Women and War (60 page)

‘You won't,' he said. And of course she had not.

With the wheels set in motion events had moved fast. Contracts were signed, rehearsal schedules arranged. There were dressmakers, hairdressers and musical directors, all of whom tried to shape and change her. And there was Dev, insisting that she should remain herself, market nothing more and nothing less than the talent which had captivated night club patrons, troops and the entire well-heeled audience in Melbourne.

To begin with she had performed mainly at establishments owned by the Craigies, at hotels and clubs which seemed little more than up-market versions of the Canary. But as time went by theatres were included in her programme. First, the small theatres in small towns, singing to a rowdy but appreciative audience still rooted in the traditions of music hall. And then the bigger ones. Adelaide had been her biggest engagement yet. Outside the theatre she had looked at her name on the billboard with a thrill of pride and excitement. Two whole weeks here and then on to Perth. She had never been to Perth and the prospect started more fires of excitement.

‘The sweetheart of a continent' they had billed her – suddenly it had seemed the continent part at least was no exaggeration.

One week in Adelaide down, one to go. And now this. She lay on the bed feeling like death and wondering what would happen if she was not fit to perform tomorrow.

Don't even think of it. You will be fit. You have to be.

A tap came at the bedroom door and she moved restlessly. Could it be room service? Unlikely. She had not ordered anything and when they had brought the tea she had asked simply to be left alone. Dev, then. More possible. It would be very like Dev to come around. Checking on his investment. The phrase made her smile weakly. That was all she was to him these days. She could not remember the last time he had propositioned her. Could not remember when any man had been close enough to proposition her. She was a glamour figure, yes, but cocooned away from the public by a row of footlights, a succession of hotel porters and the professionals who surrounded her, all more interested in her talents on stage than off it. Not that she wanted attention, but it was ironic all the same.

And now here was Dev, come to offer a little sympathy and a lot of advice on how to make it to the theatre tomorrow evening and sparkle under his new revised exotic lighting plan …

‘Come in,' she called. Her voice sounded weak.

The handle turned but nothing happened. She remembered it was locked on the inside, swung her legs gingerly over the edge of the bed and padded to the door, her head swimming. Unlocking it, she swung the door open – and gasped. Not Dev. Richard.

‘Oh!' she said weakly.

His face was like stone. ‘ May I come in?'

‘Yes – yes, of course.'

She stood aside. Her legs felt like jelly. ‘I didn't know you were home.'

‘You wouldn't, would you, since you are not at home either,' he said icily.

‘But you could have written.'

‘I did write. Perhaps the letter was delayed.'

Or perhaps your mother did not bother to pass it on to me, she thought.

‘Anyway, the fact is I'm here. Pack your things, Tara. I'm taking you back to Melbourne.'

‘Now wait a minute …'

‘Pack your things. There is nothing more to be said. And what on earth is the matter with you? You look dreadful.'

‘You're a doctor,' she flared. ‘Perhaps if you had been in Australia looking after me I wouldn't be here now – and I wouldn't be ill.'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' he said. ‘ I had a job to do. And if that is what this is all about, a fit of pique, I don't think much of it.'

The anger made her feel faint once more. ‘I'm sorry, Richard, I don't feel up to arguing.'

‘I can see that,' he said. ‘God in heaven, Tara, just what do you think you are playing at?'

‘I'm not playing at anything. Just making a life for myself while you were on the other side of the ocean.'

‘I was on the other side of the ocean, as you put it, to do my duty as a serving officer in the Armed Forces.'

‘Oh, I see.' She crossed to the basin, running the tap and splashing cold water onto her face. ‘ You mean you didn't volunteer.'

She snatched up the towel and turned, dabbing it to her mouth just in time to catch his expression. Guilt. Written all over him. So he
had
volunteered. His mother had been right.

‘Why?' she said. ‘Why did you do it?'

The lines of his mouth hardened. For a moment the expression behind his eyes frightened her. Don't tell me! she wanted to cry. I know I asked, but – don't tell me! I don't want to know. Then his eyes fell from hers and she knew he was not going to tell her anyway.

