by Janet Tanner
‘Lucky the rain has held off for you, m’dear,’ Colonel Adamson said, ushering her between them. He was his usual bluff self this afternoon, putting his private feelings under lock and key in his determination to make a good job of his key role – giving the bride away.
‘Yes,’ Tara said. She felt breathless, just as she did before going on stage for a performance. And this was just what this was, of course – the performance of her life.
As they went in through the doors the perfume of the flowers wafted out to meet them – flowers that had been banked in every available nook and cranny, roses, wild orchids and lilies in the window ledges and against the pillars, and a great pitcher of bouganvillaea beside the altar rail. The padre met them at the door, a nod from him and Grace Dunwoody began thumping out the Bridal March on the upright piano which had come down the track from Darwin after the evacuation.
Tara looked at the tightly packed rows of chairs and saw only a sea of faces turned towards her. Only one was clear – the face of Richard as he stood at the altar rail waiting for her. She bit her lip, emotion welling, but as she reached his side he smiled, his gentle warm smile, and she smiled back.
‘Dearly beloved …’ The padre’s voice filled the tiny church and the congregation was hushed. Somewhere near the rear a sister blew her nose loudly but Tara did not hear it and those who did were too choked emotionally themselves to blame her. The service seemed to be going by so fast yet the familiar words took on fresh and important meaning for all those who heard them. Richard spoke his vows slowly and clearly; Tara, for all her stage experience, found herself whispering hers. Then the ring was on her finger – the ring which had arrived just in time, on the same convoy as the pair of shoes Tara was wearing – and the congregation were joining in with the final stirring hymn.
Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow, Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife; And to life’s day the glorious unknown morrow That dawns upon eternal love and life.
They turned to walk back down the aisle between the rows of chairs and Richard’s arm felt very strong and steady beneath her hand. Glancing at him proudly she thought how very handsome he looked in his freshly pressed uniform. Then they were out of the church again, with the warm damp air clinging to their faces like a sponge, and into a barrage of confetti thrown by those waiting outside. This was one preparation they had managed to keep a secret from Tara – and no one was prepared to admit just how much toilet paper had had to be painstakingly cut into tiny squares to produce this hail of celebration. Someone was taking photographs – Tara laughed for the camera, all her pent up emotion released now into a blaze of happiness.
‘Come on, hurry up with those photos,’ someone shouted. ‘The rain is not going to hold off much longer!’
Tara looked up at Richard and smiled. She hardly needed a photograph to remind her. This was a day that would remain etched clearly in her memory to the end of her days.
And it was not over yet. There was still the reception in the officers’ mess, with mounds of sandwiches and that beautifully decorated cake, and then the dance – they would have to put in an appearance, at least.
Then and only then could they slip away to the isolated bush camp which had been placed at their disposal for two nights. It was all very special, very wonderful.
Oh I’ll never forget, thought Tara, smiling, sparkly-eyed, for the camera one more time. Never, never. No, I’ll never forget.
Chapter Seventeen
Two weeks after Tara and Richard were married 138 AGH moved to Queensland but, as Colonel Adamson remarked tetchily to Matron Swift, it looked as if they had arrived two months too early!
A new hospital was under construction and no doubt when it was completed it would be marvellously cool, efficient and convenient. But when the advance party from 138 trundled in the timber huts had barely begun to rise above the stumps that would support them Queensland style, and when the rest of the hospital arrived they found themselves still nursing in tent wards and quartered in a commandeered school building infested with huge dark brown cockroaches.
But at least the weather was a relief, especially to the long-suffering Colonel. Hot it still was, scorchingly blisteringly hot, but without the constant rain of the Adelaide River that was bearable – pleasant, almost!
When she knew the hospital was moving to Queensland, Tara had hopes that their honeymoon leave might be spent on the beaches of the Gold Coast or exploring the Great Barrier Reef. But Richard had other ideas. He had told her about them in their quiet hideaway bush camp back in the Northern Territory.
‘If we get a ten day pass we could easily make it home to Melbourne.’
Tara’s heart had sunk at the thought.
‘Could we?’
‘Certainly. Two or three days there and the same back – we would still have plenty of time. Don’t look like that, Tara – it’s almost two years since I was at home. And I know my family are longing to meet you, too.’
Tara’s heart sank lower still.
‘I don’t think my mother will ever get used to the idea that I have married a girl she has never even seen, or that she couldn’t be there to have a little weep into a lace hanky when we said ‘‘ I do’’ ’
‘She’ll probably hold it against me,’ Tara said morosely.
‘Of course she won’t. She’ll be tickled to death to have a daughter-in-law once she has got used to the idea. And knowing you, you’ll have her eating out of your hand in no time at all.’
Tara had smiled wanly, reaching out to run a teasing finger down Richard’s bare arm in the hope of bringing about a change of subject. But he merely caught her hand and held it, smoothing it with his fingers in the manner she was coming to know.
‘It’s a fairly easy journey from where we’ll be,’ he went on. ‘Brisbane to Sydney, Sydney to Albury, then onto the Victorian train and home. You see, I have it all worked out!’
