PETER
YELDHAM
Above the Fold
Where the headlines are
First published by For Pity Sake Publishing Pty Ltd 2014
www.forpitysake.com.au
10 8 6 4 2 9 7 5 3 1
Copyright © Peter Yeldham 2014
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without prior written permission. For permission contact the publisher at [email protected].
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Cover photograph sourced from iStock – www.istockphoto.com
Mr Yeldham’s portrait by J.Crew photography – www.jcrewphoto.com
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Yeldham, Peter
Above The Fold / author, Peter Yeldham
ISBN: 9780992521820 (ebk.)
Australian fiction
A823.3
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Peter Yeldham’s extensive writing career began with short stories and radio scripts. He spent 20 years in England, becoming a leading screenwriter for films and television, also writing plays for the theatre including Birds on the Wing and Fringe Benefits, which ran for two years in Paris.
Returning to Australia, he won numerous awards for his mini-series, among them 1915, Captain James Cook, The Alien Years, All the Rivers Run, The Timeless Land and Heroes. His adaptation of Bryce Courtenay’s novel Jessica won a Logie Award for best mini-series.
He is the author of several novels including Barbed Wire and Roses, A Distant Shore, Against the Tide and A Bitter Harvest.
For more information please visit www.peteryeldham.com.
Also by Peter Yeldham
A Bitter Harvest
A Distant Shore
Against the Tide
Barbed Wire and Roses
Glory Girl
Land of Dreams
The Currency Lads
The Murrumbidgee Kid
To the gang of three:
Lyn who rings every day, Perry who did the first edit and found a title, and Mary Anne who accompanies me to medical meetings and interprets what the doctors say.
CONTENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
AFTERMATH
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ALSO BY PETER YELDHAM
ONE
It was a strange time, that summer of 1942 when Claudia Marsden came home. The war was alarmingly close. Soldiers were busy stringing barbed wire barricades along the beaches and installing a gun on the headland. There were ration books, blackouts and a Japanese army already advancing in New Guinea. Perhaps that was why Luke Elliott, thinking of these looming disasters, failed to recognise Claudia, even though her family had once lived next door.
She was just three days younger than Luke. Their mothers had been close friends, and, as a result, he and Claudia shared birthday parties. Luke had hated those parties. At four years old she was fat and wore thick glasses. At six she was not only fatter but bossy, with a loud voice and plaits. To his relief, at nine, the parties ended. Her father, a diplomat, had been transferred to Paris. It was a decade before the family returned home, and by then much had changed. The European war was in its third year; the one in the Pacific had just begun. But the most astounding change was Claudia.
There were no glasses. At nineteen she was slender, with deep blue eyes and soft dark hair that reached her shoulders. She had high cheekbones, a retroussé nose and luminous smile. As for the voice, when they almost collided in the main street, the voice was mellifluous: he felt sure it could never have been loud or bossy.
“Luke,” was the first word he heard this voice say. “Luke, it’s me.”
He gazed at her. Did he know this gorgeous girl?
“Mental telepathy,” she said, as if reading his confusion. “I woke up this morning thinking of you and our awful birthday parties.”
“Claudia!” He blinked.
“You look a bit stunned.”
“I am. You used to be …” He stopped himself just in time.
“I used to be fat and bossy,” she said to his astonishment. “My cousin once called me a horror. A fat horror, to quote him.”
“Never,” he said, trying to refute this. “Well, whatever he said, you’re certainly different now.” He found the right words at last. “You’re beautiful.”
“C’ est tres galant, mon cher,” she said.
“What?”
She didn’t translate, just kissed him on both cheeks — a French custom, she said — then impulsively hugged him. Her firm breasts against his chest created an instant frisson. Luke, still searching for words, proposed their reunion be celebrated, but, since there was no pub in their seaside village, he suggested the local milk bar.
“A malted,” she said, as if he’d promised nectar. “I used to dream of them in France.” So, moments later, each with a container and straw, they were busy drinking with their eyes fixed on each other, noisily competing until they reached the froth, Luke wondering if she had a boyfriend — and seriously hoping not.
That afternoon they sat on the beach to catch up with the missing years of each other’s life. Mostly, her life: her family living in luxurious Saint-Germain while Claudia attended a lycée, until Hitler put an end to it. She told him of their escape from Paris amid streams of terrified refugees, hitching a ride on an army truck to Cherbourg, where a naval corvette took them across the channel.
“It was lucky,” she said. “If we’d been interned my dad might have had a bad time with the Gestapo. He was a military attaché,” she explained, seeing Luke looking puzzled.
