Women and War Read online

  ‘Oh, this is heaven! Will it go faster, Race? Make it go faster!’

  He glanced sideways at her, laughed, and pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator. The car surged forward on the arrow-straight road so that the trees which lined it sentry-like shot past in a green blur and the g-force seemed to stick her navel to her backbone.

  They had been to the garage where Alys had met Jeff and seen for the first time Race’s pride and joy, the Nippy. Once through the wooden doors and into the workshop the men had hardly seemed aware of her existence but she had not minded. She was happy to watch them work, though she had laughed at the sight of Race’s legs, divorced from his body, poking knees bent from beneath the car – and the smell of the petrol and oil had excited some deep chord within her that none of the ladylike pursuits she had been forced into had ever done. She had nosed around the garage ignoring the pin-ups on the walls and oblivious to the grease smudges that had somehow transferred themselves from her fingers to her nose and also the pocket of her dress. The language she could not ignore – a mixture of interesting technicalities and ripe adjectives she had never heard before but knew instinctively she would never dare to use. But not even that had bothered her. Being with Race would have been enough – being part of this fascinating world of his was better than she had ever dreamed possible.

  Up ahead a pub at the roadside indicated the first outpost of another sprawling small town and Race slowed to pass through it.

  ‘You’ve never told me how you got this beautiful motor,’ Alys shouted above the roar of the engine.

  ‘I told you – I inherited it.’

  ‘Yes, but who from?’

  ‘An old guy who used to come into the garage. He was a farmer – he had no use for it really – kept it locked up in a barn fifty weeks of the year. I used to go out and see him – well, it was to see the car really. He knew how I felt about it and he left it to me in his will. He had nobody else. Just a daughter who thought he was crazy. He told me once he didn’t want to think of it just being used to take her kids to school and back. So I got it.’

  ‘You must have been really surprised when he left it to you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Race said but something in his tone jarred on her slightly.

  ‘I’m learning to drive,’ she said, changing the subject.

  He looked along at her. ‘Do you want to have a go then?’

  ‘Oh not in your car! I couldn’t! I might do something dreadful.’

  He smiled at her. ‘You wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let you. Go on, try it.’

  She caught her lip between her teeth. ‘ Well, if you’re really sure …’

  He pulled the car in to the side of the road, climbed out and went around to the passenger side.

  ‘Move over then.’

  She did, trembling with nervous excitement, and under his guidance drove the car along the road. At first, she was horribly conscious of the responsibility then she began to relax and enjoy herself, thrilling to the surge of power and the heady feeling of being in control of this handsome, monstrous machine.

  ‘That was very good,’ Race said when she eventually pulled in on his instructions. ‘ You’re a natural. You just need proper teaching. You have to love the car, understand?’

  ‘Oh, I do!’

  ‘But you have to treat it like you love it!’ He put his arm along the back of the scat catching her shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. ‘ Don’t look so worried! You’ll soon get the feel of it.’

  Her eyes were shining. ‘You mean I can try again?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. As long as you do what I say and not what somebody else tells you.’

  ‘You teach me then!’ she said boldly.

  ‘All right.’ He caught her eye and grinned. ‘ You’re sure there’s nothing else I can teach you while I’m at it?’

  Sharp excitement corkscrewed inside her. It reminded her of the g-force she had experienced when he had accelerated the car. She pursed her lips and looked at him primly under the long lashes. ‘What can you mean?’

  He laughed and pulled her towards him. ‘One of these days, Miss Peterson, you will find out. For now, I think I’ll have to make do with this!’

  She felt his breath warm and fluid against her wind-cooled cheek. When he kissed her, his hand cupping her breast beneath her blouse through the thin material of her brassiere, she thought that wonderful as driving and being driven fast was, this was perhaps better.

