Uncommon Enemy

by Reynolds, John

  “You can trust me, of course.”

  “There’s more to it than that. After what you hear, you may change your mind about me.”

  He laughed, “Don’t be------.”

  “No, Stuart.” She put her fingers gently on his mouth, and seeing the intent look on her face he stopped smiling and squeezed her hand.

  “OK. I’m listening.”

  Slowly and deliberately she pulled her hand away from his and took a deep breath.

  “As I told you, I’ve know Hamish for a long time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Both of our parents had been friends for years and so we saw a lot of each other. With the approval of my parents and his father he started taking me out when I was about sixteen. At first it was just fun, just friends, but then he started to get, well, romantic.”

  She looked away and Stuart grimaced at the thought.

  “I didn’t mind too much at first. A few kisses and cuddles were quite nice. But then he started becoming more demanding.

  Kept telling me he loved me and that if I loved him I wouldn’t mind going, you know-----.”

  “All the way.”

  “Yes. He kept on and on, telling me I didn’t really care for him, that I was cold, that I was unnatural. It went on for weeks.”

  “Obviously he preferred a subtle approach,” murmured Stuart.

  “In the end, one Saturday night when his father was out at some Rotary Club function, I finally agreed, just to stop him going on at me, really.” She looked up at him briefly and then looked back at the ground, scuffling her feet through the leaves that had wafted across the path. “I didn’t really want to but he’d been going on for so long and----.”

  “It’s OK, Carol. Don’t upset yourself.” He reached for her hand but she pulled away.

  “Yes, but you still don’t understand. There’s more. You see we did it. He was satisfied but me, I was left frightened and, um, humiliated, by the whole process.” She grimaced and shuddered. “I didn’t enjoy it at all.”

  “Not surprising, under the circumstances. Still it’s all over-----.”

  “Listen to me, Stuart!” She was clearly becoming distressed but was determined to carry on. She looked him straight in the face. “I got pregnant straight away. Just from that one time.”

  “Oh. Bad luck,” he murmured, realizing immediately the inadequacy of the response.

  “Hamish was furious. He hit me, and called me a stupid cow and then insisted on informing my parents. He told me that although it was my fault he would stand by me.”

  Stuart, shaken by the unexpected news, and not knowing how the story would unfold, sat staring at her. Neither of them spoke and then, feeling that he had to say something, Stuart asked, “What did your parents say?”

  “My father was furious. He took Hamish’s side and then he asked my mother if she could do anything.”

  “‘Do anything’?”

  “Yes, you know, get rid of it.”

  “Jesus! An abortion! What say someone had reported you to the police?”

  “I was too upset to worry about that or to know what to do. Money was no object and my mother knew a woman who was prepared to do it so I was taken to her.” She started to shake. “God, Stuart, it was sordid and horrible.”

  Heedless of the curious stares of passers by, Stuart wrapped his arms around her murmuring, “It’s OK. I’m here. It’ll be alright.”

  Her shaking gradually subsided, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Now, you see what sort of woman I am. Hamish had this terrible hold over me. I had a secret and he had the power to reveal it. Every time I did something to annoy him he would remind me that although he’d stood by me no other man would want me after what had happened. I was too worried about what he said to talk to anyone. Neither my parents nor Hamish’s father ever mentioned it again, just carried on as if nothing happened; except that Mum and Dad were both especially nice to Hamish because of the way he’d stood by me.”

  Feeling Stuart’s intake of breath she quickly continued. “I felt that I was soiled goods. We continued going out together but I did make it quite clear that I’d never do it again unless we were married. And I’ve stuck to it, even though it’s continued to cause tension between us.” She paused, sighed and then tentatively said, “That’s the full story. I’ve never told anyone else.”

  She stopped talking and buried her head in the lapel of his blazer. Stuart knew that she was waiting for his reaction and that it would be crucial to her and to their relationship. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

  “Whew. Now I understand why you agreed to the engagement. Your brother’s death just added to the considerable pressure that you’d been under for months from your family and Hamish.”

  Her reply was barely audible. “Stuart, there’s one more thing.”

  “More?” He was unable to keep the tension out of his voice.

  “Yes.” She went quiet for a long moment and buried her face deeper into his lapel so that he had to strain to hear her next words. “As the result of the abortion, I won’t be able to have any children.”

  His spontaneous laughter took her by surprise. “Children! Nothing could be further from my mind. It’s you I love, Carol. And in any case, if we want children in the future, we’ll adopt them. Orphanages are full of kids looking for a good home!”

  He was conscious that she was perfectly still. “But,” he felt her tense, “it does have a happy ending.”

  “Oh?” she said in a small voice.

  “Yes, you found me and I found you. What could be happier than that?”

  Reaching down he gently took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “Carol, thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me. It makes no difference to me. I loved you before you told me and I love you now. Even more.”

  Chapter 21

  He was early for the function and, not wishing to be the first to arrive, parked his car in a side street and switched off the engine. It was raining heavily and the dusk sky was rapidly darkening. He lit a cigarette and sat staring unseeingly at the watery patterns streaming across his front windscreen.

