Blue Smoke (8 page)

Tamar looked at Keely thoughtfully. ‘Is anything else amiss?’

Keely spied a late bearded iris and deftly clipped its slim, green stem. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, is there anything happening that shouldn’t be? Or, should I say, anything not happening that should be?’

‘Such as?’

‘Such as your monthlies.’

‘Oh, Mam, don’t be …’

Keely froze. Tamar waited, watching as her daughter’s face went from its customary fairness to a deep flush, then to a shade that could only be described as bloodless.

‘Oh my God! Surely not!’ Keely whispered in horror. ‘But I’m forty-three years old!’

‘When was your last period?’ Tamar’s tone was gentle, and ever so slightly amused.

‘Oh, about three months ago, I suppose. I haven’t been taking much notice lately. I thought it was the beginning of the change.’

‘Well, you know, dear, change of life babies aren’t unheard of.’

‘But surely, in all the years we’ve been married …’ Keely faltered, then looked at Tamar beseechingly. ‘God, Mam, do you really think so?

Tamar shrugged. ‘I really don’t know, darling, but I think you’d better get Doctor Fleming to call, don’t you? Just in case.’

At her somewhat reluctant request, the doctor came the following day. In the bedroom she and Owen shared, and with Tamar in attendance, he asked her some pertinent questions, gave her a physical examination, said yes to a cup of tea, then washed his hands in a bowl of warm soapy water.

Towelling them dry, he gazed thoughtfully at Keely, perched nervously on the edge of the bed. She in turn stared back at his round whiskered face, and wondered how on earth he managed to fit his considerable belly behind the steering wheel of his car.

‘And you’re forty-three now?’ he asked.

Keely nodded.

‘Mmm. It certainly isn’t unheard of. Quite common, actually,’ Fleming said cheerfully, unknowingly echoing Tamar’s words of the day before. ‘And you’re fit and healthy. Did you have any problems delivering your twins?’

‘It was hard work and I certainly didn’t enjoy the experience, but no, no real problems, given that there were two of them. Look, Doctor Fleming, am I expecting or not?’

‘Dear me, didn’t I say? I’m so sorry. Yes, Mrs Morgan, you are.’

‘Oh, how lovely,’ Tamar exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight.

‘In six months, according to my calculations, give or take a week,’ Fleming continued. ‘Please accept my warmest congratulations. Although I should point out now that we will need to keep a fairly close eye on your progress, given your advanced years.’ Noting Keely’s scowl, he added quickly, ‘Advanced in terms of child-bearing, I mean.’

‘Owen will be delighted,’ Keely said. ‘He’s always wanted more children.’

‘And you’re not?’ said Fleming, rolling down his white shirt sleeves and looking around for his suit jacket, which Tamar had hung neatly over the back of a chair.

‘Well, it’s not exactly what I was planning for my middle age.’ Keely thought for a moment, then a slow smile began to spread across her face. ‘But on the other hand, and despite the horrendous shock of discovering that I’m in such a condition during my
advanced
years, I think I
am
delighted, actually. My first pregnancy was … well, let’s just say I wasn’t in a position at the time to really appreciate the experience. This time I am.’

Owen, of course, was absolutely thrilled. Having resigned himself several years ago to the likelihood that there would be no more children, he was overjoyed to discover that he was to be a father once again at the age of forty-five. He immediately told Keely to sit down and take things gently, and she immediately told him not to be so silly. But still, she wrote straight away to Bonnie and Leila, now in their last year at Iona, to tell them the good, if thoroughly unexpected, news that they could expect a new brother or sister some time in September.

August, 1936

The anticipation of the forthcoming addition to the Morgan family was eclipsed, at least temporarily, by a telephone call from Thomas in Dunedin early one evening in August.

Keely answered the telephone in the hall, and spent a few moments chatting to her brother about her excellent health, her huge waistline and Owen’s constant requests that she put her feet up. ‘Honestly, Thomas, you’d think I’m made of porcelain. I’ve never felt better. I was like this with the twins, too, I think he’s forgotten that.’

‘Perhaps he’s worried because you’re a bit older this time,’ said Thomas, his voice crackling over the telephone line.

‘Well, I’m fine and I’ve no intention of getting fatter than I
have to through lolling about on the sofa all day doing nothing.’

