Women and War (63 page)

She swallowed. Perhaps attack would be the best form of defence.

‘Where have you?'

He laughed. ‘Don't try to be clever, Tara. You know damned well where I have been.' He reached out, touched the switch and the bar glided open to reveal the same array of drinks that Tara remembered. ‘Somewhere where good scotch is hard to come by, amongst other things. Would you like one?'

She would have given almost anything for a drink to steady her nerves. Anything but her pride.

‘No, thank you.'

‘Suit yourself.' He poured a whisky on the rocks and tapped on the smoked glass partition which separated him from his driver. ‘Drive around, please. We don't want to risk being picked up for obstruction.'

Tara's heart sank. At least while they were stationary there was always the chance of escape, however remote. His piercing eyes regarded her over the top of his whisky glass.

‘You're looking well, Tara. You have done well for yourself. I always knew you were a clever girl!'

The compliment brought her chin up. She was beginning to rally a little, recover from the shock and feel anger that he could kidnap her and Margaret this way.

‘What do you want with me, Red?'

He rested his glass on the bar, drew out a fat cigar and lit it.

‘You seem nervous, Tara. What do you think I want with you – revenge? Understandable after what you did to me.' His eyes narrowed behind the smoke and she felt a new stab of fear. ‘ Oh yes, I could have gone for revenge. When I saw your name up there outside the Capitol I thought about it, just as I have been all these years when I've had too much time for thinking. A bullet between those pretty eyes of yours, perhaps. Or an artist to arrange your features so no man would ever want to look at you again. And then I thought – no. What good would that do me? And I got to remembering the good times we used to have before you began cheating on me.'

‘I never cheated on you, Red.' She said.

‘No? No, that's right you didn't. Who did he turn out to be, that bloke? Some pimp, wasn't he? Friend of your backstreet whore pal.' He saw the anger spark in her eyes and laughed again. ‘It's as well you weren't cheating on me, Tara. That is one thing I would never forgive.'

‘Where is this all leading, Red?' she asked.

He sipped his whisky, looking at her narrowly through the haze of smoke from his cigar and she recognised the look in his eyes. He still wanted her. More. He was still obsessed by her. The realization gave her heart and frightened her again both at the same time. Red had always been so determined to get what he wanted. Had prison changed him? She doubted it. If anything he was probably harder, more determined.

‘What do you want?' she asked again. She felt like the child she had once been, trapped in this black monstrosity, a monument to extravagant living.

‘You know the answer to that, Tara,' he said. ‘I want you.'

She felt the small surge of power.

‘I'm sorry, Red. It wouldn't work.'

He sat motionless but the strength of his personality filled the car.

‘I think you learned once before that I am not the man to be refused.'

‘Things were different then. I was young and desperate. Not any more.'

The car purred along the block. Under the railway arch, alongside the high stone parapets golden in the sun and covered with creeper. Tooheys Brewery loomed on the left. Memories. So many memories. But she hardly noticed. He glanced at Margaret who was staring fascinated at the gleaming assortment of bottles and glasses in the miniature bar.

‘A pretty child,' he said, deceptively casual. ‘Yours, I presume.'

She felt a small chill of fear. He reached out and touched Margaret's hair. His ringed fingers looked thick and threatening against the soft dark silk.

‘I'm sure you wouldn't want any harm to come to her,' he said.

The chill of fear became a river of ice. She pulled Margaret close into the protective circle of her arms. ‘You wouldn't …'

He smiled. ‘It must be very difficult for you to protect her all the time. Especially with the sort of life you are leading. Come back to me, Tara, and be sure she grows up into a beautiful young woman.' He rapped on the smoked glass partition and the car slid to a stop. ‘Think about it. And remember, the more successful you are the more difficult it is to hide.'

Somehow she had the car door open. Then she was standing on the pavement watching the Cadillac glide away and merge into the traffic in the sunlit street. She was shaking from head to foot. She had always known in her heart Red would come back one day. She had just become complacent about it – it was not possible to live with fear forever. Now he was back and it was not just her who was threatened but Margaret too.

