Moonlight Plains (22 page)

Laura felt unpleasant flutters in her stomach and chest and she realised she was nervous. This was the famous – or infamous – Kitty, the woman her father had slept with all those years ago, and consequently, could never forget.

She had been going to sit back and watch this family greet their matriarch, but she found herself standing and moving to the verandah railing, as curious as anyone else.

The sudden tension in Luke was unexpected. He’d already received enough compliments about the homestead’s restoration to give him a swollen head, so he should have been relaxed and pleased. But it was his grandmother’s opinion that mattered most.

She’d lived here the longest, first during the war and then, later, with his grandfather Andy, when they’d started a new life here as cattle graziers. And she was still the nominal owner, although the family’s trust was a complicated setup that Luke didn’t fully understand.

As his mother’s SUV appeared a cheer went up and people started waving. Shading his eyes, Luke could just make out the tiny figure of his grandmother in the front passenger seat. As he walked forward to meet the car, he knew his smile was a little shaky.

His mother climbed out quickly, still as slim and neat and energetic as ever, with hair the colour of dusty wheat. She finally seemed to be settling into her new widowed lifestyle of golf and gardening in Townsville.

‘Wow!’ she called. ‘What a reception.’ She kissed Luke and they hugged. ‘How are you, darling?’

‘I’m fine. How are you? How’s Gran?’

‘Oh, Gran’s in fine fettle. Darling, the house looks amazing. Can you help Gran out of the car? She’ll need to take it slowly. Her poor old joints will be stiff after the drive.’

Getting his grandmother from the car was indeed a slow and difficult process. Luke, used to seeing her in the nursing home, was shocked by how tiny and frail she seemed out here in the fresh air and sunshine. He was scared his big hands would bruise her.

‘I was going to bring a wheelchair,’ his mother said. ‘But Mum wouldn’t hear of it.’

His gran shook her head fiercely. ‘I don’t need a wheelchair.’

‘We’ve plenty of chairs and strong arms,’ Luke assured her as he helped her to shuffle slowly forward.

When she stopped and gasped after only a few steps, he thought she was out of breath, but then her bony fingers gripped him with surprising intensity. ‘Oh, Luke, it’s beautiful.’

She was looking at the house, once again strong and sturdy and sporting a new coat of bright-white paint. ‘It looks better than ever. You’ve done a wonderful job.’ Her eyes were shining with the glint of tears.

‘Wait till you see inside,’ someone called.

Luke could feel the knots of tension within him loosen a notch or two.

The greetings took a while. Kitty was shown to a chair and made comfortable with cushions, then a cup of tea was placed on a small table at her side. Once she was settled, various family members paid homage – or at least that was how it seemed to Laura watching from the verandah, as grown men, presumably Kitty’s sons, kissed her tenderly on the cheek and then crouched in front of her to converse with her at eye level.

She looked sweet, Laura thought. Old and frail and sweet. Her fine white hair had been combed into an elegant chignon and she was wearing a simple dress in a becoming soft-rose shade.
Why was I so worried about this woman? How could she have been a threat to my family?

‘I’m waiting for Kitty to see the fishpond,’ said a voice nearby, and Laura turned to see a startlingly pretty young woman with lovely auburn hair. She was addressing her comment to Zoe.

‘You should be down there when she does see it.’ Zoe gave the girl’s elbow a squeeze. ‘Come on, we can say hello now. The main family’s finished. Time for us extras. You too, Laura,’ Zoe added, sending Laura a smile.

‘Oh, do you think –’

‘Sure. Kitty will be dying to meet you. Come on.’

The pretty redhead was called Sally, Laura soon learned, and it seemed Kitty knew her quite well, greeting her like an old friend.

Kitty’s daughter, Virginia, introduced Zoe, with just a hint of awkwardness, as ‘my stepdaughter’. There was some shy laughter from Zoe and additional explanation from Virginia, which Laura didn’t quite catch.

‘And you met Zoe’s dear little boy, Callum, earlier,’ Virginia was saying. ‘With his father, Mac.’

After delighted smiles and hugs for Zoe it was Laura’s turn to be introduced to Kitty. An uncomfortable weight in her chest made her feel queasy.

