A Time of Secrets (41 page)

‘All right.’ I filled the kettle and put it on the stove to heat.

‘Not much choice,’ he said, opening the icebox and taking out a plate of sandwiches. He lifted the tea towel that was covering them. ‘Fish paste, ham paste.’ He looked more closely. ‘You beauty! Vegemite.’

‘Ugh. How can you eat that stuff?’

‘Vegemite helps us win the war,’ he quoted, from an advertisement in the
Argus
. There was a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. ‘Nick loves it, too.’

‘I repeat,’ I said, ‘ugh. Australians are very odd about Vegemite.’

‘An English bloke at training camp used to call it the black death.’

I laughed without thinking. His face relaxed a little. I turned away to busy myself getting the tea down from the shelf and pouring milk into a jug.

Eric’s voice was very quiet. ‘They wouldn’t let me see you in the hospital. Said you wouldn’t allow it.’

‘I told them I didn’t want to see you.’

I turned and my look at him was a challenge. He leaned against the counter, watching me closely. I thought he seemed tired. The skin on his face was stretched tight over the bones and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

‘I’m sorry I scared you,’ he said. ‘Sorry you think –’

‘Let’s not talk about it now,’ I said.

‘I think we have to talk about it, Stella.’ He was gripping the edge of the counter with white-knuckled hands. ‘I’m so sorry that I scared you. But you must know that I’d never have hurt you.’ He shook his head slowly, and straightened up to stand stiffly by the counter.

‘You hurt Nick,’ I said, in a shrill high voice. ‘How could I know you wouldn’t hurt me?’

‘I’d never hurt you,’ he repeated. ‘Never.’ A small vein in his neck was throbbing, betraying his agitation. Eric was not a man who gave much away. With Eric you looked for the small signs. I glanced down. His hands were not clenched in fists, but open in silent entreaty.

‘I didn’t want Nick to kiss me,’ I said. My voice strengthened as I became angry. ‘I didn’t expect him to do that. I don’t want him like that. I told you that before and you should have believed me. But that’s not the point. It’s not up to you to say Nick shouldn’t kiss me or that he’s no good for me. I decide who kisses me, who I want to be with. You don’t own me, just because we went to bed together. No one owns me.’

His voice was low. ‘I don’t want to own you. I went crazy that night. I – I never do that. When I fight, when I’m on a field mission, I’m always cool. Ask Nick. I’ve never lost control like that before. If I scared you, I scared myself, too.’ His eyes were dark, the pupils great pools of black in the blue irises. ‘I thought you’d chosen Nick over me. The thought of losing you – losing you to Nick – it made me crazy.’

I turned away from him, not wanting to see the entreaty in his eyes. ‘You were so harsh, so cold that night . . .’ My throat tightened so that it hurt to swallow. I forced myself to continue. ‘You said, “No lies, Stella.” My husband used to say that to me. He’d accuse me of flirting, or say I’d not followed some instruction, some order he’d given. And he’d ask for an explanation. “No lies, Stella,” he’d say. He’d never believe me, though.’ I looked at Eric. ‘And then he’d hit me.’

Eric flinched. He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. ‘He hit you? Your husband hit you? A lot?’

I nodded slowly, holding his gaze. He seemed to retreat into himself, and his face became masklike, abstracted, before a shudder rippled through him. The small vein on his neck was pulsing in fast, betraying beats. His gaze fell as he sucked in a breath. ‘No wonder you . . .’ He looked up at me again and gave an approximation of a laugh. ‘I was your nightmare, wasn’t I? Your dead mongrel husband come back to life. I even look a bit like him.’

I gave a quick nod, unable to speak.

‘So now I know,’ he said.

I pulled back my shoulders and raised my chin. ‘Now you know.’ My manner became brisk. ‘I’ll finish making the tea.’ I turned around to pick up the kettle.

‘I’m not like him, Stella. Not like your husband.’ His voice was so low that it was scarcely audible.

I didn’t reply. I had no idea what to say.

Once I’d made the tea we put everything on to a big tray that he carried upstairs to Ross’s office. Ross gave us a keen look when we entered, but didn’t ask any questions. The sandwiches were dry and unappetising, but I washed them down with draughts of sweet, strong tea and I felt better after I’d eaten.

