Gallipoli Street (47 page)

Theresa raised her eyes. ‘Your mother names crayfish after you?'

‘Brother.'

‘Oh,' she said, continuing, wearing a twitching smile.

‘Simon is marrying your sister?' Theresa asked, looking over at the same, who was blushing again.

‘I'm as shocked as you are,' Simon confessed.

‘Close neighbourhood,' Pete offered.

‘I see.' Theresa smiled at Simon before continuing.

Theresa looked up, waiting for an explanation.

‘Our dads are best friends. Served in…the Great War together.'

‘Close neighbourhood.' She nodded.

‘Typical Catholics,' he grinned. ‘You…should know,' he added, nodding at her medal. ‘Wasn't your…neighbourhood…like that?'

Theresa held it in her fingers. ‘I didn't actually have one really,' she said. ‘I was raised in an orphanage.'

Pete stared at her in surprise. ‘That must… have been…lonely.'

He said it with such kindness that she couldn't deny it. ‘Yes, it was really.'

Pete held her eyes with his. ‘Whoever your parents were…would have been…very proud…of you.'

Theresa looked suddenly vulnerable, something she immediately hid. ‘I have Missy, my best friend. She's my family,' she replied, pulling her shoulders back and reading on.

‘Who's Pattie?' Her head snapped up.

‘Aunt,' he said.

‘Oh.' Pete watched her face. She sounded jealous, which pleased him enormously. ‘Did you think…she was…a stage dancer?'

Theresa blushed and Pete wondered what he'd said wrong. ‘I…don't have…any of those…waiting for me…promise.'

‘I was a dancer at one stage,' she confessed.

Pete's eyebrows raised and he grinned a little wickedly. ‘Looking at those pins…I can…believe that.'

‘When have you been looking at my pins?'

Pete glanced down at them then back at her face, stating quite clearly, ‘Whenever I can.' Theresa said nothing but there was a look in her eyes that made his mouth go dry.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Two-Bob who nodded and smiled as they carried in the fresh linen to make up the beds. Theresa folded the letter and handed it to Simon, who promised to finish it for her when they were done.

As she walked away it wasn't hard for Pete to choose what to focus on.

It was mid-morning by the time Simon finished reading the letter to Pete and they each lay, thinking about the contents. The rest of it was mostly about May, who had just returned from Queensland and a visit to Larry Naismith, their old cricket mate and May's now fiancé. Apparently Pattie hadn't been too keen to hand back her daughter's motorcycle upon her return. Pete and Simon had been laughing at the image of her flying along in her old fur hat, scandalising the town.

But the last few lines sobered them again:

‘Do you think they know…we are injured by now?' Pete asked Simon, hoping they would take the news all right when it came.

‘I'm not sure. What do you think, Nurse Theresa?' Simon seemed to have finally mastered the effort of not blushing every time he spoke to her. Theresa obviously had that way about her of making people feel comfortable.

Pete turned at the mention of her name and his heart skipped a beat.

‘Yes, they would definitely know. Don't worry, I'll get a telegram off when you are discharged from here, which should be soon I think.'

‘You'd better hurry or my nana might turn up and then we'll all be wrapped in mosquito nets and dosed up with cod liver oil,' Simon warned her.

Theresa laughed as she moved some supplies onto a chair.

‘Let me help…you,' Pete said.

‘No, really, I'm fine. The best help you can give me is getting more rest instead of pushing yourself so hard. What's this I hear about you trying to walk over to the cupboards this morning?'

‘I was looking for an apron…so…I could help you serve lunch.'

Theresa laughed again, the sound echoing in the ward, near empty as it was save for him and Simon, who was now pretending to read again.

Pete attempted to prop himself up to look at her more easily, grunting against the tightness in his chest and back, to be rewarded by an excellent view of those pins as she stood on a chair, sorting equipment into the storage cupboard in the corner.

‘There's a chessboard…in there. How about…a game later on?' he suggested. She pushed a large box of netting into a corner, shaking her head with a smile at his invitation. ‘When do…you get…any time off?'

‘What's that?' she threw over her shoulder. ‘I can't seem to recall the concept.'

‘Time off, you…remember. Doing…something enjoyable…for yourself? With someone…charming and…irresistible?'

She glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. ‘Hmm, I wonder where I could find someone like that?'

‘Ready, willing and…able.'

Theresa sent him a look. ‘Perhaps willing but hardly ready or able,' she said briskly, moving over to the empty beds. She stripped the sheets as Pete's eyes trailed after her. He loved that she was a good Catholic girl and holding him at bay. It made him even more determined to win her over.

‘It's only…a little game of chess…surely you could…spare enough time for that?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because I don't get time off.'

‘You get time…to sleep…don't you?' he pressed.

