Women and War (65 page)

‘John-John-John!'

She dropped to her knees beside him. He was still conscious – just – his face ashen, his eyes full of agony.

‘I'll get a doctor. I'll – oh God, what have they done to you?'

With an effort his lips moved. His voice was a curious gurgle yet his words were strong and lucid.

‘Never mind a doctor. Too late. Ring the police. Tell them the bastards have got Margaret.'

Red Maloney's house in Elizabeth Bay was bathed in morning sunshine. Tara, her eyes red from crying, walked up the front path and rang the bell, remembering the first time she had come here young and desperate. It seemed like a lifetime ago but in reality nothing had changed. Red had won again just as she suspected he would always win.

The doorbell echoed through the house and Tara stood waiting tensely, reliving the horror of the night before. The shrilling of the telephone had woken her from sleep, turning her cold with unpleasant anticipation. She lay rubbing her eyes as Dev got up to answer it, saw his face change, heard his barked ‘
What?
'

She sat up in bed. ‘What is it? What has happened?'

He shushed her to silence with his hand. ‘Yes – yes – oh, my good Christ!' He replaced the receiver and turned to her. His face was like stone. ‘Tara, something terrible has happened.'

‘What?' she was shaking all over. He hesitated and she knew. ‘Margaret!' she screamed. ‘Something has happened to Margaret! She's dead, isn't she? Oh, my God! My God!'

He took her by the shoulders. ‘No, Tara, she's not dead. But Red Maloney has her. At least we think so. Two of his hoodlums have been out to Buchlyvie.'

‘And they let them take her? But they were supposed to be looking after her! Oh, how could they? How could they …?'

‘They tried to stop them.'

‘Then they didn't try hard enough. Oh Margaret …'

‘John is dead,' Dev said.

‘John?' she looked blankly uncomprehending. ‘Oh John – Alys' John.'

‘Yes. He has been shot and killed.'

‘I don't believe it. This can't be happening.' But she knew it was. Once before she had seen a man gunned down by Red's henchmen. It was real – all too real.

‘Tara!' Dev shook her gently. ‘The police have been alerted. They will find Margaret.'

She shook her head. ‘ I doubt it. Red is too clever. Oh, I told you I was frightened, Dev. I told you he was ruthless. Why wouldn't you believe me?'

‘Be sensible, Tara. What more could we have done? And they will get her back. They must.'

‘And if they do, what then? Red can find us wherever we hide. He's proved that. There's only one answer. I shall have to do what he wants.'

‘Go back to him?'

‘I don't think I have any choice. I can't take gambles with my child's safety.'

Most of the rest of the night they argued, discussed, tore to pieces the details of the whole ghastly business. And when morning came Tara called a cab and drove over to Elizabeth Bay.

The door was opened by one of Red's minions. He smiled slyly when she told him who she was and a few moments later she was ushered along to Red's gymnasium. History repeating itself, she thought.

In spite of the early hour Red had been working out with weights. As he saw her come in he gave the barbell a last heave then carried it to a shelf and stowed it.

‘Well, Tara, what a surprise!' His voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘What can I do for you?'

She faced him squarely. ‘I think that you know very well why I am here.'

He reached for a tracksuit jacket and pulled it on over his singlet. With his bulging muscles and tattoos covered he looked only marginally less threatening.

‘You tell me.'

‘I want my daughter,' she said.

He smiled. It was not a nice smile.

‘And I want you. So – do we have a bargain?'

‘I despise you.'

‘Very possibly.' He smiled again. ‘But I seem to remember you came to me under protest once before. It wasn't so bad, was it?'

‘Oh Red,' she said softly, ‘how can you do this to me?'

‘Easily. You better than anyone should know I always get what I want. Come here.'

She took a step towards him. ‘I want to see Margaret first.'

‘Oh Tara, surely common sense must tell you she is not here yet. Melbourne to Sydney in just a few hours? Oh no. But she is being well taken care of I assure you. You need not worry about Margaret.'

He reached for her, pulling her close. She smelled the sweat fresh on his body from his exertions. Once, almost against her will, he had excited her. Now she felt only revulsion.

