In the Wet (37 page)

“Too right, madam,” he said. “There aren’t very many of those.”

“So, Wing Commander,” she said, “we have decided to commemorate your services by giving you a greater voice in the affairs of your country than is held by other men, since it appears to us that in wisdom and good sense you merit that distinction. We have confidence that the qualities that you have shown will be of value in matters of State far removed from aeroplanes or flying. So, we have instructed our Secretary to draw up a Royal Charter for our signature, granting to you the Seventh Vote in elections for the Federal Government of Australia, and in elections for the government of any State of Australia in which you happen
to reside. We do this with gratitude to you, and from the bottom of our heart.”

She held out her hand, back upwards, and he divined what was intended, and bowed low, and kissed it rather clumsily.

They landed at Ratmalana in Ceylon at about nine o’clock by local time. The Governor-General and a small crowd of politicians and a guard of honour were on the aerodrome to greet the Queen. She stepped from the machine looking as fresh as a daisy, smiling and composed, the tired, anxious woman that the pilot knew all put away. He was amazed that she could do it, at the strain that Royalty imposed, but he had other things to think of. While the Queen was conversing with the Cingalese politicians and while refuelling was going on, David had every article of luggage taken out of the machine, with every food container and every kit of tools. When all these things were lying on the tarmac in the shade of the wing, he went through the aircraft on a tour of inspection with Frank Cox and Dick Ryder. Together they opened every box and cupboard and compartment in the aeroplane; by the end of half an hour they were satisfied. Then, as each piece of luggage was brought into the machine they opened it and searched it with the assistance of the owner before clearing it for the luggage bay. When finally they were ready to take off again, they did so with the knowledge that the aeroplane was free of any further surprises.

They took off at half past ten by local time, having spent longer than usual upon the ground over this business. For five hours they moved in brilliant, burning sunshine under a deep blue sky, with nothing to be seen but an appearance of the sea immediately below. The passengers were all exhausted with the strains prior to the commencement of the flight and with the reaction from the emotions of the first
stage. The Queen and the Consort kept to their cabins, probably resting in bed; the others lay dozing in their reclining chairs, impatient for the journey to end. Even in the flight deck reaction was evident; David himself was sleepy, and as soon as operating height was reached he took an hour’s sleep upon one of the bunks.

They crossed the coast of West Australia at half past three by Colombo time, but it was already evening in Australia and soon after they began upon the desert crossing the sun set behind them and to starboard. They went on in the light of the rising moon, and now David took a couple of Benzedrine tablets, and offered them around the crew. A meal served to pass the time, and three hours after sunset they began the long let down that would end up on the circuit of Fairbairn aerodrome, at Canberra. At midnight, local time, they saw the lights of the city ahead of them as they approached at seven thousand feet, mindful of the hills around, and made a close circuit of the lighted airport, dropping off height at two thousand feet a minute. Then they were on the final circuit at a thousand feet with flaps half down and speed reduced to a bare two hundred knots, and at fourteen minutes after midnight David brought his Ceres in on a long, straight approach and put her down upon the runway.

A few cars were waiting for them on the tarmac, but only a few because nothing had been published about the Queen’s arrival. The Governor-General was there to meet her, and Mr. Hogan the Prime Minister, but it was all very informal, and after a few words with them the Queen and the Consort drove off in a car for Tharwa. The rest of the party for the Royal Residence followed with the luggage in a small bus, while David and Ryder taxied to the hangar of the Queen’s Flight and saw the aircraft drawn in under cover.

Rooms had been reserved in the Canberra Hotel for the
same members of the Royal party, and David drove there when he had seen his crew accommodated, at about half past one in the morning. It had been a hot day in Canberra with the thermometer up somewhere in the nineties, and the night was warm and balmy, and scented with the fragrance of the gum trees and the wattles. He walked up the steps into the lounge of the hotel carrying his suitcase, and there in the desert of small tables and empty chairs Rosemary was waiting for him. A great Christmas tree stood in the lounge beside her, decorated with imitation frost and snow.

She said, “We’ve got the same rooms as before, Nigger. I got them to produce a couple of bottles of lemonade out of the ice chest. I thought you’d like a drink of something.”

