Eden

by Peter Watt

  Lukas went on deck and took the helm to steer a course closer to the coastline. He couldn’t help but feel that he was steering his ship into a dangerous intrigue.

  THIRTY

  Captain Karl Mann knew Sydney well. As a boy he and Lukas had been sent south from Papua to attend boarding school there and when they had returned to Papua they left a lot of friends behind. So when Karl stepped off the train from Melbourne at Central Station it was an opportunity to go in search of one or two old friends before continuing his journey deep into northern Queensland.

  Karl had been granted two days’ leave in Sydney and knew who he would catch up with first. He rummaged in the pocket of his uniform trousers to retrieve some coins for the telephone. His first call was to the offices of Tom Sullivan. If anyone could provide him with some snatches of news from Papua, it would have to be Tom.

  Karl was transferred to Tom’s office and was warmly greeted by the solicitor. ‘I am having a small party at my office tonight,’Tom said. ‘Your call couldn’t have come at a better time. The party is to celebrate a big contract one of my best employees has just secured.’ They chatted for a short time about what they knew concerning Jack Kelly, Lukas and Iris. ‘Do you know what ever happened to Marie?’ Karl asked.

  ‘Aha!’ Tom said. ‘Come tonight and all will be revealed.’ Before Karl could ask any more questions Tom Sullivan said he had a client to cope with and made his excuses to cut the conversation short. ‘Six o’clock at my office, and don’t be late.’

  Karl placed the phone in its cradle and stepped out of the booth to the salute of a passing soldier. He would check in to a hotel room arranged for him by the army and then fill in the afternoon by going to see a film in the city. He was looking forward to catching up with the solicitor, whose house he had spent many wonderful days at years earlier when Lukas had been seeing Sarah Sullivan, daughter of the colourful lawyer.

  When Karl emerged from the Capitol Theatre in the centre of the city it was just after 5pm. The evening was balmy and Sydney hardly appeared to be a city under threat from Japanese forces. People still went about their business as if the war did not exist, except for a few who carried gas masks in containers. Needless to say there were many more uniforms to be seen in the street, both American and Australian, and when the sun was down the city would go into a state of darkness in compliance with the blackout regulations.

  It was only a short tram trip to Tom Sullivan’s legal offices and Karl arrived within minutes. In the anteroom he was met by Tom himself, who limped towards Karl with a beaming smile and his hand outstretched. ‘Captain Karl Mann, MC,’ he said taking Karl’s hand. ‘How the devil are you, young fella?’

  Karl could feel the pressure of the solicitor’s handshake and winced, as he had done when as young lads he and Lukas had gone to the Sullivan residence on the occasional weekend leave from boarding school. Tom Sullivan was held in awe for his position in Sydney society. The father of the beautiful but snobbish Sarah had been an intimidating figure in those days before the war. Now Karl and he shared something in common, both men having won the coveted award of the Military Cross. ‘I’m fine, Mr Sullivan,’ Karl replied, releasing the grip. ‘It is good to see you, too. How is Mrs Sullivan, and Sarah?’

  ‘The wife has gone to the country to stay for a while,’ Tom answered, ushering Karl to a door. ‘She fears that the Japs are going to land any day and come marching down Pitt Street. As for Sarah, well she is married to a young banker who is doing very well for himself.’

  From behind the door Karl could hear the murmur of voices and a record player beating out a popular big band song. When Tom opened the door the eyes of those in the room were upon them. ‘Everyone, this is a young man who I would like to introduce you to, Captain Karl Mann.’

  Karl nodded and his eyes swept the room. There was a mixture of both men and women of varying ages, all dressed in smart civilian clothes and obviously employees of the legal firm. They smiled back at Karl and when Karl’s eyes came to rest on the most beautiful young woman in the room he felt a sudden shock.

  ‘Your answer to that question about Marie,’ Tom said, slapping Karl on the back. ‘The party is being held because Marie closed a big contract with the largest shopping chain in the state.’

  Karl could see that Marie was equally shocked. She stood in the company of two well-dressed young men in flash business suits and stared, mouth partially agape, almost tipping the flute of champagne she held onto the plush, carpeted floor.

