Taking a Chance

by Deborah Burrows

  I sat on the tram on my way home, pondering how one wrong move at an age when mistakes were normal could destroy a girl’s life. Evie thought that she knew how to look after herself, but she didn’t. She was a pretty girl, alone and vulnerable. So far she had been lucky not to make any serious mistakes. Now she had me and Aunty May, and we would look after her as best we could. Mabel Norton had not been as lucky; now she had no one to help her except me and Miss Bonehill. I would speak to the boss and ask about starting a crusade to gather public support for her. I smiled at my reflection in the window. This was something worthwhile. This was how I could use my writing skills to make a difference.

  Back at home Evie helped me to prepare for the Independence Day ball. I was wearing my favourite evening gown, ice blue crepe with a matching bolero. It was slim-fitting and slinky, and I had often been complimented when wearing it. I clasped a string of faux pearls around my neck.

  ‘What earrings?’ said Evie, observing me happily.

  ‘These.’ I held up some pearl drop earrings – not real, but stylish. She nodded her approval.

  ‘Now your hair. It has to be up if you’re wearing those earrings. I think that we should do this.’ She grabbed hold of my hair and twisted it into a chignon. ‘Or if you’d like it sitting higher, then we could do this.’ The rope of hair was piled on top of my head.

  ‘I like it higher,’ I said.

  She nodded gravely. ‘You’re right. It makes your neck look very elegant like that. I wish I had a long neck like you, Nell.’ Grabbing hold of her own hair she piled it onto her head in a similar way, and twisted to and fro to look at herself in the mirror.

  ‘You do have a long neck, Evie,’ I said. ‘You have a lovely neck.’ My voice sharpened. ‘Now help me, because I’m being picked up in half an hour.’

  ‘Oh, Nell,’ said Aunty May twenty minutes later when she wandered into my bedroom. ‘You look absolutely gorgeous. Johnny will be beside himself.’

  I saw the frown on my face as I waved the mascara wand over my lashes. ‘This isn’t for Johnny. I’m a hostess, and I have to look good because I’m representing the Marvel.’ But it was for Johnny. I knew that it was all for Johnny.

  The taxi arrived fifteen minutes later, and I joined Jean Lovell and Poppy McGurk in the back. They were also to be hostesses and I knew them both well. Jean was an attractive red-haired stenographer who was employed at the US Consul’s office. Poppy was a bubbly little telephonist at the General Post Office.

  ‘Nell! You look good enough to eat with a spoon,’ said Poppy. ‘The boys’ll go wild.’ I had always liked Poppy. Jean’s sense of humour was closer to mine, but she wasn’t as sweet as Poppy. Jean smiled and nodded a hello.

  ‘Do you like my dress?’ asked Poppy as the taxi set off. I could just make it out in the deepening twilight. It was Grecian-inspired and made of cream silk jersey. She indicated a diamond-shaped inset of very pretty lace cut-out work set into the bodice. ‘Mum made the square of lace – you know that stupid austerity rule that no one can wear more than a six-inch square of embroidery or lace on a dress, because we have to be frugal? This is exactly six inches – we measured it. It’s cut-out work. Mum learned it in Ireland, from the nuns.’

  I said, with absolute truth, that it was exquisite and Poppy flushed with pleasure. ‘I wrote to Jim about being a hostess,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind. He knows that I’ll be good.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ I asked.

  ‘In Ceylon. He sent me a bangle. Look.’ She held up her arm to show off a carved ivory bangle.

  ‘How’s Rob?’ asked Poppy. ‘Oh, isn’t it marvellous to have streetlights and car headlights again!’

  We turned towards Mounts Bay Road and the river just as the streetlights flickered on. The pools of yellow light all along the winding road by the river were very beautiful. Around us cars had their headlights unmasked, so that the road was lit up as it hadn’t been for eighteen months. And with the lights, it was as if Perth had suddenly become a real city again, a city with lights and freedom and a future.

  ‘He’s fine,’ I said. ‘In Melbourne.’

  Jean said, in her usual cool manner, ‘Word around the office is that you’ve been seeing a lot of that American war correspondent, John Horvath.’

  I made my voice light. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. I only met him on Thursday. We’re working on a story together, that’s all.’

