Before the Storm (19 page)

‘No!'

‘Yes! Daniel, I move in artistic circles a lot more than you. Call in at Mother's shop every day, after school, and I shall tell you what I learn.'

‘Muriel, look, I'm helping people who are … who are not covered by laws that apply to us. It's complicated. Messy.'

‘Who are they, Daniel?'

‘Don't ask. Just … just forget this evening.'

‘No! This is so exciting, I want to help.'

‘You can't.'

‘But I will. You know where to find me.'

The train arrived. Muriel pressed her lips against Daniel's. Daniel's mind declared that being kissed by the beautiful Muriel Baker was far too much to cope with without prior warning, and ceased to function. He had the vague impression of being dragged onto the train by Barry, then waving to Muriel as the train pulled away.

‘Gotta watch them women,' muttered Barry unhappily, one hand on his bag, the other on the station bicycle.

‘I was watching Muriel very carefully,' replied Daniel dreamily.

‘Ya meant to be watchin' the bleedin' Germans!'

‘I was. I learned that they travel in the black coach, remember?'

‘Yeah, well, ya might've learned more if ya weren't kissin' that girl.'

‘Her lips were so soft. Some poet once said his girl's lips were like petals falling off a rose. Muriel's lips were just like that.'

‘Danny Boy! Get a grip! She's a danger.'

‘Because of Muriel, we are going to learn more than ever. She is going to spy for us.'

Barry put his hands to his face, then suddenly remembered that he had let his bag go and snatched for it. The train stopped at Ripponlea, but nobody else got into the carriage.

‘Best not to have nothin' to do with women,' muttered Barry.

‘Barry, I just can't understand you. You have a bag full of things for … for, well, you know, doing scandalous things with girls, and yet you're too scared to even say hullo to a real girl!'

‘I'm not scared!'

‘Yes you are!'

‘She's not one of us!'

‘Is Emmy one of us?'

‘No – Yes! I mean, she's not a real girl. No, no, I mean she don't act like a real girl. Like you'd never think of doin' nothin' with her. I mean of a morally rude nature. That Muriel, though, she's a worry. She'd 'ave ya betrayin' king an' country for a smile, Danny Boy.'

‘Muriel held my hand, she kissed me,' said Daniel, gazing out of the window. ‘I would die for her.'

‘See? See?'

‘But I would not betray the Empire for her.'

‘Yeah? Hah!'

At Gardenvale two women got into the carriage, and the boys fell silent. The next station was North Brighton. Daniel and Barry got out. Barry's father was collecting the tickets, and was clearly not happy about the situation. Barry was slapped across the ear and shouted at, then left in charge of the station while his father went off to the pub. Daniel waited nearby until they were alone again.

‘Look Barry, I think we can manage at Acland Street without you, now that we have Muriel,' began Daniel, who was genuinely worried about getting Barry into trouble.

‘No! No way in the world.'

‘But …'

‘I said no! Danny Boy, if I was frightened of me old man, d'ya think I'd be any good against the Germans?'

‘I saw what happened just now.'

‘Yeah, well, sometimes ya just gotta take it quietly. We're just boys. Danny Boy gets caned, Barry the Bag gets a thick ear. People thinks we're in our place and learned our lesson. They leave us alone, and it's then we're free. A beatin' buys us freedom, Dan Man.'

‘I suppose you know best.'

‘Oh yeah, Barry's got smarts. Speakin' of smarts, take a bit more advice from the Bag, an' don't tell yer sister about Muriel.'

Daniel had no intention of doing anything of the kind. As he walked home from the station, he realised that Barry had been right in his own curious way. Muriel was nothing like Emily. Muriel was the symbol of all women, normal women, not Emily or his mother. Daniel wanted someone to die for. Muriel was worthy of that. BC would have been worthy of it, except that he was a boy, and now that he had been kissed by Muriel, Daniel would only die for BC if the Empire's fate depended on it. Suddenly Daniel's self-destructive streak asserted itself. BC was the ideal boy, just as Muriel was the ideal girl. One day BC would meet Muriel. Daniel would not have a chance. BC and Muriel were meant for each other. Daniel decided that it was his destiny to bring them together, to sacrifice his happiness for them. It was so tragic that it was wonderful. Muriel had showed Daniel charm, so he would give her BC. Somehow it was a very good exchange, as far as Daniel was concerned.

As the days before the opening of parliament slipped away, Emily became increasingly desperate for BC to get his health back and resume command of the crew. In one sense, her rule was a brilliant success. People followed orders, did things without her parents knowing, collected evidence and made notes. In general, she managed to hold the crew together and make it function efficiently. On the other hand, they learned nothing that might help them to change the future.

Each day BC revived sufficiently to go to the bathroom and eat, then Fox would give him another tablet and he would lapse back into the coma that seemed not far removed from death. It was not until the day before the opening of parliament that Fox ran out of tablets. To Emily's immense relief, BC awakened, collected the nondescript clothes that Fox had bought for him, and went downstairs for a bath.

Locked in her room, Emily contemplated Barry's French postcards. Girls wearing not so much as a scrap of ribbon lay in a variety of poses, all of which suggested vulnerability, along with something else.