  ‘You should go over and make yourself known again,’ Tom said with a wink. ‘Not that Marie will tell me what happened in Palestine but at least I know enough to suppose that you had some kind of adventure together.’

  Karl almost burst into laughter at the mention of an ‘adventure together’. How could he tell the solicitor that at one stage the beautiful young lady standing so poised in the board room might have killed him – given the right circumstances. Instead, he mumbled that he might do that, and accepted a glass of champagne thrust into his hand. Before he could take another step he found himself caught up in a conversation with one of Tom’s legal partners in the firm, discussing the campaign in Syria. The older man had served in Palestine with the Light Horse in the Great War and the conversation lapsed into a reminiscence of favoured recreational places in Jerusalem.

  Karl kept glancing across the room to where Marie stood with the two young men. He had hoped to catch her eye but she appeared to be consciously avoiding him. ‘Marie has a fine future with Tom’s enterprises,’ he heard the older man state. ‘A combination of her French accent and exotic beauty is enough to convince Old Nick himself to desert Hades.’

  Karl could agree with that. Dressed in a chic, body-hugging skirt and blouse, Marie was the epitome of a modern young businesswoman. Karl had been impressed by her beauty when he had first laid eyes on her in the Jerusalem café but transposed to this environment, she truly shone. He decided however that Marie was more interested in the two young men whose company she shared, and drank his wine faster than he should have. The evening wore on with a rotation of Tom’s business acquaintances and colleagues introducing themselves and showing a passing interest in Karl’s experiences as a soldier recently returned from the fighting in the Middle East.

  Not used to the heady wine, Karl excused himself to leave the room. He had noticed a balcony running off from the anteroom that overlooked the city and decided that it was a good place to take time out from the monotonous questions about the war from the well-meaning but boring people. Unnoticed, he slipped away quietly. It was dark on the balcony and Karl lit a cigarette and leaned on the rails, gazing across the street to a space between the tall buildings where he could see the waters of the Harbour sparkling under a full moon. Karl felt a rare moment of peace. Behind him he could still hear the muffled laughter from the party and the clink of crystal champagne flutes.

  ‘I did not speak to you at my party,’ Karl heard the familiar voice say. ‘I was embarrassed.’

  Karl turned from the balcony rail to see Marie framed by the door. ‘Hello, would you like to join me?’ he asked.

  Hesitantly, Marie stepped forward to stand beside Karl. She gripped the railing and stared towards the Harbour. ‘It was a shock to see you tonight,’ Marie said softly. ‘I thought I was doing a good job of putting Palestine behind me.’

  ‘It was a bit of a shock for me, too,’ Karl said.

  ‘You are now a captain, no?’ she asked, turning to Karl.

  ‘Yeah, and I hear that you are Tom Sullivan’s up and coming executive for his retail enterprises. That’s a long way from serving Arabic coffee in your father’s café.’

  ‘Pierre was not my real father,’ Marie answered quietly. ‘My father was a German Legionnaire.’

  Karl was surprised at her confession. ‘So we share common blood,’ he said.

  ‘I will always consider myself French,’ Marie countered. ‘I was raised as a French woman.’

  ‘Whoever you are, I
think that you are an extraordinary woman,’ Karl said, turning to puff on his cigarette and watch the smoke curl away.

  ‘Do you have a cigarette for me?’ Marie asked.

  ‘I had the impression that you don’t smoke,’ Karl teased. ‘It is not a good habit to get into. Sadly, of late I have found the practice soothing for the nerves.’

  ‘I don’t smoke,’ Marie replied. ‘But I have a need of a cigarette now.’

  Karl held the packet out to her and when she had retrieved a cigarette he lit a match. Marie took the hand in which he held the match and drew it to her. The cigarette flared.

  ‘I think that I am nervous too,’ Marie said, taking a short puff. ‘But I will not continue smoking after tonight.’

  ‘You have no reason to be nervous around me,’ Karl said reassuringly. ‘I will be leaving soon on the train to Brisbane.’

  ‘You are going back to the war?’ Marie asked.