  ‘The consul thinks the world of him. But there’s a shocking tale doing the rounds about him and an American nurse in the Philippines. Some dreadful scandal. I was warned against him.’

  Some dreadful scandal . . . My stomach clenched. I’d spent the afternoon listening to the ways in which unscrupulous men could destroy girls’ lives. Surely Johnny hadn’t got anyone into trouble or given them a disease or broken up a marriage or . . . My imagination was running wild.

  I replied slowly, carefully, ‘John Horvath helped me out last week when a young girl was in danger. He seems like a decent man. My aunt really likes him.’

  ‘Merle knows about it,’ Jean went on. ‘I’ll ask her if you like. She’s a hostess tonight too.’

  Did I really want to know? Of course I did, I told myself. I needed to find out the truth about Johnny Horvath. It was unlikely to change how I felt about him, but it might help me put my feelings for him into perspective. I looked at Jean, nodded and shrugged casually. ‘Sure. Ask her about it.’

  As soon as I said it, I regretted it.

  We pulled up outside the arched awning over the footpath. A red carpet stretched from the kerb to the stairway leading up to the Embassy Ballroom, which was on the top floor of an elegant semicircular building on the corner of William Street and the Esplanade. The RAAF Headquarters Western Area Transport section was on the ground floor and the Capitol Theatre was next door. We got out of the taxi and smoothed our dresses. Cameras flashed and, although I felt like a film star, the attention was disconcerting and intrusive. Poppy grinned at me.

  ‘You look fabulous, Nell. Do you think the West will print a photo of you? You work for the opposition, after all.’

  ‘Don’t care,’ I said, keeping my smile firmly in place. ‘Come on, let’s get this over with.’

  The three of us walked together up the stairs into the ballroom. As Jean and I stopped, aghast, in the doorway, Poppy gasped in admiration. The decorating committee had outdone itself. Pride of place in the gallery was given to a coloured portrait of President Roosevelt, flanked on either side by the Stars and Stripes, and there were pennants and shields and US flags hung at intervals all around the hall. On the stage was a photograph of George Washington flanked by bowls of wattle, calendulas and palms. As I caught Jean’s eye I nearly started to giggle, but somehow we both managed to control ourselves.

  ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ breathed Poppy.

  Behind some double doors at the end of the large dance hall was the supper room, which appeared to be more tastefully decorated with roses, gerberas and calendulas.

  I had been told that fourteen hundred people were expected, and that there would be ‘novelty events’ to entertain them. Apparently these were to include a dramatic ‘unveiling ceremony’ with an Australian–American patriotic sentiment, specially rehearsed ballet numbers, a jitterbug exhibition, and novelty spot dances.

  ‘Let the games begin,’ murmured Jean as we made our way to the ladies’ room to freshen up.

  As the night progressed, I was pleased to see that everyone did seem to be having a good time. I was in high demand, and after a couple of dances I had shed my bolero jacket, it was so hot on the dance floor. I couldn’t see Johnny anywhere.

  My third dance was a great honour, as I was asked on to the floor by the very urbane American consul, Mason Turner.

  ‘You must come to dinner at our house on Saturday,

  Miss Fitzgerald,’ he said. ‘John Horvath asked if he could bring you along. Katie and I really would love it if you

  could come.’

  I murm
ured something polite and non-committal and we left it at that. I was perplexed, though. Why was Johnny trying to drag me into his life so publicly? Was I underestimating his feelings for me? No. I was sure I wasn’t.

  Being a hostess at an event like this one was onerous. We were expected to dance with any serviceman who was alone, and a lot had come solo to the dance. Unfortunately, there was usually a good reason why they didn’t have partners – either they couldn’t dance, or they were terribly shy and had no conversation. Shyness I could cope with. I quite enjoyed bringing a young sailor out of his shell, although I always made it very clear that I had a steady boyfriend. I went into supper with a lovely boy from Louisiana who had a bad stammer, and I managed to get him talking quite well.

