The Last Double Sunrise

by Peter Yeldham

  “But since then he’s settled down to domesticity, working on the farm and being very happy. Alice is a sweetie, like her Mum, not the gun-toting dad.”

  “When’s the baby due?” Janet asked.

  “Officially I think it should be May, but Alice warned me to expect it sooner. Gianni thinks March or even February.”

  “A seven-month baby. There’s been a lot of those lately,” she agreed.

  Carlo smiled. “I think they’re all trying to stop Joe Martin from keeping count, but a seven-month kid is on the agenda. And I think Gianni will surprise us all by being a terrific dad.”

  “Is this your friend who grew up in Sydney?” Jamie asked.

  “Yes, his father was with the Italian consul. When he was nineteen they went back to Italy to avoid the war. Poor old Gianni didn’t think it much of a joke, ending up back here as a POW. But now he’s a family man he’ll try to stay on after the war.”

  “How about you, Carlo?” Jamie hesitated for a moment. “Ever consider staying here, or moving back one day?”

  “I have thought about it.” He could see he had their instant attention. “I used to walk around Tiffany’s land after they’d cleared out the marijuana plants and all the buildings. I loved the immensity and kept thinking how great it’d be to paint those big landscapes like Albert Namatjira. I still think about it.”

  “If you ever consider it and need help, we’d gladly be your sponsors or whatever back-up that’s required,” Jamie said.

  Carlo was moved by this, but unsure what to say. That was when he saw Julia coming quietly downstairs. Her parents were seated with their backs to the stairs and unaware of her. Julia had paused to avoid interrupting his reply. She’d changed into casual clothes and had done something with her hair, making her look about nineteen. The blue eyes were smiling. He was about to stand up, but guessing what he intended she shook her head, waiting for him to answer her father.

  “That’s a very kind offer, Jamie and I’ll remember it. But they might ban me. Enemy POW and all that.”

  “Surely not,” Julia said as she joined them. “They can’t be that mean, not again. I’d start a public protest.” Her parents turned around with relief as Carlo stood and drew out the chair for her.

  “Thanks, Carlo,” she said, sitting down beside him. “I’m sorry for the charmless reception, and for missing you at the station.”

  “My fault, Julia. I should’ve guessed it was you by the uniform, or the resemblance to your mum.”

  “It’s nice to get out of that uniform and into old clothes.” She was relaxed and smiling, like a different person. “Is there a resemblance?”

  “I think so, when you smile like that.”

  It seemed to please Julia. “I haven’t had much to smile about lately but I’ll remember what you said.” There was a feeling of quiet relief as she looked across at her mother, who nodded and smiled back. That was when the phone rang, and her expression froze as though it signalled an unwelcome intrusion.

  “If that’s him, I’m not here,” Julia said, then added, “and Dad, please, tell him to drop dead.”

  “I would with pleasure—but I’m afraid this is for me,” Jamie sighed and went into his study. They could hear the faint murmur of his voice.

  “Sometimes I’d like to disconnect that phone,” Janet said, “if there’s any drama, it’s always at weekends.” She explained what she meant to Carlo. “A couple of our ships were attacked early today.”

  “But why do ships involve Dad?” Julia asked. “He’s fond of saying he’s the military major in command of a very small desk.”

  “That sounds just like him,” Carlo said smiling.

  “Of course,” Julia remembered, “you had to front up at his desk.”

  “It was a day to remember, Julia.” There was an appreciative glance from her at the use of her chosen name. “That’s when he told me he wouldn’t have to send me to Cowra in handcuffs. And that Janet had invited me to dinner.”

  “Did he really say that?” she asked.

  “He did. I have to tell you that was a very happy day. It made quite a difference in my life.”

  “That’s my typical unpredictable Dad. And my Mum,” she added with another smile across the table at Janet, as her father came back looking worried.

  “We’ve had a few naval casualties. They’re sending names through, and I’ll get Hazel to organise next-of-kin notices. You remember Hazel, Carlo?”

