‘But you’re underage–’ she began.
‘They’ll take me.’
‘Your parents–’
‘Are too far away to stop me.’
He turned then, reaching for her hand. She let it lie there, still not looking at his face.
‘If I do go…I want, I mean…will you…?’
She shook her head as even more unwanted words came towards her.
‘Please…?’
The sound of horse’s hooves pounded down the track and they stood as one as Mick and Tom cantered towards them.
‘It’s happening…just heard…’ Tom panted.
‘England has declared.’ Mick looked at his sister. ‘It’s war…we’re at war.’
Veronica remained where she was as Dan ran over to the brothers and they made their way down to tell the others.
She stared at the rock, at the heart that Dan had carved as they’d sat, her initials inside. Suddenly her world had turned. Declarations had been made and she felt useless against the force of their pull.
Pattie squashed Buggles further onto her head as the Sunbeam bumped its way up the track.
‘Just let the rodent jump off and be free,’ Clarkson suggested, yelling over the noise of the engine.
‘He’s a rabbit.’ She scowled.
‘Rat!’
She cast him a haughty look then continued to stare straight ahead.
Clarkson sighed, pulling over to the side of the road and cutting the engine. The stillness of the rainforest immediately engulfed them, cool and whisper-quiet save the tinkling sound of water. They had stopped near a running creek and he traced its journey through the thick bed of undergrowth, a sea of dark green ferns beneath white-pillared gums.
‘Out with it,’ he said, waiting.
‘Why the Royal Flying Corps? Why not just be a regular soldier? Oh no, you can’t just be a…a foot soldier! You have to be the daredevil! Give yourself the best opportunity to be killed.’ She glared at him from beneath the fur. ‘It’s not a bloody game, you know.’
‘Why would you think it’s any worse than–’
‘Because you’re going over there to hang upside down in front of German machine guns.’
‘We don’t just hang upside down like fruit bats!’
‘It’s ridiculous! What possible use could you be up there, other than providing a sitting duck?’
‘Just think what we could do, Pats. We could find out more from the air than we’d ever know in a month of Sundays on the ground! And we could drop bombs from the sky…imagine what that could mean.’
‘Yes, but you’d have to survive for five minutes first.’ She sniffed, looking unconvinced. A lyrebird walked across the track and they both watched it as it made its careful way along, its delicate tail nodding behind. ‘Even he knows he’s not supposed to fly…and he’s a bloody bird!’ The lyrebird looked at her, startled, then ran off into the forest.
‘Why London?’ she asked, after a pause. ‘Why can’t you be based here?’
‘We only have two planes in the country and about a thousand blokes wanting to fly them! I’m just lucky I’m half English so I can even join the RFC.’
‘Yes, lucky…’ she scoffed, folding her arms and sinking back in the seat. ‘Lucky you can go and die for another country.’
‘It’ll be over before I even get there,’ he soothed.
‘Humph.’
He watched her determined chin jut out and her eyes flash beneath that damnable hat and knew in that instant what he had to say.
‘I can’t promise that, can I? I can’t promise I won’t die either. But I can promise you this,’ he said, tilting her chin towards him with his fingers. ‘I will love you all the days I do live.’ Her eyes searched his and her face crumpled as he continued. ‘Marry me, Patricia?’
She nodded as he kissed her and he held her as tight as he could, knowing soon the memory of her would be all he had left to hold onto.
Eleven
Beecroft, October 1914
Kevin O’Shay watched his sons walk up the drive of Highview together, their Medical Corp uniforms looking stiff and overly new, although he didn’t like to imagine how they would appear after months of wear, stained with the blood of their countrymen. He thought of the many times he had stood here, watching them come home, children carrying fishing poles, schoolboys home for summer, lads in their cricket whites. And now young men, army doctors, home for the last time before heading off to war.
