Taking a Chance

by Deborah Burrows

  ‘I’m going home,’ I said. ‘Could one of you get me a taxi?’

  Merle left quickly, returning a little while later to say that one was waiting, and she’d given my apologies to the committee.

  ‘God, Nell,’ said Jean. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘And I’m sorry I’m being so silly,’ I said. ‘Nothing has happened between me and John Horvath. It’s just that I really misjudged him and it’s been a shock. Stupid of me.’

  ‘You’ve got Rob,’ said Jean. ‘He’s worth twenty John Horvaths.’ I nodded wearily, but I knew the truth. I had nothing.

  Jean and Merle stood on either side of me as I made my way to the door. I had re-done my make-up as well as I could and I held my head high. I looked fixedly ahead so my eyes would not find Johnny in the crowd. He found me though. He was waiting at the door with my jacket.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ He sounded so worried, I wanted to cry.

  ‘I’m not feeling well,’ I said. ‘I’m going home.’

  ‘I’ll take you.’

  ‘No.’ I almost shouted it. ‘No,’ I said more softly. ‘I don’t want you to. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ When he tried to take my arm I shook it off. I looked straight into his eyes and said in a low, hard voice, ‘I want to go alone. Let me be.’

  His mouth tightened, but he backed away. Jean took my jacket from him and she and Merle helped me down the stairs and into the taxi.

  When we reached Violet Grove I paid the taxi driver with shaky hands and walked slowly up the path to the front verandah. Aunty May had left the outside light on and I sat on one of the cane chairs, feeling nauseous and embarrassed. Well, I thought, Johnny’s been well and truly knocked off his pedestal. It was good that they had told me. It was better to know something like that and not build daydreams around an image of the man that was just not true.

  The street was very quiet, and it was chilly out on the front verandah, but somehow looking at the streetlights made me feel warmer. I could hear the sound of a car approaching. Taking a deep breath, I blew it out slowly. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I’d known he’d come. Sure enough, a taxi pulled up by our gate, and Johnny got out. He said something to the driver, who pulled away slowly and stopped halfway down the street. Johnny limped up the path, sat on the front step in front of me and pulled out his tobacco pouch.

  ‘What did those women tell you?’ he asked as he started to make a cigarette.

  I was worried that if I tried to talk I’d just cry, so I stayed silent and watched as he calmly sprinkled tobacco onto the paper.

  ‘What was it, Nell?’ he asked, looking up at me.

  ‘They said that a nurse in the Philippines . . .’

  His face seemed to become grimmer. He rolled the cigarette, licked the flap, then smoothed the damp seam. As he twisted one end he lifted the other end to his mouth and struck a match. The tip of the cigarette glowed red when he inhaled.

  ‘Tell me about the girl, Johnny,’ I said.

  He took another deep breath of smoke. ‘Her name was – is – Betty Simmons.’

  She’s not dead. It was amazing how much better that made me feel.

  ‘They said you got her into trouble.’ My voice was cold.

  His eyes flew open in a look of horror that was obviously real. ‘Christ. Is that what they’re saying now?’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not true. I never touched her.’

  ‘But that makes no sense,’ I said. ‘Did she really try to . . .’

  ‘Yeah. She did. She slashed her wrists, lay on her bed and waited to die.’

  Nausea engulfed me again and I jumped up from my chair. Johnny had his arms around me before I could go anywhere. I pushed him away roughly, and sat down again. His face seemed to crumple, but he lowered himself to the step in front of me, resting his elbows on his knees and drawing deeply on his cigarette.

  ‘She was found before she died, of course. But she’d left a note,’ he continued. I could smell the tobacco from his breath. ‘Said that she loved me and didn’t want to live without me.’

  ‘Did you lead her on, Johnny?’

  He bent his head to stare fixedly at his cigarette. ‘I used to kid around with the nurses. Maybe she took it the wrong way. I never touched her, I swear it.’