This must be what the novelists call allure, thought Emily as she contemplated a girl lying on a bed with her head and arm draped over the edge. Just suppose I get it wrong, what would he think? Suddenly flinging the card down, Emily began to undress. Before long she was draping herself across her bed in a variety of poses suggested by the cards, and feeling very foolish indeed. On the other hand, Emily was nothing if not diligent, and with the aid of the little collection of postcards and a hand mirror, she spent a half-hour battering away at her inhibitions until she could at least lie naked, just as the models had for the photographer. Suddenly a flush of prickly heat burned through her as she made a very important decision.

‘I am going to do it with him!' she whispered aloud.

As she began to dress again, the thought crossed her mind that girls might have to do something other than merely drape themselves decoratively over a bed before the eyes of their sweetheart. ‘The male becomes aroused,' the book had said. Aroused by what? Emily now wondered. Having finished dressing, she realised that certain items of clothing were a little involved to remove. The stairs creaked with the weight of BC as he returned from the bathroom.

What to do? wondered Emily. Well, horrid, immoral girls like Muriel Baker know what to do, but there's nothing that they can do that I can't.

Another five minutes went into discarding her lace-up boots in favour of shoes with buckles, and replacing her blouse with one whose buttons popped open easily. After a last inspection of herself before the dressing table mirror, she opened the door of her bedroom, then immediately pulled it shut again, turned, and tidied all of Barry's French postcards into her underwear drawer. Suddenly realising that sketches of BC and a BC doll were still in full view, Emily bundled the evidence of her affection for the young officer from the future into the drawers of her dressing table. Yet again she looked around the room, then stared at the door.

‘Tomorrow you go into battle, my sweetheart, and you will die,' she told the youth beyond the door. ‘You must,
must
go with this memory of me, and of how much I love you.'

Emily stepped out into the corridor, pulled the door closed behind her, then went down the stairs. The groom was away, driving the carriage for her parents. Martha could be heard splashing in the bathroom and singing music hall songs, and Fox and Daniel were away on missions that she had arranged. There is no possibility of interruption, Emily thought as she climbed the stairs again. She reached the upstairs passage just as BC came down the stairs from the garret.

‘Miss Emily, good evening, I was about to come in search of you,' said BC, spreading his hands to show off his new clothes. ‘What do you think?'

‘I, ah, a little dowdy, but very good,' said Emily, her pulse racing and her body burning with something akin to fever.

‘Dowdy, yes, that is good. I need to blend in with the crowds. I must confess that I was at my most awkward on parade grounds. I felt very conspicuous in dress uniform.'

‘I am sure you would look just stunning in dress uniform,' said Emily truthfully, suddenly aware that the muscles of her left leg were beginning to spasm.

‘Are any of the others home?' BC asked.

‘No, but please, come into my room. I need to tell you about everything that has been happening.'

BC followed Emily into her bedroom, and as she sat on the bed, he went to the stool before her dressing table.

‘No, please, sit here on the bed,' said Emily firmly.

‘But –'

‘It is the manners, manners, yes, it is good manners – that is, bad manners to give a guest a less comfortable seat.'

BC sat on the bed, close enough for Emily to feel the heat from his body. In a way he is touching me already, she thought. This is romantic, this really is so romantic.

‘BC, the crew is in good condition, they are all working well together, and have been spying on the Germans in Acland Street. Fox has been posing as an artist, and he does very beautiful charcoal sketches, you know. Oh, and each night he has been slipping into the Exhibition Buildings and checking the roof.'

‘Are there any explosives hidden there as yet?'

‘No, there are only wires and decorations. The German artists do not do anything suspicious, except act like German artists. It is all a terrible puzzle to me, and I am at my wits' end trying to make plans. I am longing for you to take over again and … oh my goodness, I'm sorry, I forgot to ask how your poor tummy … um, stomach is feeling.'

‘It is much improved. I believe that I could even go to the Exhibition Buildings tomorrow.'

‘Oh wonderful, wonderful!' exclaimed Emily, putting a hand on BC's arm for a moment. ‘I feel so wretched, trying to hold everything together, yet not making any progress.'

‘It seems to me that you have done very well,' said BC sincerely. ‘Where are the others at this moment?'

‘Fox is checking the Exhibition Buildings one last time. Are you sure that the roof was not brought down with cannons hidden in nearby houses?'

‘History is very clear that bombs were used. Please go on.'

‘Daniel and Barry are in St Kilda, watching the Germans while selling rude postcards to people. Daniel sold one to the vicar yesterday afternoon. He said it was so embarrassing when they recognised each other.'

How, oh how, do people first raise the subject of doing it? Emily screamed to herself. I should have left my hand on his arm, or perhaps at least started patting it. Is patting arousing? Stupid book! It left all the important things out.

‘In every battle, there must be casualties,' BC was saying. ‘What else?'

‘I told everyone to have a special scheme in case nothing else worked. Nobody was to tell anyone else what they planned, in case we got captured and tortured for information. If all else fails, I plan to use the, um, plasma rifle to start fires and frighten people, so that everyone runs away before parliament sits. I mean, they might bomb some later attempt to open parliament, but that is the best that I can do.'

