“Of
course, allow me,” said Daniel, handing over the shaker. He wouldn’t have given
the girl a second glance had he not noticed that she was reading Principia
Mathematica, by A. N. Whitehead and Bertrand Russell.
“Are
you a mathematics student, by any chance?” he asked once he had passed the
sugar across.
“Yes,”
she said, not looking back in his direction.
“I
only asked,” said Daniel, feeling the question might have been construed as
impolite, “because I teach the subject.”
“Of
course you do,” she said, not bothering to turn round. “Oxford, I’m sure.”
“Cambridge,
actually.”
This
piece of information did make the girl glance across and study Daniel more
carefully. “Then can you explain Simpson’s Rule to me?” she asked abruptly.
Daniel
unfolded his paper napkin, took out a fountain pen and drew some diagrams to
illustrate the rule, stage by stage, something he hadn’t done since he’d left
St. Paul’s.
She
checked what he had produced against the diagram in her book, smiled and said, “Fair
dinkum you really do teach maths,” which took Daniel a little by surprise as he
wasn’t sure what “fair dinkum” meant’ but as it was accompanied by a smile he
assumed it was some form of approval. He was taken even more by surprise when
the girl picked up her plate of egg and beans, moved across an sat down next to
him.
“I’m
Jackie,” she said. “A bushwhacker from Perth.”
“I’m
Daniel,” he replied. “And I’m...”
“A
porn from Cambridge. You’ve already told me, remember?”
It
was Daniel’s turn to look more carefully at the young woman who sat opposite
him. Jackie appeared to be about twenty. She had short blond hair and a
turnd-up nose. Her clothes consisted of shorts and a yellow T-shirt that bole
the legend “Perth!” right across her chest. She was quite unlike any
undergraduate he had ever come muss at Trinity.
“Are
you up at university?” he inquired.
“Yeah.
Second year, Perth. So what brings you to Sydney, Dan?”
Daniel
couldn’t think of an immediate response, but it hardly mattered that much
because Jackie was already explaining why she was in the capital of New South
Wales long before he had been given a chance to reply. In fact Jackie did most
of the talking until their bills arrived. Daniel insisted on paying.
“Good
on you,” said Jackie. “So what are you doing tonight?”
“Haven’t
got anything particular planned.”
“Great,
because I was thinking of going to the Theatre Royal,” she told him. “Why don’t
you join me?”
“Oh,
what’s playing?” asked Daniel, unable to hide his surprise at being picked up
for the first time in his life.
“Noel
Coward’s Tonight at Eight-thirty with Cyril Ritchard and Madge Elliott.”
“Sounds
promising,” said Daniel noncommittally.
“Great.
Then I’ll see you in the foyer at ten to eight, Dan. And don’t be late.” She
picked up her rucksack, threw it on her back, strapped up the buckle and in
seconds was gone.
Daniel
watched her leaving the cafe before he could think of an excuse for not
agreeing to her suggestion. He decided it would be churlish not to turn up at
the theater, and in any case he had to admit he had rather enjoyed Jackie’s
company. He checked his watch and decided to spend the rest of the afternoon
looking round the city.
When
Daniel arrived at the Theatre Royal that evening, a few minutes before
seven-forty, he purchased two six-shilling tickets for the stalls then hung
around in the foyer waiting for his guest or was she his host? When the
five-minute bell sounded Jackie still hadn’t arrived and Daniel began to
realize that he had been looking forward to seeing her again rather more than
he cared to admit. There was still no sign of his lunchtime companion when the
two-minute bell rang, so Daniel assumed that he would be seeing the play on his
own. With only a minute to spare before the curtain went up, he felt a hand
link through his arm and heard a voice say, “Hello, Dan. I didn’t think you’d
turn up.”
Another
first, he had never taken a girl to the theater who was wearing shorts.