‘Rarely,' she replied drily, gathering the sheets into a pile and dumping them in the basket next to a box of fresh limes Two-Bob had gathered for her. He knew now she liked to add lime juice and honey to the sheets, believing it helped ease the men's breathing in the thick tropical air. She did a lot of little things like that for the patients.

‘You said…I'll be transferred soon. Just want a little…time…with you.'

She sighed, placing her hands on her hips. ‘You don't give up, do you?'

‘Psst,' said Simon from across the room. ‘I should have warned you earlier, Theresa: he's a lawyer.'

‘Is that so?' She raised her eyebrows. ‘I suppose that's where the stubbornness comes from?'

‘No that comes from cricket. Pete is the opening batsman for New South Wales.'

‘Really?'

‘Yep. But all the annoying persuasiveness comes courtesy of the law courts,' Simon continued helpfully. Pete decided he really preferred it when Simon was painfully shy.

‘How's the book?' he said to him, pointedly.

Theresa gave them both an amused look then addressed Pete. ‘You're asking a lot. Time is the most valuable thing I have…' she began, then gave in, sighing at his expression. ‘I'll probably finish around nine tomorrow night.'

‘Tomorrow,' he repeated, relieved.

‘Now get some sleep before I change my mind,' she ordered and he obeyed, offering her a weak salute before she went.

Theresa giggled as she walk outside, then shook her head. What on earth was she doing? Flirting with a sick man, a patient in her care. It was breaking all her personal rules, the honour code she adhered to of serving without thought for self.

‘He's a looker,' a voice commented from behind.

Theresa turned to see Daphne smoking on the steps, taking a rare break. She sighed, sat down next to her and took one for herself.

‘That he is,' she said. They stared out at the jungle together, flicking ash in silence.

‘One in a long, long line, love,' Daphne reminded her.

‘I know, I know. He'll be gone in a few days. There's no point,' Theresa shrugged, frowning.

‘So why play games?'

Theresa stood, brushing off her skirt before picking up her basket. ‘It's only chess.'

‘Watch out the queen doesn't lose her head,' Daphne replied, crushing her cigarette into the ground.

The morning was grey and mist-filled as Pete watched the doorway, waiting for the best part of his day to walk in as the rain began to tap the roof in a loud, sudden drum. The tightening in his chest was much better today and Nurse Daphne had him sitting up, propped against several large pillows, to keep his lungs as clear as possible. It allowed him to see around the sides of the shuttered windows to the jungle outside. Today it was full of movement as the wind and rain buffeted the waxy curves of the palm-tree fronds, forcing them to bow and bounce against one another.

‘Good morning, men,' Dr Kindred said briskly, striding into the tent, Theresa in tow. ‘How's everyone feeling this morning?' He addressed the four patients as one without looking at their faces, busy as he was with scrawling notes on his clipboard and checking charts. Simon and Pete watched as the two new patients were examined first, one fellow with a badly injured foot from a sniper shot and the other with a bandaged eye and shoulder who'd been breathing very heavily all night.

Pete watched Theresa as she removed bandages and applied fresh dressings, mesmerised by the stray white curl that kept escaping onto her lovely neck only to by pushed back up into that damnable cap.

‘Sergeant Murphy,' the doctor said brusquely as he arrived at his bed. ‘How's the chest feeling today?'

‘Much better,' Pete replied.

‘Hmmm.' Dr Kindred concurred as he listened to it and examined him. ‘A far cry on a few days ago, isn't it? Have you attempted to walk at all yet?'

‘Only to fetch my apron.' Pete grinned, winking at Theresa, who turned a delightful shade of pink.

Dr Kindred shot him an amused look and made a few notes. ‘Try a few stretches if you can today. Not too much, mind. The nurses will help you. Dwyer, you can get a bit of exercise too. I'll need you as fit as possible for tomorrow.'

‘Tomorrow?' Simon queried.

‘Transfer party are on their way up. You're being moved to Port Moresby. Who knows? You may even get to go home for a while.'

‘Home?' Simon repeated, his face lighting up. Pete's eyes never strayed from Theresa. Was that disappointment he glimpsed?

‘Yes, I should think so. Although with the rapid recoveries you're both making they may just send you back into the fight. Try not to look too healthy, won't you?' He gave them both a quick smile then turned to the nurses to issue instructions before striding out once more.

‘Theresa?' Pete said, halting her departure. ‘Are you…are we still on for chess tonight?'

She seemed to hesitate against the decision but to his relief she nodded. ‘Just a quick game.'

He settled back against the pillows as she left, trying to digest the fact that he was leaving her tomorrow, then pushing that thought firmly to the side. Nothing was over until the game had played itself out. He would take this one move at a time.