  The scene was still vivid in his mind. She stood by the door with her suitcase at her feet staring down at him.

  “Sorry, Hamish,” she said, “but I never really wanted you.”

  His father’s grip tightened on his shoulder stopping him from going to her.

  “You’ll understand when you get older,” she continued. “But I’ve got a chance to lead my own life and I’m taking it.”

  A car horn sounded from the street outside and she looked quickly round.

  “It’s that bastard, isn’t it?” His father’s voice was hoarse.

  She shuffled and then smiled without warmth. “Take’s one to know one, Dave.”

  Struggling against his father’s grip he stretched out his arms towards her. Looking into his eyes, she covered her mouth with her hand to mask a spontaneous intake of breath. She stood still for a moment and then she shook her head.

  “Sorry, Hamish. I’ve no choice.” And she was gone.

  Bewildered he looked up at his father seeking an explanation or a word of comfort, but the man stood staring fixedly at the closed front door.

  “Bitch!” he snarled. Then he looked down at his seven-year-old son. “Don’t ever forget it, Hamish. Like all women, your mother’s a no good bitch!”

  That night he went to bed and lay quietly sobbing. Eventually his father came in and stood awkwardly by his bedside – he was never comfortable with tears. The aroma of alcohol was stronger than usual.

  “Stop your crying, son” he commanded quietly. “She’s not worth it. We’re both better off without her.”

  He touched his son briefly on the top of the head and turned abruptly away.

  Throughout the rest of his childhood and into his teenage years his father’s sentiments were conveyed to him on a regular basis. Once or twice he tried to seek an explana
tion but his father refused to comment further other than to repeat his derogatory comments about his wife and women in general. In the Fourth Form he first heard the term ‘shotgun wedding’ and realized that it applied to his parents and him.

  He never heard from his mother again.

  He was bright at school, particularly in mathematics, and his father’s approval at his scholastic success was some compensation for the constant emptiness that stayed with him into his teenage years.

  Growing up in the 1930s Depression had not been as harsh an existence for him as it had been for many other children whose fathers were on relief pay at work camps. His father’s construction business built up during the prosperous 1920s had expanded into a number of hardware shops. Although the profits from all branches of the business had slowed considerably, there was still sufficient to provide Hamish and his father with a comfortable living.

  Other men such as his father’s friend Fred Peterson were not quite so fortunate. By 1934 all the savings that he had lived on since the stock market collapse had vanished and in desperation he had come to Dave Beavis for help. Beavis was first and foremost a businessman. The Petersons had a freehold house and he agreed to make an interest only loan to his friend in return for a half share in the property. He also insisted that the Petersons develop a household budget and that regular meetings be held between the two men to monitor the cash flow.

  From Hamish’s teenage years his father had began to instruct him in the workings of the business and the boy rapidly gained the ability to read columns of figures and to understand the factors that contributed towards its financial success. Pleased with the boy’s progress his father took him to the regular meetings with Fred Peterson and eventually, with the other man’s agreement, gave Hamish the full responsibility for handling Peterson’s financial affairs. As the New Zealand economy began a slow recovery Hamish, who had left school and was working as a trainee manager in his father’s firm, suggested investing some of Peterson’s money. When it began to show a steady return the man was deeply grateful.

  During his initial visits to the Peterson home Hamish had shown little interest in their daughter Carol. However, when he was invited to her 16th birthday party and saw her dressed in a flowing red frock he was stunned by her beauty. In spite of the increasing success of his financial career he was awkward around women and the few times he’d managed to take them out had left him feeling angry at his inability to communicate easily with them. His clumsy efforts at petting had been equally unsuccessful leaving him frustrated and resentful, particularly when the other young men in the firm boasted of their conquests.

  His initial approaches to Carol were met with a coy response. She appeared flattered by the attention of an older man and her parents in their turn, still mindful of the financial advice and assistance provided by Hamish and his father, enthusiastically encouraged the relationship. The pair began going out on a regular basis to the movies and the occasional party. The envious looks that other men threw in his direction pleased him. Other men desired her but Carol was his…almost.

  The longing to possess her physically became an obsession with him and although she tolerated his initial fumblings in her underclothes, she always pushed him away when she felt his urgency. This only served to increase his frustration and he began to accuse her of being cold and frigid.

  Finally, on a night when his father had gone out to a business function, he persuaded her to come to his bedroom. There he took her roughly and rapidly. Her cries of pain only served to feed his excitement and at the end he obtained almost as much enjoyment from exerting a final dominance over her as he did from the flood of pleasure that relieved his frustration.

  When he pushed himself up from on top of her the pain and the fear in her eyes only served to rekindle his desire and he took her again, oblivious to her renewed sobs of protest. Finally exhausted and satiated, he sat in a chair and smoked as he watched her hobble to the bathroom.