  “Yes, she gave me a cup of tea and a sweet biscuit.”

  “She has a soft touch for young men. I’m not sure I’d have allowed the biscuit.” He grinned, then reverted to the concern he’d shown a moment earlier. “This is a bloody mess, I’m afraid. It’ll be all over the news tonight. Two ships sunk by Kamikazes in the South China Sea. One of them ours. It’s ruined my appetite, darling,” he said to Janet, “but I’ll try to get back for dinner. Sorry, love,” he kissed his daughter. “Will you be here?”

  “As long as I’m welcome, Dad.”

  “You’re always welcome, poppet.”

  “You haven’t called me that for years.”

  “Of course she’s always welcome.” Janet reached across the table to take their daughter’s hand. Carlo tried not to look uncomfortable, but he felt like an intruder. This was surely private; a day when family links were being repaired. He could feel the affection of their bonding after whatever had torn this family apart. “Just as Carlo is always welcome,” Janet added, “if the war would end to make it possible.”

  It was the Janet he knew; both tactful and kind, knowing how he felt and eager to put him at ease.

  That afternoon their daughter went to meet with a girlfriend nearby, and he and Janet were alone. She surprised him with a vote of thanks.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For being here. She needed cheering up, and you helped.”

  “I did nothing special.”

  “You made her smile. You called her by the name she likes. You were courteous and kind. The little things like that matter when nothing’s been very nice for so long. It sometimes nearly broke my heart this past year.”

  “I hope it’s going to be better.”

  “I just hope Oliver, that’s the wretch who caused all this trouble, has the decency to stay well away this time. That’s the first meal she’s eaten with us for six weeks. She’s been on leave all that time, but this weekend is the first we’ve seen of her.”

  “Has she been with him?”

  “Quite the opposite. Trying to keep away from him. He’s from Bellevue Hill in Sydney, not from around here. He’s been a real problem, it nearly caused a break-up with us and Juliet. It’s been complicated, but today was different.” She managed a smile. “Odd things, family estrangements. Even a new friendly face at the table can help…like it did today.”

  “But I truly didn’t do anything.”

  “Except being your natural self. She liked you and so she responded. This might at last be celebration day. I do hope so, and now let’s talk of other happier things.”

  They spoke about the painting he was doing of Gianni and Alice and how her mother had insisted on payment.

  “She’s absolutely right, Carlo. Commissions should be paid. I have at least two friends who want you to paint their portraits and are perfectly happy to pay. You’ll be hearing from them,” she said. “Now tell me about Silvana and this letter that perplexes you.”

  “It’s almost like one from a stranger. I suppose that’s expected, as it’s so long since we met. She asks how I feel about Tiffany as my Mum showed her the cutting you sent.”

  “Then if I’m allowed to ask, how do you feel about Tiffany?”

  “Well, it was my first real relationship. I’d have to say it’s a very fond memory. It couldn’t be less than fond, but it is only a memory now.”

  “That’s delicately put.”

  “It’s how I feel. I’m not likely to forget her, but I did leave by choice.”

  “So what will yo
u tell Silvana?”

  “Something along those lines, I suppose. The four years have made us different people. She’s now an actress. The film world of Rome is way out of my league, but from what I remember, I think she’d love it. I also feel she might still be keen to marry the boyfriend, because they’re in the same film together, and she doesn’t seem to mind that. I just don’t know, Janet. I’m beginning to think it was a tempting excitement, my first taste of adult life when I was only twenty.”

  “And next birthday you’ll be an old man of twenty-six,” Janet said trying to keep a straight face, “and you want to put away childish temptations?”

  “I think the truth is, I really don’t know what I want. Except for the war to end.”

  “So you can go home. See her again at close range.”

  “Perhaps. Certainly see my family. My sister, grandparents, then bring Mum back to meet you and Jamie. That most of all.”