‘Tara, Tara. In spite of what you did I still want you. You should be flattered.' He bent his head, kissing her full on the mouth. As his tongue parted her lips she fought the urge to push him away. There was no other way. Margaret was all that mattered now. His hands moved over her body, unfastening the buttons of her blouse with practised ease.

‘Take it off,' he ordered.

‘But …'

Sounds of a commotion infiltrated the gymnasium.

Voices raised. One familiar. Tara jerked around as the door burst open.

‘Dev!'

Standing there in the doorway, his face dark with anger, he looked every bit as threatening as Red.

‘What the hell …?' Red began.

Dev ignored him. ‘It's all right, Tara. The police have caught up with Margaret. Alys just telephoned.'

‘Oh!' It was a sob of pure relief.

‘So come on. There's no need for you to stay here with this bully boy.' He turned to Red. ‘I'd watch it if I was you. Be prepared for another stint in gaol. A man has been killed, you know.'

‘You bastard – get out of here!' Red stormed towards Dev. ‘ Tara stays!'

His huge fist shot out connecting with Dev's jaw. Dev reeled then came back at him and the two men were trading blows, rolling and lurching around the gymnasium while two of Red's minions watched in amusement and Tara in terror. First one, then the other seemed to have the upper hand; they were evenly matched. Red's hands were around Dev's throat; Dev fought him off, back against the wall. As Red gave way slightly Dev wrapped his hands around the wall bars above his head, jack-knifed and thrust his feet like twin pistons into Red's belly. The big man staggered back and collided with the shelving where the weights were stored. It rocked wildly.

What happened next seemed to Tara to have been captured forever in a slow motion film imprinted on her mind for all time. The weight Red had been using when she arrived rolled slowly to the edge of the shelf just above his head. Horrified, she screamed a warning and one of the hoodlums started forward. Too late, both of them. The weight shot over the edge of the shelf. Alerted Red glanced up. The barbell caught him full in the face and crashed with him to the ground. For a moment the onlookers resembled a tableau in wax then they rushed towards the man who was pinned to the floor of his own gymnasium.

There was nothing any of them could do for him. It was obvious at the very first glance. The weight had snapped Red Maloney's neck. The moment it hit the ground, he was dead.

The two funerals took place on the same day.

Red's funeral in Sydney was a flashy affair, a procession of huge black Cadillacs following the flower-decked hearse. The men all wore black suits, ties and Homburgs, the women tight-fitting black dresses, hats and thick veils.

John's was a simple family gathering and the tears that were shed, though less conspicuous, were a great deal more genuine.

Afterwards, Alys stood alone at the graveside, white-faced and silent, remembering the man who had been her husband. Richard left her for a few minutes, respecting her grief and her need for a private farewell. Then he crossed the turf to join her.

‘Alys, I am so sorry. Nothing I can ever say could tell you how sorry I am.'

She nodded, not looking at him. ‘ He was a good man. It seems so unfair. To die like that.'

‘I feel so damnably responsible. If it had not been for us, for Margaret …'

Don't blame yourself,' she said. ‘No one forced us to have her. We did it because we wanted to.'

‘I know. But still. If there is anything I can do, anything at all …'

Her eyes were blurred with tears. ‘Just be there, Richard. Please – just be there.'

‘I will,' he said. They stood for a moment looking down at the coffin with its fresh sprinkling of earth. Then Alys bent, picked a rose from the simple bouquet which lay on the fringing mound of soil and dropped it into the coffin.

‘Goodbye John.'

Richard copied her action.

‘Goodbye John, and thank you.'

Then he put his arm around Alys turning her back towards the path and together they walked across the firm turf to join the other mourners.

Tara's show at the Capitol was an even greater success than she had dared hope. The critics raved about her, calling her a new singing sensation, every seat to the end of her run was sold, and some resold at double and treble their original price, and crowds gathered each night outside the stage door to catch a glimpse of the star who could truly be called ‘Sydney's own girl'.

