Fortunately, the art of flying was soon occupying his mind but unfortunately the enemy was soon detected on the radar. It seemed the gods had decided they were staying well out of the war today – no matter how much one man’s world had changed overnight.
The black dots approached and the engagement was vicious and swift. Marlon flew for his life, a life that meant so much more now than it did before, and soon burning planes were falling to the Timor Sea, death streams in their wake. He followed one bomber closely, trying to get it in his sights to clean it up too, but the pilot seemed pretty determined not to die today either. As the Japanese bomber got closer and closer to shore, Marlon felt the pressure to take it out steadily increase. Then it became critical as the bomber descended towards land, ready to let hell fall on Darwin once more. Marlon tried to get to it in a frantic dive of his own before the bombs were released, but he was too late and the shiny pencils fell.
He chased the bomber with desperate flying, sweat pouring until the hell-makers were sent to their deaths. But not before the bombs had found earth and oil. And pieces of the railway were turned to fire and dust.
He took off at a run, tearing at his goggles and straining against gravity to get him there faster. The clouds were black from cumulous explosions, the gritty air blinding. A rat ran past and the image of a book lying on the ground on another such day flashed through his mind. Of Mice and Men. Of Mice and Men. For some reason his brain repeated the words until he got to the railroads and tried to find his bearings in the smoking debris. He searched frantically for a flash of white smile. Brown legs running. But there was nothing. Only hell.
Then there was a man, a tall dark man in a loud Hawaiian shirt, carrying a girl in a yellow dress. Those brown legs were no longer running, they hung limp from the man’s arms, and the white smile was gone, blood trailing from still lips instead.
And then the gods turned their back on Liwa’s grandson, he who was Miwok, not really a white man. Saltwater tribe from the other side of the ocean.
The black clouds closed in and Marlon’s spirit fell deep into their darkness as he collapsed to the ground and wept for the girl who didn’t want to know his name. And he wished now that he didn’t know hers.
Because then this was real.
Twenty-three
September 1942
Braidwood, New South Wales, Australia
Junie wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, poking at the fire. She’d forgotten just how cold it got back home in winter. Even Digger was subdued, his breaths coming in little misted puffs as he watched her from the glass doors. He whined and Lily took pity on him from her knitting chair.
‘Let him in, Junie, poor fellow.’
Junie did so gladly and Digger wagged his whole body with happiness, licking every part of them he could get to and bounding about.
‘Cheeky,’ Junie crooned. ‘Yes, you are! Mr Cheeky,’ she said, hugging him awkwardly over her stomach.
‘Careful, Junie,’ her mother warned. ‘The doctor said you’re moving along too fast as it is.’
‘Bah, doctors,’ Henry huffed as he joined them, giving Digger a quick pat. It was his favourite saying of late. It was usually followed by ‘half of them wouldn’t know if their arses were on fire’ to which her mother would always respond, ‘Henry, please.’
‘Half of them wouldn’t know if their arses were on fire,’ he said, right on cue.
‘Henry, please.’
Junie laughed to herself, stroking Digger’s ears and the dog seemed to laugh too, tongue lolling and tail thumping.
‘Ah, now, what’s going on in the world today then?’ Henry asked his paper as he sat down near the blazing fire with his cup of tea. It made Junie almost teary every time he did that. The heart medication he was on was doing its job and, aside from some ongoing issues with arthritis, Henry was practically a new man. Cups of tea had replaced glasses of scotch and there were no afternoon drinks in this house any more, just a little wine with dinner. Doctor’s orders were being strictly adhered to – knowledge regarding the state of their arses notwithstanding. They had brought life back to her father, perhaps literally, and a spark back to her mother, who now bossed Henry about quite like the old days. For all her sacrifices there were rewards here, at least, and it gave Junie a break from her ‘captivity’, as she viewed life with Ernest. She could almost pretend it didn’t exist while back in her parents’ world.
And her husband wouldn’t be here for another two glorious weeks. She smiled contentedly, sipping on her own tea and enjoying what she considered her true home while she could.