Stumbling, the child now a dead weight in her arms, she half-ran along the street. Where to go? Where? back to her hotel – would it be safe there? Red did not yet know where she was staying, did he? No, she had a little while. A little respite, but not long – not long …

By the time she reached the hotel exhausted by physical exertion and fear she knew there was only one person she could turn to. She grabbed the telephone and asked for the call to be put through, then waited trembling and praying that he would be there, that she could reach him.

An endless wait, a secretary's modulated tones, and then she heard his voice, wonderfully calming, a rock to cling to in the midst of the torrent of her panic.

‘Dev!' she whispered. ‘Oh Dev, please could you come over? I have to talk to you!'

And without asking why he gave her his answer.

‘Give me five minutes and I'll be with you, Tara.'

‘Well, Tara, I guess you have two choices,' Dev said.

As good as his word, it had taken him less than half an hour to reach her. Now he stood, back to the window, in her hotel room while she sat distraught on the edge of the bed. ‘The first is that you do as he asks and go back to him.'

Her head jerked up. ‘No! I couldn't do that!'

‘It sounds as though he gave you a good life.'

‘He's a hoodlum and a murderer! He had Maggie's Jack shot in cold blood. I couldn't!'

‘Your other choice is to go back to Richard. You'd be safe with him.'

She buried her face in her hands. ‘I don't think he would want me. I'm not sure that he ever did. And besides – what about my commitments? I have signed a contract.'

‘These are special circumstances. I'm sure I could talk Duke into releasing you.'

‘But I'm due to open at the Capitol tomorrow night. It's my dream, Dev. The Capitol, Sydney.'

He shrugged. ‘Well, if you care more for your career than your safety …'

‘It's not my safety I'm concerned about,' she said impatiently. ‘It's Margaret's.'

‘Ah-hah. Well then, it's even simpler. You send Margaret back to Richard.'

‘Oh!' she was almost in tears. ‘I don't want to part with her, Dev.'

He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one.

‘Your trouble is you want it all ways, Tara. But life is not like that. You have to make choices. And if Red Maloney is as dangerous as you say he is you had better choose pretty quickly.'

She sat chewing her lip for a moment then stretched out her hand.

‘Can I have one of those cigarettes, please?'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You – a singer – smoking? Now, Tara, I don't know about that.'

‘Don't moralize with me!' she snapped. ‘I'm shaking like a leaf, can't you see that?'

‘All right, all right.' He took out another cigarette, lit it and passed it to her. ‘Here you are. Don't set yourself on fire.'

She puffed, coughed as the smoke bit at her throat, and sat for a few moments in silence. Yes, she could see the sense in what he said. She had to make a decision; knew already what it must be. Margaret's safety must be put first. She could take no risks with that. Red was a ruthless man and he would have no hesitation in carrying out his threats if he was thwarted. But it was hard. Oh God, so hard. To take her back to Richard and his mother. To give her up.

But it need not be for long, she told herself. Just long enough for Red to forget about her …

‘I haven't time to take her,' she said, pressing her hands together to keep them from trembling. ‘ I wouldn't be back in time to open.'

‘Your nanny could take her.'

‘Yes, but suppose Red …'

‘I'll take them to the station,' he said. ‘He doesn't know me. Or the nanny. And it's unlikely he would recognize Margaret.'

‘No, but …'

‘And I'm sure he won't expect you to act so quickly. Pack her things, Tara. Now.'

‘Oh Dev …

He crossed to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. It felt good and reassuring.

‘She'll be all right,' he said. ‘She will be safe in Melbourne.'

‘Yes.' She nodded. ‘All right, I'll do it.'

She stood up, turned to him and felt his arms go around her. She clung to him, needing him more than she had ever needed him, wanting to lose herself in the safety of his embrace.

‘All I ever seem to be is a present help in time of trouble,' he said ruefully.

