Women and War (52 page)

‘Can I sign them in, Tara?' Jill Whitton had asked. ‘They are only here for a few hours – they brought a load of troops this afternoon and they, are due to fly out again during the night. They could do with a drink and a bit of relaxation.'

Tara had smiled. ‘Don't give me that. It's not their relaxation you are thinking of, it's all the spare dollars they have to spend on you!'

Jill pulled a face. ‘Well, that too. How about it – can I bring them in?'

‘As far as I'm concerned, yes. Just as long as they don't overindulge on the drinks. I should hate them to give their passengers a bumpy ride home.'

‘They haven't got any passengers on the way back. They're empty.'

Tara snorted. ‘ What a waste! When there are so many people on this island just dying to get back to Oz – me included!'

But still the idea of actually begging a lift had not occurred to her. That came later as she looked at the happy-go-lucky group gathered around a clubhouse table, laughing as they peeled dollar bills from a wad of notes to pay for their drinks, muddying the air with the smoke of dozens of cheap issue cigarettes, looking as if they had not a care in the world. They took things so casually, the Yanks. Of course, it wasn't really their war. That made a difference, she supposed, for the Jap attack on Pearl Harbor was the closest the enemy had ever got to ‘home'. But their whole attitude was devil-may-care, as if rules and regulations were there to be flouted.

They look like fun, Tara thought. I'll have a word with them later. Maybe they'll cheer me up a little bit.

Towards the end of the evening Tara always entertained with a song or two. Tonight the applause from the Yanks' table was raucous and on her way back from the stage Tara stopped at their table.

‘Enjoying yourselves, boys?'

‘You bet!' One of the Yanks, a tall lanky young man with a short-cropped crew cut, rocked his chair onto its back legs, eyeing her appreciatively. ‘How about letting us buy you a drink, baby? Singing is thirsty work.'

Tara cast a look at the crowd around the bar. Busy. But her girls seemed to be coping well.

‘Sure an' why not?' she said, sitting down on the chair that one of them pulled out for her.

The Yanks were good company. She stayed with them for a while, laughing at their jokes and enjoying the attention they were paying her.

‘I hear you are flying out tonight,' she said. ‘Where are you headed?'

The Yank with the crew cut drained his glass. ‘Townsville.'

‘Oh, Queensland.' Tara felt the familiar lump in her throat. ‘ I only wish I could come with you.'

The Yank, busy collecting glasses to shout another round, glanced round at her. ‘Why don't you then?'

‘What?'

‘Come with us. We've got plenty of room to spare. We'll give her a lift, won't we, guys?'

‘I can't do that,' Tara said, and stopped. A lift to Queensland. She was being offered a lift to Queensland – and she was turning it down!

‘Why not?'

‘Because …' Because I have no leave pass. Because if I go with you I shall probably be court martialled. Because what in the world is going to happen to the club –
my
club – if I do? The reasons raced through her mind and became unimportant. Richard was in Queensland. Richard and Alys. If she could only get to see him, hold him, love him, remind him of what it was they shared, perhaps she could drive out the spectre of Alys.

Oh Richard! The longing was so fierce in her it drowned out all other considerations. Tara had never been a one to waste time weighing odds. She had always acted on impulse – and she acted on impulse now.

‘Would you really take me?' she asked.

‘Sure – as long as you keep quiet about it.'

‘Where are you going from?'

‘The airstrip, 0200 hours.'

‘I couldn't get out there.'

‘We could pick her up, couldn't we, Hank?'

‘Sure – why not?'

‘All right!' Tara was trembling now with eagerness. ‘I'll do it.'

‘O.K. We'll pick you up at, say, 0100, somewhere about here. You won't chicken out now, baby, will you? Wouldn't want to make the trip out here for nothing.'

‘No, I won't chicken out,' Tara said.

The rest of the evening she was on a high, buzzing with nervous tension and suppressed excitement. She must be mad! No – she would be mad
not
to do it. When the Yanks left they merely waved to her from the doorway and she thought they were being discreet.