  I couldn’t do anything about the bad dancers, though. At around ten o’clock I was longing for a rest. My last partner had been a particularly oafish Dutch submariner, who trod on my foot three times in the course of one dance, and failed to apologise at all. So I noted with some relief that the second ‘novelty event’ was due to start. The dancing would stop for a while as the ‘hilarity’ ensued. They had asked for volunteers and a large circle of about thirty women filled the centre of the room, facing outwards. Poppy was among them, looking eager and enthusiastic. Good old Poppy, I thought, as I looked for a place to sit down.

  ‘I want my dance after this.’ It was Johnny’s voice, low and close to my ear. I froze, plastered on a smile, and turned towards him.

  ‘So you made it after all,’ I said brightly. ‘I was beginning to think you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I was at the hospital having X-rays. It took longer than I thought.’

  ‘Is it all fine?’

  ‘Hilda was right. Nothing is broken, just badly bruised.’ He smiled, the crooked one that sent my heart into those ridiculous palpitations. ‘You look absolutely stunning. Do you really want to watch this? Or would you rather go outside for a breath of air?’

  He gestured towards the circle of women, who now appeared to be holding a very long piece of ribbon between them. They all had looks of grim determination. I hated ‘novelty’ events.

  I shook my head and he led me outside, onto the balcony.

  There were no lights out there, but the moon was almost full and with the light from the ballroom I could make out Johnny’s features. Around us I could hear the soft voices of other couples who had escaped the madness. Inside, the band had started to play ‘The Lambeth Walk’ and I could hear shrieks of laughter and thumping.

  Moonlight glimmered on the river in the middle distance and the stars were very bright. Johnny leaned back on the balustrade and we looked at each other silently for a few intense moments. Did all lovers feel this way? I wondered. As if all that I had been and done before was simply so that I would be in this place, at this time, gazing at this man on a balcony in the moonlight?

  I turned towards the river and gripped the stone railing tightly with both hands, scared to see what was in his eyes. Neither of us spoke, but after a few moments there was a feather-light touch on the back of my neck, just at the hairline where my hair was swept up. I shivered a little, because it tickled. I kept watching the river, but all of my awareness was focused on the man beside me, the feather touch of his fingers, the subtle scent of his skin and the almost overwhelming sense of his body so close to mine.

  ‘There,’ said Johnny softly. ‘If we weren’t just friends, I’d kiss you there.’

  He slid his fingertip around to the edge of my jawline, under my earlobe, and played with the pearl drop of my earring. ‘Then I’d kiss you there,’ he said, touching the skin. I wondered if he could feel the pulse, feel how fast my heart was beating.

  ‘You’re wearing that perfume,’ he said. ‘I love that perfume. You were wearing it on Saturday and it nearly drove me crazy.’

  His fingers moved, softly, slowly, inexorably, along the line of my throat to the hollow just above the string of pearls. I arched my neck a little. ‘I’d kiss you there, too.’

  My gaze was fixed on the moonlight on the river, on that beautiful shimmering pathway of light leading to the utter darkness of the far shore, but I hardly saw it. I was aware of nothing but the gentle pressure of Johnny’s fingertips and the rumble of his voice near my ear. He had reached my lips; he rubbed his finger softly across them, making them tingle. My whole body responded to the touch.

  ‘And I’d kiss you there.’

  Johnny turned my head towards him and gently tipped my face up. Time seemed to shift and contract and freeze as he gazed into my eyes with a sweet, hard look of mingled fear and desire and tenderness. He hesitated, and I realised that he was giving me the chance to pull away, to stop this from happening. Stop it? It was all I wanted. So I smiled tremulously and reached up to caress his cheek. His arm slid around my waist and drew me close as the other hand moved up to cup the back of my head. He pulled me hard against his body and, at last, he kissed me.

  seemed to lose myself entirely in the sensation of his mouth against mine and the feel of his body as it pressed against me. He held me tight and his arms were like steel bars around me, but he also held me gently, so gently. And I clung to him shamelessly, pushed my body flat against his, revelling in the feel and the scent of him, in the taste of his skin. I met his tongue with mine, probing, tasting, teasing him as my hands wandered over the hard flat muscles of his back and the ropy muscles of his neck. I tangled my fingers into his hair to pull him even closer and I wondered if I even existed any more, independently of him, because it seemed as if we had created something entirely new, something that was a part of us both and so much more than each other alone.

