A Time of Secrets (13 page)

The room was filled with people, some in evening dress and others in uniform, like I was. A phonograph was playing popular numbers: I’d been tapping my feet to ‘Ole Buttermilk Sky’, ‘I Left My Heart at the Stage Door Canteen’, ‘Tumbling Tumbleweeds’ and ‘The Anniversary Waltz’. Couples danced in an area across from me and the music competed with the sound of laughter and conversation and clinking glasses. I couldn’t dance because my hand was still in a delicate state, so I stood by the windows, drank champagne, watched the merriment and thought about Eric. At my request a window had been opened, because most of the crowd were smokers and the heated atmosphere was heavy with a fog of cigarette and pipe smoke and perfume. Unfortunately, because of the brownout, the blinds were still drawn and not much fresh air managed to get in. The brownout was to be lifted the following Monday, but until then it was still strictly enforced.

‘May I join you?’

I looked up to see an AIF lieutenant standing next to me. He was on the thin side with high cheekbones that were flushed a deep red, two blotches of vermillion, startling in such a pale face. Dark hair, carefully arranged, beautifully manicured hands, the subtle scent of cologne and keen grey eyes completed the picture. ‘I’m not in the mood for dancing,’ he went on, ‘and you look as if you’re out of action. Would you care for some company?’

He seemed like he’d be good company, but I strongly suspected I wasn’t his type, that no woman would be his type.

I smiled politely. ‘Please join me. I’m Stella Aldridge.’

I also suspected that he’d never fought overseas, despite his uniform. He was too pale, and seemed too effete to have seen service. He was the antithesis of a man like Eric.

‘I’d guessed you were Stella Aldridge. I’m Allan Tuck, but I’m generally known just as Tuck.’

I sat down and he sat next to me in a graceful movement.

‘I hear that you share a nest with darling Dolly. Isn’t she a love to put on a show like this?’

‘I think it’s all courtesy of her friend Major Randall,’ I said. ‘Do you know him?’

His eyebrows rose and his smile could only be described as innocently malicious. ‘Dear Stanford. Rich as Croesus, eighteen years her senior and utterly besotted with Dolly. She’s done very well for herself. Very well indeed.’ He leaned in a little. ‘So, Stella, tell me all. What’s it like to live with our girl? Exhausting, I should think.’

My answering smile was brisk and no nonsense. ‘Delightful. She’s a wonderful flatmate.’

‘I hear she likes to party. Especially with Americans.’

‘Americans are such good fun, aren’t they?’ I said. ‘I’ve got an American friend – an army captain. I do hope that people haven’t seen Leroy coming to visit me and got the wrong idea about Dolly.’

I wondered if he was gathering information for Stanford. I really needed to speak with Dolly about being more circumspect in her romances.

Lieutenant Tuck looked at me for a long few seconds and then smiled. ‘Discreet. No wonder she chose you. They were on at her for months to find someone to share with, but she kept hanging out for the “right” person. I hear that you were a Sydney artist before . . . all this.’

‘Yes, I was for a while.’

‘I like artists. They’re so . . . artistic. Dolly’s a great friend of mine, you know.’

I wondered why, if he was such a great friend of Dolly’s, I’d never met Lieutenant Tuck before. He must have seen something in my eyes, because there was a glimmer of chagrin in his expression as he met my gaze.

‘I’m just down from Brisbane,’ he said, flicking a speck of dust off his sleeve with a carelessly elegant gesture. ‘Spent the last two months in hospital. During the Buna–Gona campaign I had the misfortune to contract scrub typhus, pneumonia and then yet another bout of malaria.’

I swallowed, trying not to imagine what he’d been through during that bloody and hard-fought New Guinea campaign. It seemed that I’d misjudged Lieutenant Tuck. He looked up, into my eyes.

‘Now they won’t let me go back to the fighting, so I’ve been given a desk job here in Melbourne. The perfect bludge, as the men might say. It’s safer, of course, but, well, somehow you miss it. Being a part of it all, I mean – not so much the dirt, disease and death.’

‘Are you well now?’ I inclined my head, sending a wordless apology for doubting his capacity as a soldier. He met this with a smile.

