Women and War (61 page)

Through the lonely hours she had thought about it and made up her mind. As soon as the tour was over she would go home and make him understand why she had done it. He had volunteered for Singapore – she had done a concert tour. Surely they were even now and could begin all over again with a clean sheet. She did not think of the barriers that had grown between them because it did not suit her to do so. The small coolnesses which had preceded that last quarrel in Adelaide were forgotten and she thought instead of the good times they had shared – and the happy future which could still lie ahead of them. She would give up her career if he asked her to – with the ‘fix' of performing still sending a high through her veins it was easy to imagine that she could do it. She had tasted success, she thought. It should be enough and now she could return to the reality of life with Richard. Perhaps they could have another child so that Margaret would not have to grow up alone. They could find a home of their own. And she would be content just to be his wife and the mother of his children and forget all thoughts of stardom.

One dream or the other – she could not have both. Richard and a family – or the glamour of the stage. As she travelled home, curled back in the corner of the railway carriage as the train ate up the hours and the miles, she no longer had any doubts as to which it would be. She closed her eyes and saw his face and at the thought of him her arms ached with the need to hold him and her heart raced.

Oh Richard – Richard – I'm coming home – I'm coming home … The wheels on the track echoed and reechoed the words.

It was early evening when the taxi deposited her outside the house. She had told no one she was coming and walking up the drive she felt a qualm. The house looked deserted – if everyone was out what an anticlimax it would be.

On the doorstep she hesitated. Should she ring the bell and have the maid let her in? No – for heaven's sake, she lived here, didn't she? She tried the door and it opened. The hallway was deserted. She looked into the dining room and saw that the table was not set. They were dining out tonight then. Her heart sank. But as she approached the drawing room the murmur of voices reached her.

Richard! She drew up taut for a moment checking the urge to run straight to him. It was so good to hear his voice and what a lovely voice it was – low, firm and cultured …

Another voice reached her and adoration and love became tinged with annoyance and disbelief. She had not stopped to wonder who it was Richard was talking to. Now she heard the woman's voice and knew.

Alys Peterson. Trust her to be here, taking advantage of Tara's absence! Tara took a step forward, laid her hand on the door to push it open – and stopped. The door was slightly ajar and Alys Peterson's words carried clearly out to her.

‘I promised to marry him, Richard. I can't go back on it now.'

‘Alys please – you must. Oh, I know I have no right to ask, but …'

‘You have every right.' Her voice was soft, laden with meaning. ‘But a promise is a promise. For one thing I don't want to hurt him. For another, well, it's a matter of honour. You must understand that.'

A chair creaked as if Richard had risen impatiently. Peeping through the crack in the door she saw him pacing.

‘I understand all right. I've tried to do the honourable thing all my life – and look where it has got me. That's why I want to stop you making the same mistake. I honestly believe now there is only one good reason for marrying – and that is because you love somebody so much you can't envisage life without them. Not out of pity. Not out of loneliness. Not even because you believe it is the honourable thing to do. That is a recipe for disaster, believe you me. Don't do it. Please.'

There was a tiny pause. Then Alys said. ‘Why are you so keen to dissuade me, Richard? I think I have the right to know.'

Another pause. Tara stood frozen. Her heart thudding horribly in the seemingly hollow cavity of her chest was the only sign of life.

‘You know why.' There were savage undertones in Richard's voice. ‘You know very well why I don't want you to marry him. Don't make me say it.'

The shock rippled through Tara in waves. Sweet Holy Mary she had come rushing home to hear this. Richard and Alys. Alys and Richard. She had always known, of course. Some small hidden part of her had known – and kept its secret. But it did not detract now from the sense of outrage, the feeling that the ground had been swept away from beneath her feet. She pushed open the door with a jolt and went into the room.

‘Very touching, I'm sure.'

They both swung round. Their faces were blank, expressionless.

‘Tara …' Richard found his voice first. He took a step towards her and she backed furiously away.

