In tune with her lowering mood, the blue sky had become overcast with thick, heavy clouds that pressed close. It wasn’t only the Japanese who approached. A storm was rolling in from the sea.
‘I’ve been hearing a lot of trucks on the road,’ her uncle said. ‘Sounds to me like the army’s on the move.’
‘Perhaps we shouldn’t wait then. We should take one of our own vehicles,’ said Cora.
Her husband frowned at her. ‘Where would we drive to? I don’t really fancy our chances of leaving Rabaul now.’
‘Perhaps we could go up to the mission. Safety in numbers.’
‘Or perhaps we should wait just a little longer for Corporal Palmer?’ Georgina suggested carefully.
‘Yes, of course,’ agreed her uncle.
Five minutes later it began to rain, falling first in fat heavy drops and then gathering force until it became a thick curtain that completely obscured their view.
The housemaid, Flo, had already left under Teddy’s orders, so Georgina helped her aunt to clear away their teacups and saucers. Cora closed some of the shutters and lit several pretty lamps. The house was still surprisingly warm and cosy, despite sections of the wall left open to the rain, and if Georgina hadn’t been so worried, she might have enjoyed sitting there, warm and dry in the beautiful lamp-lit house, while a tropical storm thundered above and around them.
As it grew darker, the air raid died down, but conversation became strained and they sat, ears alert, hoping to catch the sound of an approaching vehicle. Hating the tension, Georgina told her aunt and uncle every shred of news from home that she could think of – about her work in London and about her parents coping rather badly without servants and how Primrose Cavendish was running her parents’ farm.
‘She’s so incredibly busy, with all her brothers away fighting and her father unfit after being gassed in the last war. She only has a girl from the Land Army to help. Between them they do all the milking, and mucking out the stables, caring for the chickens, picking the fruit, making jam. But Primrose looks wonderfully fit and well. I think she’s loving the war, to be honest!’
She told them that her sister Alice was hoping for a baby, but so far had been unlucky with getting pregnant.
‘That’s not such a bad thing. This is a terrible time to bring a baby into the world,’ Aunt Cora said rather tightly.
Georgina felt obliged to defend her sister. ‘But poor Alice would adore a baby and she’s lonely. James is with the RAF and he gets such sporadic leave.’
‘She could always follow your example and get a job.’
Not Alice, Georgina thought to herself. Her sister was like her mother. Alice had been horrified when Georgina joined the ATS. ‘They’ll have you driving ambulances and changing truck tyres,’ she’d said with a look of disdain, as if this was completely beneath her.
But now, as the sound of planes and gunfire renewed, was no time for disloyal thoughts about family, and Georgina had run out of news. Even so, she didn’t like to ask Cora and Teddy about their life here on the plantation when they were about to leave it and had no idea when they might be able to return.
Restless, she rose from her chair and went to the open doorway to look out. It was almost dark now and the rain had eased, although water continued to drip from the trees, and the dusk was filled with the scents of damp earth and decomposing vegetation and the sounds of noisy insects and frogs. Georgina had never heard so many frogs.
She was about to agree with Teddy that they should make their own plans without waiting any longer, when she heard something else – the sound of a motor quite close. Not the full-bodied roar of a truck or car, but more of a purr.
‘I think someone’s coming,’ she said. ‘Can you hear that engine?’
Teddy, joining her at the doorway, listened and frowned. ‘Sounds like a motorbike.’
And sure enough, as they peered into the gathering gloom, they saw a single light bobbing and weaving down the track. Moments later, a motorbike roared onto the lawn. Its rider was in khaki and he had a backpack and a rifle slung over one shoulder.
He killed the bike’s motor and dismounted. He wore a commando’s beret.
Harry.
She thought for a moment that her heart had stopped beating. ‘What are you doing here?’ she called. ‘What happened to Corporal Palmer?’