  But he had led her on, even if he hadn’t intended to. This was the other side to charming Johnny. He was a player, who saw love as a distraction, and I was an inexperienced Perth girl who’d fallen in love too quickly. If Merle hadn’t told me about Betty Simmons, I’d be with him now, in his arms in his hotel room. Would he have left me in despair when he returned to the battle front? Had he left Lena in despair? Was that why she’d gone to Rick Henzell?

  ‘Why was it “complicated” between you and Lena, Johnny? Why wouldn’t she see you when you went to visit her in gaol?’

  His gaze flicked up to mine, and there was some emotion in his eyes. Was it misery? He turned away and when he spoke his voice was low, emotionless.

  ‘It was complicated. Then it wasn’t. We broke up. She fell for Henzell.’

  I thought I knew what he meant. Lena had thought that she was pregnant, but it was a false alarm. Or maybe she had been, but she’d ‘dealt with it’. It was cold on the verandah, and I realised I was shivering. I didn’t want to be there any more, didn’t want to talk to him any more. I wanted only to be lying in my bed, warm and wrapped up tight in bedclothes.

  ‘Johnny I need to get to bed. I’m too tired to know what to think at the moment.’

  He turned his head so that I could look at him. In the dim porch light he looked deathly pale, but his gaze was steady.

  ‘I’d never hurt you, Nell. Please believe that.’

  ‘I’m too tired to think,’ I repeated. ‘Let me go to bed.’

  I stood up and turned towards the door, but he was next to me before I could put the key into the lock, holding onto my arm, watching me closely in the dim porch light.

  His look was pleading. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, though? We’re looking for the girls, Lily and Susan, remember. So I’ll see you tomorrow?’ He still had hold of my arm, and was waiting for my answer.

  We had to find Lily and Susan, stop them from making terrible mistakes and throwing away their lives. We had to find out if they knew anything that might help Lena Mitrovic . . . Lena, who was also one of Johnny’s conquests. A sharp, bitter pain shot through me. How did Johnny really feel about the beautiful Lena Mitrovic? About any of the girls he romanced? About me?

  I sighed. I’d come this far in my quest to help Lena and find those girls. I couldn’t stop now.

  ‘All right,’ I said quietly, pushing open the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  But I paused in the doorway; I couldn’t go in without making it clear. I turned around and looked straight into his eyes.

  ‘About what happened tonight, Johnny . . . We both got rather carried away. It won’t happen again.’

  His eyes darkened and his lips seemed to twist into a bitter grimace. He let go of my arm, turned and walked slowly towards the taxi that was waiting down the street.

  was so tired that I almost fell into bed, and yet once I was lying there sleep evaded me. Snatches of

  memory raced through my mind. The magic hour on the balcony, the taste of Johnny’s kisses and the feel of his arms around me. I was desperately in love with a man who played fast and loose with the affections of women, and who had driven one to despair.

  I turned my face to the pillow and I wept.

  When I woke up the next morning I felt calmer. If I considered it all dispassionately, it was a good thing that I’d found out about Johnny before I’d got in too deep. He’d admitted that he’d flirted with Betty Simmons. I didn’t think that Johnny was a bad man – I knew he wasn’t – but how could I ever trust a man like that?

  I was back to where I’d been four days ago. I’d work with him on the story, I’d try to help him exonerate Lena Mitrovic and then I’d wave goodbye as he headed off back to the war and out of my li
fe forever. I pushed back the covers and got to my feet. Once I was upright, though, I started to sway, dizzy with lack of sleep and misery.

  I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could do this. Of course I could.

  Aunty May said that I looked pale and tired as I picked at my breakfast. The worst part was having to answer Evie’s excited questions about the dance. She and my aunt were particularly impressed that I had danced with the US Consul. I said I’d seen Johnny but he was not able to dance because of his ankle. I got a searching look from my aunt when I mentioned Johnny, but she asked nothing further about him.

  Evie had spent the evening with Jack, in our lounge room, listening to the wireless under the watchful eye of Aunty May. She seemed to have become a new girl now that her future was settled, bright-eyed, relaxed and happily telling me all about the apparently limitless wonders of Jack Morrison.

  She whispered to me when Aunty May left the kitchen for a moment that Aunty had fallen asleep listening to the wireless and so had not realised that Jack had held Evie’s hand all night. And that he had kissed her goodnight.