  When we broke for air he murmured that he loved me and I said something similar. I wasn’t thinking straight, I would have said anything just to get him to hold me close again and kiss me like that again.

  I was brought back to earth when a woman laughed loudly nearby. Her companion was lighting a cigarette and his face was sharply illuminated by the flare of the match.

  ‘Can we go somewhere more private?’ Johnny whispered. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but we’d calmed down a little. Johnny was leaning against the balustrade and I was leaning against him. His arms were tightly wrapped around me, and my head was against his chest. He could only mean his hotel room.

  ‘I shouldn’t leave yet – I’m a hostess,’ I said, playing for time.

  I nodded towards the ballroom, where couples were dancing around in a kaleidoscope of colour and movement. Only then I shivered as he ran his hand up and down my bare arm, making the skin tingle. I had never before been so physically affected by a man; Johnny had overwhelmed me, changed me into a woman driven by emotion and not reason. I finally understood how girls could risk so much for fleeting moments of passion.

  ‘You won’t be missed,’ he murmured. ‘I want you all to myself.’ Now there was an urgency to his voice. ‘Please, Nell. You’re driving me crazy.’

  He leaned in for another kiss. I was consumed by joy; it was bubbling inside me, lighting me up, making me reckless.

  ‘All right,’ I said as we broke apart, breathless, happy, excited. ‘But I need to freshen up. Meet me by the entrance.’ I pushed away from him and we walked out of the darkness together, unsteadily, into the noise and gaiety of the ballroom.

  In the ladies’ room, repairing my make-up, I could see in the mirror that my face was flushed and my eyes seemed brighter than normal. In the ballroom the band was playing ‘Taking a Chance on Love’, which made me smile shakily at my reflection.

  ‘I don’t care,’ I muttered to the mirror. ‘I love him, and he’ll be gone soon. I don’t care if it’s a sin.’

  The door opened and Jean came in with Merle Johnston in tow. Merle was a nurse at the Hollywood Military Hospital. Jean’s face was grim as she quickly checked the stalls to see that we were alone.

  ‘Nell, you have to listen to what Merle has heard about John Horvath.’

  ‘Look, Jean—’ I started, but she brok
e in.

  ‘He got an American nurse into trouble in the Philippines, dumped her cold when she told him and she killed herself.’ Jean’s mouth was tight and disapproving, but there was a degree of excitement in her eyes.

  ‘That’s crazy,’ I said in a high, shocked voice. ‘It’s not true.’

  I looked at Merle, wordlessly imploring her to refute what Jean had said. She seemed embarrassed and slid a sideways glance at Jean, frowning at her.

  ‘Well, that’s what I heard. She tried to commit suicide, and it definitely was because of that war correspondent, John Horvath. She wrote a note.’

  I was frozen, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I sucked in a painful, shaky breath and stared at Merle, whose cheeks were bright red splotches on her face. She threw another quick glance to Jean, then looked back at me.

  ‘I shouldn’t be spreading this,’ she said with a pained expression. ‘I was told by one of the nurses at the US hospital. He was flirting like mad with the nurses up there, and the girl fell hard for him.’

  It was just like the stories I’d been hearing from Miss Bonehill that afternoon. Johnny had destroyed a girl’s life and callously walked away. Johnny, who said he loved me. Was it all lies? It was easy to tell a girl anything when you were due to leave in a few days. How could I have been so stupid? Stupid, stupid. My stomach started to heave convulsively and I pushed my hand over my mouth.

  Merle’s eyes widened and she said quickly, ‘Jean, she’s going to be sick. Get her into a stall.’

  Cool hands pushed me into the nearest stall. I held the side of the toilet bowl and vomited while Jean held my shoulders. When I was finished they helped me to my feet and I stumbled over to the washbasin, where Merle had a wet handkerchief ready for my face. My stomach was sore and the taste of vomit was foul in my mouth. When I raised my head to look in the mirror I saw that mascara had run down my cheeks and I looked ill and shocked. I rinsed my mouth out with water, wiped the handkerchief over my face and Jean helped me over to sit in one of the chairs. Women came in and went out while Jean and Merle stood guard over me as I sat there, numb and shivering. Eventually I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. This is stupid, I thought.