There was a knock at the door and Digger barked importantly as their new maid, Louisa, went to open it. Having a servant was another comfort returned to the family now.
‘Ouch,’ said Junie, stretching her rib cage as the baby kicked against it. ‘She’s sticking her feet up there again. Move down if you want some room.’
‘I don’t think she can hear you,’ Lily said.
‘Might be a boy,’ Henry reminded them both from behind his paper.
‘Excuse me, ma’am’ Louisa said, entering, ‘but there are two men at the door.’
Three pairs of eyes flew to the maid and Junie held her stomach in fear.
Henry’s newspaper dropped to the floor as he stood. ‘Are they… are they clergymen?’
‘No, but they are in uniform,’ said a booming voice.
‘Archie!’ Lily cried, her hand flying to her mouth as her son stepped into the room.
‘Bill!’ Henry said, his face crumpling with tears. ‘My boys!’
Junie could hardly see, blinded as she was by her own crying, but her brothers found her and dragged her up, holding her in their safe arms at last.
‘Oh, little one,’ Bill said, patting her tummy. ‘Not so little any more, eh?’
‘I trust you’ll be calling him Archie?’ said the same, with a grin so familiar and so missed she started crying harder.
‘It’s a girl, apparently,’ Henry said, giving a helpless shrug, and they all laughed.
‘Well, Junie would be smart enough to know!’ Archie said, holding her shoulders tight.
‘Why didn’t you tell us? We would have come to the station,’ Lily admonished Bill as he hugged her again.
‘And miss the looks on your faces? Not bloody likely!’ he exclaimed. ‘Wouldn’t swap that for all the tea in China.’
‘Or Ceylon,’ Archie added.
‘Yes, yes, Ceylon. What’s that like then?’ Henry said, sitting down and wiping his eyes.
‘It’s pretty hot, I tell you – hold on, I think I’d better make this fella’s acquaintance. Who are you, eh? What a beaut!’ Bill exclaimed, hauling up a now deliriously excited Digger into his lap.
‘Digger,’ Junie and their parents told him simultaneously.
He looked at them in surprise. ‘Well, I reckon he could be at that. Could have used these at Tobruk,’ he said, laughing at the pup’s big paws.
‘He could have chewed some trenches for you, let me tell you,’ Henry declared as Digger wagged his tail madly, now upside down between the two brothers. ‘Right, cups of tea all round, Louisa. See what you’ve got from Ceylon and keep them coming. We want to hear absolutely everything.’
‘Bloody hell, that’s a tall order,’ Archie said jokingly, but there were shadows on her brothers’ faces and Junie knew then they would never hear the whole story. Not all of it. She shook that knowledge off. They were here. They were alive. And whatever stories they had, the only thing that really mattered was that they had survived them, even if Frankie had never seen this day.
Two out of three happy endings were better than none.
It was many hours later, when the rain had settled in with the silvered dusk, that Bill found her in the kitchen, beating at a cake to welcome them home.
‘So,’ he said, ‘Ernest Farthington, eh? Wouldn’t have thought he was your type. Last I remember, he was a skinny little weasel trying to order you about and you were us
ually trying to kick him in the shins for trying.’
‘He still is, and I still would if I could reach,’ she replied, gesturing at her stomach with the spoon.
‘What gives, Junie?’
He was serious now and she felt a tightness in her throat that words couldn’t get past. It was all very well to lie to her parents, but her brothers were another matter.
‘Did you – did you have to marry him?’ he asked, looking from her stomach to her face.
She found her voice then. ‘No, no, it wasn’t like that.’ If only she’d had to marry the baby’s father, she thought sadly.
‘Mum and Dad sounded different in their letters…after Frankie,’ he said.
‘They were,’ she admitted.
‘Seems Ernest has taken over Dad’s office. That’s different too.’ Her expression probably said it all so she didn’t bother to respond.
‘I’ve looked at the ledger,’ he said, throwing it on the table.
Junie opened her mouth and closed it again, tears in her eyes for the second time that day.
‘Bloody hell, Junie, what did you do?’