He said, “You shouldn’t have stayed up.”

“I shouldn’t sleep if I went to bed just yet. I thought it would be nice to sit out in the garden for a bit, till we get sleepy.”

He nodded. “Let me go and put this case down, and wash my face. I’ll join you in five minutes.”

When he came to her again, he found her sitting in a deck chair in the garden quad, with a tinkle of water by her where somebody had left a sprinkler on all night. He sat down by her side, and took the glass she handed him. “Well, here we are again,” he said.

The girl said quietly, “It hardly seems possible, that we’ve been so far, and lived through so much. It’s only three weeks since we were here, David. And everything is just the same. And everything has changed so much in England in that time …”

“It’s a quiet place, this,” he replied. “A place free from great excitements and emotions, free from the strain of not having enough money, a place where one can sit and think.” He turned to her. “It’s a wonderful experience to go to England and get mixed up in great affairs. But
when you’ve had the great affairs, this is a better place to be.”

“I believe that’s what she thinks,” the girl said slowly. “I’m not sure that isn’t why she likes it here.”

She turned to him. “What day is this, David?”

He thought for a minute. “Christmas Day was Monday,” he said. “This is Wednesday morning.”

“Then it’s this evening that Tom Forrest is broadcasting in England,” she said. “Can we listen to that?”

“Oh yes—it’ll be put out on the short waves and rebroadcast here—a thing like that. The A.B.C. will have it on their programmes. What time is he speaking?”

“At nine o’clock—after the nine o’clock news.”

“That will be seven o’clock tomorrow morning here,” he said.

“Will it? Can we listen to it here?”

“I’ll find out about it,” he assured her. “I’ll see if I can borrow a portable. It’s going to be very important, is it?”

She nodded. “He seems to have got Daddy on the brain. I don’t know what he isn’t going to say, now that he’s left alone and in the saddle.”

“Probably a good thing.”

“I think it may be,” she said slowly. “I think it may be time that somebody spoke plainly to the people.”

They sat in the quiet darkness for a time, not speaking, listening to the tinkling of the water. Presently she said, “We must go to bed, David. You must be terribly tired.” She got to her feet. “Come on, or you’ll be asleep here.”

He got to his feet with her. “I’m right,” he said. “I shan’t want rocking, though.”

She looked at her watch. “What’s the time? I’ve still got London time.”

He smiled. “I wouldn’t know. Some time in the middle of the night.” He yawned. “Perhaps you’re right about bed.”

“Sleep in tomorrow,” she said. “I’m going to. She said she didn’t want any of us up at Tharwa till the day after—Thursday.”

He said reflectively, “She’ll have heard Tom Forrest by that time. Does she know what he’s going to say?”

“I doubt if she does. She doesn’t usually know what a Governor-General’s going to broadcast, not in any detail.”

He took her arm. “Go on to bed,” he said gently. “There’s no sense in brooding over what’s happening twelve thousand miles away.”

“No sense,” she repeated. “No, no sense at all.”

She turned to him. “David, were you very frightened when you found that thing in the machine?”

“I think I was,” he said. “I thought that we were all going to be killed.”

She nodded. “Would you have minded very much?”

“I would,” he said. “Very much indeed.”

She leaned a little towards him. “I don’t think I would. I’m not sure that she’d have minded, either. It’s such a sad time, this. Everything changing and coming to pieces in England. I sometimes feel I don’t want to see any more of it.”

“I’d have minded,” he said. “If she’d been killed in my aeroplane, with me, it would have been my fault. I was the captain, and she was my responsibility. I wouldn’t want to die like that.” She nodded. “And there’s another thing.”

“What’s that, David?”

He smiled down at her. “If I’d been killed I couldn’t have married you and bullied you into giving me a family. And I’m still hoping to do that one day.”

“What a thing to say!” She slipped into his arms and put her face up, and he kissed her. “I don’t think it’ll be long now,” she said at last. “I think she’ll probably be here for something like six months. If that’s right, I could chuck the job in and not hurt her.”

He kissed her again. “It can’t be too soon for me.”