‘Don’t know,’ Harry said grimly. ‘We haven’t heard from him.’ His deadly serious gaze quickly took in her aunt and uncle. ‘Here’s the situation,’ he said without waiting for introductions. ‘Three Wirraways have been shot down and two others have crash landed. A massive Japanese fleet is just offshore and Rabaul’s been evacuated. The men in Lark Force have been told to hold Kokopo Ridge Road open for as long as possible, but after that, they have to fend for themselves. Civilians have stockpiled food and if they’re young and fit enough they’re heading for the bush and the mountains. Otherwise they’re taking refuge in the missions.’
Teddy and Cora looked at each other, their gaze troubled, yet somehow resigned.
‘We wouldn’t last long in the jungle,’ Teddy said. ‘We’re not as fit as we used to be, and I’d only be a hindrance with one arm.’
‘And I’d much prefer to go to the mission.’ Cora even managed a small smile. ‘At least they have beds.’
‘Do you have transport?’ Harry asked them.
‘Yes,’ said Uncle Teddy. ‘We have a car.’
‘Then I suggest you drive to the mission at Talligap.’
Teddy nodded. ‘We can do that. So there’s absolutely no hope of getting out via Rabaul?’
‘None at all, I’m afraid.’ Harry turned to Georgina. ‘Your major had to leave. He didn’t want to go without you, but he had to get back to Australia safely and the Catalina couldn’t wait.’
Georgina was now almost too terrified to think straight, although one part of her frantic brain registered that Major Duffy had a duty to get back to the embassy and deliver his report. If he’d come searching for her and risked being captured, he could have faced a court martial.
Harry’s mouth tightened. ‘I assured the major I’d get you out.’
‘But you shouldn’t have to worry about me.’
He didn’t reply, although she fancied she saw the merest flicker of a softer emotion, but it was gone too quickly to be sure.
‘We’re packed and ready,’ said Cora. ‘And we could take Georgina with us.’
Harry turned to George. ‘Under the circumstances, your best bet is to come with me,’ he said. ‘It’ll be damned uncomfortable and dangerous, but I promised Duffy I’d get you out. At least I’ve had jungle training. My role here is to help retreating infantry men.’ His bright glance rested on her. ‘Or women.’ He dragged a deep breath. ‘With luck, we’ll get across country to one of the bays and then a boat off the island.’
‘But I’ll slow you down, Harry. You have a duty to your men.’
‘Georgina,’ said her uncle. ‘Don’t argue. You’re young and fit. Go with this man. If you go to the mission, you’ll probably have to surrender and be taken prisoner.’
She stared at Cora and Teddy in dismay. ‘Is that what you think will happen to you?’
Her uncle shrugged, then nodded.
Oh, dear Lord.
The tropical night closed in and Georgina’s tension skyrocketed. In truth, the thought of fleeing through a jungle terrified her and she much preferred the sound of the mission, even if it meant being taken prisoner, but Harry was the expert. She had no choice but to trust him.
So.
One last, too quick, too desperate hug of Cora, and then her aunt and uncle hurried off, while Georgina climbed onto the back of the motorbike. Harry kick-started the motor and the bike took off with a snarling leap while she wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on for dear life, grateful for his reassuring strength.
As they reached the main road, a truck hurtled past with soldiers on the running board, while others clung to the canvas on top. After sev
eral winding corners, they were in open country again, passing through the Three Ways and bumping along a rough track heading inland. And it was there that Georgina saw, in the brief flash of the bike’s headlights, a shiny black vehicle upended in a ditch by the side of the road.
‘Harry!’ she shouted, pointing as she recognised the car.
He slowed to a juddering halt.
‘I think that’s Corporal Palmer’s car,’ she yelled.
Harry nodded.
‘Should we check to —’
Harry had already cut the motor. ‘Stay with the bike,’ he ordered gruffly before he hurried to the ditch and made his way, slithering on his behind, to the vehicle.
It was too dark for Georgina to see him clearly and she schooled herself to remain calm as she waited. The warm night pressed around her and she tried not to think about what perils lay ahead of them in the jungle, tried to forget the comforts she’d left behind in the house in Belgravia.
She imagined Cora and Teddy arriving at the mission, being greeted with kindness and given a hot meal.
