a street in The Rocks. She stopped and pushed him against the tiled wall and kissed him. They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and glimpsed a figure silhouetted against the other opening of the tunnel. James abruptly pushed her away. âNot here, baby,â he murmured. âNot now.â
She was surprised by his sudden change of mood.
âWhereâs the nearest train station?â he asked.
âWhy?â she asked playfully. âYou got a date with another girl?â
He clearly wasnât amused by the joke. âI got to get back to camp.â
They crossed the street and rounded a corner pub.
âHow about you meet me after my gig tomorrow night?â she suggested. He was walking slightly ahead of her and she had to stride to catch up. âI know a café in the Cross that lets black people in. Some of them even play in the band!â
As they passed a row of dirty brick terraces, James replied, âIâll try.â
Pearl felt panicky now, wondering if sheâd ever see him again.
âWell, what about next Sunday?â she persisted. âItâs my birthday. And my brotherâs. Weâre having a Sunday lunch.â
James shoved his hands in his pockets. âWill your parents be there?â
âOf course,â she replied. âAnd my grandmother, too.â
He merely pursed his lips, still not looking at her. âWeâll see,â he said finally. âIâll see if I can get away.â
3
I t was around half past eight by the time she reached her street in Potts Point. Sheâd already led James to Town Hall Station, had handed him a note detailing her address and the time of her birthday lunch and the café where they were to meet the following night. They said goodbye with a handshake and, before he disappeared down the stairs to the platform, a brief wave. She desperately wanted to see him again but was still unsure about how he truly felt about her.
Even though it had begun to rain again, she noticed some of her neighbours were moving furniture out of their flats and houses and loading them onto trucks.
The rain grew heavier. Pearl dashed down the block, suddenly now wanting to be home with her family and in front of the fire.
When she walked through the front gateâher stockings gone, her clothes torn, wet, and sticking to her skinâClara appeared in the open front doorway and cried, âThank God youâre alive!â
She rushed down the path and threw her arms around Pearl, then stepped back and looked with horror at the rip in her dress. âThose mongrel Japs! They did this to you? Iâll kill âem. Iâll kill the bastards!â
âNo, Mum,â said Pearl. âIâm all right. Iâm justââ Clara bundled her up the stairs and onto the veranda. Aub came racing up from the basement and hugged her tightly. Martin followed him onto the veranda, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He, too, was soaking wet and when he walked his damp shoes squelched.
âThis one just got home now, too!â Clara nodded at Martin. âIâve been worried sick.â
Martin glanced at Pearlâs dishevelled state and joked. âBeen out wrestling Japs, Burly?â
âYou donât know the half of it!â She blurted out about her time at Luna Park, the crushing noise of the bombs, the Tumblebug ride sheâd sheltered in all night.
âI thought you two were playing bridge last night,â said Clara sharply. âWith Nora and that Negro bloke.â
Pearl shot Martin a panicked look. Sheâd forgotten about the ruse she and Martin had cooked up.
âWell, we did,â explained Martin. âFor a while.â He held out his cigarette to Aub, who lit it with a match. He took a couple of puffs while everyoneâespecially Pearlâwaited for him to continue. âBut the Negro got bored and wanted to go to the picturesââ He took another
Learning to Kill: Stories