Whitsunday Dawn

by Annie Seaton

  Jack’s quiet exclamation puffed past her as the algae wrapped around the stick and she moved it up and down, and from side to side, writing her name in the water. Electric blues and pink formed the letters and they hung there suspended in the still water.

  ‘That is so super. I’ve never seen anything like that before.’ Amazement filled Jack’s voice as he kept hold of her with one firm hand and took the stick from her with the other. ‘My turn.’

  Their fingers brushed as he moved closer to her.

  Lily’s cheeks burned as she watched Jack draw a heart. In the centre of the heart he wrote ‘Jack’ and then ‘Lily’. The shape of the letters hovered in the water until the next small wave pushed them into a swirl of colours. ‘It mightn’t be as permanent as names carved in wood, but I want you to remember that and think about me every time you look at the water. Until I come back next time. Will you promise me that, Lily?’

  ‘I promise,’ she said. ‘And you promise me you’ll come back and visit again as soon as you can.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Oh, Jack.’ She turned her face into his hand so that his palm cupped her cheek.

  ‘It will make things so much easier if I know you’re thinking of me every day, Liliana.’

  ‘You will be in my thoughts and in my prayers every day.’ Her voice was a whisper, but she lifted her face to his and met his eyes as the launch headed for the jetty. ‘I promise.’

  * * *

  After dinner that night, the children were allowed to stay up for a while. Boyd went to the shed and came back with a knife and a piece of wood and began to whittle. Jack focused on Liliana’s voice as she told a story to the small children. Tatiana was sitting out on the steps staring at the sky as Alexandra sewed beneath the light of a kerosene lamp on a table by her chair.

  Like the last time he’d been here, the war seemed to be a bad dream, something that was not real. If Jack closed his eyes, he could forget it. That damn book that he was supposed to memorise was sitting in the bottom of his kit bag. The longer he left it, the more reluctant he was to open it. It was too real, and it brought the danger of the war home to him every time he thought of it. Maybe if he didn’t learn it, they’d send him home. But he knew there was no chance of that. He swallowed and pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on Liliana’s soft voice.

  ‘Behind the white sand at Betty’s Beach, there are all those funny little trees. Do you remember them?’ She dropped her voice low and the boys looked up at her. ‘The little ones with the scary, twisted branches?’

  The twins nodded wide-eyed.

  ‘One night on the full moon, a patch of silver light climbed one of those trees. That very tree was a playground for the fairies.’

  ‘Do they swim in the water?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘Yes. The fairies hide their tiny clothes in the debris on the beach and flit out to the waves at midnight. You thought it was little fish jumping in the shallows, didn’t you? It’s the fairy bath and they choose their place very well. They dive to the coral garden and they pick the beautiful flowers for their homes in their secret place in the middle of the island.’

  ‘But the coral is hard,’ Billy, always the pragmatic one, protested. Liliana caught Jack’s eye as she compromised, and he swallowed.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. It’s to protect the garden from our fishing lines.’

  He could have listened to her voice all night, but he’d already stayed way too long after dinner. It was good, sitting here in this easy atmosphere where there was no need to put on anything other than he was.

  The three young children were yawning and Alexandra put aside her sewing. ‘Come on, my darlings, it is time to go to bed and dream of wonderful things.’ She held out her arms and swung Katarina onto her hip. ‘Come on, boys. You too.’

  Jack stood as she did, and she waved him back to his seat. ‘Don’t go, Jack. Stay and keep Boyd company for a while. Tatiana and Liliana, you can stay up later tonight too.’

  Jack caught Liliana’s eye as her mother walked inside, and her shy smile made his heart warm. She was so beautiful. Her voice had been mesmerising as she’d told her fairy story.

  Boyd cleared his throat and Jack realised he had intercepted the look between them, but his smile was indulgent.

  CHAPTER

  20

  19 May, 1942

  The cup of tea that Jack had managed to drink as they were briefed for the mission roiled in his stomach as he leaned against the cold metal and strapped himself in. The space next to the pylon between the two engines he shared with the flight engineer was claustrophobic. He slipped on the ear muffs and focused on the small square of blue sky he could see through the small square window opposite him.