Now, however, waiting on the deserted roadway, she began to wonder if perhaps they had only been teasing, stringing her along. Or not taking her seriously. She glanced at her watch. Five past one. A sense of depression settled in the pit of her stomach. What was Richard doing now? In bed and asleep? Working on some patient, using all his talents to mend a broken body? Or sharing a coffee and a chat with Alys? The depression deepened. She looked at her watch again. Ten past. They weren't coming. She was not going to be able to get back to see him after all. She would have to go back to her tent, unpack her kitbag, pocket the club keys before anyone found them and wondered why she had left them out on her cupboard, and settle back for more countless weeks or months knowing that he …

A bright path of light cut through the darkness. She drew upright, every nerve tingling, straining her eyes towards the lights. Closer, closer – and the engine sound of a ute drowning the chirping of the crickets …

Tara hoisted her kitbag onto her shoulder and ran towards the ute.

The crew cut Yank was driving; he leaned over and opened the door for her. ‘Ready then, gorgeous? You still wanna go?'

‘Well, of course I do!' Tara said and climbed in.

In the grey dawn Tara walked towards 138 AGH. After a night without sleep her legs felt heavy, her mouth tasted stale and the excitement tingling within her was tinged with nervousness.

All very well to do something utterly crazy like this, but what was Richard going to say when he saw her? He would be shocked, of course – but would he be pleased? Suddenly, even that didn't seem in the least likely. After all, he had gone to Melbourne instead of hopping over to New Guinea when he had his leave.

The cluster of huts which comprised 138 loomed up, slightly forbidding now she was this close to them. After the swift flight in the transport plane she had managed to hitch another lift to take her south; she shivered, the cold morning air seeming to dissolve every stitch of her tropical kit clothing and striking deeply chill against skin accustomed to twenty-four-hour heat.

The sound of a vehicle on the path behind her made her turn and she saw an ambulance approaching. Instantly she thought of Alys. She did not want to meet her before seeing Richard – she would not know what to say to her. And besides, she did not want Alys to be the one to tell Richard she was here. ‘I have a surprise for you – guess who's here?' she could imagine that cultured voice saying. And she would be the one to see the expression on his face when she said it and know whether it registered pleasure – or dismay.

The ambulance passed and Tara remembered that Alys was no longer working for the Red Cross but driving a US Army General. Typical. Typical of her to be assigned to top brass.

She walked on, praying there would be no provost at the entrance to the hospital. If she was asked for a pass the cat would be well and truly out of the bag. But when she approached the hospital buildings there was no sign of life. The ambulance was parked at the door of the admissions block, empty now. She hesitated for just a moment then gave herself a mental shake. Look tentative and someone would wonder what business she had being here. Tara had never been one to let her nervousness show. Life was an act, wasn't it – so … act!

She pushed open the door and walked into the admissions room.

‘Could you tell me where I could find Richard Allingham?' she said.

It seemed she had been waiting forever when she heard his voice in the corridor outside.

She jumped up, passing the astonished AAMWS clerk, and ran into the corridor. He had just passed through the door leading from the treatment room and she thought her heart would burst with happiness just looking at him, standing there with hands thrust into the pockets of his white coat, hair slightly rumpled as if he had just taken off a sterile cap.

‘Richard!' Her voice was small and breathy. All the time she had been waiting while he was attending to the patient who had come in on the ambulance, she had been planning the million and one things she wanted to say to him; now she was face to face with him and every single one of them deserted her.

‘Tara?' He said it questioningly, as if he simply could not believe his eyes.

‘Yes – it's me!' And then she was running to him, unable to restrain herself for another moment. ‘Oh Richard – Richard!'

She was in his arms, feeling the hardness of his chest beneath her cheek, the long sinews of his back with her outstretched hands, oblivious to the AAMWS clerk, oblivious to everything but that she was with Richard once more after the long months of separation.

After a moment he held her away. ‘What are you doing here?'