‘Don't you dare touch me!'

‘Tara …'

‘I suppose you didn't expect me. I suppose you thought I was safely out of the way …'

‘I think I had better leave,' Alys said quietly.

‘Yes, I think you had.' Tara could not look at her.

‘I'm sorry …'

‘Don't be. I'm grateful to you for opening my eyes.'

‘It's not really what you think …'

‘Really? You must think I was born yesterday.'

Alys cast an agonized look at Richard. His face was stricken.

‘Well, Richard, it is nice to know where I stand,' Tara said when Alys had left. ‘So you married me out of pity, did you? And loneliness? And because you believed it was the honourable thing to do?'

‘No – of course not.'

‘I just heard you say so with my own ears. Don't bother denying it. Well, let me tell you something. I was coming back to you for exactly the same reasons. So – there you are. See what honesty does? We need not pretend any more, either of us. You can go on persuading Alys not to marry whoever it is she is going to marry and you might even succeed. And I can go back to my career.'

He was white-lipped. ‘Tara, do you realize what you are saying?'

‘Yes, I do. Something I should have said a long time ago.'

‘What about Margaret?'

‘Margaret will be all right. I think we shall both make sure of that. But you, Richard … you can go to hell!'

Tara left next day. She had cried most of the night, angry bitter tears, prompted as much by the knowledge that she had been a blind fool as by the sadness that comes with the end of a dream. For too long she had tried to pretend to herself that Richard loved her; the truth was there now staring her in the face and she could no longer deny it.

When she said goodbye to him he looked as white and shaken as she felt.

‘Tara, I would ask you to believe this at least – I have never been unfaithful to you. It isn't much, I know, but …'

She snorted. ‘There are plenty of ways of being unfaithful as I'm sure you know. Though I agree it's unlikely you have been to bed with Alys. You are too much of a gentleman for that. Heaven knows, half the time you are too much of a gentleman to go to bed with me!'

‘Tara, you have a viperish tongue.'

‘Well, you won't have to listen to it much longer. I'm leaving.'

‘Tara!' He was distressed now. ‘ I don't want it to end like this. Don't go.'

‘Too late I'm afraid. I've already made arrangements. Dev is picking me up.' She saw the pain flash in his eyes and was glad. ‘Don't let it upset you, Richard. With me out of the way you will stand a far better chance with Alys. But I should warn you I shall be home as often as I can make it – to see Margaret.'

Saying goodbye to Margaret was another emotional hurdle to be overcome. The baby held onto her hand, giving her a gummy smile, and Tara thought: She's beginning to know me. Now my marriage is over I shall have to work out a way to have her with me.

As she got into the car beside Dev, however, it was only of Richard she was thinking. Holy Mary, was it possible she still loved him? There could be no other explanation for the pain inside. How much can one person take and still go on loving? She sat in silent misery and Dev respected her need for privacy.

He drove her to Adelaide to Duke Craigie's offices. There, fresh contracts were signed and arrangements made. Afterwards Duke Craigie entertained them both to dinner in his suite and as the champagne flowed freely Tara began to relax a little, unable to avoid comparing her ease in this company to the stiff misery she had experienced at Mrs Allingham's dinner parties. Well, they were behind her now. She had shocked polite society and when they knew she had left her husband they would be even more shocked. A bubble of champagne tickled Tara's nose and she began to giggle. Dev glanced at her. She raised her glass and dimpled at him then was struck by the serious caring look on his face and sobered.

By the time he drove her back to her hotel she was in sombre mood again. He drew up outside and turned to look at her.

‘Tara, once before you asked me to stay with you. Do you want me to stay tonight?'

She chewed her lip, tasting blood. She could not answer.

‘You're in a right old state, aren't you?' he asked.

She looked back at him, seeing the strong lines of his face in the sodium lights of the hotel foyer, knowing that what lay behind his offer was more than just one night of comfort. Dev had always wanted her just as she wanted Richard. She had the power to inflict the same kind of pain on him. And it was not fair. Just because she was lonely and wretched, just because she ached for arms to hold her and lips to make her forget for a little while … it was not fair on him.