He dragged on his cigarette, noticing the lines on his own hands and wishing desperately they could be put to use. His country didn’t want him; he was forty-seven years old. He and his friends were cast aside, considered too old against the fresh young bodies of their sons. Australia wanted youths, eager to show their mettle; passionate and energetic; and with their patriotic convictions as yet uncomplicated by the weight of experience. He couldn’t be of medical help like his sons, but Kevin wished he could take their places on the boat and keep them at home, safe from the stray bullets and shells.
Catherine had taken to her bed again that afternoon, still too overcome to stand the thought of them leaving tomorrow, her worst nightmare having come to fruition. Some of the other young men had already gone, including Dan. Iggy was due to leave on the morrow, having volunteered for the Light Horse Brigade, which Mick and Tom were to support. Jack was due home any day and they all waited to see what uniform he would be wearing when he arrived. Pattie said he was trying for the Light Horse as well.
Veronica came out to stand next to him and Kevin looked down at his beautiful daughter with affection, grateful she at least would be staying at home with them. She had grown even lovelier over the past months, her face and figure blossoming into full womanhood in her eighteenth year, her understated style echoing her mother’s quiet grace. Today she wore blue, which suited her well, and she gazed at her beloved brothers sadly, gripping onto the flowers she had picked for her mother’s bedside.
‘Vera Mags! For me?’ Tom grinned, kissing her cheek before grasping his father’s hand firmly, clapping him on the back and marching indoors.
‘Hello, dearest.’ Mick hugged her and put his arm around his father’s shoulders and they all followed Tom, who was busy investigating the mail.
‘Where’s the love letters from my sweethearts? I thought the girls all went dopey over a man in uniform.’ Catherine had emerged and managed a smile at her son, who was bounding about like an overgrown puppy.
‘Mumsy!’ He grabbed her in a big hug and kissed her cheek with a loud smack.
Too innocent for the ravages of war. Kevin sighed inwardly.
‘Calm down, silly boy; hello, darling.’ She held onto Mick, her eyes teary. ‘The Murphys are coming for dinner. I was going to invite the Dwyers but I think Jack may be back any day so I didn’t want to chance it. Pattie is bringing Clarkson with her so that will make a nice party of things.’ She was doing her best to sound cheerful, and they all pretended along with her, chatting about Pattie and Clarkson and the upcoming wedding.
Kevin watched his wife’s face, saw the pain etched around her eyes, and felt a sudden urge to grab her, his daughter and his sons and head to the hills, over the mountains and far away where no one could touch them. He had friends out west, and money. They could all escape this lunacy and come back when it was well over, safe and sound. Then Mick met his gaze and nodded at his father, just the once. Kevin felt the twist inside and knew escape was impossible. His boys were now grown and bound by honour.
He had to let his sons be men.
Veronica looked out her bedroom window, down the drive and out to Cowpasture Lane, waiting for the man on horseback who never came. The lights were on over at the Dwyers’ home and she felt for Iggy, saying farewell to his family tonight. It had been just him and his parents since Rose left for England. She wondered how he was coping with the inconsolable Mildred. At least his father might show him a little more respect now that he’d fulfilled his own prediction and joined up for
war. She was glad she’d gone out for a ride with him that morning and regretted she hadn’t spent more time with him since Christmas. It had just felt disloyal to Jack to be too close to Rose’s brother. And now he was leaving and it was all too late.
Veronica let her mind drift to Rose, imagining her in her mansion in London with all the aristocrats. How different things might have been if Rose Dwyer had married Gregory Chambers in Melbourne and never moved to Sydney. Or if Jack would come home again instead of staying in town week after week, seeing his family only when they came to him on the occasional weekend. With the impending war, food packaging was in higher demand than ever and he claimed he was too busy to leave the city, but she knew that was just a convenient excuse. They would be doing well enough without him when he went off to war.