‘Well enough to sit behind a desk,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Can’t dance for long, though. Now, let me fill you in, as the Americans say, about the people around us. Dolly has
such
eclectic taste in friends.’

He glanced around the room. ‘See Molly over there in the pink taffeta gown?’

I looked where he was pointing. A stocky young woman with a head of fluffy brown curls was laughing with a couple of American officers.

‘Mollie Dix. She was in the Australian women’s cricket team before the war. Now, Mollie loves the young American marines. The ones who’re camped at the Melbourne Cricket Ground take their bottles of beer into the neighbouring park. Rumour has it that one young blood was there with Mollie and some Melbourne Bitter, but didn’t have an opener. “Don’t fret, Yank,” said Mollie. “Here’s a go.” And she pulled off the cap with her teeth.’

‘Good show, Mollie,’ I said, laughing. ‘Our girl’s tougher than a marine.’

His gaze darted around the room and alighted over to our left. I followed it and saw Lieutenant Cole, looking sleekly handsome and smiling at a slim, dark-haired WAAAF. Her hair was parted at the side and fell in loose waves to frame a striking face with lively dark eyes. It was our neighbour, Violet Smith.

‘Who’s that with Cole?’ asked Tuck.

‘Violet Smith. She’s a singer and lives in the flat across the hall from us.’

As she chatted to Lieutenant Cole, Violet’s attention was drawn to someone or something across the room. I tried to see what she was looking at, but failed. Without warning Cole grabbed her arm and squeezed. She winced and looked up at him, obviously confused. He threw her a brilliant smile and reached down to touch her cheek gently. They exchanged a few words, and he released her arm. Her smile and her attention were now firmly on him.

My heart had started to race. I knew that trick.
Look at me, only at me, or you’ll pay for it later
.

‘He’s a handsome brute,’ said Tuck. ‘Can be an utter bastard, though. She’s a pretty girl; you’d think she could do better than him.’

Violet’s eyes were fixed on Lieutenant Cole and her smile was bright; she appeared to be listening to his every word as if it was holy gospel, but she was rubbing her arm where Cole had grabbed it. I wondered if I should try to talk to her, but I had no idea how seriously she saw their love affair. I turned my attention back to Tuck.

He nodded over to our right. ‘See that captain? The one with the face like a horse? You’ll find him at the bar in the Menzies Hotel on any Friday night, but he’s remarkably indiscreet. Stupidly so.’ He frowned at the slim, awkward-looking man in AIF uniform, who was chatting to a middle-aged woman in a royal blue gown.

I’d heard that the bars at the Menzies and the Australia hotels were meeting places for men who were looking for male company. Tuck leaned in closer. ‘Got picked up by the police at a party in a house in St Kilda in April.’

‘At a party?’ I was surprised. ‘In a private home, you mean?’ I knew that the police patrolled public toilets, parks and gardens looking for what they called ‘deviant’ behaviour, but a private party?

‘They act on tip-offs, my dear. And then they burst in on us with their moral outrage blazing.’

‘Was he actually arrested?’ I would have thought he faced a severe reprimand or even court martial if he was charged with an offence against public morals.

‘Sinclair helped him out. Helped us both out, actually. Had a few words where it counted before it got out of hand.’

I followed his gaze to a tall lieutenant with a thin face and sandy-coloured hair. He was wearing wire-rimmed glasses and was dancing with a palely pretty redhead in a light blue dress.

‘Sinclair? Is that
Rob
Sinclair? From Perth?’ Eric had mentioned a school friend called Rob Sinclair. I watched him with interest, and thought he had strong features and an interesting face, vivid with intelligence.

‘That’s the man,’ said Tuck. ‘He’s a lawyer.’ For once Tuck seemed utterly serious. ‘One of the smartest men you could meet. He’s become the go-to man if any of us are in trouble.’

With mercurial swiftness, his face changed and all semblance of seriousness disappeared; now he resembled one of the satyrs in a Norman Lindsay painting, puckish and slightly evil.

‘I’ve tried ever so hard, but Sinclair’s completely unshockable.’

‘I wish I could paint you, Tuck,’ I said, laughing. ‘As a satyr.’