From somewhere she found her voice. ‘It's not fair on you,' she said.

A corner of his mouth twisted upwards. ‘What in life is fair? You kicked me out once before. I dare say you'll do it again.'

Tentatively she reached out and touched his hand on the steering wheel. His fingers were thick and sinewy, they felt good to her touch. He made no move, just looked at her.

‘No ties,' she said. ‘No firm promises.'

‘I didn't ask for any,' he said. ‘I just offered to keep you company. It's going to be a long night.' She interlaced her fingers with his. ‘Sometimes, Dev, I wonder what I would do without you.'

‘You'd get along fine. You don't need anybody, Tara.' He laughed softly. ‘What am I saying? Talking myself out of a job. With no ties at all, I am going to set out to prove to you just how much you do need me. Right?'

‘Right.'

In her room she stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself, looking out at the darkness punctuated by a thousand lights.

‘Are you coming to bed?' he asked.

‘I don't know …'

‘Come to bed.' He undressed her and she let him. His lips touched the hollow below her shoulder while his hands rested lightly on the curve of her hips. Then he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She lay looking at the strong muscular lines of his body as he undressed himself, feeling the dark sweet excitement stir within her yet unable to move. Then he lowered himself to the bed rolling on top of her and taking her head between his hands. ‘I am going to make you forget that bastard doctor if I have to burn him out of you. Oh Tara, Tara!'

His weight was crushing her, one knee was between her legs forcing them apart. Still she lay motionless listening to the waves of desire making music in her soul, experiencing darts of fire in every nerve ending. His teeth raked her breasts and she cried out then his mouth covered hers, catching the breath which his body was squeezing from her lungs. And suddenly she was passive no longer. The tiny fires exploded to blazing light and she was devouring his mouth with hunger so great it obliterated all conscious thought. Her nails dug into his back and she arched her hips to him wanting to take him whole into her body. As he entered her it was as if the ocean was washing over them, she let it buffet her with the waves of Desire. Dev … Dev … each thrust took them to a higher plane and each thrust was his name. When the final roller lifted them she cried out, tensing her body as if to hold the moment forever. Then, as the gentle breakers wafted them towards shore, she relaxed into a depth of warmth and contentment like nothing she had ever experienced before. For a long while she lay with her face against his shoulder and his skin tasted salt beneath her mouth as if the sea really had taken them. And as the mists of sleep began to blur reality she murmured drowsily: ‘ You were right, Dev.'

‘So – I get to stay, do I?' His voice was drowsy too.

‘Please. Oh please.' The last word became a whisper of deep even breathing and she was asleep. But it was all she had need to say.

The Capitol Theatre, Sydney, fronted onto Parker Street. Within its glass panelled doors two matching staircases swept down from the gilt-wrought balcony leading to the dress circle, the ceiling was painted sky-blue and light from the street-lamp-style lanterns at the foot of the stairs caught the bright gold paint and made it gleam and glint against the deeper blue of the carpets.

Outside the billboards bore the posters and photographs of the starring artistes – a comedian, exotic dancers, a fire-eater. But above them all, larger and more impressive even than the fire-eater with his flaming torch suspended above his open mouth, was the face of a girl, eyes dancing dark behind glossy lashes, lips parted tantalizingly, and the name that dominated the posters was simple and easily remembered.

Tara Kelly.

It had taken a year for her to become a star, a year when she had toured the theatres and clubs, rising gradually in popularity and importance from the first presumptive addition to the posters … ‘And introducing …' to this heady accolade of success. Two recordings, played across the continent, and her photograph on the cover of the sheet music had helped her on her way, and now she stood where she had always known she was destined to stand. Top of the bill at the theatre she had gawped at in open-mouthed admiration as a child. The Capitol, Sydney.