  It was hot and noisy in the Motodrome. The sun, high overhead, poured down into the concrete bowl and reflected back from it in waves. The crowds, vying for the best view of the circuit, gave off a heat of their own and the smell of sweat mingled with engine fumes and the pungent whiff of oil. Their cheers and shouts of encouragement were drowned out by the screaming of the motorcycle engines which powered the midget cars, but though their throats were dry from the clouds of dust that spewed from the track they still cheered, borne along on the thrills and spills.

  Alys, squeezed between a fat man in a sweat-stained shirt and a sunbronzed rouseabout, cheered with them. She guessed they thought it was odd – a girl on her own at the Motodrome. But she did not mind. She felt special – and very proud. That’s my boyfriend down there, she longed to tell them. But of course she said nothing, just went on cheering.

  A car veered suddenly and the crowd gasped as it skewed across the track, clipping the rear of another and sending it broadside into the barrier. Alys screamed involuntarily, clapping her hands across her mouth. Race! Look out! But it was all right. He was past the danger, swerving and manoeuvring with all the skill that was making him a leading driver, and her frantic heart, beating so hard that the echoes of it throbbed in her throat, swelled again with pride.

  Was he going to win? Come on, Race! You can do it! Come on – come on – yes! He was over the line and she was leaping up and down, unable to contain her excitement.

  And then he was out of the car and looking up, looking for her, one face in the crowd. He could not see her of course, she knew that. But as he clasped his hands high above his head, acknowledging victory, she felt for all the world as if the gesture was just for her.

  Afterwards, though, when he drove her home, he was unusually subdued.

  ‘I thought you’d be high for hours after winning like that,’ she said. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ But the lightness of his tone was false and she knew it.

  ‘There is. You can’t fool me, I she said.

  He sighed, holding onto the steering wheel and shifting himself on the fat leather seat. ‘All right, if you really want to know. It looks as if I won’t be driving in the Grand Prix after all.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘But why, Race?’

  ‘The money has run out. I heard today. I didn’t want to think about it before I drove but now the adrenalin has stopped flowing there’s no way I cannot think about it.’

  She gave her head a little shake. ‘Race, I don’t understand.’

  ‘Jeff is going bust. That’s it in a nutshell!’ He looked along at her, smiling wanly. ‘ He’s too soft, that’s his trouble. Too many people owe him money and now his creditors are going to pull the rug out from under him. That not only means I shall be out of a job, it also means there’s no money to do what still needs doing to the car. So goodbye Grand Prix – for this year anyway – maybe forever if I can’t find someone else to back me.’

  She chewed on her lip for a moment. ‘Race – ask Daddy!’ He half turned towards her; in the fading light his profile was very strong and it caught at that jagged nerve deep inside her. ‘Ask Daddy to back you!’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think I could do that …’ But there was a note of uncertainty and perhaps a glimmer of hope in his voice.

  ‘Of course you could! He’s not an ogre. He owns a racehorse – why not a racing car?’ She reached out, covering his hand on the steering wheel with her own. The tendons felt taut and stretched beneath her fingers. ‘Look – I’ll come with you. We�
��ll ask him together.’

  ‘No!’ he said harshly. ‘I’ve got to do this myself.’

  ‘All right, if that’s what you want. But do it, Race. You can’t give up now. I won’t let you!’

  Alys pushed the meat around her plate with her fork. It was saddle of new season’s lamb, pink and succulent enough to melt in the mouth, but tonight she had no appetite. She speared a pea, popped it into her mouth and looked up, wondering if perhaps this was the right moment to say what she had to say.

  At the head of the table Daniel Peterson was eating heartily, a large white damask napkin tucked into the neck of his waistcoat, while at the opposite end Frances was helping herself to more baby carrots from one of the bone china tureens. Beverley, across the table from Alys, appeared to be in a day dream – planning her wedding again, no doubt.

  Alys swallowed the pea and took a deep breath.

  ‘Has Race been to see you, Daddy?’

  ‘Race? Hmm – no.’ Daniel’s reply was short because his mouth was full but even without turning to look at her Alys was aware of the frost that emanated from Frances at just the mention of his name.