‘No, but perhaps you could humour him and rest up occasionally.’

‘I suppose,’ Keely replied grumpily. ‘Did you want to talk to Mam?’

‘Yes, I did, thanks. About Duncan. Is she handy?’

When Tamar came to the telephone, Thomas said without preliminary, ‘Mam? I’ve just telephoned James and Lucy …’

‘Yes, we heard James’s ring,’ Tamar interrupted, referring to the system the family had adopted to accommodate the party line catering for all three households on Kenmore Station.

‘… but I think you should know as well.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Tamar felt a small spider of anxiety beginning to inch its way down her spine.

‘Sort of. I went around to Duncan’s earlier this evening to see if he wanted to come out for a meal, and he wasn’t there. In fact, no one was. So I went to the pub he favours, and one of his classmates said the last he’d heard he was off somewhere with a group of his cronies planning an expedition to Spain to fight in the Civil War. On the side of the Loyalists.’

‘What?’ Tamar was astounded.

‘Exactly. I laughed at first, but the boy insisted it was true. Or so he’d heard, any way. He gave me an address in Stuart Street so I shot around and banged on the door and barged my way in and there they were, this group of university students hunched over a kitchen table, poring over maps and lists and what have you. They got a hell of a fright when I barrelled in.’

‘What were they doing? Was Duncan there?’

‘No, he wasn’t, but I got it out of them. They were in the middle of getting ready to go to Spain to join one of the International Brigades. Some of their “comrades” have apparently already left. I’m sorry, Mam, but it seems that Duncan was one of them.’

‘He’s left? For
Spain
?’

‘Almost. The ship leaves from Wellington tomorrow afternoon. He’s on his way there now.’

‘But what’s the war in Spain got to do with Duncan?’

‘I don’t know, but they were all extremely passionate about it, going on about hating the idea of the Spanish being forced by the Fascists and the Nazis to live under a totalitarian regime, and not being able to stand by and watch it happen. I can’t say I disagree, either.’

‘But why would he want to fight another country’s war, Thomas?

Why
?’

Thomas heard the note of despair in his mother’s voice, but elected not to respond to her question. Why? Quite possibly because Duncan’s father and all his uncles had done it, that’s why.

Instead he said, ‘If I leave now, I might be able to catch up with him before he gets to Wellington. He’ll have to wait for the ferry across Cook Strait. I could catch him there.’

Tamar thought quickly. ‘When did he leave Dunedin?’

‘This morning, according to his mates.’

‘Then you’ll be too late. No, we’ll stop him from this end.’

‘But can you?’ Thomas was doubtful. ‘God knows I hate the very idea of any of my nieces and nephews going off to war, Mam, you know that, but he’s twenty-one and can do what he likes now. I’m not sure you can stop him. I’m not sure I could, either, much as I’d like to.’

‘I can and I will,’ Tamar shot back.

At that moment the front door banged open and Tamar whirled as James crashed into the hall, his face thunderous. Tamar said into the telephone, ‘Thomas? James is here. I’ll phone you back later, all right?’

She replaced the black mouthpiece of the telephone in its cradle, and turned to her son.

‘Was that Thomas?’ James demanded before Tamar could get
a word in. ‘Did he tell you what that fool boy has done? Only gone and volunteered to fight in the bloody Spanish Civil War! I have to stop him, Mam, the stupid bloody little bugger! He could be
killed
!’

Tamar knew that Duncan was neither stupid nor little, but she thoroughly agreed with James that he had to be stopped. By now Keely and Owen had come into the hall and were staring in consternation.

‘We’ll leave immediately,’ Tamar snapped. ‘Bring the car around, Owen. Keely, will you help me pack a bag, please? We’ve no time to lose.’

Keely demanded, ‘What are you talking about, Mam? What’s happened?’

‘Duncan’s decided to run off and be a freedom fighter in Spain. He’s leaving tomorrow afternoon.’ James grimaced in frustration and rubbed his eyebrows wearily, fear and worry quickly overcoming his initial anger. ‘We have to stop him.’

‘But
you
can’t go, Mam,’ Keely protested. ‘What about your heart?’

‘Never mind my heart! My health won’t be worth anything if I lose my eldest grand child. Please, run upstairs and start on my bag, there’s a good girl.’