  His hands shook as he put them back onto his lap and he tried to marshal his thoughts. If he could stop this bloody fear that was gripping his insides every time he boarded the Cat, he could get through this.

  Bloody Dad. Bloody Richard. Bloody war.

  Ever since that flight back from Salamaua, the nightmares had got worse. But being up in the Cat again was ten times worse than any nightmare. He couldn’t wake up from this. His heart was beating out of his chest, his knees were shaking and he was sure he was going to vomit. Putting his hand to his mouth, he looked up as Jonesy, the flight engineer, tapped his shoulder and he lifted the ear muffs with one hand.

  ‘Heard any good jokes lately, Jacko?’

  ‘What?’ Jack stared at him as the bile burned his throat.

  ‘Best way to get through this, mate. We’re okay. It’s that bloody Zero that spooked you, isn’t it?’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Well, it’s a shit thing we have to do each mission, and I’m as scared as you are.’

  ‘Really?’

  Jonesy was an officer and, up until two minutes ago, had never spoken to Jack even though they’d spent hours in the same briefing room over the past months, as well as the hours they’d spent in the air. Megsy, who was down the back of the plane with the navigator, and Jack were the only NCOs on board, and they’d quickly learned their place in the hierarchy.

  ‘That doesn’t mean we have to like it,’ Megsy had said as they’d eaten in the mess before going to the airfield. ‘But I’ve learned to shut my mouth a bit.’

  All Jack was wishing now was that he’d learned to control his mouth at home and hadn’t stormed out and enlisted. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the vineyard at home. The vine leaves would be turning red and most would have fallen from—

  ‘Yep, bloody shit-scared.’ Jonesy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘It’s such a blasted long time to be out over the water. I hate it every time.’

  Jack’s eyes widened, and his fear began to recede as he held Jonesy’s eye.

  ‘Did you hear the one about the German soldier, the old lady, a buxom girl, and a young Frenchman?’ the engineer said with a cheeky smile.

  Jack shook his head and listened to the joke. Even though it wasn’t funny, it had the desired effect. The nausea passed and the shaking eased a bit.

  ‘Bloody hot in here,’ he said as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  ‘What did you think of Dumbo?’ Jonesy asked with a grin.

  Jack grinned back and his nausea eased a little. He’d noticed the grey and pink elephant with big floppy ears some wag had painted beneath the angled metal of the forward cockpit as the barge driver had taken them under the Cat where it floated on the water.

  ‘Something to cheer you up, lads.’ He’d knocked the motor out of gear and idled the engine and they drifted under the front of the aircraft. ‘Meet your new mascot.’

  It was a calm afternoon, and the usual easterly breeze hadn’t come up yet, which boded well for a good take off. No bombs to increase the weight of the aircraft, and no chop to plough through as the captain got enough revs up to lift the cumbersome Cat from the harbour.

  ‘We hope it’ll confuse the Nips and give you blokes a bit of a laugh.’

  ‘Wha
t’s it supposed to be?’ Captain Munford’s grin was wide, and Jack relaxed. He wasn’t sure how the officer would take it.

  ‘Dumbo, captain.’ The barge operator fired up the engine and guided the barge around to the ladder behind the cockpit.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ This time the captain’s voice hadn’t held any amusement, and the bargeman cleared his throat.

  ‘Not you, captain. Dumbo. It’s a new movie. Just come out at the pictures. We all thought Dumbo the elephant would bring you some luck.’

  The propellers started and after a few minutes, the noise inside the aircraft was deafening. Jonesy leaned over and yelled at him, and he could barely hear what he was saying even when he lifted the ear muff. ‘Big breaths in, to the count of four, and then out for the same. That’ll settle you, mate. And don’t feel like a ninny. I still do it.’

  Jack watched as the engineer went across to the other side of the narrow space and pulled the harness belt over his shoulders. He grinned at Jack and gave him the thumbs up as the Catalina began to move.