The irony – that the man she loved was free to love her, but chose to stay away – wasn’t lost on Veronica. She’d always felt that if not for Rose she and Jack would be together, but now the fact that Rose was out of the way was the very reason they weren’t. He was too hurt to love; and, even if he weren’t, she was too close to the memories for him to start a fresh life with her.
Besides, it was all too late now in more ways than one.
Still, she took her time getting ready as she always did when the suggestion that ‘Jack might come’ was bandied about. She had learnt not to get her hopes up after almost a year of disappointment, but her stomach fluttered slightly every time. She didn’t know if she would ever get past that.
The table glittered with candles in the dining room in anticipation of a large roast dinner, but Jack’s place was conspicuously empty as usual. Veronica, let down by his absence despite her best efforts, walked in slightly late and greeted them all. She sat down next to Mick, who said he was pleased she wore his brooch, pinned upon the white collar above her navy dress.
She was about to comment when the door opened and suddenly he was here. Her Jack, handsomer than ever in his new Light Horse uniform, complete with the New South Wales wallaby trim on his hat, his dark hair combed back and his smile in place. He was thinner, she noticed, and the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he was there! They all stood up, his parents and Pattie weepy to see him home and in uniform and the others just glad to see him at all. He took his place next to Pattie, sitting directly opposite Veronica, who couldn’t be happier with the view. She had stood with the others but had only managed a shy smile; and now words failed her completely as he caught her eye. She could look all she liked, though without realising it, she had her heart in her face as he returned her gaze.
Jack stared at Veronica, wondering how the hell he could have stayed away so long as the force of her hit his senses. She had grown even more beautiful this past year and the way she now let her hair down made her seem ethereal. But it was her expression that gave him pause: her eyes were filled with an open love. So different from the women he had been courting in town to fill the void, with their empty chatter and flirtatious games. What a waste of time when he could have been here, with the woman who visited him in his dreams. The woman who was a part of his home, his family. Him.
The woman he realised only now he desperately loved – something he didn’t even know he believed in – the night before he would sail away to war.
He realised the others had been asking him questions and he forced his gaze away, answering them all as they ate the delicious meal, enjoying the company of his closest friends and family whom he had so missed, and who had so missed him. With Tom, Mick and Jack sailing away together in the morning, and Clarkson in a few short weeks, there was a deep sense of closeness in the room that night. The uniforms around the table served as silent, stark reminders that this was a memory to treasure in the coming months as oceans separated them, possibly forever.
‘Feels like the bloody Last Supper,’ said Tom at one point, as Kevin distributed the wine. Jack laughed along with the rest and he noticed Catherine even forgot to chastise him for managing blasphemy and profanity in the same sentence. They all needed that comment, a moment’s reprieve, and Jack felt a surge of gratitude that his two best friends would be with him at least.
Gazing at Veronica yet again, he resolved to do everything he could to bring her brothers back home to her.
It was over too soon, the candles low, the wine drunk and the plates emptied.
They stood on the verandah together, looking out at the road, no one wanting to say goodbye.
‘I’d best be off,’ Jack said, his throat tight as he shook hands and kissed cheeks, leaving the most difficult until last. Those heart-filled eyes poured into his and he touched her chin softly, whispering he would write, before holding her tightly for the briefest of moments.
‘I’ll write too,’ she promised softly and he turned and walked down the stairs, mounted Tilley and rode down the drive, pushing her to a canter lest he change his mind.
It was as if he’d never existed, Veronica mused, as she brushed her hair in the mirror later. Like a beautiful dream. She turned off the lamp and lay back on her bed again, gazing at the moonlight in her room and watching the shadows dance, not wanting to close her eyes on this night and start the difficult future that lay before them at dawn.
The tree branches were tapping against the window and she watched the patterns on the curtain. Tap, tap, tap. That wasn’t a branch. Her pulse leapt.
‘Vera.’
She got out of bed and opened the window, standing back in shock as Jack climbed in.