Daniel
smiled. Although he enjoyed the play, he found he enjoyed Jackie’s company
during the interval, after the show and then later over a meal at Romano’s a
little Italian restaurant she seemed acquainted with even more. He had never
come across anyone who, after only knowing him for a few hours, could be so
open and friendly. They discussed everything from mathematics to Clark Gable,
and Jackie was never without a definite opinion, whatever the subject.
“May
I walk you back to your hotel?” Daniel asked when they eventually left the
restaurant.
“I
don’t have one,” Jackie replied with a grin, and throwing the rucksack over her
shoulder added, “so I may as well walk you back to yours.”
“Why
not?” said Daniel. “I expect Mrs. Snell will be able to supply another room for
the night.”
“Let’s
hope not,” said Jackie.
When
Mrs. Snell opened the door, after Jackie had pressed the night bell several
times, she told them, “I hadn’t realized there would be two of you. That will
mean extra, of course.”
“But
we’re not “ began Daniel.
“Thank
you,” said Jackie, seizing the key from Mrs. Snell as the landlady gave Daniel
a wink.
Once
they were in Daniel’s little room, Jackie removed her rucksack and said, “Don’t
worry about me, Dan, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
He
didn’t know what to say in reply, and without uttering another word went off
into the bathroom changed into his pajamas and cleaned his teeth. He reopened
the bathroom door and walked quickly over to his bed without even glancing in
Jackie’s direction. A few moments later he heard the bathroom door close, so he
crept out of bed again, tiptoed over to the door and turned out the light
before slipping back under the sheets. A few more minutes passed before he
heard the bathroom door reopen. He closed his eyes pretending to be asleep. A
moment later he felt a body slide in next to his and two amls encircle him.
“Oh,
Daniel” in the darkness Jackie’s voice took on an exaggerated English accent “do
let’s get rid of these frightful pajamas.” As she pulled at the cotton cord on
his pajama bottoms, he turnd over to protest, only to find himself pressed up
against her naked body. Daniel didn’t utter a word as he lay there, eyes
closed, doing almost nothing as Jackie began to move her hands slowly up and
down his legs. He became utterly exhilarated, and soon after exhausted, unsure
quite what had taken place. But he had certainly enjoyed every moment.
“You
know, I do believe you’re a virgin,” Jackie said, when he eventually opened his
eyes.
“No,”
he corrected. “... Was a virgin.”
“I’m
afraid you still are,” said Jackie. “Strictly speaking. But don’t get worked up
about it; I promise we’ll have that sorted out by the morning. By the way, next
time, Dan, you are allowed to join in.”
Daniel
spent most of the next three days in bed being tutored by a second-year
undergraduate from the University of Perth. By the second morning he had
discovered just how beautiful a woman’s body could be. By the third evening
Jackie let out a little moan that led him to believe that although he might not
have graduated he was no longer a freshman.
He
was sad when Jackie told him the time had come for her to return to Perth. She
threw her rucksack over her shoulder for the last time, and after he had
accompanied her to the station Daniel watched the train pull away from the
platform as she began her journey back to Western Australia.
“If
I ever get to Cambridge, Dan, I’ll look you up,” were the last worrls he
remembered her saying.
“I
do hope so,” he said, feeling there were several members of Trinity High Table
who would have benefited from a few days of Jackie’s expert tuition.
On
Thursday morning Daniel reported back to the Immigration Department as
instructed, and after another hour’s wait in the inevitable queue, handed his
receipt over to the assistant who was still slumped across the counter wearing
the same shirt.
“Oh,
yes, Guy Trentham, I remember. I discovered his particulars a few minutes after
you’d left,” the clerk told him. “Pity you didn’t come back earlier.”
“Then
I can only thank you.”
“Thank
me, what for?” asked the assistant suspiciously.
Daniel
took the little green card the assistant handed to him. “For three of the
happiest days of my life.”
“What
are you getting at, mate?” said the other man, but Daniel was already out of
earshot.
