Women and War (50 page)

The last Alys had seen of him was when he was whisked away on a trolley surrounded by concerned hospital staff. The General had gone off to talk to old friends he had not expected to see and she had been shown into the rest room to wait. That had been well over an hour ago and since then she had seen no one but a couple of night duty sisters who had come in for a brief break and a cigarette and an orderly who had brought her a mug of tea.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor and Alys looked up expectantly as the door opened. Then her eyes widened and her lips curved in a smile of surprised greeting.

‘Richard!'

‘Hello, Alys. I heard you were here.'

He looked as tired as she felt, his face rumpled as if he had been dragged from sleep, his hair still slightly tousled.

‘I didn't expect to see you!'

It was true, she had not expected to see him. It had crossed her mind when she had been on her way to 138, but during the last hour the probability had faded. Now, her tiredness dropped away as pleasure sent a fresh supply of adrenalin coursing through her veins.

‘If you will bring in these casualties in the middle of the night …'

‘Yes.' She lifted her mug and sipped the now luke-warm tea. ‘How is he?'

‘Your young man? Not very well I'm afraid. I don't think he'll make it.'

‘I didn't think he would. He was going like a bat out of hell.' She was silent for a moment, remembering the broken body and the tragic memories it had rekindled for her. ‘We still don't know who he is, do we?'

‘An American serviceman. He had papers in his pocket.'

‘American. Oh Lord.' Greg Burton would not be too pleased about that.

‘He has just come out of the operating theatre. We've done what we can but I don't think it will be enough. He had massive internal injuries.' Richard sat down, stretching his tall frame wearily. ‘I was got out of bed to assist.'

‘Oh … sorry.'

‘That's what we are here for. Anyway, it's always a pleasure to see you, Alys. How are you getting on?'

‘Fine. General Burton is a hon.' She used the General's own expression unselfconsciously. ‘How about you?'

‘Fine. Life at an AGH doesn't change much. The problems are much the same wherever you are. And at least conditions here are pretty good since we got our new buildings.'

‘And Tara. How is Tara?'

She saw the faintest shadow flicker across his face.

‘Still in New Guinea. You know she is managing an AAMWS club there?'

‘I knew she was going to. How does she like it?'

‘Very much, if her letters are anything to go by.' Again there was the slight hesitancy in his voice. Something about that is not pleasing him, she thought. Aloud she said: ‘ It must be very hard, being separated so soon after your marriage. You have had very little time together.'

‘Very little. I have some leave coming up and I have the problem of deciding what to do with it. Try to get over to New Guinea by hook or by crook to Tara, or travel down to Melbourne to see my parents.'

A slight puzzled frown creased her eyes, ‘Is that a problem?'

‘As it happens, yes. I know Tara is expecting me to at least try to hitch a lift over to the islands, but my father has been very poorly and I feel I ought to try to get home and see him. I don't think he has much time left.'

‘Oh dear. What is the matter?'

‘He had a heart attack a few months back. Now the winter has come and he has bronchial problems too. I'm afraid the combination might prove too much for him.'

Alys twirled the mug on the table between her hands.

‘It's no business of mine, but if he is that poorly I think I would go to see your father. I mean – I know you want to see Tara, of course you do, she's your wife, but I know from experience how guilty it's possible to feel about neglecting your parents.'

‘You!' He raised an eyebrow. ‘You could hardly be accused of neglecting your mother, Alys.'

She pulled a face. ‘You would be surprised. Anyway, the point I'm making is, hopefully you and Tara will have the rest of your lives, while if your father dies and you haven't been to see him …'

He nodded. ‘I must confess I think I'd almost decided that way. For one thing, it's not even certain I could get to New Guinea, for another – yes, you are right, I'd never forgive myself if the old man died and I hadn't got to see him one last time. It's strange, isn't it? You take your parents so much for granted, don't even realize they are getting older, and then suddenly one day you turn around and …'

‘I know. I haven't been home since it happened. I'm due for some leave too, but I've been putting off taking it.' Alys gave a small nervous laugh. She did not want him to know about the compulsion which drove her constantly towards going home to try to mend fences with the family she had left so acrimoniously, or the tightening of her stomach which she experienced every time the possibility looked even remotely like becoming reality.

‘I'll tell you what.' Richard stretched again, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his white coat, pulled hastily on over pyjamas. ‘You take your leave and I'll take mine. We could travel down together.'

‘Oh! She felt the small surprised tightening deep inside once again. Was it the prospect of going home that caused it this time – or something else?'

‘It's a long journey to do alone,' he went on, seemingly oblivious to her hesitation. ‘We could keep one another company.'

‘Yes, I suppose we could.'

He smiled, half-teasing. ‘Never mind your family. I'll bet that farmer friend of yours – John – would be pleased to see you.'

She experienced a moment's poignancy that he could mention John so easily. But there was no reason why he should not be able to. Then, as she thought about what he had said, warmth came flooding in. Yes, John would be pleased to see her – and she would be pleased to see him.

‘All right,' she said. ‘If the General will let me go I'll take you up on that offer.'

Richard stopped the car beside the white house shaped mailbox bearing the legend Buchlyvie but left the engine running.

‘Are you sure you don't want me to drive you down to the house, Alys? It's one hell of a way to walk.'

‘No, I want to surprise John and if he hears the car it will spoil it.' Alys opened the passenger door and swung her legs out.

‘Well, if you are sure. I'll pick you up again in what – say two hours? Unless, of course, you want to drive your own car back to Melbourne.'

‘Better not – not today. I asked John to look after it for me while I was away but I want him to know I came to see him today, not my car.'

‘As you like. Give John my regards, won't you?'

‘Of course.' She waved as the car pulled away, then turned and began walking up the drive, smiling a little as she imagined John's surprise when he saw her.