Keely noted the fierce determination in her mother’s eyes — a clear indication that she was in no mood to be argued with — and without another word hurried off.

Tamar suddenly reached out and touched Owen’s hand. ‘Will you come with us? Duncan respects you a great deal so he might listen to you.’

The unspoken implication in her words was that Duncan did not respect his father, and the look of resignation on James’s face demonstrated that he knew it only too well.

Tamar said, ‘Is that all right with you, James, if Owen comes?’

James nodded. ‘I don’t care who comes, as long as we keep him off that ship. I’d appreciate it, Owen, if you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all. Joseph can hold the fort for a couple of days.’

So within half an hour, the car had been packed and Tamar, James and Owen had set off down the long tree-lined driveway out to the road that would take them in towards Napier then on to the main road to Wellington.

They drove throughout the night, stopping only briefly at Woodville for a toilet break, and whenever the car needed refuelling from the petrol tins stowed in the trunk, and once to change a tyre. Tamar slept for much of the trip, slouched uncomfortably in the passenger seat with a heavy woollen rug tucked over her for warmth, while James and Owen took turns driving. They said little, both staring out into the darkness and trying not to think about what might befall Duncan if they did not reach Wellington in time to stop him.

Tamar woke to a barely rising sun as they went through Masterton, but nodded off again almost immediately. Then, some hours later as James drove along the Wellington streets towards the docks, the car bumping heavily over tram lines, she woke again. She was stiff and sore, her leg ached abominably and she was desperate for a cup of tea.

‘What time is it?’ she asked, pushing herself upright and untangling the rug from her feet.

‘Just after one o’clock,’ James replied from the back seat. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and his chin and cheeks frosted with stubble. ‘We’re going straight to the docks to find out what time the ship leaves.’

‘What’s the name of it?’

‘The ship? I don’t know, but there can’t be too many ships
heading for Spain, surely, although he’d probably go to England first.’

After a frustrating amount of time mucking about locating an office with a person in it who could tell them which ships were leaving that day and whose names appeared on the manifests, they were finally informed that only one was bound for the UK — the
Northern Sun
, departing for Southampton at five o’clock that afternoon. And yes, Mr Duncan Murdoch was listed as a passenger.

James breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Well, at least we know what time he’s expected at the dock. That gives us an hour or so to freshen up.’

‘And then what?’ Owen asked.

‘Then we come back here and wait for him to board. We can at least talk to him about whatever the hell it is he thinks he’s doing. And if the worst comes to the worst, I’ll …’ He faltered, not sure at all of what he might do.

Owen thought for a moment. ‘James, I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but is that the right attitude to take with him, do you think? Throwing your weight around?’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Tamar said. ‘James, I know you’re worried sick, but bullying the boy isn’t going to get you anywhere, is it? It never has in the past. Just talk to him, don’t argue. Tell him how worried you are. Tell him you don’t want him to go.’

James rolled his eyes. ‘That’s not going to make any difference, is it? He’s never listened to me before.’

‘But things have changed.
You’ve
changed.’

‘Yes, but he doesn’t know that, does he? Or if he does he won’t acknowledge it. I’ve barely seen him since we moved back out to Kenmore. He’s made damned sure I haven’t, by hardly ever coming home.’

Owen sighed. ‘Look, there’s no point in going on about what’s past. I don’t know about you two but I could do with a decent bath. Why don’t we find somewhere to tidy ourselves up?’

They booked rooms at a hotel in nearby Willis Street, and Tamar went straight to her room, ignoring the uniformed bellboy’s inquisitive glances at her dishevelled appearance as he carried her bag up the stairs.

She ordered a pot of tea, then ran the bath and gingerly eased herself into it, taking care not to put too much weight on her bad leg, luxuriating in the swirl of hot, scented water around her aching limbs. What would Kepa say if he knew she had gone racing off to Wellington on an errand of mercy without a moment’s notice? He knew she could look after herself, and she had James and Owen with her after all, but still, he would not be pleased. He had fussed over her incessantly ever since her heart attack five years ago, but knew her well enough to retreat whenever he sensed she was about to lose her temper. No doubt he would, however, have something to say when she got back to Kenmore.