He
sat alone on the steps outside the tall colonial building and studied the
official card. As he feared, it revealed very little:
Name:
Guy Trendlam (registered as immigrant)
18
November 1922
Occupation:
Land agent
Address:
117 Manley Drive
Sydney
Daniel soon located Manley Drive on the city map which Jackie had left with
him, and took a bus to the north side of Sydney where he was dropped off in a
leafy suburb overlooking the harbor. The houses, although fairly large, looked
a little run-down, leaving Daniel with the impression that the suburb might at
some time in the past have been a fashionable area.
When
he rang the bell of what could have been a former colonial guest house, the
door was answered by a young man wearing shorts and a singlet. Daniel was
coming to accept that this was the national dress.
“It’s
a long shot, I know,” Daniel began, “but I’m trying to trace someone who may
have lived in this house in 1922.”
“Bit
before my time,” said the youth cheerily. “Better come in and talk to my Aunt
Sylvia she’ll be your best bet.”
Daniel
followed the young man through the hall into a drawing room that looked as if
it hadn’t been tidied for several days and out onto the verandah, which showed
indications of having once been painted white. There seated in a rocking chair
was a woman who might have been a shade under fifty but whose dyed hair and
over-made-up face made it impossible for Daniel to be at all sure of her age.
She continued to rock backwards and forwards, eyes closed, enjoying the morning
sun.
“I’m
sorry to bother you... “
“I’m
not asleep,” said the woman, her eyes opening to take in the intruder. She
stared suspiciously up at him. “Who are you? You look familiar.”
“My
name is Daniel Trumper,” he told her. “I’m trying to trace someone who may have
stayed here in 1922.”
She
began to laugh. “Twenty-five years ago. You’re a bit of an optimist, I must
say.”
“His
name was Guy Trentham.”
She
sat up with a start and stared straight at him. “You’re his son, aren’t you?”
Daniel went ice cold. “I’ll never forget that smooth-tongued phony’s face if I
live to be a hundred.”
The
truth was no longer possible to deny, even to himself.
“So
have you come back after all these years to clear up his debts?”
“I
don’t understand “ said Daniel.
“Scarpered
with nearly a year’s rent owing, didn’t he? Always writing to his mother back
in England for more money, but when it came I never saw any of it. I suppose he
thought that bedding me was payment enough, so I’m not likely to forget the
bastard, am I? Especially after what happened to him.”
“Does
that mean you know where he went after he left this house?”
She
hesitated for some time, looking as if she was trying to make up her mind. She
turned to look out of the window while Daniel waited. “The last I heard,” she
said after a long pause, “was that he got a job working as a bookie’s runner up
in Melbourne, but that was before... “
“Before
?” queried Daniel.
She
stared up at him again with quizzical eyes.
“No,”
she said, “you’d better find that out for yourself. I wouldn’t wish to be the
one who tells you. If you want my advice, you’ll take the first boat back to
England and not bother yourself with Melbourne.”
“But
you may turn out to be the only person who can help me.”
“I
was taken for a ride by your father once so I’m not going to wait around to be
conned by his son, that’s for sure. Show him the door, Kevin.”
Daniel’s
heart sank. He thanked the woman for seeing him and left without another word.
Once back on the street he took the bus into Sydney and walked the rest of the
journey to the guest house. He spent a lonely night missing Jackie while
wondering why his father had behaved so badly when he came to Sydney, and
whether he should heed “Aunt Sylvia’s” advice.
The
following morning Daniel left Mrs. Snell and her big smile, but not before she
had presented him with a big bill. He settled it without complaint and made his
way to the railway station.
When
the train from Sydney pulled into Spencer Street Station in Melbourne that
evening, Daniel’s first action was to check the local telephone directory, just
in case there was a Trentham listed, but there was none. Next he telephoned
every bookmaker who was registered in the city, but it was not until he spoke
to the ninth that Daniel came across anyone to whom the name meant anything.