‘Not this time,' she whispered. ‘You are, of course, but you're more too, much more than that.'

He held her a moment longer then put her gently away from him.

‘Later, Tara. For now there is no time to waste. Pack Margaret's things. And tell your nanny to pack hers.'

‘Yes, Dev,' she said obediently.

Alys took the sleek bay and rode out across the Buchlyvie paddocks in search of John.

Impossible almost now to see any signs of the ten year drought which had almost desolated the land. The rains had come again on the very day that the Japanese surrender was signed and the withered grass and the dry brown trees had responded by growing with fresh green vigour. Now, the pastures were rich again, the creeks brimming with clear bubbling water, the sky clean washed blue and silver. Peace had returned to Australia and Buchlyvie was prosperous and happy once more.

Well, prosperous, anyway. For the rest …

Alys saw the lonely figure dark against the skyline and headed the bay in his direction. God, but the bunnies were having a feast out here, she thought, riding through close-cropped patches. But today she had more important matters than the wretched rabbits on her mind. Today, she had something to talk to John about – and urgently.

He raised his head at her approach, putting down the hammer he had been using to repair fences and pushing his hat to the back of his head.

‘What brings you out here, Alys? I thought you were knee deep in accounts. He took in her serious expression and his own face became serious. ‘What's happened?'

‘I have just had a call from Richard Allingham.'

‘Oh.' He picked up the hammer and took a healthy swing at one of the posts. ‘What did he want.'

‘He has a big problem. He wants our help.'

‘And what can we do to help Richard Allingham?'

‘He wants us to have Margaret for a while.'

‘What on earth for? I thought she was with her mother.'

‘Yes, well, it's a long story …' Alys dismounted and stood holding the bay by the reins while she explained. As she finished John's lips pursed into a silent whistle.

‘Tara is a girl of many surprises, I'll say that for her.'

‘Trouble certainly seems to follow her around.' Momentarily, there was a faraway expression in Alys' eyes. ‘Anyway, the point is Richard is afraid this Red character might trace Margaret to his home. The Allinghams are fairly prominent after all. So he is asking if we would be prepared to have her out here for a little while.'

‘And what did you say?' John asked.

‘That I'd have to ask you, of course.'

‘Hmm. If it were left to you what would you say?' His eyes were shrewd.

‘I'd say yes. She's a lovely child; she'd be no trouble at all, especially with her nanny to look after her. And if we can do something to help.'

‘Yes.' There was a wry note to the monosyllabic reply and she looked at him sharply.

‘Why did you say it like that?'

He did not answer her directly. ‘Look, Alys you're the one who will be most affected by this. If you think you can cope with having a baby here then just go ahead and say yes. It makes no difference to me.'

She felt a fly tickle her cheek and brushed it away.

‘You said once that you didn't think you could stand having children at your age.'

‘You make me sound like a grumpy old man!' he laughed. ‘No, what I said was I didn't think I wanted to start a family of my own again but since you are not able to have a baby that doesn't arise. No, looking after someone else's child is something quite different. It's for a limited time and you know you can always hand her back.'

‘True. Though, quite honestly, I think I could become so attached to Margaret I wouldn't want to hand her back. She's so beautiful and sweet and she's …'

‘Richard's,' he said. She glanced up at him and caught the look in his eyes. Half sad, half knowing. ‘That makes her special, doesn't it, Alys?'

She felt the colour rise in her cheeks and turned quickly to the bay, rubbing his coarse velvet nose in the hope that John would not notice.

‘What a funny thing to say! Richard is a good friend, of course …'

‘Of course.' His tone was dry. ‘Yes, well, if it will help out tell them we'll have Margaret here for as long as is necessary.'

‘Thanks, Oh – what time will you be in for supper?'

‘The usual time I should think. Make it a good feast. I'm starving.'

‘Right.' The moment had passed. She remounted the bay and kicked him to a canter. But as she rode her mind was whirling and her hands trembled slightly on the reins.