Harry was back. ‘Zeroes shot him up,’ he said as he climbed back onto the bike. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do here. We have to get cracking. Hang on tight.’
16
‘Hey there, how’s my girl?’ Keith’s cheery greeting was followed by the sound of the front door closing and his footsteps coming down the hallway. The footsteps stopped abruptly as he reached the living room. ‘Ro, what’s the matter?’
Ro was stretched on the sofa, clutching a cushion to her chest. She sighed. ‘Nothing. I’m fine. Just a bit tired.’
‘Are you sure that’s all?’ Keith came closer, his kind face creased with concern.
‘I’m missing Lucy,’ she said, offering the first explanation that sprang to mind. She didn’t want Keith to worry, as he was inclined to, after nursing his wife, Deirdre, through a long and harrowing illness.
Unfortunately, her explanation didn’t seem to satisfy him.
‘But Lucy’s only been gone ten days. She was away for months when she was in Afghanistan and you weren’t like this.’ His frown deepened. ‘You’ve been different ever since she left for England.’
Ro sighed, wishing she’d thought this through before she grabbed Lucy as her excuse.
The sorry truth was she’d spent a lovely afternoon wallowing in self-indulgent misery, a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself in ages, not since she’d moved into this apartment with Keith.
It had seemed necessary after six weeks of trying so damn hard to be perfect. She had given up smoking – for good this time – and she’d stuck to drinking no more than two glasses of wine in the evenings. She’d kept the apartment spotless and she’d even hosted a successful dinner party for Keith’s best friends. That event had been pretty scary, given that his friends were two super respectable and very nice couples who’d been married for decades and had known Keith and Deirdre since their children’s playgroup days.
Ro had also bent over backwards to be the best possible stepmother for Ashley and Morgan, Keith’s two grown-up daughters. She’d lavished the girls with compliments and had never once criticised them or offered a contrary opinion, even though they had implied, ever so subtly, that Ro would benefit from shedding a few kilos and joining a granny gym.
With commendable self-control, Ro had refrained from telling the girls that their father seemed to enjoy her curves. Instead she’d simply smiled serenely and bought them little gifts. Nothing too over the top – a handmade soap, or a glass bead bracelet from the Sunday markets in the Mall. And whenever the girls dropped in to visit their father, Ro had cooked them the nerdy, health-conscious tofu stir-fries or couscous salads that they adored. And she’d made sure that their father’s shirts weren’t in a tangle on the laundry floor, but washed and ironed and hanging in his wardrobe.
As for Christmas! She’d been a gold-plated domestic goddess.
Sustained self-discipline, however, was exhausting. And today Ro had allowed herself to hang up her halo and take an afternoon off, to indulge in a few hours of reversion to the old, up-and-down, less-than-perfect Ro Hunter.
It was Friday, after all, and with the help of a chilled sauvignon blanc, she’d recollected, as she had done so many times in the past, all the justifiable reasons she had to feel sorry for herself. The memories were a record of her messed-up life, starting way back when she was a child and progressing through her disastrous teenage years in England and her succession of equally disastrous adult relationships back in Australia, including her ongoing rocky relationship with her daughter.
She’d made herself thoroughly miserable, but so what? It was impossible to be an upbeat Pollyanna all the time, and she decided this was a necessary lapse.
Now, however, Keith’s frown deepened as he picked up the empty wine bottle from the coffee table beside Ro, then dropped a glance to the almost empty glass, set handily within her reach on the floor.
‘Have you drunk all of this on your own?’
Ro pouted. ‘What if I have?’
He was looking so concerned and surprised, she decided not to tell him that she’d also downed the half bottle they’d left in the fridge.
‘Can I get you a glass of water, Ro?’
‘No, thanks,’ she said tartly.
With a shrug, he went to the kitchen and hung his car keys on the convenient row of hooks he’d screwed to the wall. Then he carefully removed his wallet from his pocket and set it on the kitchen counter in the same spot he’d chosen when they first moved in. A man of tidy habits, her Keith.