  “Do you mean that?” she asked, feeling unexpectedly moved. “Yes.” He seemed surprised she had to ask. “My whole life is painting and just two people cared enough to help me. You and my mum, Beatrice. You’re two of a kind.”

  Julia came home at six o’clock that evening, when her mother had just switched on the radio for the news. The main story was the two ships destroyed in the South China Sea by the lethal Japanese Kamikaze weapon, young pilots flying to their deaths with a miniature craft full of high explosives. One Australian cruiser had been damaged, and an English naval vessel completely destroyed. Carlo was in the shower when this began. By the time he’d dressed and joined Julia who sat listening to the radio, news of the attack was nearly over. Janet was in the kitchen preparing the meal, and the commentator’s voice was pitched lower, often the case when losses or defeats were announced.

  “It is the first time a double attack by Kamikaze pilots has succeeded in this way. The two tiny vessels filled with explosives were carried by the same bomber. The Australian corvette Western Bay suffered major damage to the upper deck, with eight fatalities and many others wounded, but is being met by an American rescue vessel. The British ship previously used as a troopship and for transporting prisoners of war was then attacked an hour later. It suffered a direct hit and exploded on impact, sinking almost immediately. First reports suggest there are no survivors.”

  Carlo had come into the room too late to hear the name of the British vessel that had been destroyed, asking Julia what it was.

  “A troopship called the Royal Star…” she turned and said to him, her smile of welcome changing when she saw his shocked reaction.

  “Royal Star? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. What is it, Carlo? What’s the matter?

  He shook his head with a look of stunned disbelief. He seemed dazed and suddenly walked away. It shocked Julia, who got up and followed him. Carlo was standing by the row of windows that looked out on the small back garden.

  “Did he say no survivors?”

  “Just first reports, Carlo. Dad should be home soon. He might know more.” She hesitated before going back to hear more of the news. “They said it carried troops and POWs. Were you…did you know the ship?” She stopped, because his ashen face told her the answer.

  “Yes,” it was only a whisper, accompanied by a nod. Janet was still in the kitchen and unaware of what had happened. Carlo kept shaking his head in disbelief, then went out the back door of the house. Julia hesitated, about to tell her mother, then changed her mind and followed him.

  He was sitting on the wooden steps that led to the garden. Deep in shock and hardly aware of her as she sat beside him.

  “Did you know anyone on it?”

  “Yes,” was all he could repeat at first. “Friends?”

  “Mates. Three of them. We were full of so many plans; all of us were going to meet up after the war.”

  She could feel his pain. He hardly seemed able to pronounce the words.

  “It’s only a first report. Not confirmed yet,” she tried to assure him.

  “I have a terrible feeling it will be. They don’t usually issue statements like that, unless…” he broke off, then said softly, “unless it’s true.”

  She wondered what to do, how to help him. “Do you want to be alone, Carlo?” He shook his head. “I don’t think Mum heard that news or realised what it meant to you. Should I let her know?”

  “Afterwards.”

  “Sure you don’t want to be on your own?”

  “Not if you’ll stay.”

  “Of course I will. Tell me about them.”

  It seemed the right thing to say. He nodded as if to thank her, and after a moment started trying to explain. “The three, they had this little comfort zone in the ship’s radio room. Ted Gallagher was the first officer. It was Ted who saved me from a nasty confrontation with a couple of marine guards.”

  He told her about being ill, the dreadful conditions down in the depths of the ship and the three amigos, Ted, Stephen, the clever one who’d given up medicine to be the wireless operator, and Archie, the jovial Scot. How they’d schemed to put him in the adjoining little first aid cabin, so he could share their company for the rest of the voyage. He spoke in pauses, as if trying to explain the three weeks across the Indian Ocean, the fondness and accord that had grown between them, the plans they’d made to meet after the war. To Carlo they were a special memory, closer than anyone on his own side since he’d been hijacked into the army. How they’d given him the best site on the ship to see Sydney harbour on the day they arrived. He talked of the last day, of trying to think what present he could give the trio for all they’d given him, and how he’d left them a painting of the harbour bridge. That was when he had to pause for a few moments before he could say what was on his mind.