  ‘Why should Race want to see your father?’ she demanded.

  ‘Because I suggested he should.’ Alys laid down her fork. ‘Daddy – Race is desperate for somebody to back him. He’s been setting everything on driving in the Grand Prix and now it’s all gone wrong. He still has work to do on his car and the garage he’s involved with is going bankrupt.’

  Daniel Peterson washed his meat and vegetables down with a great gulp of wine. ‘And what do you expect me to do about it?’ he asked.

  ‘I thought maybe you …’

  ‘So that’s it!’ Frances said sharply. They all turned to look at her. ‘I knew there had to be a reason behind that young man’s behaviour and now we know what it is. He’s simply after your father’s money, Alys.’

  ‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say!’ Alys retorted. ‘Please, Daddy, it isn’t like that at all! It was my idea, not Race’s.’

  ‘And I suppose it was your idea that he came here in the first place.’ Frances’ lips were tight, her eyes cold.

  ‘No, of course not. I didn’t meet him until the party. He was a guest of Louis’ …’

  ‘Hardly!’

  ‘He was! He said …’

  ‘It’s true he knew Louis vaguely but he would never have been invited if he hadn’t pestered Louis and wormed his way in. It’s true, Alys, whether you like it or not. Tell her, Beverley.’

  Bev had come out of her dream world. She bit her lip uncomfortably.

  ‘What I say is true, isn’t it?’ Frances persisted. Bev nodded slowly. ‘You see?’ Frances trumpeted. ‘The boy is nothing but a scrounger.

  And now we’ve found out what he’s after. Money to indulge his hobby.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong!’ Alys protested. ‘He’s not playing at it. He is a really good driver.’

  ‘If he is, no doubt he will find someone else willing to put their money behind him, but after the way he has tried to take advantage of you, it certainly won’t be us.’ Frances said coldly. ‘Now, let’s close this unpalatable subject and enjoy our meal, shall we?’

  ‘Daddy …?’ Alys appealed.

  But Daniel only helped himself to more potatoes.

  ‘It sounds to me as though your mother has a point,’ he said, and Alys realized it would be useless to argue just now.

  She scraped back her chair and got up. ‘I think you are all being jolly unfair!’ she said, tears of anger stinging her eyes. But even then she did not dare to voice the thought that was edging in at the corners of her mind.

  In the world of business Daniel might be a driving force and an influence to be reckoned with. Here at home he was as much in the sway of the redoubtable Frances as everyone else.

  Alys, terrified Race might call at her father’s office next day and walk straight into a frosty reception, managed to put a call through to him at the garage.

  ‘I’m really sorry. I’ve put my foot in it now and spoiled everything,’ she explained.

  For the first time ever Race snapped at her.

  ‘Why didn’t you do what I said and leave it to me?’

  She glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot.

  ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t ask, and I thought that Daddy …’

  ‘I know. You thought you could wind him around your little finger like you do everyone else.’ He sighed. ‘Ah well, it’s too late to worry about it now. I’ve got the afternoon free. Shall we go out somewhere?’

  Alys thought briefly of her mother’s freezing disapproval, weighed it against the pleasure of being with Race, and made up her mind.

  ‘I’d love to. Will you pick me up?’

  ‘Yes. About half past two.’

  ‘All right. I’ll be looking out for you so that you don’t have to face Mummy.’

  It was a perfect afternoon with a brisk breeze blowing puffs of white cloud across the sky, blue as morning glories, and whipping up matching white frills on the sea. In St George’s Road the English trees provided patches of shade but the sun shone bright and harsh on the houses, bouncing off roofs and stuccoed white walls with a brilliance that was hurtful to the eyes.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Alys asked as Race turned the Morgan down over the hill and the vista of Melbourne, roofs and spires, patches of green amid the grey, spread out beneath them.

  He executed a racing change. ‘I had thought of Phillip Island – to see the fairy penguins and the seals.’