She wiped at her eyes and lifted her chin. ‘I gave you something to come home to, Bill. Just leave it alone.’
‘But we don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for us. Frankie wouldn’t have wanted that either.’
‘You didn’t see them; you don’t know how bad things were –’
‘Yes, but to marry that ridiculous man – for God’s sake, Junie, you detest him. I know you do.’
‘What’s all this?’ Archie said as he came in carrying the cups.
‘It seems that rat-face Ernest blackmailed her into this bloody marriage.’
‘What?’
‘The farm was in debt because Mum and Dad weren’t coping… after Frankie. That’s the truth of it, isn’t it, Junie?’
She could only nod.
‘We would have lost the lot,’ Bill said, opening a page in the ledger and pointing. He lit a cigarette, throwing the match on the hearth in disgust.
‘Why didn’t you write to us?’ Archie said, staring at Ernest’s neat rows of figures, aghast. ‘Wait till I get my hands on him, filthy little worm.’
‘No, Archie. Let it go. It’s…it’s all just too late. Anyway, Mum and Dad are a lot better now and Ernest paid the debts out, so all’s well that ends well.’
‘I’ll kill him,’ Archie spat, slamming the book shut.
‘No, don’t be angry, I’m fine. Really. I mean, he did nothing wrong when you think about it – we owe him.’ She sat down heavily on a kitchen chair, feeling suddenly weak in the legs.
‘Bullshit,’ Archie said, and she flinched, arms going protectively around the baby. ‘He probably orchestrated the whole thing, overstocking and over-extending the farm. Just how much is in his name now? Wouldn’t mind knowing that too.’
‘No, it’s in our name but…well, there was a document I had to sign.’
‘Let me guess – if you divorce him he takes the farm and the debt stands again?’
‘Yes. And the baby will…ugh…’
‘Bloody hell,’ Bill swore, not really listening any more as he paced the room. ‘How dare he do this to our family while we’re off fighting?’
‘Low-life bastard,’ Archie agreed. ‘He was always sniffing around after you! I swear, I’m gonna make him sorry he ever –’
‘Arrrgh,’ Junie grunted again, doubling over in pain.
‘What’s going on in here? Junie!’ cried Lily, rushing in with Henry.
‘The baby –’ she gasped, pain searing through her.
‘But it’s far too early,’ Lily said worriedly, rubbing her back. ‘What have you two been arguing with her about? You know you can’t upset an expectant mother.’
‘We just –’
‘We only –’
‘Arrrgh!’
Whatever else would have been said and whatever confessions may have surfaced that day, no-one would ever know. Francesca Katherine Farthington had decided to announce her arrival the same day as her uncles’ returns, and whatever issues they had with her parents’ marriage mattered nil to a baby supposedly very early, but actually past full term. Francesca held that secret for her mother by arriving a petite little thing, but there was nothing diminutive in her strong cries and determined stare. Her mother’s blood ran through her, her proud uncle Bill declared, as she very cleverly held his finger that night, and her namesake would watch over her. Archie said he hoped she’d prefer being called ‘Frankie’ instead of the fancy Italian version of the name her mother had come up with.
But she was Francesca Farthington for now and, as her perfect little face closed in sleep, her charm fell upon the Wallace family. For whatever reasons, and for better or worse, Ernest Farthington was the father she’d been given.
And all the adults in her life now realised they were just going to have to deal with that.
Twenty-four
November 1942
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia
‘Over sexed, over paid and over here,’ Cliffy declared. ‘Bloody Yanks.’
‘You said it, mate,’ Michael agreed, although he was watching Jake who was glaring at the sight of Katie dancing with yet another marine. The man was jitterbugging like there was no tomorrow and, like all the other girls in the hall, Katie seemed to be loving it.
The Americans had been welcomed at first but with their better pay, skilled dancing and sweet-talking ways, they’d been welcomed by the Australian girls a bit too much in the local fellas’ opinions. The Elite had just spent a six-week stint in the humid rainforest around Cairns practising guerrilla warfare and they were exhausted, thirsty and starved for female company. Compounding that, their year of hard training was just about up and it was nearly time for them to ship out. With the Japanese on their country’s doorstep their nerves were already wearing thin and the last thing these Aussies needed was for anyone to mess with their women.