‘Somebody had to,' he said, ‘ and it was no reason for you to abandon Margaret and go chasing all over Australia.'

‘I did no such thing. She has her nanny and she's too young to miss me.'

‘You have deceived yourself into thinking she wouldn't miss you because you couldn't keep away from the stage. You haven't really thought about the implications at all. My mother is terribly upset.'

‘Your mother is probably delighted at having something to hold against me at last. She's never liked me.'

‘That is hardly surprising when you behave like this!' He looked around the room, saw her suitcase stowed in a corner and threw it onto the bed so that the lid flew open. ‘Come on now – pack!'

Beneath the anger she felt the love welling up. She had never seen Richard like this before, so strong and decisive – except perhaps on the terrible day when Darwin had been bombed. Certainly he had never spoken to her like this before. Perhaps it meant he did care. Oh, if he did she would throw it all in, give up any thought of a stage career, go back with him and happily spend the rest of her life simply being his wife. Then she remembered the way his eyes had fallen from hers when she mentioned Singapore and hardened her heart.

‘I'm not coming back with you, Richard. I have another week to do here in Adelaide and then some other bookings to fulfil. I couldn't back out even if I wanted to. I have signed a contract.'

‘That can be taken care of. Contracts can be broken. Our solicitor …'

‘No. I wouldn't let them down like that.'

‘Letting us down doesn't matter I suppose.'

‘I am not letting you down. When the tour is over I'll come home.' Her lip wobbled suddenly. ‘If you still want me.'

‘Oh, for heaven's sake, Tara!' He gestured helplessly. ‘What am I to do?'

She wrapped her arms around herself. She was feeling weak and ill again; for a little while the shock of his arrival had rallied her, now as the adrenalin drained away she was not sure how much longer her legs would support her.

‘You can give me something to clear up this tummy upset,' she said.

For a moment she thought he was going to refuse.

‘I don't carry a medical chest with me when I rush across Australia to find my wife,' he said shortly. ‘ Still, I suppose if you are adamant about seeing this nonsense through I can hardly drag you back bodily.' He fished in one of his pockets and pulled out a prescription pad. ‘If you are no better tomorrow when the pharmacists open you can get this made up. It should settle your stomach if it's just an upset. If it continues, you will have to seek other advice.'

Oh cold, so cold! Seek other advice! So professional – doctor and patient, not husband and wife. ‘Thank you,' she said primly.

He looked around. ‘It seems there's little point in my staying here.'

Again her heart bled. How long was it since she had seen him? How many long months? Oh this was some reunion!

‘Richard …' she whispered.

His back presented a hard line. ‘I hope you realize what you are dong, Tara. We'll talk again at home. When you come to your senses.'

Then he was gone. She almost ran after him, changed her mind and sank down onto the bed. Pointless to say more – she would not change her mind and neither would he. Oh Holy Mary, what am I doing? she whispered. She laid her head against the pillow, too weak even to cry, and the flimsy hotel bed shook with the violence of her trembling.

She was still lying there in the half-light when Dev came.

‘Tara, for Chrissakes, what is the matter?' He had come – in through the door left unlocked after Richard's departure.

‘Oh Dev!' Her voice cracked.

He sat down on the bed beside her smoothing the damp curls away from her face. ‘I didn't realize you were this ill. I'm going to get a doctor to see you.'

‘No!' She laughed, weakly hysterical. ‘I've seen a doctor. That's mostly what's wrong with me now.'

‘What are you talking about …?' He broke off. ‘ Do you mean what I think you mean?'

‘Yes. Richard came …' And then it was all pouring out and he was listening, holding her hand, touching her face where the blue shadows lay.

When she finished he was silent for a moment. ‘I'm responsible for this.' His voice was low. ‘It's my doing, isn't it?'

‘No – no …'

‘Yes it is. Look, Tara, if you think you should go home I'll arrange for you to be released from your contract. We won't make a legal battle of it. God knows, I don't want to wreck your marriage.'

‘No!'