Her dad? Of course, he thought. In his reading of thrillers a ‘military attaché’ usually meant a spy. But surely not Gordon Marsden, their one-time neighbour, who took the bus to work each day, and at weekends mowed his lawn and clipped the hedges. Hardly the activities of a secret agent.
Or else the perfect cover for one. Luke decided it was probably ridiculous, and her dad’s activities should be a question left until he knew her better.
“How long were you and the family in London?” he asked.
“Nearly two years waiting for a ship.”
“So you were there for the blitz. That must’ve been hell.”
“Not too hellish,” she said, after a moment. “We spent most nights in the Maida Vale tube station. Hundreds of us,” she said with a smile. “It was a good way to meet people and make friends.”
Boyfriends, he thought. Don’t even go there, he warned himself, then decided he might as well find out the bad news without delay. “Boyfriends, I suppose you mean?”
She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. Wrong! he decided.
“I know it’s a bit personal,” he attempted to make amends, “but I’m sure there were boyfriends. Perhaps a special one — or, who knows, even a string of the buggers?”
“You are daft,” she said, laughing uproariously. It was a lovely sound, the laughter, and a passing boat crew of lifesavers turned to gaze at her. One gave an appreciative whistle, the others stared amid an exchange of smirks. “Wow,” said the whistler audibly, “what a great sort!”
She waggled fingers at them in a mock wave, then grabbed Luke’s hand to join with hers. Their clasped hands, and the loud chorus of disappointment from the boat crew, was a shared moment of pleasure.
“It’s not too personal,” she replied when the lifesavers had gone by, “but I think you’ve been dying to ask me that since we met. True or false, Luke?”
“True,” he admitted.
“Well, I wasn’t a nun,” she said, “so there were occasional boyfriends, of course …”
Of bloody course, he thought gloomily.
“One was special. I cried for two days on the ship when we left England,” she said. “I suppose you’ll stay in touch,” Luke began, when she suddenly added, “but on the third day I decided I was over it.” He realised she was gazing at him. “As for my string of buggers — whatever gave you that idea?”
“Just the way you look gave me that idea.”
“Oh.” The vivid eyes widened. “Goodness! Thank you.” She seemed unsure what else to say for a moment, then regained her composure and smiled. “My turn to be inquisitor, I think. So, is there anyone lurking in your life? Some beautiful bird? Or even a flock of them?”
“No,” said Luke with a grin.
“Honestly?” Claudia seemed unsure.
“Honestly,” he assured her. It was not an answer he’d have been able to give with honesty a week ago. “There was someone, but things changed.”
“When?” she asked.
“Er … recently. Last week, in fact.”
“Last week? What happened?”
“I went off her.” He hesitated. “No — that’s not true. She went off me.” He sighed. “In fact, she went off with my best friend. That’s what happened.” He shrugged, as if to make light of it.
“Your best friend? Must’ve been a blow.”
“A bit of a blow. But I think I’m over it now.”
“I hope you are,” said Claudia. “I mean, the pair of us free and unencumbered.” It seemed a promising comment. A surprisingly hopeful one.
Luke was unaware, but she had often thought of him. When she had known they were coming home, and particularly when they were in the Atlantic, with U-boats hunting freighters like theirs, it had been a nervous time, and she found thinking of Luke helped to ease her fear. She had the advantage of knowing how he looked, for his mother had sent her parents a photo taken on the day he finished school. Now, two years later, he was taller and more mature, but even then she’d thought him good looking, and hoped he’d still be living in the same district, and they’d meet like this. She thought how close the war had come to preventing it from happening.
The ship had reached Ceylon on the seventh of December, the day Japan had attacked the American fleet in Pearl Harbour, and the captain of their vessel planned a hasty return to South Africa. Her father agreed they’d go with him, but then managed to get them seats on the last Qantas flight out of Colombo.
“It was an old Empire flying boat,” she told Luke, “and I was scared we’d be an easy target for fighter planes. I didn’t think we’d reach Darwin, let alone the mooring at Rose Bay. If it had been Mascot, I think I’d have jumped out and kissed the ground.”
Luke was aware of her steady gaze at him. Her words felt like an invitation, so he leaned forward to gently kiss her — just a welcome-home kiss on the cheek, not wanting to push his luck. Then he steered their conversation to other topics. The new house she and her parents had moved into just a few days ago, and how they’d been stuck in Canberra for weeks while her dad attended to various government meetings.
