A Time of Secrets (37 page)

I pushed away from Ross to stand alone, staring at Eric. I tried for another breath.

‘You were bloody good,’ he said. ‘You really had me thinking –’

Ross broke in, hesitant. ‘I swear, it’s not –’

‘Shut up, Nick.’ That was a growl – a wolf baring its teeth. A warning. The first and only warning.

But Ross wanted to argue the point. Ross would always want to argue the point. ‘No. Listen. Eric, she’s –’

Something flared in Eric’s eyes as he lunged at Ross. A look of pure animal fury. I swear he bared his teeth in a snarl. Had his Viking ancestors looked like that when they ravaged England, killed the peaceful monks in Lindisfarne, carelessly slaughtered men, women, children?
From the wrath of the Northmen, O Lord, deliver us
.

Ross or Eric, one of them, pushed me, just as Cole had pushed me aside to deal with Faye and Mary. Only this time I landed on the footpath, and the concrete tore my stockings, grazed my knee. I felt the pain, briefly, as I turned to sit on the cold, wet footpath and watch them fight.

Their violently struggling bodies were dark opaque shadows that writhed and rose and fell in a clamour of grunts and thuds. In a moment they were both on their feet. Eric used the side of his hand in a chop at Ross’s throat, a move that was blocked by the other’s forearm. Eric hooked his leg around Ross’s knee and brought him down. Then they were locked in a heaving mass of fists and elbows and knees.

I was feeling light-headed now, increasingly unable to breathe, but my eyes were fixed on the men in front of me. It was easy to tell which was which, because Eric’s hair was so blond. As they grappled, each trying to win the advantage, I had an image of Delacroix’s wall painting of Jacob wrestling with the angel in the Chapelle des Saints-Anges in Saint Sulpice in Paris.

Eric had Ross on the ground now, sitting astride him, pummelling him with hard thudding blows. Eric would kill Ross. I knew it. Ross would die now, as I watched, killed by Eric’s hand. My heart thumped fast, painfully, in my chest and painful shivering rattled my teeth. The bands that had formed around my chest tightened as I tried – and failed again – to take a breath.

‘She’s ill . . . you fool.’ Ross’s words were a harsh gasp, almost unrecognisable. ‘Stella . . . Asthma.’

Eric released him abruptly, then stood and turned to look at me. He had the same light watchful stance as before and his breathing was even, silent. His fists were clenched, and I thought he was trembling. Ross was behind him, on his hands and knees, sucking in fast, heaving breaths, coughing.

Stella, you will die if you don’t get to hospital now
. It was the still, small voice in the whirlwind. It was Truth. I raised my head and stared at Eric, the wolf in front of me. He was frightening, but I had another wolf inside me, one I feared more than Eric. And that wolf was howling now, increasingly sure of the kill; I heard him in the pounding of my heart and felt him in my desperate, increasingly unfulfilled need for air.

My voice was a mere whisper. ‘You’re like – Frank. No trust – nothing.’

When I tried again to inhale it was a high rattling sound, shocking in the silence around us. Indecent. Eric flinched.

He knows, I thought. Knows it’s the sound of death.

I couldn’t breathe. There was no air.

The world spiralled into darkness.

Thirty-three

T
hey call it
status asthmaticus
. I fear it more than the Japanese Empire or the Nazis, more than fierce men who want to hurt me, more than fire or flood or wind or any of the terrors of this sometimes terrifying country in which I now live. It killed my grandfather, and his brother. It killed my aunt. One day it will probably kill me, but not this time.

When I awoke I was propped up in a hospital bed, wearing an oxygen mask. My chest felt as if it had closed up entirely. My heart was galloping and I gasped and coughed and despite the oxygen there was little relief. When I turned my head to the side I saw that I was in a bed at the top of a fourteen-bed ward. Around me other fights for life were raging. The woman next to me had sunken, terrified eyes and was gasping into her oxygen mask. I turned away from her and concentrated on trying to breathe from deeper in my diaphragm, the way that my English doctor had recommended.