‘Think about it. He's all you ever wanted, isn't he? All you want now?'

Her breath came out on a shuddering sigh. ‘I don't know. Oh Dev, I'm just not sure about anything any more.'

‘Well, my love,' he said softly. ‘ The choice is yours.'

‘Oh Dev!' she whispered, turning her face into him. ‘I'm in such a muddle!'

Her head was cradled in his lap and he smoothed the tangle of her curls, not speaking. The long minutes ticked by and she felt the first stirrings of awareness run through her, fuelled by need. She raised her head and saw him looking down at her, his face all planes and shadows in the half-light, saw her own deep primeval desire mirrored in his eyes. She moved her hands to his shoulders. The muscular strength of them emphasized her own weakness and made her long even more to lean on him.

‘I should have listened to you a long time ago,' she said. Her voice was husky.

‘Too right you should.'

‘Please hold me,' she said.

He held her.

‘Please stay with me.'

His lips were in her hair, the supple firmness of her body against his was rekindling the fires she had begun in him the first time he had seen her.

‘Oh Tara,' he said, ‘of course I'll stay.'

Tara sat staring in near disbelief at the newspaper headline. ‘High Ranking Ex-Army Officer on Rape Charge.' The words stood out starkly against the page – words that had made her look and look again. Now, with a sense of mounting horror, she read the account beneath the banner headline and felt herself transported back to Northern Territory, to Adelaide River, and to the night of the concert when an unknown man had attacked her …

It was so long ago now – most of the happenings in Northern Territory seemed a little like a dream – yet the horror of that attack was something she had never quite been able to forget, and the fact that she had never known who it was who had violated and beaten her had been one of the aspects which had returned to haunt her. I could meet him again and never know it she had thought and the knowledge had lain dormant in her, making her a little wary of men she knew as well as those she did not in a way she had never been wary before.

She looked again at the baldly stated facts of the newspaper report.

‘A highly respected surgeon who saw service during the war as CO of 138 AGH was today sentenced to gaol in a Queensland court after being found guilty of rape of a young SIGS officer. Colonel Frederick Adamson had pleaded not guilty to attacking the girl – a 20-year-old West Australian – after meeting her at a Townsville club. He had made advances to her, the girl told the court, which she rejected. Later, walking home, she was aware that someone was following her. Though she tried to escape the man caught and overpowered her. During the struggle she was able to tear a button from his jacket which later identified him as Adamson.'

So, thought Tara, at last I know who it was. He made advances to me, too, and I rejected him. It must be. It would be too much of a coincidence for it to have been anyone else. But Colonel Adamson – I can't believe it! Oh, he had an eye for me, didn't I know it, but I'd never have thought him capable of …

Once more the events of that night played themselves out in her mind's eye but somehow the horror had lessened. She could put a face to the monster who had taken her in the darkness and it was the face of a man she knew.

Well, thank goodness he's been caught, she thought. How he'll hate it in gaol – even more than he hated Northern Territory! But at least he won't be raping and beating any more girls for a very long time. And it never even occurred to her how lucky she was that she could regard the terrible incident in such a philosophical light.

When the final engagement of her first contract was over Tara rushed home eagerly to Melbourne. The tour had been a success, not a doubt of it, but lately she had found herself longing for Richard – and for Margaret. It was one thing to be on stage, the centre of attention, quite another to return to a lonely hotel room. She did not like to keep the late hours some of the theatre people kept – Tara had always needed her beauty sleep – and in any case they were not overly friendly towards her. They resented her overnight success and her friendship with the management in the shape of Dev, she supposed.

When he was around the loneliness was eased, of course, but a great deal of the time he was away on business, touring the various Craigie interests to help set up new technical extravaganzas, and even when he was there she tried to put a certain amount of distance between them. That one despairing night she had needed him desperately, but once it was over she had realized the danger of repeating it. Become too closely involved with Dev and her marriage would be under even greater threat than it now was. In spite of her rebellion, Tara still wanted her marriage and still loved Richard regardless of the gulf that lay between them.