Battle Cry - Leon Uris [147]
“I thought you got fixed up in Wellington with Speedy and Seabags.”
“Know what happened? I’ll tell you what happened. That Meg liked that Injun so much she wouldn’t look at me. What did I wind up with…an apple eater. Honest to God, she ate apples in bed.”
“So you should be thankful. The other three are in the clap shack at Silverstream Hospital doing G.O. time.”
L.Q. hastily loaded his pack. “Can’t stand this,” he mumbled. “Danny, old buddy buddy, you got to do me a favor. I got a three-pound deposit on this room. I’ll act like I got a case of the bug and maybe Mr. Portly will give me my dough back.”
Marion turned his head and smiled as Danny shrugged and opened the door.
“Wait a minute, Danny. I’ll put some water on my face so it will look like I been sweating.”
Danny took L.Q. by the arm and led him into the lobby where Mr. Portly, semi-reclined in an overstuffed chair, was reading the Free Lance. He glanced up and saw Danny shaking his head sadly.
“What’s up, diggers?” Mr. Portly asked.
“Poor ole L.Q., poor ole L.Q.”
“Eh, what’s the matter with your cobber, Danny?”
“Got the bug, Mr. Portly.”
At those words L.Q. commenced to shake as violently as a man on a D.T. binge faced with a row of full bottles.
“Bug…wot bug?”
“Malaria, Mr. Portly.” L.Q. chattered his teeth together, setting up a racket that Marion could hear all the way back in their room.
“Goodness!” exclaimed Mr. Portly.
“Guadalcanal,” whispered Danny, tenderly patting the pathetic-looking L.Q.
“Poor bloke.”
“He’d better get back to Wellington before…before…”
“Before wot?”
“Before he…” Danny leaned close to Mr. Portly and pointed to his head.
The Hendrickson family laughed heartily when Danny told the story of L.Q.’s fake attack of malaria and his hasty departure from the lodge. After dinner the family and their two guests retired to the living room and soon Marion and Mr. Hendrickson were hotly arguing about James Joyce. Danny sat politely as the discussion became more and more involved. It was a welcome break when Nonie Hendrickson beckoned him to step outside for a breath of air.
She threw a knitted shawl over her shoulders and the two walked through the quiet night along the fence which ran from the house to the barn. “Father doesn’t get a chance to talk about books and music too much. You must forgive him.”
“One of these days I hope to be able to argue with him.”
“Poor L.Q. It’s a pity he had to run off.”
“Maybe if you’d been a little nicer to him he’d have stayed around.”
“He’s not my cup of tea,” Nonie answered.
Danny stopped, put a foot on the split-rail fence, and leaned against it. For many moments he studied the raw, wonderful beauty of the farm in the wilderness.
“It must have been a rough go for you lads on Guadalcanal.”
“No worse than for your fellows in Crete.”
“Did you lose any pals?”
“One real good one.” He lit a cigarette and thought of Ski. “It sure is peaceful around here. I’m glad we found this place.”
Nonie laughed. “So peaceful it sometimes drives you mad.”
He turned and studied the girl, who leaned her back against a post. She was very light and fair and straight as a ramrod. High and full bosomed, even a little hefty. A woman had to be strong for this vigorous life. Her face, her dress, were simple. It wasn’t hard to scratch beneath the sturdy surface and see that she was a bored and lonely girl. Maybe she felt as though she were being robbed. She didn’t know how lucky she was, Danny thought.
Their eyes met.
“Well,” she whispered softly and invitingly.
“I’m married,” Danny said.
“I’m engaged. I’ve been engaged for three years. He’s a prisoner of war.”
He turned away from her.
“I’m not very pretty, am I?” she said.
“You’ll do.”
“But I’m not pretty like American girls. I used to get the magazines all the time before the war. But they have so much….”
“Some people don’t know when they’re well off, Nonie.