His smile broadened. ‘With goat’s legs and little horns and an enormous . . .’

‘Quite.’

He laughed. ‘I suspect you’re rather unshockable, too, Stella Aldridge.’

‘Things like that don’t bother me – hearing about sexual matters, I mean – so don’t even try. I’m an artist, after all, and we can be a licentious bunch.’

‘But not, I think, Stella Aldridge. I just can’t see you as licentious, my dear.’

I smiled. ‘I’m the boring one – every group seems to need a boring one. I clean up the mess and wash the glasses at the end of the evening.’

There was a small smile. ‘Dolly says you collect lost souls, who cry on your shoulder and expect tea and sympathy.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Dolly exaggerates.’

Tuck wasn’t listening; his attention was fixed on the other side of the room. ‘Well, well. I heard he was back from Brisbane. He’s such a handsome devil, isn’t he?’ Tuck sounded wistful. ‘Though someone’s done their best to mar his beauty, I see.’

He gave a quick nod in the direction of the buffet table, where Lieutenant Ross was laughing with Dolly.

‘You know him?’

Tuck put his head on the side in an affected, rather birdlike fashion. ‘Well, now.
He
’s got a response. Mind you, Ross always gets a response from the girls.’ He breathed a laugh. ‘Now he’d be a good subject for a portrait.’

‘I disagree. He’s too obviously handsome to make a good subject,’ I said, trying to sound nonchalant. I suspected that I’d failed, because Tuck gave a soft peal of laughter. His eyes were fixed on Lieutenant Ross.

‘Wartime is certainly a time for secrets,’ he said musingly. ‘We’re all such a secret crew. If it’s not Military Intelligence, like me and Rob Sinclair, it’s APLO or Sigint or one of the others.’ He turned to me again. ‘You’re in APLO with Dolly, aren’t you?’

I stared back at him, and said nothing.

‘Very good, Stella,’ he said. ‘I see steadfast disapproval at my even asking the question and grim determination not to give anything away. Don’t worry, my dear. I don’t pry about war work. Only about extremely personal social, sexual and psychological matters. And I usually find out what I want to know. In my situation I need insurance.’

He looked over towards Lieutenant Ross again; I thought that his expression showed mingled longing and apprehension. ‘I don’t know why he’s so compelling,’ he said. ‘But he is. I’ve met other men who’re just as handsome, but Nick Ross’s got a way of convincing you that you’re the only person in the room who interests him.’ Tuck’s short laugh was derisive, but I could see the misery in his eyes. ‘Come on, let’s join Dolly and young Lochinvar.’

Ten

A
s we walked over to Lieutenant Ross and Dolly I reflected that I’d never had any experience of the lieutenant’s charm. Obviously he didn’t think I was worth wasting it on.

‘Stella,’ said Ross, smiling as we came up to him. I was surprised at the informality of the greeting. I’d only ever had ‘Sergeant Aldridge’ from him before. Still smiling, he took my hand. ‘How lovely to see you,’ he murmured, staring into my eyes.

I gave the correct response and extracted my hand, which he’d been stroking gently. I suspected he was drunk. The bruises on his face were fading, but the black eye was still clearly visible. A picture of Eric’s grazed knuckles flashed into my head.

‘Who attacked you?’ I blurted out the words.

His smile disappeared. ‘Someone with a grudge.’

‘But
why
?’

Ross’s face seemed to close up and he shook his head slowly. ‘No names, no pack drill.’

I looked away from him, towards the couples dancing. It was a saying used by soldiers, and it meant that there would be no repercussions if you kept quiet. It had been silly of me to ask, because of course he’d say nothing.

‘Well, I’m very upset about it all,’ said Dolly, slurring her words in slightly drunken high dudgeon. ‘Poor Nick. Just look at his face.’

Nick?
I stared at Dolly, who was gazing at the lieutenant as if he’d hung the moon.

He turned to her, smile firmly in place again. ‘Easy on, birthday girl. It was a personal matter. I’m fine.’ He leaned down and planted a soft, quick kiss on her lips.

My gasp went unnoticed as someone banged on the keys of the piano in the corner with a disharmonious thump and we all looked up in surprise.