  ‘Don’t tell,’ she whispered. ‘Anyway, it means that we’re seeing each other. Officially. He said that I was his girl now, and to tell any fellows that ask me that I’m not available. He said he was sorry he got jealous on Sunday and he knew that I wasn’t really a flirt, but I’m so pretty it’s no wonder that the other fellows try it on. Jack said I’m the prettiest girl in Perth and he’s a lucky fellow to have a girl like me.’ She seemed to light up with joy. ‘Isn’t that a lovely thing for him to say?’

  It seemed that Jack had taken Johnny’s suggestions on board with alacrity.

  By the time we’d finished breakfast, however, I thought that if I heard the words ‘Jack says’ or ‘Jack thinks’ one more time, I would shriek. Evie also told me that Miss Bonehill had arranged to collect her later in the morning and take her to meet the matron at a nearby convalescent home to discuss possible employment there.

  ‘I’m going along,’ said Aunty May firmly. ‘Sometimes they try to put it over the young girls. I want to know exactly what sort of a place it is where our Evie will be working.’

  ‘Our Evie’ grimaced. ‘I hope it’s all right. Jack says that he knows a girl who works there and she thinks it’s okay. Jack thinks that I’d like her. He says that she’s not very pretty, but she’s nice. She goes out with one of his friends.’

  I looked at Aunty May, who said, ‘Maureen Keegan. She’s sixteen now, and seeing Tommy Livesey’s brother, Roger.’

  I was surprised. I thought of Maureen Keegan as a little girl with bright red pigtails and freckles. Everyone was growing up around me.

  Evie went on, ‘Jack says that every job is difficult at first, and I probably won’t like it but I have to stick with it and pay money for board. Jack gives two-thirds of his wages in board to his mum. He thinks that I should do the same.’

  ‘And if Jack told you to jump off the Sydney Harbour Bridge . . .’ I muttered.

  ‘We’ll see what wages they’re offering before we decide on what board you pay, Evie,’ said Aunty May, giving me a quelling glance. ‘Girls earn less than boys do, and you need money for your own things, too.’

  ‘Ne-ell,’ said Evie, ‘can I borrow some of your clothes to wear to the interview?’

  As I was leaving the house, the postman arrived with the morning post. He winked as he handed me a letter from Rob.

  It was the last thing I needed. I managed a smile in response, and waited until he had left before I shoved the letter in my handbag.

  By the time I got to the Marvel offices it was around ten and I found the place in an uproar. Most of the staff were standing on the footpath and men in white overalls were wandering in and out with large spray machines. A strong smell of disinfectant wafted from the building.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked Sally, Dave Gleddings’ secretary. She turned a tearstained face towards me.

  ‘The boss went for his medical yesterday – you know his crazy plan to be a war correspondent?’

  I nodded.

  ‘He’s got tuberculosis,’ she wailed. ‘He’s been quarantined at home and they’re fumigating the building. We’ll all have to be X-rayed to make sure he hasn’t given it to us.’

  ‘What’s going to happen to the paper?’ I asked, before I could help myself.

  She dabbed at her eyes with a hankie and shrugged. ‘He says he’ll run it from home, with Reg Burgess as acting editor. But of course he’ll end up in a sanitarium, and the treatment takes a year. Poor Mr Gleddings. His wife says he’s devastated. But he’s determined that we’ll get this week’s issue out. Said to tell you that he was relying on your feature.’

  I grimaced. So the future of the Marvel was dependent on my feature – the one I couldn’t write without the help of Johnny Horvath. Who I was hopelessly in love with, but who was entirely untrustworthy with regard to women. Who was now at my shoulder, touching my arm and asking, ‘What gives?’

  I froze and looked at Sally. She put away her hankie, batted her eyelashes at him and explained while I tried to get my thoughts into order.

  ‘Poor Dave,’ said Johnny. ‘Tough break.’ He turned to me. ‘Do you still want to try to find these girls?’

  I raised an eyebrow and said to his chest, ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Okay, then let’s go to the lodging house and see if we can find Susan and Lily.’