‘I know how this looks and I’m sorry. I just got halfway home and I realised…I realised I’m going to war, Vera. And I couldn’t leave without telling you…that is…’ He broke off and moved closer, lightly tracing her cheek with his fingers.
‘Oh God, I’ve been such a fool.’
She stared at him, barely allowing herself to breathe, incredulous that Jack was standing there, in her bedroom, in the middle of the night.
‘It doesn’t matter…’
‘Yes, it does.’ He held her hands, shaking his head. ‘You were driving me crazy and I wanted to blame you for it. I was every farm animal you called me and probably a few more.’
‘Is that why you’re here? To apologise?’ She stared as he laced her fingers, entranced.
‘Yes. And to tell you that…that I’ll write.’ Veronica shivered as he trailed little kisses up her arms. ‘You already told me that,’ she said absently, staring as his lips moved closer.
‘Did I? Well then I forgot to tell you to write to me.’
‘I already said I would.’ She gasped as he pulled her into his arms.
‘Well, then, maybe you can tell me what I forgot to do.’
‘I think…you forgot…’ He leant forward, ending her words with the lightest of kisses.
‘This?’ he asked against her mouth as she nodded, leaning in for more. This time there was no restraint. A white-hot rush of desire spread through her as he poured out his passion in a devastating, desperate kiss then moved his mouth across her throat.
‘Vera,’ he breathed against her, kissing her once more. Then from somewhere it came, unwilling against every instinct. She remembered.
‘No…I…I can’t.’
Jack looked momentarily confused.
‘Yes, you can. I’m free now. I’m here. And I promise I’ll come back. I promise.’
She lost herself again as he found her mouth and kissed her with such feeling that at that moment she almost could have forgotten the past few months and thrown herself into it.
Almost.
‘No,’ she said again, this time pulling back. ‘Jack, please.’
‘But I’m free to–’
‘But I’m not.’
His arms still held her waist as he searched her face, waiting.
‘I’m…not free.’ It was his turn to pull back as he dropped his arms, his expression clouding.
‘Jack, I never thought…You stayed away! I just assumed you couldn’t bear the thought of being around me anymore. That I r
eminded you too much of what went on and after a while I think…I think I just gave up. And Dan was there…’
‘Dan?’ He said the word as if testing its sound for the first time.
‘Dan Hagan. He has been…courting me these past few months and I…I didn’t have the heart to say no…He was going to war and he asked me…the day he left…’ Meeting his eyes, she let the words fall. ‘Jack, we are secretly engaged.’
‘Secretly?’ he said slowly.
‘Yes…I said I’d rather nobody know. I didn’t want a…a fuss about it all.’ I didn’t want it to be true, she thought guiltily.
She reflected later it would have been better if he had ranted and railed at her, flung himself to the floor or punched the wall, anything but that look; that devastated look. Like she’d broken him in half. And then he was gone. She’d even wondered if she had dreamt it but then there it was, the same look the next day as she waved goodbye from the crowd. Even across the Quay she could feel the emptiness he carried and it made her ache to run up the gangway and take it all back. Tell him she never loved Dan – she couldn’t love Dan. That she only said yes because he was off to war and he’d begged her. That she had thought she was facing life alone anyway, and a kind man at her side was a better companion than loneliness.
That she would give anything to be free to love him.
‘If England needs a hand, well, here it is!
If England wants a hand, well, here it is!’
Catherine looked over at Veronica as the boat made its slow yet resolute way, taking their boys, leaving them with their dread. The cacophony of gaiety and song fell like a warning drone upon their ears, the streamers thrusting the air like swords, the confetti raining like tears.
‘England needs a hand, well, here it is!’
Then Catherine turned back and, forcing a brave smile, waved her handkerchief and blew Tom and Mick a kiss. Veronica realised it was all any of them could do. Pretend. The only weapon of those left behind and the greatest gift they could offer those departing. These young men they so loved. These precious, precious lives.
Gallipoli Street Page 10