At around seven we heard the noise of a car pulling up outside the house, a door slamming. A minute or so later, footsteps in the corridor, a quick rap on the door and Captain Deacon was in the room. Eric and I stood and saluted. He brushed us aside with a wave.

‘What’s this about?’

He heard my story with a calm intensity that was almost frightening. When I’d finished he said, ‘We need corroboration from Hadley. We’d best wire him now.’ He jumped out of the chair and went to the door. ‘Come on, then.’

Helen Avery was the wireless operator on duty that night. When we piled into the room she froze and glared at me accusingly. I shook my head quickly and she seemed to relax.

‘I want to send an urgent wire to Perth,’ Deacon told her.

When he gave the details of what he wanted to send Helen’s head jerked and she gasped. She glanced at me. I regarded her blankly, watched the struggle in her eyes. I gave a slight shrug and lifted the corner of my lips, and wondered how she’d interpret my expression. I hoped she’d tell them what she knew. If she didn’t, I’d have to do so once we’d heard from Perth. Helen swallowed and looked up at Deacon.

‘Sir, I think you should know something. It’s about Destro. About Bill Ellis.’

She finished her story and looked down at the machinery in front of her, hands clasped loosely in her lap.

‘You’re sure that it was a different fist on the keys?’

She nodded, still watching her hands.

‘And it wasn’t in cipher?’

Another nod.

Deacon’s voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of steel. ‘And this was in April? You should have come to me about this. Told me as soon as you had suspicions.’

Helen looked up at him. ‘How could I, sir? I’d been ordered not to by Lieutenant Cole. It was only a feeling, after all.’

He rubbed at his eyes, and sighed. ‘Let’s send this wire to Perth.’

The reply was quick. Helen decoded it and handed it to Deacon. We stood around reading it together.

We wired APLO on 10 July 1943 after intercepting a Destro transmission that appeared to be sent under duress. This remains our view. Will dispatch further details tonight.

Deacon looked at Helen, who had removed the earphones and was staring up at him. ‘Who was on duty on the tenth of July?’ he asked. ‘Who took the transmission from Perth on that day?’

Helen opened her eyes wide. ‘It wasn’t me, I swear it.’

‘I don’t suspect you of anything,’ he said. ‘Could you check the rosters, please?’

She went over to a desk by the opposite wall, pulled out a large book and began to leaf through it.

‘Sergeant Dolly Harper,’ she said, and my heart began to thump painfully. ‘She recorded a transmission from Perth on the tenth of July.’

‘What’s normal procedure?’ asked Ross. ‘When you get an unexpected transmission like that one, from an interstate code-intercept group.’

Helen’s tone was affronted. ‘We deliver it to Lieutenant Cole at once, of course.’

Deacon nodded. ‘Thank you, Corporal. Please keep this confidential. Don’t discuss it with anyone, not even Lieutenant Cole.’

Ross, Eric and I followed Deacon upstairs to his office, where he picked up the telephone and asked the operator to put him through to Cole’s lodgings. He listened, thanked whomever he was talking to, left a message for Cole to call him and hung up.

‘Cole’s not in. Hasn’t been in all evening. They don’t know where he is.’ Deacon rubbed at his eyes again. They were red-rimmed and in them I saw fatigue, bewilderment and a touch of horror.

‘Why wouldn’t he tell us about this?’ He looked at Ross. ‘What good was there in keeping Destro going, in sending operatives up there, if there was any suspicion it was compromised?’

Ross shrugged. ‘I suspect he simply couldn’t accept that it was compromised. If he did then I was vindicated and he looked like a fool.’

Deacon shook his head slowly. ‘That wire from Perth, though. To simply ignore it? We sent Indigo Alpha up there after he’d got that wire. I know that they were all lost in the air crash in Darwin, but we were going to send the Indigo Baker party this week.’ He shook his head again. ‘And if Corporal Avery is correct about Bill’s fist on the keys, then Destro went off the rails much earlier than July. Eagle and Kestrel went up in April and May. We’ve been dropping in regular supplies to Destro and you know how dangerous that is for the pilots. How could Cole do this?’