Some of her success was due to the insatiable curiosity of the public, Duke Craigie maintained. The dramatic story of the kidnapping of Tara's daughter and the death of Red Maloney had made big headlines and without a doubt some of the audiences had flocked in to see for themselves the woman at the heart of the scandal. But having come as voyeurs they remained to applaud and Duke Craigie congratulated himself on his talent for spotting rising stars and began to make plans for a new venture, a musical show which would sweep across the continent, helping Australians to put behind them the austerities of war and making a household name of its star, Tara Kelly. The most exciting musical director in Australia was working on the score, Dev had drawn up plans for some spectacular lighting effects, lavish costumes such as those that had stunned the world in the pre-war Hollywood musicals were planned and already Duke Craigie was conducting auditions for the forty-strong chorus.

Tara knew she should have been excited by it all, but she was not. One thing alone mattered to her, one question dominated her every waking moment and sometimes invaded her dreams too – how much longer would it be before she could have Margaret with her once again?

As the days passed her impatience grew. Leaving Margaret with Richard had seemed the sensible answer while the attention of the press was centered on her, but it had not been easy for her. With the terror she felt for Margaret's safety so fresh in her mind she could hardly bear to have her out of her sight and she ached for the feel of the firm little body in her arms and the silky whisper of hair against her cheek.

When the curtain fell on her final performance at the Capitol it seemed to Tara there was no need to delay fetching Margaret a day longer. She had a week all to herself before starting rehearsals for Duke Craigie's extravaganza – plenty of time to go to Melbourne and back. Her heart sang at the thought of it. But she avoided mentioning her plans to Dev until the very last moment – and when she did she was prepared for his expected objection.

They were in his apartment enjoying a quiet drink to round off a pleasant evening spent wining and dining at Angelo's, the most exclusive nightclub in Sydney, and Tara had chosen this moment to break her news, hoping Dev might be mellowed by the potent mix of wine, whisky and good food.

The moment she saw his face darken, however, she knew he was not.

‘Fetch Margaret?' he repeated, fumbling in his pockets for his cigarettes. ‘ I don't think that's a very good idea.'

‘Why not?' Tara retaliated sharply.

He found the cigarettes, put one between his lips and looked at her steadily across it. ‘Don't you think she's better off where she is?'

‘No. Why should she be? Besides, I want her with me, Dev. I've missed her so much …'

‘That's as maybe.' The flame of his gold cigarette lighter flickered briefly and he drew the smoke into his lungs. ‘ I think you should consider what's best for Margaret. You love, her, I know. But what sort of a life would she have with you? A gypsy's existence, no real security or roots. Just one hotel room after another, living out of suitcases.'

‘It's not that bad! Travel is a good thing. It broadens the mind. And I'd be with her. That's what matters most.'

He turned away and poured more whisky onto the half-dissolved ice cubes in his glass. ‘And what is Richard going to say about it?' he asked quietly.

Instantly she was trembling with aggressive reaction. ‘What can he say?'

‘He'll fight you.' Dev turned slowly, looking at her with the same disconcerting directness. ‘And after what happened last time you had her I would think the chances are very good that he would win.'

‘Fiddlesticks! I don't see why.' She held out her empty glass and while he refilled it she went on: ‘Red is dead now. He can't harm her any more. And I am her mother.'

‘A woman alone in a very precarious position.' He handed back her glass. ‘A woman on her own.'

She took a quick gulp of the amber liquid and felt it burn her throat. ‘I'm not on my own. I have you.'

He shook his head. ‘ Uh-uh, Tara. No.'

She jerked her glass away from her mouth. Whisky slopped onto her wrist. ‘What do you mean – no?'

His gaze was still, steady and emotionless. ‘ If you go through with this you can count me out.'

‘But I thought that we …' Her voice was breathless.

He put down his glass and leaned back against the cabinet, hands in pockets. ‘I want you, Tara,' he said ‘I've always wanted you, you know that. But I'm not prepared to go along with you in this. I believe a child needs a stable background to grow up against. And there's more.' He paused but his eyes continued to hold hers. ‘While Margaret is with you, you will still be tied to Richard. I'm not prepared to go along with that any longer, either. It's my opinion that you should let Richard have custody of Margaret and leave him to pair off with Alys. It's what they have both always wanted and they will make a good stable home for Margaret. So there you are. I'm laying it on the line. It's decision time, Tara. Margaret and Richard – or me. I won't compete any longer.'