Gallipoli Street (15 page)

‘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 reminded 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.