Luke, who’d been hovering in the background, stepped forward. ‘Gran, this is Laura Langley Fox, the American pilot’s daughter, all the way from Boston.’

‘Oh!’ There was an awkward moment while Kitty stared at Laura with an expression that was both haunted and dignified, but not exactly friendly.

‘I’m so very pleased to meet you, Mrs Mathieson.’ Laura hadn’t been brought up on Beacon Hill without knowing how to be polite and courteous, and now she laid it on thick.

‘You’ve come all this way,’ Kitty said. ‘I hope it’s worth it.’

‘You knew Laura’s father, didn’t you?’ cut in Luke.

Kitty gave a dignified nod. ‘Yes, I met your father. There were so many Americans out here during the war. Oh, and thank you for sending his letter. I’m pleased to know your father had a successful and happy life after the war.’

It was like being dropped from a great height, Laura realised later. She’d been so tense about meeting Kitty, so on edge, fearing some kind of emotional outburst. But Kitty was either a wonderful actor, or she was no more emotional about Ed Langley than she was about the weather. She might just as easily have said, ‘Oh, yes. It was a very wet year in 1942.’

Had only her father cared? Had the impact of their relationship been all one-sided?
Oh, Dad, thank heavens you never guessed.

So far, so good, Luke thought as people drifted away to leave his grandmother to enjoy her cup of tea and to catch her breath after so much talking.

Soon he would help her go inside for a rest before the party got properly underway. While she rested in the best bedroom with the beautifully restored bay windows, the afternoon would grow cooler, the shadows would lengthen. He’d turn on the lights that Sally and Bella had strung between the trees outside and most of the guests would change into their party clobber.

Everything was more or less ready. The drinks were on ice, amazing smells were coming from the kitchen, Mac and Gabe had the barbecue plans all in hand, the band was on its way. Their American guest seemed to be fitting in.

‘All good,’ he said softly to himself just as another car emerged from the trees.

‘Here’s Jim,’ someone called.

Great. The last of the family had arrived. Now they were only waiting for the extra friends who’d been invited and others like the historical committee.

Luke felt a tug at his elbow.

‘Who’s that?’ Laura asked, pointing a well-manicured finger with dark-maroon nail polish.

‘Oh, that’s my uncle, Jim Mathieson.’

She gripped his elbow again, more tightly this time. ‘Kitty’s son?’

‘Yes, her eldest.’

‘Oh my God.’

Luke frowned at Laura. She was probably around his mother’s age, not quite as slim but better preserved, with a fine, almost wrinkle-free complexion and dramatic, thick silver hair, stylishly cut and held back from her face by a black velvet band.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, seeing the look on her face as she stared slack-jawed at Jim, who was walking towards them with his easy, long-legged gait. Luke had a particular fondness for his eldest uncle, who was seventy but didn’t look it, and still worked part-time, because he liked to keep his hand in.

Now, however, a chill snaked down Luke’s spine. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded again of Laura.

‘He –’ She began and then stopped to swallow, as if something had stuck in her throat. ‘He looks so familiar, almost exactly like –’ She stopped again and clearly she didn’t want to finish her sentence.

Luke was about to ask what Laura’s problem was when she clamped a hand over her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.

No. Hell, no
. Was she about to ruin everything?

Townsville, 1942

‘There’s no doubt about it,’ the stern-faced doctor told Kitty. ‘You’re most definitely pregnant.’

She was still lying on her back, feeling exposed and embarrassed after his unpleasant probing, and now, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible, he’d confirmed her worst fears. The truth she’d suspected, had known deep down for weeks, was now an Inescapable Fact.

She was having Ed Langley’s baby.

Only the tiniest corner of Kitty’s heart was thrilled. Just once or twice in the past scary weeks, she’d allowed herself to think that this would be the perfect outcome from their island weekend. In those brief moments, she could almost picture a miniature version of Ed and she would feel a little rush of warm, maternal joy. But almost immediately the fantasy would die and she would come to her senses.