Time ceased to mean anything. Every so often someone would raise my arm and inject me with adrenalin. And that would help, for a while. But the drug kept me in a jittery half-world of mixed memory and fear. Like a horror movie at the pictures, I replayed over and over again in my mind Cole’s attack and the way the girls had saved me. Nick Ross getting me to the doctor and his ridiculous kiss when we arrived at Avoca. Eric’s face, that look of hopeless desolation and its abrupt transformation into the wolf that lurked beneath his skin. Then my chest would tighten again. I’d breathe slowly, down into my stomach, using the deeper muscles to force air in, willing myself to forget. But the movie kept replaying. As long as I had the adrenalin, the movie replayed.

*

Someone was stroking my hand, pulling me out of sleep. I opened my eyes and turned my head to the right. The woman with the terrified eyes was gone from the bed next to me. I wasn’t wearing a mask, remembered that they’d taken it away late the previous day, and I slowly drew in a breath and felt the air move deeply into my lungs. I expelled it and took another breath. Air. There is something sweet and wholesome about a proper breath. It brings joy.

I turned my head to the left and saw Nick Ross. There were grazes on his face, bruises. No one was holding my hand.

‘I can breathe,’ I said. My voice was husky.

He smiled. ‘I know. They say you can go home today. Amazing.’

‘They need the bed.’ I glanced around the ward. ‘Lots of lung problems in this city.’ I took another easy breath. ‘I began to breathe more easily yesterday. Once I can breathe easily I’m all better.’

His mouth twisted in a wry grimace. ‘Better? How often does this happen?’

‘Not often.’ I smiled to hear my gravelly voice. I sounded like Marlene Dietrich. ‘Sometimes I’m short of breath for a while and control it with breathing, like when we walked to Cranleigh. Sometimes I need adrenalin. I’ve only been like this – in hospital and frightfully ill, I mean – I’ve only been like this once before, and that was at boarding school in England.’ I took another breath, just because I could, and delighted in the feeling of air filling my chest. ‘I can’t wait to go home.’

An odd expression flitted over his face, a sort of scowl mixed with exasperation as the door to the hallway opened and two khaki-clad figures bustled in.

‘Stella.’ ‘You’re okay.’ ‘You look wonderful.’ ‘We were so worried.’ ‘Shhhh. It’s a hospital.’ ‘You shhhh, I’m not too loud.’

High girlish voices. Faye and Mary brought youth and exuberance with them into that ward. Now my hands, both of them, were captured and held and squeezed and stroked. Smiling faces under khaki hats, the scent of a wet Melbourne afternoon mixed with Lux soap. The bed heaved as they sat beside me. I smiled back, happy to see them.

‘I’m much better,’ I said.

‘We were so worried,’ repeated Mary.

‘Mary was,’ said Faye. ‘I knew you’d be fine. AWAS girls are tough.’

She glanced towards Ross. ‘We came to visit you as often as we could, but they said no visitors except the lieutenant.’

‘Staff Sergeant Lund’s nearly been out of his mind,’ said Mary. ‘They wouldn’t let him in either.’

My heart rate quickened. I didn’t need this.

‘I don’t want to see him.’ I hated the quick, panicky note in my voice.

Mary seemed puzzled. ‘He’s been here all the time. They won’t let him into the ward, but he’s not left the hospital since you came in. He’s really nice. He –’

‘Anyway,’ said Faye, glancing at me, ‘he can’t see you while we’re in here. You’re supposed to have two visitors only. I expect one of us will be chucked out soon.’ She gave Ross a meaningful look, which he ignored.

‘You look wonderful,’ said Mary.

‘I feel wonderful – thanks to you two.’ I smiled at them. ‘What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?’

‘We’ve taken a late lunch,’ said Faye. ‘Captain Gabriel said we could. Jim drove us.’ She added quickly, ‘Captain Deacon said he could use a car.’

‘Everyone sends their love,’ said Mary.

‘Any news on Cole?’

Faye frowned and Mary’s face creased in worry.

Ross answered. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘In what way? They haven’t found him?’ My palms were moist; I wiped them on the sheet. ‘Have they –’

‘Bastards,’ muttered Faye.

‘What? Who?’

‘Everyone. They say you misunderstood. That we acted too quickly.’ Her upper lip curled.