  Ten minutes later, Jack was calm. The noise of the engines had settled to a just less than deafening roar, and he ignored the occasional juddering of the plane. His shaking had stopped and his breathing was back to normal. The sweat was gone as cold air came in through every gap in the metal skin. As the huge aircraft banked to the right, the pressure on Jack’s harness increased and he leaned forward with the movement to ease the pressure. As the plane dipped lower, he caught a glimpse of the sky. Purple clouds were lined with golden shards of sunlight as the sun sank behind the mountains to the west. He took another deep breath. There was no point being scared; it wasn’t going to make any difference to the outcome of the night. If they came across a Japanese fighter, worrying about it wouldn’t change the outcome. He had to stay vigilant. As the plane banked in the other direction, Jack caught a glimpse of blue water and shadowed islands below, and wondered if Liliana would hear them fly over.

  What would be would be. He was doing his bit for the war effort. And he’d do it for as long as he had to.

  If he didn’t die today, maybe he would write to Mum and tell her he was okay.

  * * *

  Lily had woken up early and slipped out of bed quietly. Last night just before sunset, she’d heard a plane fly over. She knew Jack was on it and she’d put her fingers to her lips and prayed that he would stay safe through the night. She’d pushed her feet into her canvas shoes, and walked down to the shoreline in her pyjamas. If it hadn’t been for Jack’s visits and her worry about him on the missions, she could almost have forgotten there was a war on.

  It was one of those perfect autumn days in the islands when the water was that special colour—not blue or green but a glorious mix of sea colours that enticed you to touch it, dip your fingers into the warmth and let the water caress your fingers as it ran over your skin.

  The palm huts were empty until next Saturday. Family life was back to normal, Dad and the boys had gone fishing at sunrise. She’d heard them in the kitchen before daybreak, and she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after they’d left. When they came back, she’d make sure she went with the boys to the goats later this morning. She might have promised Jack she wouldn’t say anything, but she had been extra vigilant when the twins were outside.

  Her book was sitting unread beneath her bed. Every time she’d gone to pick it up, her thoughts had turned to Jack and she’d lain in bed dreaming about him instead of reading. She put her hand up to her face and trailed her fingers down her cheek. Jack’s kisses filled her dreams. Her good dreams.

  The night he’d left to go back to the base, she’d woken with a start, heart pounding as she’d dreamed of the war. Japanese soldiers had been up on the peak building a hut, and in her dream, they had come down to raid Mama’s vegetable garden. Jack had been in every dream, looking out for her and chasing the soldiers away with one of Dad’s whittling knives.

  Lily sat there staring over the water. The noise around her increased as the day brightened. Small fish plopped in the shallows with tiny splashes, and the parrots began to squawk as they sought the nectar from the blossoms on the trees in the veggie garden at the top of the hill. In the distance, she could see Dad and the twins in the fishing boat in the channel and from the frequent whoops coming across the water, they must be catching fish. Maybe she could go to Proserpine with Dad if the catch was big enough and pick up a newspaper from the railway station. She hadn’t seen a current paper for almost three weeks now. If there was a mention of the Japanese infiltration, she could show Dad, and that wouldn’t be breaking the promise that sat heavily in her mind. Being isolated on their island, not knowing what was happening in the war, made her feel helpless.

  The low hum of a motor vibrated in the still air and she looked across the Passage, expecting to see the steam launch coming, although it was way earlier than it usually arrived. Lily jumped to her feet as the noise increased, until it became so loud she could feel it in her chest. She held her hand to her throat and as she looked up, a shadow crossed the peak. A plane painted black dipped slowly towards the bay. It was so close as it approached, she could see the propellers spinning, and the huge wing span. As it swooped lower, she wondered if it was going to land. It was one of the amphibious craft that Jack had told the boys about. Their eyes had been wide when he had told them how the Catalinas could land on the water. As she watched the aircraft, it seemed to hang in the air above the island. Slowly, ponderously, with a huge roar of engines, it flew over the jetty where she was standing and as she stared up, she could see the white faces of the men on board through the windscreen. There were two windows where faces were peering out: one tucked beneath the wings and the other lower and further back. Lily ran to the end of the jetty and waved both arms madly as she realised that Jack could be on board the plane. It dipped one wing down and then headed out across the channel before turning in a wide, slow arc and heading back towards her. As it came closer to Whitsunday Island, it flew right over Dad and the twins in the boat, dipping the other wing as they passed over the channel where they were fishing.

