Gallipoli Street (33 page)

Beatrice packed the last of the wounded that could be moved, glad of the morning light at last. The sunrise would have been glorious if not for the constant plumes blocking its beauty, denying the wretched souls here even that comfort.

She scanned the line of trees, wondering desperately where Rose and Clarkson were. Had they stayed near the plane all night?

She paused, focusing on something in the nearby field in the strange orange light, then turned to Ben. ‘What's that?'

‘Where?' He squinted.

‘Just near the rise…'

They ran, staying close to the treeline, then across the rise to the flash of white apron she'd seen in the morning glow.

There were two bodies.

Drawing closer she recognised one was a woman, and her steps faltered as she saw a sight that would remain with her for the rest of her days.

Redsped and her captain lay pale against the earth, their hands in each other's palms as they both stared sightlessly beyond the clouds of death and into the dawn of a new day.

They were buried together, two little white crosses side by side on a green patch of earth in France. In a seaside town nearby a little girl stood at the gate and wondered why her mother didn't come as her great aunt took her hand, telling her they were about to go on a big ship to a wonderful land far, far away.

Highview, August 1916

Her back ached and she stretched upwards, holding her bulging stomach and yawning. The doctor said it wouldn't be long now and Veronica certainly hoped so as she pulled back the curtains, looking for Pattie, who'd said she would visit this morning. It would be a cheerful distraction from the monotony and boredom of her life at the moment. Sitting about feeling useless and fat was hard to get used to after her busy life as a nurse.

She sighed, walking out onto the verandah. Spring was set to arrive at Highview. The air was thick with the last of the wattle and the jasmine seemed ready to burst from its purple sockets. She picked one early bloom and inhaled the sweet scent. Maybe she should name the baby after a flower if it was a girl, regretting the thought as Rose's face flashed through her mind.

They'd heard the news just two days earlier and the story was starting to filter through in pieces of just what had happened to her over the past few years. It had surprised Veronica at first to hear that she was working with the wounded, but then she remembered that day when she'd been bitten by the snake and the way Rose had handled things. She'd always felt there was more to Rose after that and the role of ambulance driver suited her well in light of that memory.

Despite the way Rose had treated her, and Jack of course, Veronica still felt sorrow at her passing. Her heart went out to Mildred and George, who'd lost their only daughter and were, by all accounts, devastated. Then there was poor Iggy who had always been a devoted brother to Rose and now had to hear of her passing in a trench somewhere on the other side of the world. To top it all off no one knew the whereabouts of Gregory. Apparently he was missing in action in Pozières. Hearing they'd been in France at the same time, Veronica hoped they'd been able to reconcile, aware that there had been ‘problems' via Mildred.

Wherever he was, she was glad Gregory was spared having to deal with her passing for now.

During war, ignorance truly was bliss.

And then there was the little girl, Elizabeth. George's sister Joelene had sent a telegram stating she had been looking after her in France and was bringing her home on the first available ship to Australia. Stroking her hand softly against the baby in her own womb Veronica felt keenly the loneliness of a small child in the middle of a vast ocean, leaving her mother behind forever and possibly her father too as she headed towards a strange land.

The sound of the Sunbeam coming up the drive and Pattie's excited call roused her and she turned to see her arriving with her mother and May. Veronica walked towards them her arms outstretched to hold her niece who clapped her hands at the sight of her, saying, ‘Wa! Wa!'

‘Auntie Wa can't pick you up today, darling.' Alice held her granddaughter and gave Veronica a kiss on the cheek, reprimanding her gently. ‘No heavy lifting, remember? How are you, dear? Is Catherine about?'

‘Inside and knitting.' Veronica followed them up the stairs as Pattie linked her arm through hers.

‘When's this nephew of mine arriving? Good Lord, you're waddling like a duck! It's not a good sign. The suspense is killing me as to whether he'll have webbed toes or not like his father.'

‘He does not have webbed toes!'

‘Yes he does: the little pinkie is all meshed up against the next one. I suppose I should have warned you that you were marrying a duck-man but I selfishly wanted you as my sister.'

Veronica laughed, feeling instantly cheered by Pattie's arrival. ‘I don't really know that it's a boy…'

‘Of course you do,' she said airily. ‘Now, we just have to get Clarkson home so I can get busy cooking him a chum. He'll need someone to practise cricket with.'

They took tea with their mothers in the parlour as May entertained them all with her baby discoveries, including some ‘sooz' (shoes), a ‘sushun' (cushion) and of course, the perfectly clear ‘Cake!' The conversation turned to Rose and Alice shook her head sadly as she told them further news.

