County, I’d guess that’s true of just about everyone.’

  But mostly he did not interrupt, watching and letting her talk. Which she discovered, to her astonishment, she wanted very badly to do.

  ‘Our families used to go to the beach together, until he got too big to play with girls. We went cliff-climbing once. I got stuck.’ She smiled, the hot summer day, the memory of terror vivid yet no longer threatening. ‘My Dad had to get me down.’ The summer-bright memories were all about her, the children they had been and were no longer.

  ‘Then we grew up,’ she said. In a rush added, ‘We grew up and got married and then Hedley joined the army. He came back a couple of times, on leave, then went overseas and I haven’t seen him since.’ She tried a tentative smile, suddenly uncomfortable at talking about such things with this man. Who was not her husband.

  ‘How long were you married before he left?’

  ‘Two days.’

  Jeth’s raised eyebrows said it all. Kath felt the urgent need to defend Hedley. ‘It was what we’d agreed. I knew about it before we got married.’

  ‘Why do it, then? Rather than wait?’

  ‘It was what Hedley wanted. My parents weren’t keen.’ Again the wry half-smile. ‘Maybe that’s why I did it.’

  The table separated them, yet his eyes seemed almost to touch her.

  ‘And Walter?’

  ‘Embarkation leave.’

  ‘It happens. He’s a good little guy …’

  ‘Of course —’

  Jeth had not finished. ‘… because if it hadn’t been for him, we would probably never have met.’

  The shop door opened. Kath looked up quickly, then relaxed. Another unfamiliar face. Thank God.

  Jeth’s eyes were more intent than ever. ‘I said —’

  ‘I heard you.’

  This was the moment. She could stop it now. Or not. If she didn’t, God knew what might happen. She thought, No. Hedley deserved better. So did Walter. So did they all, even herself.

  He said, ‘I have a couple of days’ furlough. There’s a concert down in Adelaide. You like music?’

  ‘I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘I thought maybe, if I could get hold of some tickets

  Silence filled her mind. She opened her mouth, but it was her heart that spoke. ‘I would like that.’

  Afterwards she could not believe what she’d done. Decided, apprehensively, to take Beth into her confidence.

  Who stared, wide-eyed. ‘You keen on him?’

  ‘I don’t know. Yes.’

  ‘Make up your mind.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’ And knew, with a mixture of delight and terror, that it was true.

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Because, if you’re just fooling around —’

  ‘Nothing like that.’ Apprehension returned to claw her. ‘But I’m a married woman.’

  ‘Not much of a life, though, is it? For either of us.’

  ‘Even so …’

  ‘If you were just playing games, because you’re bored or something, I’d say forget it. But if you like him —’

  ‘What will people say?’

  ‘Start worrying what people say, you might as well cut your throat and be done with it.’

  ‘What if I get involved?’

  ‘You think you could?’

  ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’

  ‘Then you might end up getting hurt. It’s up to you. You don’t want to risk it, find a box and hide in it.’

  Kath smiled, extra bright. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

  Beth’s eyes saw behind the smile. ‘No, you won’t. You’ve already decided.’

  ‘What do I know about music?’ said Kath. ‘He’ll think I’m a halfwit.’

  ‘I’d say that’s the least of your worries.’

  Kath took her hand. ‘Dear Beth … I’m so glad you’re my friend.’

  To Beth, true Aussie, that was too much. ‘Yeah, well …’

  ‘How’m I going to ma
nage it without everyone in the town knowing?’

  ‘I got an aunt lives in the city. She’s given me an invite to stay there whenever I like. You could come with me, for the weekend.’

  ‘You sure she won’t —’

  ‘It’s a big house. Aunt Clarrie won’t care, but I’ll give her a hoy, just to make sure.’

  It certainly was a big house, set in a tousled garden off South Terrace and hidden behind a high stone wall. To stifle nerves, they made a game of it; like kids, they explored the big rooms, the garden. In one corner of the lawn was a summerhouse, packed with bits and pieces: a big sofa, stacked garden chairs, the smell of dust and dead flowers.

  Beth said, ‘I told Aunt Clarrie you were having a romance.’

  Appalled, delighted, Kath stared. ‘You never!’

  ‘She was tickled pink. Said she was glad to help.’

  It was important there should be no misunderstandings. ‘Knows I’m married, does she?’

  ‘She’s a romantic, not a fool.’ Now Beth was intent on organising more than the accommodation. ‘We’ve got to get you something to wear.’

  ‘I brought a dress with me.’

  ‘Let’s have a look.’

  Kath fished it out.

  ‘You can’t wear that!’