spoke first. “Why Germany, Pat?”
“It’s a lot closer than Australia and we, as part of NATO, have an agreement with them for our casualties that cannot be flown to Australia, for whatever reason. The American medical infrastructure is the best there is. It’s a huge hospital at Landstuhl – they specialise in battle injuries; they’ve had a lot of practice. All the American casualties from Iraq went there, as do those from Afghanistan. Ewen will have the best care that’s available anywhere in the world.”
They stood there, not wanting to look at each other, not wanting the thoughts, the terror that might be in their eyes, to be seen by the others.
Alice, who had been standing by the stove, was the first to break the silence. In a quiet voice, but with some authority, she took control. “There’s nothing that we can do but wait. I know that’s obvious but it is the truth. Waiting is not going to be easy. My Ewen... Ewen, would want everyone to take care of themselves and each other, that’s what he’d want. You are all going to need as much strength as you can muster.
“I’ve made tea, I found the tin you brought down, Michelle, so I've made coffee as well; I’ve cut some bread. If anyone wants toast, you just need to pop it in. Everything else is on the table in the breakfast room, cereals, and fruit. I’m going back to my room to…to pray for the dear boy. It’s all I can do for him. I wish to God there were more.” Her voice was starting to break with emotion. Angus looked at her standing straight and erect with tears rolling down her cheeks. He’d never seen Alice cry before; now he had seen it twice on consecutive days. He went to her and put his arms around her as the others watched. For just a moment she let him hold her, then she pushed him gently away. “I’ll be back at eight-thirty.” Wiping her eyes, she left them.
Rachael and Ali started pouring tea and coffee and handing it round. Michelle was crying again and she let Roddy help her away saying that she was going to have a shower before breakfast. Pat looked for Angus and couldn’t see him.
She found him on the veranda, sitting on a cane sofa looking at the dawn sky. Without looking at her he patted the cushion beside him, “Come and sit with me, Pat.” She sat beside him. Still without looking he said, “I thought it would be you, the others…well, they have someone to talk to. Rachael will want to talk to Ali…Michelle and Roddy…well Michelle…It’s hard this business, isn’t it? How are you? Silly question I’m sorry. You must be devastated.” She could see that he was struggling for words. He didn’t look at her.
“It might sound how I don’t want it to sound, Angus, but I think I’ve had too long to think about it. In some ways I was expecting it…that Ewen was one of the casualties. These days, communications from the field are very good, like I told you…when we didn’t get good news I was expecting the worst. In some ways I’m relieved that he’s only injured; I thought he might be dead.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“There was no point…if I’d said something and then been wrong, you might have thought of me as alarmist. It would have been unfair to worry everybody unnecessarily, so I kept it to myself.”
“That was brave of you. What do you think will happen now?” She saw his knuckles were white as he tightly gripped his mug of tea. He didn’t like his own question.
“I have little experience, Angus. All I can tell you is what we would do and that is stabilise and evacuate. Those are the rules. The Americans are very good at that sort of thing.”
“I suppose they are. As we said before they’re getting plenty of practice. I suppose that’s the reality, isn’t it? Over there, in the States, thousands of miles away from Iraq and Afghanistan, there are hundreds of people just like us, getting news just like us, some of it immeasurably worse. Losing loved ones in a war, for a cause that they don’t really understand…Full military honours…It must be hard if you are a farmer in the mid-west or a single black mother in Harlem.” He still hadn’t looked at her; he hadn’t taken his eyes off the distant skyline as it was changing from pink to pale blue.
“Do you want more tea, Angus?”
As he held his mug out to her she thought she would see Ewen again in his father’s eyes, but she didn’t. Ewen would have been different if he had been there. He would have given a quick unemotional appraisal of the situation, usually followed by a frank summary and then tell everyone to just get on with whatever it was that had to done. That was his strength and his weakness. He had a steeliness sometimes, a recklessness that could frighten her. Was that what she’d fallen in love with, Ewen the warrior?
In Angus’ eyes she’d seen none of that. What she had seen was a softness and mounting confusion. A father being brutally confronted by a reality that was hurting him and he knew he was helpless; there was nothing he could do. She smiled at him with as much confidence as she could muster in spite of the mounting lump in her throat. He tried to return her smile and couldn’t. Fighting for control, he pursed his lips, shrugged with almost resignation and looked away.
In the kitchen she found Rachael making another pot of tea. “Is Dad with you?”
“Yes, he’s out on the veranda.”
“How is he?”
“He’s… He looks like he’s hanging on, I think, Rachael. He’s shocked. He looks…confused.”
“Poor darling. Dad’s not good at this sort of thing. He can cope with anything on Bangalore better than anybody – cyclones, flood and tempest, drought, Dad has the strength, but coping with this sort of thing gets easier with practice, I’ve found, and that’s something he’s never had living out here.”
Now Pat could see Ewen, not in his father but in his sister. Straight, matter-of-fact, even blunt. Rachael the doctor. The doctor who lives every day, with the joy and the tragedy of life. Pat stood looking at her not knowing what to say. Rachael looked up from pouring the water into the pot and saw in Patricia’s eyes what she was thinking. She put the kettle back on the stove, looked down at her feet and sighed, looked up and walked over and put her arms around her. “I’m sorry, Pat. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. Alice is crying and praying. Ali has gone quiet and gone to feed his horses. He’s very upset. Mum has gone to get showered and when she comes out she’ll…well she’ll be Mum. We’re not used to this sort of thing, you know, this family of mine. We can fight over nothing…fight with great strength. Now we have to come together and forget all that.”
“I’ll take Angus another cup of tea.”
Pat gave Angus his mug of tea and again sat down on the sofa next to him. Even though it was still early in the morning the heat was building; it was going to be a hot day. The rain from the day before had changed the smell of the garden. There was little breeze so the humidity was high, the scent of the Frangipani hung in the air and combined with wet leaves and bark lying and now drying under the eucalypts there was cleanness in the air. Pat put her arm through Angus’ and gently squeezed his forearm and left her hand there. His arm was cool. She looked at her slim fingers, pale in comparison to his dark tan. Her well-manicured fingers contrasted with his scarred and sinewy forearm. His hands were big and calloused, the hands of a workingman. Not like Ewen’s, slim like a pianist’s.
The sprinklers popped up on the far side of the lawn creating little rainbows in the morning sun. In spite of the drama and the intense emotion of the last twenty-four hours there was a peace and quiet about the place. She was glad that she was there, not just because she was with Ewen’s family, but also because she was away from the noise, bustle, rumour and gossip of the base, away from the city traffic, away from the flat that she
