Part 13 (1/2)

'Lovely,' she said, 'we'll have it with the lamb. But let's start on that first,' and she gestured to the unopened bottle of champagne sitting in its ice bucket on the coffee table beside the sofa.

'My goodness, we are going posh, aren't we. I didn't even know you owned an ice bucket.'

'I didn't until this morning. I bought it at Selfridges, along with the ca.s.serole dish.'

She disappeared through the door to the kitchen, returning only moments later with a tray of hors d'oeuvres and two champagne flutes.

'All courtesy of Selfridges,' she said, placing the tray and the gla.s.ses on the coffee table and sitting beside him. 'I've been on a shopping spree.'

He opened the champagne. 'To your first lamb ca.s.serole,' he toasted.

'To us, and to the future, and to the hope that by the time you return I'll be able to cook like your mother.'

They drank their way through most of the champagne and ate the hors d'oeuvres, talking non-stop as they always did, and then Elizabeth left to serve the meal. She refused his offer of help.

'No, you stay here and light the candles,' she said. 'Matches on the table. And there's a corkscrew in the cabinet you can open the claret while you're at it.'

He did as he was told and, when she returned, the candles were flickering, the wine was opened and he was about to pour the second gla.s.s. But on looking up, he was surprised to see her in her dressing gown.

She struck a humorously hapless pose at the kitchen door. 'Well, that's one lesson I've learnt,' she said. 'One must never wear white when one cooks.'

He'd laughed. He'd actually laughed. Daniel could hear himself now. 'That's what Mum says she always wears an ap.r.o.n.' Recalling the moment, he couldn't believe his naivety, but he had suspected absolutely nothing.

'Let's have the overhead light off for atmosphere,' she suggested, 'just the corner lamp and the candles. Then I can make an entrance.'

He obliged and the lighting dimmed. But he was puzzled when she remained stationary, silhouetted in the spill of light from the kitchen.

'Do you need some help?' he asked.

'No thanks. This part I can handle on my own.'

Stepping away from the kitchen door into the candlelight's glow, she untied the sash at her waist and let the dressing gown drop to the floor. She wore a bright red chemise of the sheerest silk, the gossamer fabric caressing her flesh, outlining her naked body's every contour.

'Which do you want first, Danny? Dinner or me?'

He'd been unable to take his eyes off her. In the silence that followed, his shock had been palpable as he'd stared at her body in a mixture of admiration and disbelief that may well have looked comical.

She stood her ground. 'I strongly suggest me. The dinner's a disaster.'

Still he said nothing. He was dumbfounded, incapable of speech.

She continued to play her role with bravado, tracing a flirtatious path with her fingers over the chemise. 'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'Selfridges, this morning, but it's not, it's Harrods. And I bought it nearly a fortnight ago, on the Monday after you told me about Maralinga.'

It was only then Daniel recognised the insecurity beneath the facade. He'd heard the faint giveaway tremor in her voice and, suddenly, he saw the fear in her eyes, the fear that perhaps she had lost his respect. But she had misinterpreted his silence. He'd been overwhelmed by the magnitude of her action, which he'd rightfully judged to be a measure of her love. He was aware of the courage it must have taken for her to offer herself in such a way. There were no words to express what he felt, but Elizabeth, as usual, had made everything easy.

'You've always looked beautiful in red.'

The instant he said it, he saw the fear and insecurity vanish. And as she slowly walked towards him, he was reminded of that day in the park. This was a fantasy men only dreamed of.

He'd stayed the night, and they'd made love again the following morning, an easier, gentler experience than the first time, when he'd worried that he may have hurt her.

'Nonsense,' she'd said briskly. 'It's called losing one's virginity, and it's meant to be painful.'

There were times when Elizabeth was brutally non-romantic.

Their lovemaking in the morning had been a different matter altogether. Tenderly, gently, they'd explored one other, giving pleasure and accepting pleasure, pledging themselves with their bodies until they felt they'd truly become one.

Afterwards, as she lay with her head snuggled into his shoulder, Daniel ran his fingertips over her skin, marvelling at the satiny touch of her. He was overcome with love, but this change in their circ.u.mstances had brought with it complications.

'We'll get married early Monday morning before I leave for Aldershot,' he said.

'No, we won't,' she replied.

'Come to Aldershot with me then. We'll get married there I don't take off until Wednesday.'

'No, we'll say goodbye this weekend just as we planned.'

'But, Elizabeth ...'

She propped herself on one elbow. 'It was not my intention to blackmail you into marriage.'

He sat bolt upright, aghast. 'Who said anything about blackmail?'

She laughed at his horror, then continued in her practical manner. 'You've made all the decisions, my darling, and I've respected every single one of them. But this was a decision I believe was rightfully mine to make. I love you, Danny, and I wanted to be a wife to you in the true sense before you left. I have no desire to change the rules.'

