Maralinga Part 5

'Incredible, yes. A fortnight, you say? But what about The Courier-Mail?'

'Oh, Henry's been marvellous, he'd let me go tomorrow if necessary. I think he's rather proud of the fact that he was the one to launch my career. He's certainly the reason Lionel Brock's taking me on. He'll miss me, he says, but '

'So will I.'

Elizabeth stopped mid-stream. Danny looked quite bereft, she thought how sweet. 'I'll miss you too,' she said. And suddenly she realised how very much she would. She'd never had a friend like Danny. 'I'll miss you a lot.'

'Will you, Elizabeth?'

'Of course.' She was touched by his obvious concern. 'But we'll still see each other, this isn't goodbye.' She smiled fondly. 'Heavens above, you're part of my life, Danny, you're the best friend I've ever had.'

That was all he needed. 'Then marry me,' he said.

A stunned silence followed, and he regretted having blurted the words out so clumsily as he watched her astonishment become suspicion.

'Are you making fun of me?' she asked.

'Of course I'm not.' He spoke lightly, careful not to alarm her with any outburst of pa.s.sion. 'But surely the best friend you've ever had would be a good choice for a husband, don't you think?'

'If this is a joke, I'm afraid I'm missing the point.'

'Why would I be joking?'

'I have just announced the career opportunity of a lifetime and you suggest marriage?' Elizabeth gave a snort of derision. 'It's either a joke or it's some sort of statement about a woman's place being in the home and her life's purpose marriage, in which case it's an insult. Either way, it's not particularly funny.'

'But I wouldn't expect you to stay at home,' he protested in earnest. 'I'm proud of your achievements. I would never wish to change one thing about you, Elizabeth, and that includes your commitment to a career.'

She stared at him, speechless, as the realisation that he was serious finally registered.

'Your career is who you are,' he continued, 'I know that. Why should I want to change the very person I fell in love with?'

In love? Elizabeth couldn't believe what she was hearing. In love!

'But ... you're so ... young!' She couldn't think of anything else to say; she was flabbergasted. 'You're so very young. I mean ... surely you must see that this ... this ...' She fumbled foolishly for the right words; she seemed incapable of expressing herself intelligently. 'This ... feeling you have is just some sort of ... infatuation...'

His proposal had hardly met with the reception he might have wished, but Daniel laughed nonetheless. 'I'm not a teenager, Elizabeth,' he said. Then he added good-humouredly, 'You're patronising me the way you did when we first met it's not frightfully flattering, I must say.'

Yes, she remembered how she'd patronised him that day. And she remembered how he'd come back with the perfect response. Men younger than me have died for this country, he'd said. She'd been impressed. Everything about him had impressed her that day, which was why she'd allowed their friendship to develop. And now he was spoiling it all.

'But you're like a little brother to me,' she began.

'No I'm not,' he snapped. 'Don't demean our relationship.' He fought to curb his exasperation. 'I'm not your little brother, Elizabeth,' he said as patiently as he could. 'I've never been your little brother, and you know it.'

'Yes, yes, I'm sorry.' She was fl.u.s.tered; she hadn't intended to sound so insulting. 'Of course you're not, you're far, far more. You're my best friend ... you're my one true confidant ... Please, Danny ...' Her eyes implored him. 'Can't we leave things that way?'

'Of course we can. We can be best friends and true confidants for the rest of our lives. What better basis could there be for a marriage?'

No, she thought, no, you can't change the rules like this. Why was he ruining everything?

Daniel was sure he could sense her faltering, and he took her hand in both of his. 'Marry me, Elizabeth,' he said, dropping flamboyantly to one knee. 'Marry me. I'm the perfect husband for you. You won't regret it, I promise.'

'Oh, for goodness sake, get up,' she hissed, common sense prevailing. It was time to put a stop to the charade, he was being childish. 'You've no idea what you're saying, you're acting on impulse. This is a load of romantic nonsense and I won't listen to another word.'

He released her hand and sat obediently on the bench.

'Pity,' he shrugged, 'I rather liked the romantic approach myself. But as for the rest, I can a.s.sure you, you're wrong. I'm not acting on impulse and I know exactly what I'm saying. I've been in love with you from the day we first met.'

For the second time in only minutes, she was rendered speechless.

'Come on now,' he chided, 'you must have sensed it.'

She shook her head. 'Why would I have sensed it?' she asked, her voice a disbelieving whisper. 'You never said a word.'

He thought how very vulnerable she looked. 'I didn't dare. I was worried that I might frighten you off.'

'We've always been honest with each other, we've never had secrets.'

'I know, and I'm sorry. But be reasonable, Elizabeth, if I'd told you I was in love with you, what would you have done?' She made no reply. 'I doubt I would have seen you for the dust.' He smiled. 'We had to get to know each other first.'

'I see.' She nodded slowly, and when she finally spoke her tone was measured. 'So everything has been a lie, right from the start.'

Only then did Daniel realise his mistake. What he'd perceived as vulnerability was anger. And it was growing by the second.

'I had presumed,' she continued coldly, 'that our friendship was based on trust and some form of mutual respect.'

'It was. Of course it was.'

'Oh, no, it wasn't. Not as far as you were concerned, not for one minute.' She was steadily working herself into a fury. 'It was based upon deceit.'

'Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Elizabeth.' Daniel's patience ran out as exasperation got the better of him. 'I'm a man, you're a woman, it's natural! Men are not the enemy! Why must you feel so threatened?'

He was surprised by the instantaneous effect of his words. She was clearly taken aback.

'I'm not a threat,' he said firmly, 'I'm an ally. I believe in you and I believe in your career. I love you, and what's more I think you love me. Not to the same degree, of course, but be honest with yourself ...' He willed her to look at him, and she did, meeting his gaze squarely. 'You do love me just a little, admit it.'