Pregnancy was a disaster. It could bring nothing but shame for her. And for Ed, it would be a huge burden and an extra worry when he was fighting this terrible war, putting his life on the line day after day.

Surely nobody would willingly bring a little baby into the world now, in the middle of all this.

In North Queensland, the past month of May had been the worst yet. The skies over Townsville had thundered with the roar of aircraft, while offshore a great naval battle had been waged in the Coral Sea.

The Prime Minister, Mr Curtin, had warned the country to prepare for the worst and had talked of dire consequences if the Allies were not successful. In Townsville the gossip was rife. Everyone knew they shouldn’t listen to rumours, but they were all hearing the same horrific stories from neighbours, from workmates, from men who’d been talking at the pub. The boys in the local battalion had been ordered to sharpen their bayonets and to stand guard facing the sea, ready to fight to the death.

In the midst of all this, Kitty had received no word from Ed. As soon as they’d returned from the island, he’d rushed straight off on another mission and she’d heard nothing since. She had absolutely no idea where he was, or if he was safe.

As the doctor turned away to his desk and told her to get dressed, all she wanted to do was cry. She’d been tense about this for six weeks now and she was ready to burst from the stress of it. But she had to cling to her dignity for a little longer, till she was out of the surgery and past the disapproving eye of the snooty receptionist.

Back at Mitchell Street, Elsie took one look at her and demanded to know what had happened. ‘Is it bad news about Ed?’

‘No!’ Kitty wailed and then burst into tears, finally.

‘Oh, love, come here,’ Elsie soothed, slipping a motherly arm around her. ‘Come to the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on.’

Somehow, Kitty made her stumbling, sobbing way down the hall and almost fell into a chair at the kitchen table, where she slumped forward with her head on her arms and cried her heart out.

The kettle had come to the boil and Elsie was filling the teapot by the time her sobs started to ease.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whimpered, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and swiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

Elsie’s smile was rather frayed around the edges as she set cups and saucers on the table.

But at least Kitty felt a bit braver now that the crying was out of the way. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said quickly.

A shocked gasp escaped Elsie and she sat down quickly. ‘Oh, Kitty.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Kitty squared her shoulders. ‘If you want me to leave here, I’ll go. I’ll understand.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly. Of course I don’t want you to leave.’

‘But people will talk. There’ll be gossip and Geoff might hear it. You know what people are saying about single girls who get themselves pregnant, especially to Yanks.’

‘Let them say what they like. I’ll handle Geoff.’ Calmly, Elsie poured tea into a cup and passed it to Kitty. ‘I don’t have time for people who stick their beaks into other people’s business.’ Her expression was quite serious now. ‘Anyway, you’re going to need someone on your side when your grandfather hears about this.’

‘I know.’ Kitty winced. All along, her biggest fear had been her grandfather. Oh, dear heaven, how could she ever tell him? She had become the harlot he believed her to be. For him, the shame would be unbearable. She would have to stop going to church.

‘Here.’ Elsie pushed the bowl of sugar towards Kitty. ‘Have some. You need it today.’

‘Thanks.’ Kitty tried to smile as she helped herself to a precious teaspoon of their sugar ration.

‘You must have been so worried,’ Elsie said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I – I was hoping it was just stress or an upset tummy or something.’ Kitty knew this sounded lame. ‘But it shouldn’t have happened, you see. We, I mean Ed . . . well, he used, you know . . . protection.’

‘Well, unfortunately, those things aren’t a hundred per cent reliable.’ Watching Kitty over the rim of her teacup, Elsie lifted an eyebrow. ‘Geoff’s living proof.’

‘Geoff? Is he really?’

Elsie nodded. ‘John and I had a shotgun wedding, and Geoff was a premmie baby.’

‘Gosh.’

Across the table, the two women shared a conspiratorial smile and Kitty felt some of her panic subside.

‘Well, if my baby’s anywhere near as nice as Geoff,’ she said, ‘everything should be fine.’

Kitty reminded herself later, however, that there probably wouldn’t be any wedding for her. To begin with, she was terribly worried about Ed’s silence, but even if he was fine, she was almost certain that he had no plans to marry her.