‘That is very impressive,' said BC, looking Emily straight in the eyes.

‘Truly?'

‘Yes, although using the plasma weapon would be a little extreme, and probably cause more problems than it solves. Emily, you have done so well that I am genuinely reluctant to take over from you again.'

‘Oh BC, so you
will
take over again!' exclaimed Emily, putting her hands on BC's shoulders. ‘Thank you, thank you so much!'

BC put a clenched fist on his chest in salute. ‘You were a good choice for my DBC, and I sincerely hope that you will stand with the rest of us tomorrow.'

Now or never, thought Emily, who then slid her arms around BC's back and jammed her lips against his. The youth gave a spasm of alarm, but Emily held him all the more tightly. My intentions must definitely be plain by now, she thought. She pulled her head back abruptly.

‘We have two hours before anyone comes home, and Martha always takes ages in the bath!' said Emily urgently, looming over the thoroughly alarmed BC, who was by now on his back on her bed.

‘No, no, this is unseemly,' he insisted. ‘And besides –'

‘Not another word!' said Emily, gathering up her skirts up and exposing her legs to male eyes for the first time in her life as she straddled BC. ‘Tomorrow you go into battle, and I want you to have this from me before you die. This is what happens with girls and heroes. I've read novels about it.'

BC looked for all the world as if he were about to call out for help. Emily decided to take matters into her own hands, seeing that her sweetheart was being too much of a gentleman about taking the initiative. Putting a hand on his stomach to feel where the bandages were, she began to work her way upwards, popping the buttons of his shirt open as she went. Surely this is arousing him, Emily thought with desperation. Her fingers caressed smooth, soft skin that overlaid iron-hard muscles, then …

It seemed like hours had passed, but in fact the interval had only been a dozen or so seconds. Feeling wretched and utterly humiliated, Emily sat cowering in a corner of the bedroom with her hands over her eyes, shutting out the nightmare before her.

‘And besides, I am a girl,' mumbled BC, sounding very apologetic.

Emily gradually spread her fingers and looked up. BC was buttoning up her shirt.

‘I do apologise for the deception, but it is just too hard for a girl to move freely in this time and place, especially in your society.'

‘There are a lot of dangerous thugs about,' responded Emily.

‘I know. I've killed two,' replied BC.

With that BC got up, walked over to Emily, and held out her hand.

‘Come, sit. The bed is more comfortable.'

‘I hope you realise that I was trying to give my maidenhead to you just now,' said Emily in a tight, terse voice as BC led her across the room.

‘I really am flattered, if that is any comfort to you.'

‘It is not, but thank you anyway. I … I cannot believe that a girl could be the commander over so many boys.'

‘A century from now, girls will be free of the restraints that they presently experience.'

‘It sounds like paradise,' said Emily wistfully. ‘I feel so trapped.'

‘Trapped?' laughed BC. ‘All of us are trapped.'

‘Twaddle. You are not trapped, you are gloriously free.'

‘Not so. In the future I was trapped in a mad military empire that would have sent me to my death, with my eight crew, before I turned sixteen. In your time I am trapped in the clothes of a boy, because I would seem like a freak as a girl warrior. Fox is trapped by his conditioning. He plays the stupid soldier even though he is more intelligent than any of us. Barry is trapped within his own mind by poverty and those who despise him, yet he is so astoundingly resourceful that I am not sure how to make use of him.'

‘Barry?' gasped Emily.

‘Yes. Then there is Daniel. Daniel is so trapped by you and your mother that he thinks the only way to win a girl's approval is to die for her.'

‘No!'

‘Yes. It is very unhealthy. Out of all of you, I worry about him the most.'

BC had raised a gaggle of intensely personal issues that Emily usually avoided as carefully as her mother and father avoided the subject of sex. She decided upon a change of subject.

‘Well, Liore, the army of the future must be very good at training people if you and Fox are any guide. You fight so well, even when injured and outnumbered.'

‘It all evolved from rowing crews,' explained BC. ‘Eight cadets would row the shell, the boat, and someone small and light would be the cox and steer. It did not matter if the cox was male or female, as long as they were light, and could command with absolute certainty and inspire total commitment. Rowing develops that sort of absolute team loyalty and coordination between members of a crew. People in the Empire's military academies realised that it was the best way to develop teams of warriors who worked together perfectly. One began by commanding a boat crew, which then became a battle squad.'

‘And if the Battle Commander rebels, the crew always follows?' asked Emily.

‘No other BC has ever rebelled,' replied BC, looking and sounding oddly crushed.

‘Oh.'

‘I led the rebellion, my crew followed. I was so proud of them; it was all that allowed me to bear the disgrace. We had won the antipodean boat race championships, and were hailed by King Charles himself as the fittest, strongest and most disciplined war academy crew in the Australian Commonwealth, and a model for all other cadets to follow. In just ninety seconds all that had changed. We knew the winning crew was to be honoured by being made part of the guard for the Flinders Chronologic Research Station for an afternoon, and we made a desperate plan to get back to this time, before the storm that was the Twentieth Century.'