  ‘It looks that way,’ Karl said, not making eye contact.

  ‘Thank you for your earlier compliment, Captain Mann,’ she said. ‘I was afraid to walk up to you this evening because of what had happened when we were in Palestine. I thought that you might hate me for my role in your treatment at the hands of the German agent.’

  Karl stepped back from the railing and laughed softly. ‘That is all part of the beast we call war,’ he said, facing Marie and noticing for the first time how frightened and nervous she appeared. He could not remember seeing her as vulnerable before in Palestine. ‘I do not blame you or your mother for what happened. As a matter of fact we would not be having this conversation had it not been for the brave actions of your mother.’

  ‘I think that you are right,’ Marie said. ‘I feel that fate brought you into my mother’s and my life for the better.’

  Karl felt a surge of respect and gentle love for the young woman. Her life before Australia had obviously been hard but she had the spirit to fight her way into a new life divorced from her old one. ‘I would like to see you again,’ he said.

  Marie impulsively touched Karl’s face with her hand. ‘I would like that,’ she said. ‘I will make a confession to you. When I first met you I thought that you were a very handsome man. And now, in this place far from Palestine, I still see the same handsome man who I sense has a gentle soul.’ She leaned forward and kissed Karl on his lips. ‘That is to say thank you, Captain Mann.’

  ‘My name is Karl,’ he replied. ‘Captain belongs to the soldier –and he is not all of me.’

  ‘Karl,’ Marie said. ‘It is a strong name –I like it. But now I must return to my party or they will come looking for me.’

  ‘I guess you should,’ Karl conceded reluctantly.

  ‘Until we meet again, au revoir.’ Marie said, turning to leave the balcony.

  Karl watched her walk away and sighed. Bloody time was against him, he swore under his breath. He turned, lit another cigarette and gazed at the Harbour. Something magical had happened in his life. Whatever it was he knew it would go with him into the jungles and battlefields of Papua. He was not sure that it was love but he was certain that the attraction between him and Marie was mutual.

  When Karl had finished the cigarette he returned to the party to bid Tom farewell. Marie was again standing across the room in the midst of a group of people. He caught her eye and she smiled.

  Karl made his way home through the darkened city to his hotel. He fell on his bed, his head reeling from the champagne and memory of what had occurred on the balcony. As brief as the encounter had been, it had filled him with a reason to return and see the beautiful young woman. It was strange, he mused, staring at the ceiling, that war had brought them together. He only hoped that war would not drive them apart.

  ‘I thought that you might like these,’ Karl said awk-wardly, standing in the anteroom of Tom Sullivan’s office.

  Marie gazed at the bouquet of flowers Karl held out to her and glanced up to smile at the soldier. ‘Merci, Karl,’ she said, taking the arrangement of white, waxy gladioli from him. ‘How did you know that I would be here?’

  ‘Tom told me that you were due for a meeting with him this morning and I thought since it was my last day in Sydney that you and I could enjoy the splendid day outside.’

  ‘But I must work,’ Marie said.

  ‘No you don’t, young lady,’ Tom Sullivan’s voice boomed from behind her. ‘You take the day off and enjoy yourself.’

  Marie turned to the solicitor standing in his office doorway and flashed him a grateful smile.

  ‘Thanks, Tom,’ Karl said, and turned to Marie. ‘How would you like to go for a ferry ride to Manly and have lunch on the beach?’

  ‘That sounds splendid,’ Marie replied, still holding the flowers. ‘But am I dressed for lunch?’ she asked.

  Karl’s slow smile lit up his normally serious expression. ‘For fish and chips, you are,’ he said.

  Marie handed the bouquet to Tom and placed her handbag on her shoulder. She took Karl by the arm and led him towards the door. Her tender gesture felt good and Karl was acutely aware of the wonderful scent of the perfume she was wearing.

  Later, they stood at the bow of the ferry crossing the Harbour. It was a beautiful sunny day with just a touch of coolness in the autumn air. The little ferry glided past the great man o’ war ships from the Australian and Allied fleets. Yet, among the reminders of the war were a few delicate-looking sailing skiffs dancing across the blue waters of the Harbour, crewed by those who had chosen to avoid their offices in the city on such a beautiful day.