'Of course I do.'

There was an irritable and patronising edge to her reply, which strangely pleased him. She was on the defensive, he thought. She didn't like being cornered.

'I love you as a friend,' she said with a haughty nonchalance.

'Then I rest my case. What better basis could there be for a marriage?'

'I said as a friend! I love you as a friend!'

'So marriage should be based upon enmity, should it?' He could see that his smugness annoyed her further, but he didn't care. Sensing victory in his grasp, Daniel was elated. 'I'm not the only one who thinks we should marry, you know. I have your parents' approval.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Your mother and father were sending signals loud and clear the night of your birthday party.'

'It wasn't a party, it was a dinner. And what exactly were the signals?'

'Well, all that stuff about the oleanders for starters.'

'And what stuff about the oleanders would that be?'

Daniel, in his youthful exuberance, failed to read the warning signs. 'All that symbolic stuff it was a test to see how I felt about your father being Jewish.'

'I think the a.n.a.logy went a little deeper than that,' she said coolly. 'I think my father was sharing something intensely personal that night.'

'Of course he was! But why did he choose that night of all nights? And why did he choose to tell me of all people? You asked that yourself, don't you remember?'

Elizabeth said nothing. Of course she remembered. And of course, she realised, with a sudden rush of anger of course he was right.

Daniel misguidedly read approval in her silence and, considering himself well and truly on the home stretch, made his final, irrevocable mistake.

'Your mother knew what was going on all along,' he said. 'In fact, I got the distinct impression she approved.'

'Of you?'

He was halted just a little by the bark of her question. 'Of us,' he said. 'I got the impression your mother and father both approved '

'Of us.'

'Yes.' Daniel faltered. Things seemed to have taken a turn for the worse.

'You pa.s.sed the test then?'

'It would appear so, yes.' Something was definitely wrong.

'Well, bully for you.'

'What is it, Elizabeth? Why are you angry?'

Elizabeth was far more than angry. She was hurt and humiliated by the thought that her parents and Danny had been in collusion that night. She felt stupid for not having recognised the signs. Her father's admission about the oleanders had touched her deeply, and she'd considered it a personal and precious gift that he'd chosen her birthday, of all nights, to share his secret. How gallingly stupid of her, she thought.

'I'm delighted,' she said caustically as she rose from the bench, 'that you and my parents have come to such an amicable decision regarding my future. What on earth would I do without you all?'

Daniel also stood. 'Good G.o.d, Elizabeth, it wasn't exactly a conspiracy, they were only '

'It certainly sounds that way to me.'

'Don't you think you're overreacting just a little?' he said. 'You're not normally one for paranoia.'

'I'm not normally one to be dictated to either. Nor am I one to be easily influenced by the opinions of others. It does not impress me in the least that you have the approval of my parents, Danny. The answer to your ridiculous proposition is a definite no.'

She stormed off without another word, and he was left wondering what had happened. How had things got so out of hand? What had he said that was so terribly wrong?

The following week was a miserable one for Daniel. He didn't call Elizabeth for fear of annoying her further, and decided to leave any contact until shortly before her departure. Perhaps when he rang to say goodbye she might have cooled down. Perhaps he might sense a change in her feelings. He desperately hoped so.

The weekend came and went, and then, on the Monday ...

'Call for you, Lieutenant.'

He'd just walked into the guardroom, and the duty sergeant handed him the receiver before discreetly disappearing into the transport office.

'h.e.l.lo,' he said as he sat at the desk, 'Lieutenant Gardiner here.'

Elizabeth's voice came down the line. 'It's me. I'm sorry,' she said stiffly. 'I realise that I overreacted and that I owe you an apology.'

'That's all right. I'm sorry I gave you such a shock. I didn't mean '

'Don't apologise, Danny. Please. That's my job.'

'Right. Apology accepted then.' He wanted to say, So where to from here, but didn't dare, she sounded so brittle. 'When do you leave?' he asked.

'On Friday.'

'Oh. So soon.'

'Yes. Daddy's driving me up to London. An a.s.sociate of his has a real estate business and he's going to show us some flats in South Kensington.'

Will I see you before you go? he wanted to ask, but he didn't because he knew he'd sound desperate. 'That's good,' he said.

'I feel ridiculously mollycoddled, but Daddy's insistent that he won't be satisfied until he sees me properly settled, so I've had to give in.'

'Well, you'd be insane not to take advantage of his contacts, Elizabeth, and surely it's a father's prerogative to look after his daughter.'

'Yes, yes, I know, and I'm grateful.'

There was a moment's awkward pause as they both realised the small talk had run out.

'I don't want to lose your friendship, Danny,' she said.

'You don't have to.' He felt weary and suddenly defeated. I don't want to be friends with the woman I love! he felt like yelling. I want to be friends with my wife! 'We'll always be friends, Elizabeth,' he said instead.

'That's good. I'm glad.' Another pause. 'I'll let you know where I am and we'll keep in touch then?'

'Yes, absolutely.'

'Bye, Danny.'

'Bye, Elizabeth.'

Several months later, Daniel was posted to Frankfurt to serve with the occupying forces for six months. When he rang Elizabeth in London to tell her the news, there was another brief and awkward farewell over the phone. Then, shortly before Christmas, he departed, thankful to leave Aldershot.

Yarina crouches in the red dust, motionless, the child beside her, a boy barely three years of age, equally still, equally silent. Aware of his mother's unspoken signal, he clutches tightly to her hand, and the two become one with the landscape, melding into the shadows of the mallee scrub. In the gathering dusk, they are all but invisible to the approaching strangers.