  It was Jack!

  Lily was sure of it. She waved again as the huge plane flew over her and then headed across the island and north into the Coral Sea. Happiness swirled through her, and then trickled away to be replaced by worry when the Catalina got further and further away until all that remained was a black speck on the northern horizon. As it disappeared from her sight, Lily turned and walked slowly up the path to the house, fear running through her veins. The log that Jack had helped her across was in shadow as a cloud crossed the sun. As she climbed over it she ran her fingers over the mossy bark. Next time Jack was here, she would bring a knife and make sure they carved their initials in the tree. Despite the warmth of the morning, she shivered and rubbed her arms, thinking of how the letters Jack had drawn with the phosphorescence had swirled away until there was nothing.

  Please, God, let there be a next time.

  * * *

  Lily and Dad had been over to the mainland to drop off the fish catch. He jumped off the launch and held out one hand for Liliana to grab hold of. Dad had bought a new radio at the general store in Prossie, and now it was tucked carefully under his other arm. The best purchase of the day for Lily was a week’s worth of newspapers.

  ‘Tell your mother to put the jug on. I’ll be up in a minute. I just want to check the crab traps over on Sawmill Bay.’ He let go as she landed lightly on the jetty. ‘Crab will be just the go with that fresh bread for tea. My mouth’s watering already.’

  Lily didn’t care about fresh crab sandwiches. She hurried up the path, looking forward to reading the newspapers. All she wanted to hear was that the war was being won. What she’d managed to read on the launch on the way across the Passage had frightened her.

  ‘We’re back, Mama.’ The minute she walked into the kitchen with a couple of loaves of bread from the Prossie bakery under her arm, Lily glanced over at the pot of mint on the windo
wsill and knew, without a doubt, that Mama had found Amelia’s letter.

  Damnation and blast it all. How stupid was I to leave it sitting there.

  She’d been too busy mooning over Jack to remember to put it away from prying eyes. The late afternoon sun shone through the glass and reflected myriad rainbow colours on the tea cups and ornaments that Mama had lined up on the sill, but there was no letter leaning against the herbs. She edged around the kitchen, keeping one eye on Mama as she stood at the sink. Lily stood on her toes in case the letter had dropped behind the leaves. But there was no sign of any paper. But more ominously, there was no sign of Tat or the smaller children. Mama’s back was straight, and her head was still as she stared through the window. Tension radiated from her. Lily placed the loaves on the table quietly, clutched the three newspapers to her chest, and tiptoed to the door, wanting to escape to the sanctuary of her verandah room.

  ‘Stay there, Liliana.’ Mama’s voice was cold and hard as she turned slowly from the window. Her mouth was set in a straight line and her lips were pale, but it was her red-rimmed eyes that hurt Lily the most. For a brief instant, Lily forgot about the letter and worried that there had been bad news, but she quickly dismissed that. The only news would have come via the afternoon steam launch, and she and Dad had been on it. She let her temper build. Mama had no right to read her private letter, so she had no right to get stuck into her for the content.

  ‘Daddy said would you put the jug on please. He’s gone down to the bay.’

  ‘I want you to come into my bedroom. Now.’

  Lily gulped and swallowed as Mama led the way to the sacrosanct room. Each of the children knew that Mama and Daddy’s room was private. It was their personal space and the only time they entered it was when they were sick and allowed to lie on the big bed with the feather pillow and soft eiderdown—such a treat after their own scratchy wool blankets in the winter. Mama closed the door and leaned against it as Lily stood there, not knowing where to look. The sweet smell of lavender was overlaid by the smell of moth balls and Lily’s nose began to itch. She lifted her chin as the silence lengthened and shifted her gaze to meet her mother’s.