She kept remembering how Bobby had said he was a blueblood and a prince. And then there’d been little things Ed had said.

I come from a family with very high expectations . . .

In our circles . . .

Even on the island he’d voiced concern about how wrong it would be to take her away from all this. It was pretty clear he could not see her fitting into his life in Boston.

Any way Kitty looked at it, her future was grim, but at least she had a few more weeks before the pregnancy would start to show.

There was still no word from Ed in late July when Townsville was bombed. The wardens had been around making house-to-house inspections of everyone’s air-raid equipment, but it had all felt like a great deal of fuss about nothing.

Practice warning sirens had been going off, raising goosebumps on everyone’s skin, but after the Allied victory in the Coral Sea, it was hard to believe that the Japs might still arrive.

Young Geoff, however, was positive that ‘old Tojo still has big plans for Townsville’. The boy was all eyes and ears these days, part of the network of Townsville boys who’d virtually been adopted as junior mascots by the American units.

But when the rising and falling wail of the siren came on a cold, clear Saturday night, Geoff was sound asleep.

‘I’d better wake him,’ said Elsie, who found Kitty already up and pulling on her dressing-gown. ‘This sounds like the real thing.’

Sure enough, minutes later, there were cries out in the street. ‘Air raid! Air raid! The sirens are going.’

From the front verandah, they could see the searchlights reaching upwards from the hill behind them and joining the search beams from the Strand and Kissing Point, the white ladders of light sweeping across the sky.

At any moment Kitty expected to hear explosions, the
whoomp
of falling bombs.

Geoff, shivering in his pyjamas, was agog with excitement. ‘I can hear the planes!’ he said.

‘Where?’ demanded Kitty.

‘Up high. Listen.’

‘Oh, yes. Yes, I can hear them.’ Of course, she thought of Ed.

A moment later she heard the rattle of distant machine guns and her heart leapt to her throat.
Wherever you are,
Ed,
please, please stay safe
.

‘Come on. Let’s get into the shelter.’ At least Elsie was sensible.

It was such a cold night they took extra blankets, along with a torch, a thermos of tea and the emergency biscuit tin. But the moon was so full and bright they didn’t really need the torch as they scurried down the back steps and across the yard, past the banana clump and Elsie’s veggie patch, to the shelter her Yanks had built.

‘We won’t see anything from in there,’ complained Geoff.

‘Too bad.’ Elsie pushed him in ahead of her.

They spent quite some time cramped and uncomfortable and in the dark, before they heard the sound of an explosion over near the wharves.

‘It was all a bit of a fizzer,’ Geoff complained between yawns the next day. ‘You might as well let me sleep through it next time.’

People at the Red Cross were all abuzz, however. The enemy planes had flown from Rabaul. Someone had heard bombs drop.

‘It was like
swish
,
swoosh
,
thump
,
thump
and then a shattering blast and the ground shook.’

A couple of girls had been out dancing at the Flying Squadron Hall and they’d had to dive into slit trenches along with American airmen.

‘We were all singing songs.’ They made it sound like a great lark.

‘There’s a crater the size of a truck over in Oonoonba,’ said someone else. ‘The top was blown off a palm tree. Lucky the Japs were off target.’

At home that night, Geoff reported there was a big row brewing, because the commander of the American anti-aircraft guns had apparently ordered the crews not to fire at the planes for fear of exposing their positions to a bigger, second flight of bombers.

‘There was no second wave and the Yanks are copping it for not firing a shot,’ Geoff added importantly.

Two nights later there was another raid and the defensive fire from Townsville was deafening. Silver shafts from dozens of searchlights probed the sky.

Again, Geoff was full of knowledge the next day. ‘There was so much ack-ack going up last night that the air force couldn’t get a crack at the Japs.’

That night, a third attack was finally met by more determined and organised resistance.

They were all a little blasé by now and Kitty watched with Elsie and Geoff from the front verandah, where they saw the searchlight beams catch the outline of a plane’s wing or a tail.

‘The Yanks are up there in Airocobras,’ Geoff told them self-importantly.

‘Shh,’ warned Elsie, who must have seen the fear in Kitty’s face.