She looked up at him, seeing his beloved face through a mist of tears, and felt a small knot of panic tighten her throat. She couldn't tell him the truth. Not here.

‘Oh, I got a three-day pass and hitched a lift with a US transport.' The panic dissolved into longing and she hugged him tight once more, wanting nothing but to hold him and never let him go.

‘Tara …' He took hold of her arms, pushing her away. ‘ Not here!'

Hurt, puzzled, she looked up at him and saw his expression – embarrassment verging on distaste.

‘Come on, we'll go outside for a few minutes.' His hand slid to her elbow, turning her, urging her back along the corridor. ‘I won't be far away if you need me,' he said to the AAMWS clerk.

The morning was brightening now towards full daylight, the hospital was beginning to come to life. A couple of sisters walked chatting between the buildings, an orderly trundled a trolley of linen. Tara did not recognize any of them – the hospital staff must have changed considerably in the time she had been away.

‘You should have let me know you were coming,' Richard said.

Again the panic knotted her throat threatening to cut off speech. This was the moment to confess she had no business being here at all – but she knew now she was not going to tell him. He would be shocked – furious with her, probably – and everything would be spoiled. Knowing him, he might even insist she return immediately before the provosts came looking for her.

‘There was no time,' she said. ‘ I didn't know myself until yesterday. I got the chance – and I just came!'

They were around the corner of the building now and she turned to him again, as desperate for reassurance as for his touch.

‘Oh Richard, I've missed you so!'

This time he did not push her away. She felt the response in his body and the hungry pressure of his lips on hers and for a few moments she let the avalanche of delight sweep away all her doubts and worries. She loved him – and if she had to spend the rest of the war scrubbing latrines and washing bandages to pay for her few stolen days it would have been worth it. Then, gradually, she felt the tide of his passion ebb, his back stiffening into rigid lines, his arms slightly tentative around her and she could almost imagine his eyes, alert and watchful, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming.

The pain of rejection destroyed her own mood of loving and longing. How could he be like this, so cool, so unmoved?

‘Aren't you pleased to see me?' she asked in a small voice.

‘Of course I am!'

‘You don't seem very pleased.'

‘Oh Tara, it's not that. But this is a hospital. I'm a doctor.'

‘You are also my husband and I haven't seen you for months and months.'

‘There are some things you just don't want to do when all the world is looking on.'

She stiffened. She should have known that Richard would never show his emotions in public. It was not his style. But surely after such a prolonged parting it was not unreasonable to expect him to display just a little pleasure – a little desire for her? But then passion was not Richard's strong suit – even in private.

‘I just wish I'd known you were coming,' he said again. ‘If I had known maybe I could have arranged some leave myself.'

The imp of disappointment and rejection twisted within her to something close to anger.

‘I thought you used up all your leave going to Melbourne.'

‘Yes – well …' His eyes slid away from hers. ‘ I'm sorry about that but as I explained when I wrote to you my father has been very poorly. I felt I ought to get down to see him in case he didn't make it through the winter.'

‘But he has,' she said. Her voice sounded hard to her own ears and she thought: I must not be this way. Richard can't help the way he is. It's how he has been brought up – all cold politeness and family commitment, but no real warmth. If I go on like this I shall spoil everything.

‘In any case,' he continued, ‘I have got a day off duty tomorrow. We can spend that together. Maybe we could get right away – down to the Gold Coast. Or even take a launch out to one of the islands. Right now though I ought to get back to the hospital. The bloke who was brought in was in quite a bad way – motorcycle accident. I may be needed.'

‘Yes,' she said dully.

‘You look shattered. Did you get any sleep last night?'

‘No, not really. I only dozed.' She had not felt tired before, adrenalin had buoyed her up. Now, she realized her eyes were heavy and a dazed sensation was beginning to deaden her senses and thought processes.

‘We'll see if we can find you somewhere to have a rest then. And by tomorrow you should be fit for a really nice day out.'