But right now that’s exactly what was going on at the Trocadero.
‘Forget the Japs, we’ve already been invaded,’ Mayflower observed drily. ‘Why don’t you just cut in?’
‘’Cos she’s mad at me again,’ Jack said.
Mayflower shrugged. ‘Faint heart never won fair lady.’
‘What’s she mad at you for this time?’ asked Smitty.
‘I told her she had nice curves and somehow that means I told her she was fat.’
‘Women,’ said Cliffy.
Just then the marine grabbed Katie on the behind and Jake slammed his hand on the table.
‘Don’t do anything hasty,’ Michael warned, too late.
Jake strode over and the other members of the Elite hurried behind him. Liquorice and Allsorts had come out tonight along with two new members of the group, Jaffa and Nugget.
Jaffa was from Tamworth and had been so named by Cliffy for his rather bulbous red nose. He was an excellent athlete, especially at running, and Cliffy had gone as far as to suggest the red nose was really a red light reminding his body to stop when he’d reached his destination. Nugget had joined the squad with his mate, Jaffa, and he so closely resembled an actual gold nugget with his yellow hair, thick neck and large shoulders it made Michael smile every time someone said it. Cliffy had christened him with it on sight, adding he was ‘so huge he’d have muscles on his shit’.
Jake tapped the marine on the shoulder. ‘Being a bit too friendly there, mate,’ he said over the music.
‘Bugger off, Jake,’ said Katie, grabbing his drink and taking a deep swig.
‘You heard the lady, buddy,’ the marine said, putting his arm back around her.
‘Maybe I’m not making myself clear, buddy.’
‘Don’t get y’knickers in a twist, it’s just a little dancing,’ Katie said. ‘Get a – hold of yourself.’
‘It’s what he’s holding I’m not too happy about.’
‘Well, maybe he doesn’t think it’s too much to handle,’ she said, slightly
unsteady. Quite a lot of people had stopped dancing now and uniforms were building up on each side.
‘Yeah, I sure do like a woman with curves,’ the American said, grinning at Katie’s backside.
Jake glared at him then turned to Katie. ‘Oh, so it’s all right if a Yank says it but not an Aussie.’
‘He meant it as a compliment.’
‘You know, I give up,’ Jake said, throwing his hands in the air. ‘Dance with this pelican if that’s what you want. I’m getting a beer.’
The marine laughed, as did his mate nearby.
‘That figures. Typical Aussies.’
‘What do y’mean by “typical”?’ asked Liquorice.
‘And I’d be real careful about my answer if I were you,’ added Allsorts.
‘Well, maybe if you took more interest in your women folk than your beer they wouldn’t be so starved for attention.’
‘Who says I’m starved?’ Katie objected, turning to face him.
‘No-one would be saying that about you, ma’am.’
‘Don’t you bloody talk to her like that!’ Jake exploded, lunging forwards.
‘Not too bright, are you?’ Michael said to the marine, restraining Jake with difficulty.
‘Dumb as a hammer,’ agreed Cliffy. ‘Think you lot better hightail it outta here while y’can.’
‘I think I know why they drink so much,’ said the marine, ignoring the warnings, ‘they need it to make their partners look better.’
‘Who?’ the other one said, laughing. ‘The women or the men?’
‘Well, based on this ugly guy here, I’d say it’s the women.’
That comment was met by a fist, but not a man’s. It seemed Katie drew the line at insults to Jake.
The Trocadero erupted into a sea of fighting and the band stopped playing in the chaos. Fists were flying on all sides now and the two marines were being buried in a blur of Australian khaki as the Elite boys fell on them as one. American and Australian uniforms swarmed into the fray and soon Nugget was delivering single punches that felled three marines on impact. Meanwhile Liquorice and Allsorts were somehow managing to fight in perfect unison.
Worth Fighting For Page 17