In front of the fridge, he hesitated. ‘Did you have anything in particular planned for dinner?’
Ro sighed again, more loudly this time. Today was the first day since she’d moved into the apartment that she hadn’t been interested in planning dinner. This evening she felt awash with the Friday-night-let’s-dial-a-pizza weariness that she’d so often succumbed to before she met Keith. ‘I thought we could wander down Palmer Street and have something simple. Maybe a fresh salad.’
‘Okay,’ Keith said. ‘But you’d probably be better with something more filling.’
Annoyed, Ro sat up, placed the cushion precisely in the corner of the sofa and straightened her skirt. ‘I’m not pissed, Keith. I don’t need something to soak up the grog.’
‘But you do look tired,’ he said carefully. ‘I’ll go down the street and get takeaway fish and chips and we can —’
‘I’d rather have grilled fish and salad.’ Secretly, Ro rather liked the sound of fish and chips, but she was in an annoyingly obstinate mood. ‘I’m on a diet, remember?’
His light-green eyes widened and Ro half-expected him to point out the number of liquid calories she’d already consumed. Instead, he said in placating tones, ‘All right, that’s fine. Grilled fish it is.’
‘And you don’t have to go on your own,’ Ro added. ‘If you wait five minutes, I can change. I could even have a quick shower while you’re relaxing with a beer.’
Keith always had a beer or two on Fridays.
But now he was frowning again. ‘Are you sure you want to bother with going out?’
The extra careful way he asked this added to Ro’s annoyance.
‘What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t you want me to come with you?’
‘I just thought —’
‘You think I’m going to stumble down the footpath? Throw up in the gutter?’
Keith’s face twisted into a grimace of dark vexation, an expression she’d never seen on him before. ‘No, Ro,’ he said now, with the exaggerated patience of a parent dealing with a teenager on the edge. ‘I just thought you might like to eat in tonight. An easy dinner on the balcony.’
She knew this was reasonable. She’d told Keith often enough that their balcony was her favourite place in the whole world. And actually, she was starting to feel rather tired. She shrugged. ‘All right, whatever.’
When she got to her feet, she was – oops – a little un
steady. She hoped Keith didn’t notice. ‘Maybe I’ll have that shower anyway,’ she said, hoping the steady stream of warm water would revive her.
In the bathroom, Ro vowed this would be her one and only fall from grace. She actually liked herself much better when she was being ‘good’ and it hadn’t been all that hard to be the kind of woman Keith expected and deserved. Not really. She was already regretting her impulse to indulge.
Now, as warm water and the scent of lavender and patchouli soap helped to soothe her, she promised herself this would not happen again. She shampooed her hair for good measure.
She only felt a little woozy when she stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, and she was wrapping it around her when Keith put his head around the doorway. She thought he might have come in. She would have liked him to take her, naked and willing, into his arms.
He said, ‘I’ll pop down and get that fish.’
‘All right.’ Disappointed, Ro felt a small cloud of inexplicable sadness settle over her as she began to towel herself dry. Her bathrobe was hanging on a hook behind the door and she pulled it on, yawning as she tied the waist. With a towel wrapped around her damp head, she went through to the bedroom.
Keith would be away for at least twenty minutes, so there was time for a lie down. A short refreshing nap was all she needed.
The mattress was a pillow top, such a wonderful invention, and it seemed to welcome Ro as she settled into its cloud-like softness. With her eyes closed, she relaxed and, almost immediately, the same memories that she’d wallowed in all afternoon came streaming back. Happy memories at first, of her childhood at Kalkadoon. The bright flashing smile of her best friend Dougie. Swimming and fishing in the creek with Dougie and his cousins and then eating the fish they baked in the coals of a camp fire. The sound of his uncles’ clap sticks and their voices singing in language down on the creek bank.
She remembered riding out over the paddocks with her father. When she was little, her father had set her on the saddle in front of him with his strong arm holding her safe, and then when she was older, she’d had her own pony that she’d called Prince Charles.
The Secret Years Page 17