‘The police spoke to Cole,’ said Ross. ‘He says that you were having an asthma attack when he met you on the road and he tried to help you. You became hysterical and the girls attacked him for no reason.’ He glanced down at his hands and wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘They won’t take it any further.’

I looked at him blankly. ‘That’s not what happened.’

‘We know that.’ Faye’s voice was low, angry. ‘Bastards. They just see his officer’s uniform, don’t see the mongrel underneath. Molloy says I overreacted and now I’m on report.’ She clenched her fists. ‘I’ll probably have to leave APLO. Wish I’d kicked him harder.’

Ross tried to sound conciliatory. ‘We’ll work something out. I’ll speak to Molloy. It’s given Cole a scare, and I doubt he’ll trouble you again, Stella.’ He hesitated. ‘Though we think it might be best if you didn’t return to Avoca for the time being.’

‘
You
think,’ muttered Faye.

‘Stay with us,’ said Mary, excited. ‘Mum and Dad would love to put you up.’

I gave her a slight smile, but I shook my head.

‘I can’t let someone like Cole scare me away. I want to go home.’

Ross took hold of my hand and stared at me, suddenly very serious indeed. ‘I won’t let him hurt you again. I mean that. I’ll kill him first.’

I pulled my hand free, worried about this development. Why was Ross suddenly so solicitous? ‘
I
won’t let him hurt me again,’ I said.

‘Nor will we,’ said Faye with a ferocious frown, directed mainly at Ross.

‘Nor will Staff Sergeant Lund,’ said Mary. ‘He’s been so worried about you, Stella.’ She glanced at Ross. ‘He’s really annoyed with you,’ she said to him earnestly. ‘But he hates Lieutenant Cole. He
really
hates Lieutenant Cole.’

‘Two visitors.’ The matron came into the ward like a clipper at full rig, her red cape a flapping spinnaker. ‘Two visitors only.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘And off the bed, ladies.’

Faye and Mary stood up. Faye glared at Ross, who remained in his seat, not meeting her eyes, face stubborn.

The matron eyed him approvingly, then looked at the girls. ‘Now, ladies, one of you will have to leave.’

‘Mares,’ said Faye, in a calm, determined voice, ‘let me stay. I need to speak to Stella.’

‘Why can’t
he
leave?’ Mary muttered, glancing at Ross. When she caught his eye, she flushed. ‘Sorry, sir. I’ll wait outside.’ She turned to me. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at work?’

I nodded. She bent to kiss my cheek and whispered, ‘He cried. When we thought you were going to die, Staff Sergeant Lund cried. I saw, though he tried to hide it.’

After she’d left, Faye turned to me. ‘Won’t you see him? Please, Stella?’

I shook my head.

‘He’s . . . He feels rotten about what happened.’

‘I don’t want to see him. Tell the nurses not to let him in.’ I hated the petulant tone in my voice; I sounded like a five-year-old.

‘The staff’s not like Cole,’ she said. Her voice was dry, pragmatic. ‘Not a mongrel. He’d never hurt a woman.’ She flicked another glance at Ross, and her disapproval was clear. ‘Men, yes. Annoying men, absolutely. Sure, he thumped the lieutenant, but who could blame him for that in the circumstances?’ Ross’s jaw tightened, but Faye ignored him. ‘Won’t you at least talk to him?’

The need to cry, to spill tears, was a tight, sharp pain in my throat and behind my eyes. ‘I’m sure Eric feels terrible about nearly scaring me to death. I’m sure he’s a very nice man when he’s not about to kill somebody. Maybe it’s this war that’s turned him into the man I saw the other night.’ My voice cracked. I was willing myself not to cry. ‘I didn’t want the lieutenant to kiss me, but if I had wanted it, well, it was my business. I hate men thinking they can own me. I won’t have any man think that he can attack someone, attack them like
that
, just because I prefer the other man, or –’

‘But, Stella –’

I waved my hand in a brusque gesture of annoyance and she shut up.

Thirty-four

T
hey discharged me two hours later.

I didn’t see Eric as I walked through the hospital, which was a relief. I did see someone else I knew, though. A stocky figure in khaki was just coming out of a room along the corridor as we walked towards the foyer.