  Marie stood close to Karl, gripping the ferry’s rails. The thump thump of the boat’s engine was like a heartbeat and Karl watched her serene expression of joy as the ferry made its way towards the Manly pier, passing by the sandstone headlands dotted with the spindly vegetation of the foreshores.

  ‘Almost there,’ he said unnecessarily, the ferry’s crew already preparing the ropes and gangplanks for landing.

  ‘It is a beautiful city,’ Marie sighed. ‘I am glad that I came here.’

  ‘Have you been to Manly before?’ Karl asked as the ferry glided into the pier.

  ‘No,’ Marie answered, taking Karl by the arm to steady herself as the ferry bumped into the wharf. ‘But Mr Sullivan has told me that you and your friend Lukas Kelly used to spend a lot of time here when you were on leave from your school.’

  ‘Tom has told you a lot.’ Karl smiled.

  ‘That is because I asked him,’ Marie replied mysteriously.

  They stepped off the ferry and walked up the wharf. Seagulls scurried in front of them as they stepped out onto the street fronted by a hotel. Together they walked up the street past little shops. Marie would occasionally stop to look into the window of a dress or hat shop. Karl was aware that she had the ability to turn men’s heads as they passed and Marie was aware that she received more then one look of envy from the women on the street. They were a fine-looking pair:the tall and well-built young captain wearing the ribband on his broad chest indicating his proven courage in war, and the petite, exotically beautiful young woman.

  Karl stopped at a fish and chip shop, ordered two servings and was handed newspaper-wrapped parcels steaming with the aroma of salt and fish. He handed one to Marie and they then walked to the end of the street, where the Pacific Ocean rolled onto the beach of yellow sand.

  ‘We can sit on the beach and feed the seagulls if you don’t like the chips,’ Karl said.

  ‘I like chips,’ Marie answered. ‘I have had them before.’

  Sitting side-by-side in silence, with their legs tucked up, they ate the chips with their fingers from the top of the packets, torn open to retrieve them. Karl was hungry and ate his meal unself-consciously while Marie picked delicately at her packet. They watched the great breakers crash on the shore. The beach was virtually deserted as the swimming season was over and only those who wished their solitude haunted the sands.

  ‘When do you leave?’ Marie asked.

  ‘Tonight,’ Karl sa
id, tossing a chip to a gathering of gulls waiting patiently. With squawks and a flurry of white feathers they fell on the chip, chasing the lucky recipient for a share.

  ‘That is too early,’ Marie commented, also throwing out a chip to the gulls now gathering for more, with the same noisy result. ‘Do you know where you are going?’

  ‘Just somewhere up north,’ Karl answered, not wanting to think about what lay ahead in the jungles of Papua and New Guinea.

  Marie did not question him any further on the subject. She strongly suspected that Karl was going somewhere dangerous. ‘It was nice talking last night,’ she said quietly.

  Karl turned his attention away from the squabbling seagulls. ‘You may think I am what we say in Papua is, long long luk. That means to be crazy, but I never forgot your face in all the time after I met you. I don’t know why but the memory of you stayed with me when I went back to the front and even when I travelled home. When I saw you last night it felt to me that a dream had come true.’

  ‘I felt the same,’ Marie answered. ‘It is hard to say why I should feel this way about a man I hardly know. But it is through you I have found myself in a place that I now love. My mother has told me that it was because of what you did that we were able to be here.’

  ‘Then it is only gratitude that you feel,’ Karl said, with just the trace of bitterness in his voice.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Marie replied, impulsively gripping Karl’s arm. ‘It is more than that but I am afraid to … what do you say … commit myself to my feelings. All I know is that I like you very much.’

  ‘That’s a start,’ Karl grinned. ‘It’s just too bad that we don’t have more time to progress with that.’

  ‘I do not understand,’ Marie said with a puzzled expression on her face.

  ‘It doesn’t mean anything in particular,’ Karl replied, glancing at his watch. He knew that he would have to make his way reluctantly back to the city to catch the train out that evening. ‘I suppose we should go.’