  ‘Oh yes, they’re sweet …’ she broke off. ‘Wait a minute – you’re the crafty one, aren’t you? The penguins don’t parade until dusk, on their way back to their burrows in the sand dunes after a hard day’s fishing. That’s just an excuse. You want to go to Phillip Island because of the race track!’

  He laughed. ‘No, honestly, I hadn’t given it a thought. Though I have to admit it’s because of the race track that I know about Phillip Island. People from my background don’t have as much time to go out looking at wild life as you do.’

  There was a tiny, awkward silence. It was the first time he had mentioned the difference in their lifestyles.

  ‘On the other hand,’ Race said, ‘we could just go up to the Dandenongs. But wherever it is, we’d better make the most of it. This could be the last time for outings in the Morgan.’ She turned to look at him in alarm and he gave an elaborate shrug. ‘It’s the one asset I’ve got. If I can’t get the money from anywhere else, I shall have to sell the Morgan.’

  ‘Oh Race, you can’t do that!’ she protested.

  ‘Don’t make it harder for me. I don’t want to, of course. But I’m damned determined to get into Grand Prix racing and if the only way I can do it is to sell the Morgan, then the Morgan has to go.’

  His tone frightened her. Yes, she had known he was determined but never before had he struck her as ruthless. If he could get rid of the Morgan which he loved so much then he would sweep aside any obstacle which he found in his way. Admirable, but also a little scary.

  ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about it now. Why spoil a lovely afternoon? And let’s make it the Dandenongs, shall we?’ he said.

  They left Melbourne, heading east and with the wind in her hair Alys felt herself relaxing. The country, open and green, not yet scorched to match the colour of the sandy earth, quickly became rolling hills fringed with forests. Race turned the Morgan into a narrow track where the sun, filtering through the high and spidery branches of the trees, made sparkling patterns of heat on the dusty ground. On and on it went, winding now and then around a knoll of higher ground, rising and dipping, then suddenly opening out to reveal a reserve where the bush, virgin in appearance, surrounded a small clear water lake. Race pulled the Morgan off the track onto a patch of scrub and turned off the engine.

  ‘Who wants to go all the way to Phillip Island when it’s nice so close to home?’ He put his arm around her, his touch light on her warm skin. ‘Any
way, it’s you I want to see, not a penguin, fairy or otherwise.’

  Warmth trickled through her veins, but she smiled at him teasingly, pulled away and clambered nimbly over the side of the Morgan.

  ‘Come on, I’m going to paddle!’

  The brush grew thickly around the lake, covering the shingly soil. She ran through it feeling it tug at her skirt and whip her bare legs and not caring. At the water’s edge she kicked off her sandals and plunged in, wading out until it reached her knees and though she bunched up her skirt with her hands the hem hung down into the water at the back. Beneath her feet she felt the pebble floor of the lake and she wiggled her toes against the shifting surface, laughing and looking around for Race who was running through the bush after her.

  ‘Come on in!’ she called. ‘It’s lovely!’

  He was wearing shorts and he paused only to kick off his shoes before plunging into the water.

  ‘Come on!’ she urged, then as he splashed towards her, she backed away again.

  ‘Look out!’ he warned.

  ‘Why?’ She was still laughing as her foot touched the edge of a trough where the bed of the lake fell away in a deep shelf. The loose pebbles crumbled beneath her and she went under, water flooding into her mouth, wide open with surprise, and billowing her skirt up around her. A moment later, she surfaced, gasping and coughing.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Race was swimming towards her.

  She trod water unable to speak for a moment then as she got her breath she swam a couple of strokes, back onto the shelf and stood up. Her dress clung to every curve and hollow of her body and water streamed out of her hair and ran in rivulets down her back. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

  ‘Oh jeepers, what a shock!’

  Race was beside her, half concerned, half amused.

  ‘I thought you said you were going for a paddle, not a swim!’

  ‘Beast! How can you joke …!’ She hit out at him and almost lost her balance again. He caught her by the arms and pulled her towards him.

  ‘What are you trying to do – drown us?’