And that had been that. She'd steadfastly refused to marry him. He'd brought up the subject of possible 'repercussions', but she'd dismissed pregnancy as highly unlikely. She'd done her homework, she said, and, according to the rhythm method, this was the safest time in her cycle. The threat of conception was negligible.

She'd sounded very practical and very knowledgeable, but he'd worried nonetheless.

A full six weeks pa.s.sed before Daniel heard from Elizabeth, or indeed until he received mail of any description. No doubt letters were delayed in transit, he told himself. Mail bound for Maralinga would be held in keeping somewhere until the next flight was due to leave. Or perhaps they were held up right here, he thought, at the post office just down the road from his barracks. Did the army really vet incoming correspondence? Who could be sure?

He finally received five letters all at once, four from Elizabeth and one from his family, and he looked for any signs of interference, but could see none. Perhaps he was being paranoid. He read Elizabeth's letters sequentially. The final one was dated three weeks after he'd left, and she'd just received the first of his own letters.

Danny, my darling, How wonderful to hear about the oleanders. I rang Daddy with the news and he said he could just see them thriving in n.o.ble splendour out there in the middle of the desert. He thinks the army is most astute in making such a choice.

Of course I remember that first night when he tested you, my darling. How could I forget? I was the only one who didn't know I was in love with you.

She carried on in a light-hearted vein, and it was only at the end of the letter he received the news he'd been awaiting so anxiously: By the way, I'm not pregnant, so there's no need to come rus.h.i.+ng home ...

Had she forgotten his warning about the possibility of mail censors.h.i.+p, or did she simply not care about prying eyes? Daniel strongly suspected the latter. He even held the vaguest suspicion that her boldness might be deliberately aimed at those prying eyes. He couldn't query her on the subject, however, because outgoing mail was most definitely screened.

It was July, two months before the first in the series of tests codenamed Operation Buffalo was scheduled to take place, and Maralinga was in a general state of limbo. The towns.h.i.+p and its amenities were now completed and all stood in readiness for the influx of visitors. Thirty miles away, work on the test site continued. Construction of the ninety-foot steel tower from which the bomb would be suspended was underway, as was the construction of the two camera observation towers at Roadside, the firing area ten miles from the blast, but the erection of these was the work of specialist teams. Back at the towns.h.i.+p, with the waiting game upon them and little to be done, the men's lifestyle was relatively easy, although, in true military tradition the army maintained its disciplines. In the small ceremonial parade square situated in the centre of the village, the ritual raising and lowering of the Union Jack and the Australian flag was observed, and soldiers of various regiments were seen on a daily basis marching around the peripheral roads of the towns.h.i.+p, the barks of their sergeants a.s.saulting the silence of the surrounding desert. In pa.s.sing the swimming pool, they invariably met with some comment.

'Pick it up, lads,' the men would shout to the pa.s.sing brigade as they lounged on the broad, concrete steps that led up to the pool, which was above ground level. 'You can do better than that.' And one of them might even down his bathing costume to flash his backside at the men marching past, knowing full well that in a few days' time it would be him being drilled by his sergeant and suffering a man's bare behind flashed at him from the concrete steps of the pool.

The Olympic-size swimming pool, complete with a low springboard and a proper 'ten-footer' where the bold could show off their skills, had already become of prime recreational importance. It sat invitingly alongside the volleyball court and the tennis court, and, over the blistering summer months down the track, would prove a positive lifesaver. The supply of water was, surprisingly enough, not a problem. During the building of the towns.h.i.+p, water had been trucked from Watson, but since the army had sunk bores there was a plentiful supply for all purposes, freshwater for the village itself being stored in a ma.s.sive steel water tower that dominated the landscape.

Sporting facilities abounded at Maralinga, and also at the tent city adjoining the nearby airfield, where a golf course had been incongruously laid out on the red dusty plain and where the bitumen airstrip served as the world's largest cricket pitch. This city of tents, wooden-floored and connected by boardwalks, with mess rooms and canteens of timber-framed corrugated iron, was home to the air force. All other troops and civilian personnel were housed at the Maralinga towns.h.i.+p, which accommodated 550 permanent residents, with facilities to cater for up to 3000 during peak times, as was antic.i.p.ated during the forth coming tests.

In a bid to alleviate the boredom and frustration of men denied ready access to leave, the military keenly encouraged compet.i.tive sport, and the venue of greatest significance was undoubtedly the oval. Complete with grandstand, and with the proud t.i.tle 'Durance Oval' erected in huge letters over the metal-framed archway of its entrance, the oval stood as a magnificent example of man's impertinence against so primitive a backdrop. There were times when it hosted events of gladiatorial proportion, for here the British played soccer, the Australians Aussie rules football, and rugby union matches were fiercely contested by all.