  We left the offices and started to walk down Stirling Street. I watched the ground intently.

  ‘Nellie,’ said Johnny. ‘Look at me.’

  I looked at him. He was just as I remembered. I got a strained smile.

  ‘Don’t avoid looking at me, Nell. Please don’t do that.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m behaving stupidly. It’s all rather, er, fraught with emotion, this situation.’

  He smiled more normally. ‘Nah. We’re pals, working together on a story. Professionals. There’s nothing fraught about it. Let’s find these girls and get that story written. After that we can sort out this “situation”, as you call it.’

  I managed a smile, and I looked him in the eyes.

  ‘Deal,’ I said.

  The lodging house at 54 Stirling Street was a double-storey building that would have been elegant when it was first built in around 1890, but now the marble steps were a yellowish brown and they led to a front door that was a grubby green with badly chipped paint. Small square panes of coloured glass were missing from the panels beside the door, and plaster was flaking off the walls in the portico.

  Johnny pushed open the door and we entered a narrow hallway that badly needed a good scrubbing to remove fifty years of grime and cigarette smoke and neglect. I thought that even the most thorough scrubbing couldn’t remove the thick fetid atmosphere – a blend of cigarettes, cooked cabbage and something I couldn’t identify – that enveloped us as soon as we stepped inside.

  ‘You sure you want to do this?’ Johnny asked. ‘You could stay outside.’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ I replied, and his face eased a little as he threw me a quick grin.

  The hallway went down to the back door, which was open. In front of us to the right a staircase led to the first floor. There were doors immediately to our left and right. A girl was standing in the open doorway to the left. The other door was closed.

  ‘G’day,’ said the girl languidly. ‘Willy’s gone out. He won’t be back for a while.’

  She looked about seventeen, had greasy blonde hair and a world-weary demeanour. A thin dressing gown was wrapped around a skinny body. She was talking to Johnny only, because apparently I was completely invisible.

  ‘We’re looking for Lily,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Lily shot through about two weeks ago. You looking for a girl, or just for her?’

  ‘Just for her,’ said Johnny.

  ‘You’re a Yank,’ she said, with an obvious increase in interest. She lowered her head slightly and looked at him through her lashe
s. ‘You’re cute. I bet you could laugh a girl into bed.’ A hand snaked up to brush her hair back from her face. It was dirty hair, lank and uncombed, so the gesture looked more pathetic than erotic. ‘I’m more fun than Lily,’ she said in a low voice.

  I’m standing here with him, you silly girl. I was irritated at being ignored.

  ‘Do you know where Lily went?’ I asked. She flicked me a look laced with dislike, and went back to gazing at Johnny.

  ‘Lily just up and went one day. Didn’t say where she was going,’ she told him. ‘But it was probably Fremantle. She loves the submariners. Loves the Yanks. I like Yanks too.’

  Johnny smiled at her and got a smile in return. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Irene.’ Again there was that too grown-up smile.

  ‘What about Susan – Susan Lorrimer? Do you know where she is?’

  ‘Why d’ya want Susan? She’s worse than useless. She’s a flaming sook. And she’s only a kid.’

  ‘Just want to talk to her.’ Johnny absently put his hand in his pocket, and when he took it out he was holding a bundle of banknotes. He looked slightly surprised when he looked down to see them in his hand.

  I saw a flash in Irene’s eyes.

  ‘Hey, mister, what’s your name?’

  ‘Johnny.’

  ‘Hey, Johnny, I’m real hungry. Willy doesn’t spend much on food.’

  ‘I’d really like to talk to Susan,’ said Johnny, peeling off a pound note.

  Her eyes widened, and the tip of a small pink tongue showed tentatively on her upper lip. ‘She might be around.’

  He peeled off a second note. ‘Where?’

  A small hand went out towards him, and he put the two notes into it. They disappeared like it was a magic trick.

  ‘Upstairs. First door to the left. She might not be alone.’

  Johnny pulled an American dollar bill out of the bundle, and put the rest back into his pocket. American money was much sought after, and Irene looked at it greedily.