‘Mildred said one of Rose's friends had written to her, expressing her condolences and telling her how well loved Rose was over there. Apparently they called her Redsped because she was the fastest ambulance driver they had. And she also mentioned Rose had an Australian friend who often visited and was killed at the same time. They were collecting wounded from the front line when they died. Stray shots I suppose…Anyway it's all terribly sad, although Mildred said it's a comfort to hear that she had friends over there who cared about her.' They all nodded quietly, imagining this other Rose, tearing along in an ambulance with her friend only to meet their own deaths.

‘I wonder if it was anyone we knew?' Catherine said after a moment.

‘Mildred said she was going to write back to this girl, Beatrice is her name I think, and ask if she knows the friend's name and any other information she had on her life over there. Rose didn't talk about it in her letters for fear of Gregory finding out where they were. She was quite adamant he not know anything.'

‘I wonder what happened to them? They seemed a perfect match,' Veronica pondered, deciding not to elaborate on some of the less savoury ways in which that was true. Not so Pattie.

‘Both snakes in the grass if we're honest,' she blurted.

‘Pattie!' gasped her mother.

‘I was being honest!'

‘Honesty doesn't necessitate speaking ill of the dead.'

‘Doesn't necessitate reinventing their characters either,' mumbled Pattie as she sat on the floor with May, rolling a little ball to her and smiling as she grasped it with her chubby hands and rolled it back. There was a knock at the door and they heard Eileen go to answer it as May grabbed the ball and placed it in a shoe, pushing it about like a little train and saying, ‘Choo choo.'

Veronica was sipping her tea and smiling at them when her mother stood up, dropping her napkin to the ground. Following Catherine's gaze to the doorway she felt her face drain of blood. Alice placed her cup down very carefully, hardly daring to look up at Father Francis, who stood holding the most dreaded of wartime correspondence. A telegram.

Veronica held her breath, following the priest's eyes as he searched the room. They came to rest on Pattie.

She was yet to notice him as she reached under the couch for May's ball.

‘Patricia…'

Pattie turned at the priest's voice, standing slowly as the ball slipped from her fingers.

The smile faded from her face, not to return for many months, as she watched him move towards her in his long black robes, like the spectre of death holding out her fate in an envelope that she backed away from. Veronica stood and held her shoulder as Catherine took the telegram and opened it. Her hands shook as she read the words in a blur and Pattie's eyes pleaded with the priest before swinging to Alice, who simply shook her head and began to cry.

Pattie fell onto the floor screaming in pain, the sound more terrible than any Veronica had ever heard. The priest muttered to the others and Veronica vaguely registered the words ‘loss', ‘Clarkson' and ‘line of duty'. Alice collapsed next to her daughter, rocking her to and fro, trying to stem the pain and direct it into her own flesh as her daughter's thin shoulders hunched in agony against her.

And throughout it all, May held out her ball and wondered why Mummy didn't want to play anymore.

They all wore black at mass that Sunday and Veronica watched her friend closely as she placed a wreath upon the altar, her face drawn, dark circles under eyes that couldn't seem to produce any more tears. Next came the Dwyers, Mildred appearing far older than her forty-nine years, holding tight to George as they laid a wreath for Rose and Father Francis offered up a special prayer for the fallen. He spoke of the news that the Australians had taken Pozières in the end, showing enormous courage against impossible odds, and how the victory might change the fate of the war in France. Of the never-ending hope for peace. But the price seemed too high to many in the church that day.

The congregation headed back to the O'Shays' for tea and in hushed tones they moved together, sharing their grief. Veronica served cakes and answered questions about her brothers and Jack as she searched the crowd for Pattie, finally spying her down by the fence, looking out at the fields. She made her way awkwardly to her side and placed her arm about her waist, dropping her head against her shoulder.

‘Love you,' she said simply. Pattie leant her head against hers and they watched the new calves seek their mothers in the nursing field.

‘I suppose this is it. No funeral. Nothing else to do.' Pattie shrugged helplessly. ‘Funny thing is I keep expecting him to walk in and say it was a mistake. Then I think maybe it's just a dream and I'll wake up soon. But I don't. I'm beginning to think it isn't a mistake and it isn't a dream. And he…he's never coming back…' She turned and held Veronica's hands. ‘I know I sound crazy but I need you to tell me. Is it real? Did this really happen?'

Veronica nodded and held her friend, who found fresh tears after all. ‘Yes, darling, it's real. Terribly real…I'm so sorry.'

Pattie cried for a while, then pulled away, wiping at her face. ‘So now I'm just another skinny spinster.' She tried to smile. ‘Or should I say whining widow.' Her face crumpled again and she apologised as Veronica held her stomach and frowned. ‘Sorry. I'll be all right in a minute.'

‘You'd better be. I don't have much use for a skinny spinster or a whining widow, but I am in need of my sister-in-law.'

‘To keep my brother in line?' She sniffed.

‘No, to help me have this baby. I think my waters just broke.'