The thought of this started to intrigue Luke; her father clearly had influence. The naval corvette, the last flight out of Ceylon, meetings with government. It was certainly possible he could be like one of those diplomats who were undercover agents. He felt so at ease with her now that he was able to ask: “Claudia, if it’s not a silly question, is your dad by any chance a spy?”
She let out a peal of laughter that sent a cluster of nearby seagulls into instant flight. “If he was,” she said, “I’m sure I’d be the last to know.”
As neat a side-step to the question as I’ve ever seen on a football field, he thought. That was when he realised they were still holding hands. He had no intention of letting go. Nor it seemed did Claudia.
TWO
If it hadn’t been for the war that summer would have been the best time of their lives. A few days later Luke introduced her to his small circle of four close friends, who’d shared their schooldays at Brookvale High. One of them, Helen Richmond, the local police sergeant’s very attractive daughter, had been his former girlfriend — if liking the same films and sitting in the back row for some petting when the lights went down constituted this status — that is, until his friend Barry Silvester had made a move on her while Luke was away visiting relatives in Hobart.
It threatened to cause a major rift in a friendship that had existed since kindergarten. But mateship was a natural way of life for those who lived in close proximity on what was called the ‘Insular Peninsula’, and this camaraderie was of long standing. Time would be the bandaid to assist in the healing, although Luke was now aware of a pecking order in their male trio. Barry, the oldest by a few months and the tallest by a few inches, had always tacitly assumed leadership. He’d been the best at sports, the dux at school, and now it was clear he intended to be the precursor with the opposite sex. So Luke had a choice: he would introduce Claudia, but with care.
They met them on the beach. Steven with his girlfriend Rachel Ives, and Barry squiring newly acquired Helen. They were all sunbaking while watching young soldiers erect barbed wire fences. A pointless task, according to Barry, never one to repress his opinion.
“Sheer waste of bloody money,” he asserted loudly. “Cost millions and won’t keep out a stray dog or a koala bear.”
“We’ve got to protect our coastline,” Steven was insisting.
“Get real,” Barry retorted. “The bastards have bombed Darwin — soon there’ll be a sky full of Nipponese with sten guns and grenades. Bloody barbed wire isn’t going to stop them.”
“Cheer us up, why don’t you,” said Luke as he arrived. “And this, by the way, is Claudia.”
“Wow! What lovely planet did you descend from?” Barry was the first to speak, gazing at her with open admiration.
During the introductions his eyes followed her, and Claudia, who could read male intent, responded by linking hands with Luke. Barry shrugged indifference and Claudia ignored this as she mixed with the others. Steven was affable, telling her he was doing economics at university, then supposed to join Pascoe Timber, the family business. She noticed his lack of enthusiasm, and knew from Luke the Pascoe family was wealthy but dominated by Steven’s father.
“Are you looking forward to it?” she asked.
“Not in the slightest,” he said. “It’s something I have to sort out before I leave uni. If the war’s still on I’ll be joining up.”
Barry, also at university, declared being a student would save him if conscription was introduced. In a barb that seemed directed at Steven, he said he didn’t want to put on a slouch hat and play at being a hero.
Rachel was quick to confide she had one ambition — to be an actress. But she was doing a secretarial course first to please her parents who thought theatre was a precarious living.
Claudia already knew Helen studied law and was something of a local phenomenon, finishing top of the state in her first two years, and now doing well in her third.
It was clear if she was now Barry’s girlfriend, she had recently been Luke’s. “Went off with one of my best friends,” he’d said; Claudia didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to work it out. She felt she owed Helen a debt of gratitude, but wondered what had attracted a clever girl like her to a muscle-bound egotist like Barry. Come to that, how had Luke and Barry become close friends? She saw them standing apart in what seemed like a private conversation so no-one else could hear what was being said.
“You lucky fucking bastard,” Barry muttered, his anger and fierce frustration in tight control in front of the others. “How the fucking hell did you find someone like her?”
In later years Luke would remember that day, when their long friendships had begun to unravel. It was also a time when the rich were leaving their waterfront homes for safe havens in the Blue Mountains, and all those who couldn’t flee were installing black-out curtains while expecting an invasion. Luke and his circle of friends needed something to occupy their minds apart from war, because the war was being lost. In less than three months since Pearl Harbor, the Japanese had occupied the Philippines, Borneo, Sarawak and Sumatra, forced the surrender of Hong Kong, and sunk the Prince of Wales and the Repulse, two of the British Navy’s most unsinkable warships. No-one could escape the gloomy outlook. Not even at the movies — a Saturday matinee.
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