Tara pulled her hand away and rolled over onto her side. Sydney. Holy Mary! She had tried to get as far away from Sydney as she could and he was taking her back.
Misunderstanding her gesture he put a hand on her neck beneath the damp tumbled curls.
‘I’m sorry, I almost forgot you have a home too. We could always spend a couple of days in Sydney if you would like to.’
‘No!’ The fear was clear in Tara’s eyes but her back was towards him and he could not see it. ‘No, there’s no one I want to see in Sydney any more and that’s what counts, isn’t it – people, not places.’
‘I expect you’re right,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Though there are some places too I’d give the world to see again. And not only the ones you might expect. Sometimes there will be a place and you’ll have forgotten all about it, but it’s there all the same, tucked away in your memory, and when something happens to trigger it, it all comes back as clear as if it were yesterday.’
Tara said nothing. When her memories were triggered it was all too often an uncomfortable experience.
‘There was a place I used to know when I was a boy,’ Richard went on. ‘We used to ride out to it, my sister and I. Not a very special place, you might think, just a clump of gums and willows with a creek running through. But it was the spot where it was – with the hills folding round so that you felt enclosed, and the trees would hide you too. It could be anything to me that place, anything I wanted it to be. I used to lie on my back under those trees and pretend … oh, all kinds of things. That I was a ship’s captain – that was one of my favourites – and the trees were the masts – it was a sailing ship. Or that I was a settler trying to find a way over the Flinders Range – anything but a doctor, like my father! I liked it best when I was out there alone. Eve, my sister, didn’t like pretending on her own. She always wanted me to join in her games and she spoiled things.’ He stretched and sighed. ‘Funny, isn’t it – I haven’t thought about that place for years but somehow being out here at the bush camp has reminded me of it. It’s got the same sort of feel
to it – oh, I’m not very good at describing it but you know what I mean.’
‘And I suppose I’m in the way like your sister,’ Tara teased. ‘Coming between you and your dreams.’
He ran his hand down her shoulder, cupping her breast, and felt the nipple rise at his touch. He curved his body around hers and without turning towards him she nestled in so that they fitted from shoulder to knees like two curved joints. Her curls tickled his chin, her rounded bottom filled the angle between his stomach and thighs. Slowly, with the luxury of a desire that has been satisfied many times in the last twenty-four hours, he ran his hands down her body, exploring every hillock and curve, loving the warmth and the giving which had brought him so much pleasure.
‘Not you, Tara,’ he said softly. ‘You are a part of my dreams.’
She turned towards him, melting inside.
‘That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.’
For a while then there had been no time left for talking but that night, while he slept, she had lain awake thinking about the ordeal ahead of her. What would they be like, Richard’s family? And, more importantly, what would they think of her?
In his sleep Richard had stirred, pulling her into his arms, and pleasure and love drove out the fear. She had married the man, not his family, for goodness’ sake. And if she couldn’t act and put up a good pretence, well, she had no business ever wanting to go on the stage. It wouldn’t be for long, after all, just a few days …
Back with the AGH, their short break over, there had been little time for worryng about the coming leave in the upheaval of the move to Queensland. But the apprehension began again, a small uncomfortable niggle, as the date of their leave approached and the days fell over themselves to bring it closer. Not the least of her worries was the thought of passing through Sydney. Supposing she should see someone from the old days, someone who would recognize her and rush up to greet her? Worse, pass on to Red the news that she was back, back from wherever it was she had disappeared to. All very well for Richard to talk of half-remembered dreams of his home, for Tara it was the nightmare of the revenge Red would take on her which recurred too often for comfort to disturb her quiet moments.
No use worrying, Tara told herself repeatedly. But one fear, more than all the others, refused to go away. If somehow Red should discover her whereabouts again it might not only be her life that would be in danger. All too clear in her memory was the sight of his men gunning down Jack – Jack, who had committed no crime against Red but be the friend of her own dear Maggie. Ludicrous to suppose Red could carry his jealousy this far, but if he did – might he not also exact revenge upon Richard?
Stop it! Stop it! she told herself. Red is in gaol. He is not going to find you. You are Mrs Richard Allingham now – all you have to do is to concentrate on being a good wife – when the army gives you the chance.
And that includes every single one of the next ten days!
‘Well, this is it, Tara. Almost there.’
As the taxi sped along the straight country road that cut through
the expanse of rolling green Victorian countryside Richard reached
for her hand and smiled at the pleasure written all over her face.
‘Now you can see why I was so anxious to come home.’
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Tara said, looking out at the rolling hills, dotted with boulders, the clumps of trees and the dells and hollows between. They passed a creek running down a broad valley to meet the road and beneath the trees the cattle stood, ankle deep in the little water that the drought had left in it, idly swishing their tails against the constant bombardment of flies. Above the hills the sky was clear unbroken blue; behind them, when she turned to look out of the rear window of the car, the high distant ranges also looked blue, but a shade of misty purple that might almost have been described as violet. Lovely, lovely, a reflection, really, of Richard himself. Yes, it was easy here to picture him as a small boy, riding his horse and dreaming his dreams, easy to see how he had grown into the man he now was, all moderation and the perfect gentleman. And impossible, almost, to understand the fears that had plagued her on the journey.