  “The awful thing is,” he hesitated before being able to continue, “that painting in its frame is on the ocean bed down there with their bodies.” His voice broke as he spoke about this, and she instinctively reached out to take his hand.

  “Ted sent letters for me, ones I wrote to my mother in Italy so they would get there quicker, he even wrote to her himself. Hard to believe, but in those few weeks our friendship had grown to become such a bond. I’d never had this kind of close mateship, especially since we were supposedly on different sides…the thought of them not surviving never occurred to me. It still seems so hard to believe… just impossible really.”

  From there she tried to steer him to other subjects, prompting him to tell her about his life in Lombardy, even the bitter combat between his parents, how he had tried to placate his father by working on the vineyard but never giving up the hours at night with his brushes and paints in the attic. Julia sat there to listen, knowing it was a relief for him to talk of anything now, other than what had happened in the South China Sea.

  They remained as it grew dark; she kept holding his hand, only aware of this when the outdoor garden lights were switched on and her parents came out of the house to say dinner was on the table. He seemed to comprehend it at the same moment, almost reluctant to let go.

  It was a stressful night, as Jamie had received confirmation that there’d been no possible survivors of the Royal Star. He and Janet saw their daughter put her recent turmoil aside in an attempt to comfort him. Long after both her parents had gone to bed, the two of them sat up late, talking of anything except what had occurred.

  She asked him about life at Cowra, and he explained how much better it was than many other POW camps. How the guards and those in charge went out of their way to make life agreeable. POW’s were allowed more freedom, and in return the Italian prisoners repaid the trust with compliance. Few commanders would allow him to visit friends like this, and know they could rely on him to return tomorrow. He felt he and Alfie Morton had become friends.

  They found common ground when he spoke of his sister in Milan who was a journalist, learning that Julia had been a reporter at Fairfax before she joined the women’s air force. She spoke of anything she could think of, whatever might ease the sh
ock she’d seen on his face at the blunt announcement of their deaths.

  She knew he’d find it difficult to sleep tonight and hoped she’d manage to get some herself. There’d been so many restless nights recently when she’d been unable to sleep, trying to justify why she had made such a mess of her life. But much as she needed comfort herself, she could hardly talk of that to Carlo. To help him, she spoke about everything except her own past few years.

  By then it was after midnight. She wished she could stay with him, but her eyelids had begun to feel heavy.

  “Thank you so much for letting me ramble on, but I can see you’re really exhausted,” he spoke softly.

  “Close to it,” she answered.

  “Sleep well, Julia,” he said, releasing her hand.

  The next morning Carlo was checking the train times when Julia came down the stairs refreshed after the longest sleep she’d had in ages. She offered to drive him. He gladly accepted, saying it meant he could catch an earlier train.

  “I didn’t mean to the station, Carlo. I’ll drive you back to Cowra.”

  Janet, preparing lunch, and Jamie, deep in the Sunday papers, both heard this and looked at each other.

  “It’s much too far, Julia,” they heard him say.

  “It’s a nice Sunday drive and I really would like it. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Well, yes. But…”

  “Please?” Both parents listened for an answer. It came after a pause.

  “If you’re sure…then I’d like it very much”

  “I’m very sure. Any chance I can see the studio?”

  “I’d love to show it to you. I’ll ring Walt Disney and organise it.”

  She nodded, then blinked. “Did you say Walt Disney?”

  They heard Carlo’s laugh, the first one today. “Jeff Disney, nicknamed Walt. I couldn’t resist trying it on you, like Major Morton did to get a rise out of me. Walt’s a friend, and my chief assistant.”

  As they went off, Julia to the car and Carlo to pack, Jamie emerged from behind his newspaper. “All the way there?”