She should have let him know she was coming, she supposed. But the dates of her leave had not been confirmed until the last moment and when she had arrived in Melbourne she had not liked to phone immediately. To have done so would have been hurtful to her father.

It was ironic, Alys thought, that having persuaded Richard to come home because of
his
father's health, she should have found such a change in her own. She had always thought of him as a giant of a man, a little unapproachable perhaps, more concerned with his business interests than his family, but a powerhouse it was impossible not to admire nonetheless. Now, he seemed to have grown old overnight. Could her mother's death have had something to do with that? she wondered. They had never struck her as a particularly close couple, but even after her stroke Frances had still been there, a part of the old regime – and a magnet for the loyal Beverley. Now she came to visit less often and there was an air of desolation about the house which had once seemed to be the hub of the family. It was still cared for by the staff, of course, but it no longer felt like a home, just an elegant, half-empty shell.

Her father shared a little of her own guilt, too, Alys believed. Over dinner on her first night he had said as much.

‘I should have spent more time with her, I suppose,' he had said, picking at the food which once he would have wolfed down. ‘But there you are, I was always too busy making money. Now, I look at myself and wonder what it was all for.'

‘Oh Daddy, you couldn't have done anything else. The business has been your life. You'd never have been happy in some nine to five job or working for someone else,' Alys had tried to soothe.

He had hardly seemed to hear her.

‘I won't be able to keep it up forever though, will I? And what else is there left to me? No family life, nothing but an empty house to come home to. I don't even seem to know my own children. Beverley was her mother's girl – she hardly comes here any more. Not that we'd have anything to talk about if she did. She hasn't a brain in her head – never had. Can't understand it. You – you are the sharp one. But you aren't here either.'

Alys had felt the familiar tightening in her chest. Oh no, she thought. Not Daddy too …

‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘There's nothing I can do about it. I'm a member of the AIF now.'

‘I should have taken you into the business.' He was staring straight ahead, his dinner going cold on the plate in front of him. ‘I think you would have done well. Your mother would never have heard of it, of course. Not the life for a girl, she would have said. But look at the jobs you girls are doing now! The world is changing. When this war is over nothing will be the same again. They're out in the market place now, doing all the jobs a man used to do – and doing them well. They'll never be satisfied with just being wives and mothers again.'

‘Beverley will be.'

‘Beverley!' Alys was shocked by the underlying scorn in his voice. ‘Beverley hasn't the wit to want anything different. But you …' He looked at her directly, his eyes very sharp in his unhealthily blotched face. ‘You could have been the son I never had.'

‘Could I?' she was embarrassed now by the way he was talking to her – the dose of frankness coming after all the years of non-communication was disconcerting.

‘I wanted a son when you were born. Still hoped for one afterwards. But your mother didn't want any more children. Said two was enough. I could never understand that. Dammit, she had nothing else to do, did she?'

‘Oh I don't know, she was always busy with her committees,' Alys said.

He snorted. ‘ Committees! They were all she ever cared about. Still, I miss her. Yes, I do. After thirty years, you get to take someone for granted.'

Alys said nothing. She was thinking of John, who had never had the chance to take his wife for granted.

She had wanted to phone him then, wanted desperately to hear his soft drawl and feel the easy understanding that was so real it was almost tangible and worlds removed from the awkward confidences being thrust upon her by her father. But she had known this was not the moment.

That night, lying sleepless in her old room she had thought of him again, longing to talk to him. Everything seemed so simple when she was with John. It was a knack he had, taking one problem at a time so that it dissolved in common sense, dispelling depression with his easy going attitude.

Now, walking up the drive, she quickened her step, anxious to be with him without any more delay. Unless he was still burdened down by farm work he would be at home.

The front door of the house was closed against the cold August wind. Alys rang the bell and heard it jangle somewhere within. Silence. She rang again, then tried the door. It opened.

‘Anyone at home?' she called.

A shadow materialized – Flora, the old aborigine housekeeper. Alys beamed at her.

‘Hello, I've come to see John. Is he in?'

The dark weathered face was set in the same uncompromising give-nothing-away expression Alys remembered so well.

‘Boss man in sitting room.'

‘Oh good. May I come in?' Alys closed the door behind her, glad to shut out the biting edge of wind. ‘Don't tell him I'm here, I want to surprise him.'

‘But Miss Alys …' Flora was following her across the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

‘It's all right, Flora.' Alys had always found the woman's presence slightly oppressive; she did not want her behind her shoulder when she greeted John.

She crossed quickly to the sitting room, slightly surprised John had not heard her voice and come to meet her. Perhaps he had had an early morning and was asleep. She pushed open the door. ‘Hello! Surprise!'

He was sitting at the big old bureau in the corner with his back towards her. Papers and books were spread out before him but Alys had the odd impression he had not been looking at them even before the interruption. At the sound of her voice he turned, then rose quickly.

‘Alys!'

She froze, the smile of greeting fading to shock as she took in the look of him, hair turned from iron-grey to white standing straight up from his forehead where he had been pushing his fingers through it, lines etched more deeply around his eyes and mouth, the flesh falling into small pouches between. He seemed to have aged ten years since she had last seen him.

‘Hello, John,' she faltered. ‘I got some leave – I thought I would …'

‘Good. It's good to see you.' His voice was heavy like his face and no welcoming smile lifted the weight of those lines. ‘Come in – sit down. Would you like some tea?'

‘Well – yes …'

Flora was still hovering. He spoke to her. ‘Make us a pot of tea, would you, Flora?'

Tentatively, Alys crossed to the chair and sat down. She could not tear her eyes away from John's haggard face, couldn't get over the change in him. As if reading her thoughts he smiled, but it was a parody of his old quirky smile.