They had proved to be groundless in any case, hadn’t they? The train had been packed with service personnel, so had the great domed building that was Sydney’s central railway station. The faces above the uniforms had been anonymous, – all of them, and Tara had taken comfort in the fact that she and Richard must look anonymous too. Who would think of looking for Tara Kelly in AAMWS khaki? Certainly not Red Maloney! As tiredness brought on by the long hot journey ate into her bones Tara found the idea more and more ludicrous. Red was nothing. The only worry of any importance was when she would be able to get some sleep.
Now, however, the clear Victorian air seemed to have given her a second wind. She leaned her shoulder against Richard’s, drinking it in with delight. A few miles further and he leaned forward, giving the driver instructions.
‘Turn off the road here – that’s it – and about another five miles.’
The driver swung the wheel without answering. Tara guessed he was offended that Richard was travelling in the back with her, not up in front where the two men could have a good discussion about the war, but she did not care. It was too good to feel like a couple with Richard, too good to feel the line of his body beside hers and to have eye contact when she turned to look at him, eye contact so close and intimate that it started little shivers deep in the pit of her stomach.
‘That’s it there,’ Richard said.
The house looked golden in the bright sunshine, roses and Virginia creeper covered the walls, the shutters, half-closed against the afternoon sun, looked like sleepy brown eyes. Two kelpies had been sunning themselves at the foot of the veranda steps, now they came running towards the car and their colouring seemed to match that of the house – brownish – brownish-tan coats, creamy paws and chests.
Richard paid the driver and they got out, walking down between the white picket that edged the paddocks and the flower beds, bright with roses and geraniums, to the broad expanse of green which fronted the house. Closer, and Tara thought she saw a shadow on the veranda; a nerve tightened in her throat. Closer still, and the shadow materialized – a tall slender figure in a floral silk dress of blues and mauves.
‘Mother,’ Richard said. There was pleasure in his voice but no excitement. Tara had half expected him to run to her, swinging her up in his arms. But that was not his way – nor apparently hers. She came down the steps quickly but not urgently, smiling and holding out her hands to them. The sun glinted on hair as fair as Richard’s, though now faded slightly and streaked with silver, and Tara’s first thought was how like his mother he was – the clear clean lines of his face were obviously inherited from her.
‘Richard, darling. And this must be Tara.’
Cool hands took Tara’s hot ones and she bent forward, kissing her once on each cheek. ‘How lovely to meet you.’
‘And you,’ Tara said. She felt awkward.
‘You must be exhausted. We didn’t know when to expect you.’ Mrs Allingham extended her cheek to Richard also and Tara recognized her feeling of discomfort. This was what she couldn’t get used to in Richard – this restraint. Clearly inherited from his mother along with his looks. Momentarily, Tara found herself comparing it with the welcome Maggie would have given them – all hugs and happy tears.
‘Oh Mother, it’s good to be here. You don’t know!’ Richard said.
‘How long has it taken you? Two days? Three?’ she glanced at the kit bag Richard was carrying. ‘ Is that all the luggage you have?’
‘Yes, we travelled light. The army marches on its stomach,’ Richard joked.
‘Let’s go into the house.’ Mrs Allingham took Tara’s arm, linking it through hers. They walked towards the veranda, the kelpies at their heels. ‘We’ll have a lovely cool drink. Unless you want a bath first. I expect you can’t wait to change.’
‘You still have enough water for
baths, have you?’ Richard asked.
‘Yes – thanks to the tanks. Your father always said they would last us ten years. Let’s just hope we don’t have to put that to the test.’
It was cool in the house, cool and gracious. A maid served lemonade poured into tall glasses over chunks of ice. Richard and his mother chatted, the kind of slightly stilted conversation which comes from having so much ground to cover that it is impossible to know where to begin, and Tara sat quietly on the green velvet chaise, taking in the opulence of her surroundings. This was what she had married into, this genteel world of plenty, so different to her own. It was wonderful, better than she had imagined it even, and yet … Oh, for just a little of the spontaneity that had abounded with Maggie …
You can’t have everything, Tara scolded herself silently.
She drained her glass and set it down on a leather-topped octagonal table.
‘Well, Richard – are you going to show Tara to your room?’ Mrs Allingham asked.
Richard rose, Tara followed suit.
‘Yes, we’ll have that bath, I think, and then perhaps Tara would like a rest before dinner. We’ve had to sit and stand the entire way.’
‘Of course.’ Mrs Allingham rose too, crossing and taking Tara by the hands once more.
‘We’ll have a lovely long talk later and get to know one another properly, won’t we?’ she said. ‘I am sure we are going to be great friends. Welcome, my dear daugher.’
But the smile did not quite reach her eyes and Tara knew that what Richard had said was true.
It would be a long time before his mother felt truly able to accept her.
‘Tara – are you going to stay in that bath all night?’ Richard’s voice from the other side of the door was amused and just a little impatient.