  For the next few weeks she strongly resisted his advances, but one evening when she phoned and asked him to meet her he felt an instant arousal. However, the revelation that she was pregnant infuriated him and he immediately insisted that his father and her parents be informed. Hamish had quickly realized that in her parent’s eyes, Ian was the favourite of the two children. Although they were proud of their attractive daughter they regarded her good looks as an advantage in their goal of having her married and settled as quickly as possible so that they could concentrate all their resources on assisting Ian to build a career. Hamish correctly counted on them being angry at their daughter for spoiling their carefully laid plans. He felt a smug satisfaction at her distress when it was clear that in parental eyes she was cast as the guilty party - the fallen woman who had betrayed their trust.

  He felt no remorse at the decision to arrange an abortion. He didn’t want Carol and a child - he just wanted Carol. When it was over, he refused to discuss it with her. He began to attempt to resume their relationship, with full parental support. Although she accompanied him without protest to the pictures or on trips to the beach in his near new Morris 8, she became increasingly moody and non-communicative and shied away whenever he tried to touch her. His anger and frustration only fuelled his desire to possess her – permanently.

  The offer from the New Order government was a lucrative one. He’d been initially approached by a newly formed New Zealand Nazi Party official as a suitable candidate for Party membership that included an offer of a powerful senior financial position within the new government. His father, after some misgivings, acquiesced to Hamish’s wish and agreed to put a new manager into the Newmarket branch of the firm. Hamish’s new position delighted him. It not only provided him with a generous salary and expense account, but also meant that he would be operating from a defined power base that would give him financial oversight of the nation’s university colleges. His first priority would be Auckland University College. He smiled at the prospect.

  Carol’s agreement to the engagement had not been as enthusiastic as he would have wished and he suspected that she was still hankering after Stuart Johnson. He’d already discussed Johnson with several new colleagues in the security police and had been assured that the new Patriotic Laws gave them sweeping powers to deal with troublemakers, particularly if identified by senior Party officials. Winding down the car window he flicked his cigarette butt into the rain. It was all too easy. He’d seen the shock on Johnson’s face at the university meeting that morning. He’d allow a little time for the sweat of fear to intensify and then order the man’s arrest.

  Once Johnson was disposed of he would be able to take the ultimate step in his goal of possessing Carol – marriage. His immediate goals were clearly in sight but he would enjoy the anticipation a little longer. Carol wasn’t expecting him until the following day and tonight he’d been invited to a Party function to welcome new members. A German member had smilingly informed him that the plentiful supplies of food, beer and wine would be supplemented by ‘junge Mädchen’. He ran his tongue under his top lip, half-closed his eyes and felt a shudder of anticipation surge through him.

  He turned on the key and reached for the starter button.

  “Young girls. How young?” he wondered aloud.

  Chapter 22

  The rally of the university student union early the following afternoon started quietly. As the news of the previous day’s meeting with the German officials spread throughout the university, students began to assemble in small groups in the quad, seeking further information and debating various courses of action. Opinions were divided about the meeting and its implications and consequently there was confusion as to how the student body should react. The small groups rapidly grew into a large, noisy crowd and voices became louder as each student sought to express their opinion above the increasing noise.

  On one side of the quad a platform with microphone and a speaker had been set up in anticipation of the rally. At its base the Auckland University College
Students Association committee members, their heads close together in a scrum-like formation, were debating their next move. One of them looked up at the increasing throng. Turning back to the group he addressed a tall redheaded youth.

  “They don’t know what’s going on, Ned. Somebody’ll have to say something and it has to be you.”

  Ned Cox looked uncomfortable. He had been Student President for a year and had revelled in the prestige that came with the office. Not only had he enjoyed running the meetings but also it had enabled him to mix with the academic staff. Furthermore it had given his love life a new impetus. Often he had fantasized about a glittering academic career once the war was over, but nothing had prepared him for this new turn of events. Yet, clearly someone had to say something and as president it was his responsibility.

  He nodded. “OK. Not exactly sure what I’m going to say, but I’ll give it a go.”

  The crowd grew quiet as he stepped onto the platform and approaching the microphone, nervously blew into it. He looked around at the sea of upturned faces and cleared his throat.

  “Gentlemen,” he began, and noticing some women students standing in a group on one side, added “and ladies of course.” He laughed nervously but the crowd remained silent. “Um, thank you for coming here today.”

  “It’s not a bloody wedding, Ned!” shouted a voice from the back of the crowd. “Tell us what’s going on!”

  An affirmative roar galvanized Cox into action. He held up his hand.

  “I don’t know much more than you do. However I had a brief meeting with senior staff representatives about an hour ago. We have been informed that our university college and every other one in the country will be placed under the control of some sort of Nazi committee called the Academic Council. This committee will have the power to decide what courses will be taught and what books will be used to teach these courses.”

  There was an immediate and angry roar of protest from the student crowd. Cox paused and ran his fingers through his hair. The day was cloudy and cool but he noticed that his forehead was heavy with sweat. Again he held up his hand.