Presently they walked arm in arm to her bedroom door, and kissed again in the passage. “Good night, David,” she said. “I won’t ask you in. Not while I’m on her staff.”

He grinned. “No,” he said. “You watch your step when you hand in your notice, though.”

She laughed. “Good night, Nigger, dear.”

“Good night, Rosemary. Sleep well.”

He did not see her before he went out to the aerodrome next morning at about ten o’clock, to put in hand the routine inspection and refuelling of his machine. In the R.A.A.F. mess he got hold of a copy of the
Canberra Times
, black with headlines about the Queen’s Christmas broadcast, about her arrival in Australia, about the appointment of Tom Forrest and about the political repercussions in England. In the mess he found the officers talking of nothing else, but conversation ended suddenly as he came into the ante-room, and everybody studiously avoided asking him any questions. It was a heavy, embarrassing atmosphere, and he was glad to leave after lunch. He went back to the hangar for an hour and did the necessary paper work in connection with the flight, and then he left for the hotel in one of the two cars allocated to the Queen’s Flight.

Rosemary was out, and he did not find her again till he was sitting in the lounge before dinner, relaxed in a loose tropical suit beside the great Christmas tree decorated with tinsel and cotton wool snow. She came to him there, cool and fresh. “I went down with Gillian to bathe,” she said. “We had a lovely swim. Have you been back long?”

“I came back about four o’clock,” he said. “I got a portable radio. He’s coming on the air about quarter past seven tomorrow morning, by our time. Where would you like to listen?”

“Not in a public place,” she replied. “I think we may be going to get a bit of a shock.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That so?”

“I don’t know. He’s a very strong character, and Daddy’s been stuffing him up with all his ideas. Let’s listen in one or other of our rooms, Nigger. I’ll be up before then.”

He nodded. “All right. I’ll bring it along to your room soon after seven. What do you want to do tonight?”

“Let’s do something to take our minds off it,” she said wistfully. “Let’s try and think of other things tonight.”

“Like to go to the pictures?”

“Wouldn’t it be awfully hot?”

“No,” he said. “There’s an open air cinema—you’ll probably want a coat. It can get chilly in the evening here, even after a day like this. We’re two thousand feet up, you know.”

“I’ve never been to an open air cinema,” she said. “Do you know what’s on?”

“Vivienne Walsh and Douglas Mason in
Heart’s Desire,
” he told her. “I don’t think it’s one of the best.”

“Vivienne Walsh is good,” she replied. “Let’s try it, Nigger. We can always walk out if it’s too awful.”

“I don’t think people do that here,” he replied. “I think that’s a Pommie habit. We’ll probably get a reputation for snootiness. Douglas Mason’s from Adelaide, you know. Local boy makes good.”

She laughed. “Let’s go, anyway.”

So they went to the movies after dinner and sat holding hands in the cool darkness under the stars while the Californian idyll unfolded before them. They sat it out in unsophisticated pleasure, insulated by it for the moment from the great events developing upon the other side of the world in the bleak wind and sleet of London in December. It stayed with them while they walked back arm in arm to the
hotel through the scented night, while he kissed her good night before her bedroom door.

He went to her room next morning just after seven o’clock, fully dressed and carrying the radio, which he had already tried out in his own bedroom. She was dressed and waiting for him, but her room was still in intimate disarray, the bed unmade, her pyjamas thrown down upon the sheets, the faint scent of her powder in the air. He forced his mind from these distractions, and put down the radio and turned it on. “He’s coming on in a few minutes,” he told her. “They announced it at half past six, and again at seven.”

Operatic music filled the room; he adjusted the volume and they settled down to wait. Presently the announcer spoke, and then, after a pause the room was filled with the harsh, virile tones of the Field Marshal who had risen from the laundry.

They sat listening in silence. Reception was fairly good, and only a few sudden surges in the volume indicated that the speaker was on the far side of the world.

Once Rosemary said impetuously, ‘But he can’t
do
that,’ and David grinned, and said, “He’s done it.” Then they were silent again.

Twenty minutes later the harsh voice ceased, and David turned the radio off. “Well, that’s it,” he said. “He’s given them electoral reform, or else.”