He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it into boyish disorder. ‘It’s nearly eight o’clock. There’s nothing more we can do tonight,’ he went on. ‘The dispatch from Perth will arrive some time tomorrow morning. I need to fully brief Captain Molloy and we’ll speak to Cole tomorrow.’ He waved his hand towards us. ‘Go home. I’ll wait for Cole’s call. Do you still have the Destro communications? I want to go through them.’

As we were leaving, Deacon said, ‘Sergeant Aldridge?’

I turned around.

‘Good work, Sergeant,’ he said in his quiet way. ‘You did very well indeed.’

Eric, Ross and I emerged from Goodwood into a cold, clear night. The air caught in my throat and I pulled my scarf over my mouth, before tugging at the strap of my satchel so that it sat more securely on my shoulder. Ross’s black sedan was parked near the front door. He opened the passenger door.

‘Get in, I’ll drive you home.’ He glanced up at Eric. ‘You get in, too.’

Eric and I stood still. I was waiting to see what he would do; I suspected he was waiting for me to make a move. I thought about protesting and saying that I was perfectly all right to walk the short distance to Avoca, but it was late and cold and Lance Cole was somewhere out there. So I shrugged and made a small sound to indicate assent, and I sat in the car.

Eric got into the back seat and Ross drove through the gate onto Toorak Road. I was acutely aware of Eric sitting behind me. No one spoke. Ross pulled up outside the flats, turned off the engine and looked at me.

‘We’re coming in to check the flat,’ he said.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘You can go.’

I saw his quick look at Eric and it annoyed me.

‘I’m fine,’ I repeated.

Eric’s voice was a low growl from behind me. ‘Eight days ago, the woman in the flat next to you was brutally attacked with an axe. Six days ago, Cole attacked you. You nearly died. You were discharged from hospital yesterday. The only other person in those flats is eighty-odd years old. We want to come in with you to make sure it’s safe.’

‘Mrs Campbell may be eighty-nine,’ I said, in a brittle voice, ‘but she’s very feisty.’

‘Please, Stella,’ said Eric. I felt a feather-light touch at my hair, scarcely a touch at all. I stared through the windscreen at the empty road. Eric had shifted forward and his words were low and intimate, very close to my ear. ‘We need to know you’re safe. Please.’

I drew in a breath like a sob. ‘All right. Check the flat if you have to. But neither of you is staying. I’ll lock up tight when you’ve gone, and I’ll be perfectly safe.’

They went through the flat room by room and checked the doors and the windows. Ross was at Dolly’s bedroom door when I put my hand on his arm to stop him.

‘It’s private,’ I said.

He laughed. ‘I slept in there last night. Remember? I just want to check the windows.’ He glanced at Eric and disappeared into Dolly’s room.

I also looked at Eric, who was standing by the curtains that covered the French doors to the balcony. He had a fixed, uncertain look on his face. In his neck the small vein was throbbing. He cleared his throat.

I stayed silent. He grimaced.

‘I can’t make pretty speeches like Nick,’ he said, and gave a soft bark of laughter. ‘When he was doing his degree he used me as a subject to psychoanalyse. Apparently all of my problems stem from my sisters’ deaths. I heard them die, you know. Heard them choking to death, and I couldn’t do a thing to help them.’

I looked up at him in wordless sympathy and he nodded. ‘Nick says that’s why I have this – he calls it a compulsion – this need to protect the people I care about. Why I can never leave a man in the field, why I won’t accept a commission because I’d be too removed from the men, why I ran out on you at Leggett’s to help Nick.’

He clenched his hand into a fist and hit his hip hard twice, three times; I winced each time he made contact. ‘It’s why I’m torn apart to think I wasn’t there to protect you from that mongrel Cole. Or from a disease that sucks the breath out of you. God, Stella! You were dying in front of me that night and I couldn’t do a thing.’ He gave another sharp, humourless laugh. ‘Nick says we’re all shaped by our past. You’re so scared I’m like your husband that you won’t give me another chance. You won’t trust me because I lost my temper that night. So now I can’t protect you, not from Cole – not even from Nick, who’ll break your heart.’