Parallel Lives Read online

  Peter attended closely to her needs, supplying her with drinks and nibblies. In fact, despite knowing everyone there, he gave her most of his attention. Conversation flowed more easily now. He started to open up about his life. “I was the youngest of five children. Mum was over forty when I was born and my two brothers and two sisters were already at school. They thought it was great to have a little servant to run around after them. I was always pretty easy going and went along with it, but in some ways, it was a lonely existence.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. You don’t deserve to have been treated like that.”

  “My biggest problem now is I’ve been called up for national service. It’s been deferred because of my studies, but having already failed one year, I can’t afford to fail another one or I’ll end up in Vietnam.”

  Natalie gasped. Suddenly the war seemed real. The thought of losing her new friend lay heavily upon her. I’m at a party. I’ve got to put these thoughts aside and focus on the evening. She found herself sharing her dream with Peter. “I’d like to works overseas. I know some people in poor countries live in desperate circumstances. They struggle to get by day-to-day with no hope for the future. I’d like to live with them in their communities, to understand the way they live and think. I’m hoping my social work course will teach me what I need to know to be able to help them have a better future. I want my life to mean something.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful ideal.”

  *

  He’d never been much of a dancer but with Natalie discoing beside him, it seemed easy. Then as the music slowed down, she came closer and put her arms around his neck, nestling into him as they moved in rhythm with the music. She’s really something – a tiny ball of energy with a huge heart. She’s really thought about life too and determined to make a difference. I’ve never met anyone like her. I don’t know what she sees in me. He was just one of the boys. It was great to be back with friends but he couldn’t drag himself away from her. The way she danced made him feel alive.

  They continued to talk, even when they were dancing. There seemed to be so much to learn about each other. Here was someone he could share with at a deeper level. It made him think about life and what lay ahead.

  The trip back in the car was far more relaxed than on the way there. He played a favourite cassette with sweet, romantic music that he wouldn’t have dared to play earlier. By the time they reached college, it was extremely late and all was quiet. He whispered goodnight to her at the entrance to their block and watched her walk up the stairs.

  Chapter 7

  Natalie, her mind energized by both the coursework and the radical lifestyle to which she was becoming accustomed, contemplated the meaning of it all. Peter was always interested in hearing her views, though annoyingly, he rarely had much to contribute. Still, with him beside her, life was easier. She could ignore all the carry-on in the college and live life her own way. Peter made her feel safe with his sweet, gentle ways. He willingly accommodated to her wishes, growing a beard and letting his hair grow long to please her. His beard was patchy and scruffy, somehow working itself around the red splotches of acne. His hair, already straggly, began to kick up over his shoulders. He might not be handsome but his new look expressed her rebellion against mundane life. The two of them, walking hand-in-hand about the university, became a familiar sight.

  *

  For Peter, Natalie’s zest for life and exuberance for exploring new places opened up dimensions of life he’d never envisaged. The old Fairlane breathed new life as they ventured around Sydney’s parks and beaches in search of fresh destinations.

  La Perouse was a favourite of Natalie’s. They’d scoot along the beach, past its scattering of sunbathers and swimmers, to the rocks at the other end. Once they’d clambered over them, they slogged their way up the sand dunes. At the top, they’d peer out across the ocean, before slithering their way down the other side to the sheltered little beach. There were always naked men sun-bathing there and occasionally a woman or two. She was safe with him though. It made her cheeky, looking at that marvellous display of male anatomy. “Look at the size of that one,” she’d whisper with a giggle. Natalie would strip off without hesitation and he’d soon follow. Hot after their walk, they’d be ready for a swim. Natalie would step gingerly through the water, jumping over the waves to avoid the cold. It was a pleasure to watch her body leaping around. Once she was wet she’d call him and he’d soon be there beside her. The water was glorious. They’d float there together, the waves gently rocking them, as they looked up at the puffy, white clouds passing overhead. Just the sounds of screeching gulls and waves lapping onto the clean, yellow sand. It was a paradise where all life’s troubles disappeared. They’d come out of the water, their skin sticky with salt, and lie naked on the beach, letting the sun warm them. When Natalie closed her eyes he was free to admire her beautiful curves and smooth skin, gently tanning to a healthy bronze colour. He could lie there all day just soaking it up but before long she’d decide it was time to return. “Back to the books.” Unlike him, her assignments were always done ahead of time.

  On other occasions, when she wanted a break from study, they’d drive to Centennial Park. She loved watching the horses go around the track but, before long, she’d amble toward a tree copse, searching for a quiet spot where they could be alone. They’d sit in a secluded place, absorbing the beauty of nature and finding peace in their solitude. As the weather grew cooler, they went further afield, exploring numerous tracks that meandered through national parks. Lane Cove National Park had some picturesque walks once you escaped the throngs. He recalled the day they hired a canoe. She lay back like lady muck, watching him paddle. He knew she was imagining he was a gondolier in Venice but was pleased to go along with her fantasy. The enchantment of her love, not only for him but for life itself, wove a spell around him.

  Late one evening, they were sitting together on Natalie’s bed when she glanced at the clock on her desk. “I feel so boxed in living on campus with all the rules and regulations. What gives them the right to say what time you leave my room?”

  “We never take any notice, so what’s the difference?”

  “That’s not the point. I thought at university I’d be connecting with intelligent minds, discussing the purpose of life. All you find here are the same dumb people as at home. All the men want to do is get drunk and screw around. Now with feminism, the women are no different. They’re all as ignorant as one another. Why do they even bother coming to uni?”

  “I guess, the world over, the masses don’t do much of the kind of thinking you’re talking about. They’re immersed in their daily routines, doing what’s expected of them. That way it’s easier to get on with those around them. Most people study at university to improve their career prospects and the quality of their future lives.”

  “That’s so dreary. There has to be something more. We all have our own little flames inside us, our own life force, giving us meaning in life. If we don’t feed the flame, the passion within, then it goes out and life becomes pointless.”

  “It takes courage to pursue your own direction, instead of following the mob. You’ll come into conflict with others. You could become isolated, separated from your own society.”

  “I thought this was a time of change, of revolution.”

  “Perhaps it is, but even in a revolution, the majority are followers. Then, when the new leaders become established, the rules become entrenched again and things swing back close to the old norm. Otherwise, if everyone did whatever they felt like, there’d be chaos. There have to be rules to create order.”

  “Everyone would love each other.”

  “That’s assuming the inner flame is love. Is the essence of man-kind really love?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “I’m not so sure. I think many are driven by a warrior instinct, determined to provide for themselves, even if it means overriding others. The urge to compete could be stronger than the one to co-oper
ate.”

  “If we all lived a spiritual existence, there would be complete peace and harmony. What about you, Peter, what does your inner flame say?”

  “You’re my flame, Natalie. Loving you and your passion for life is enough for me.”

  “That’s a cop-out.”

  “Perhaps it is, but I’m satisfied with a quiet life. I’d rather go along with you than argue all the time. Life’s like a triangle with the masses at the base. The more intelligent rise to the top. The higher they get, the less company they have.”

  “I’d rather be totally alone than living by the dictates of someone else.”

  “I wish you luck. It sounds like you’ve chosen a challenging path.”

  Natalie grasped Peter’s hand and looked up into his eyes. “You’ll always be with me though won’t you?”

  He pulled her to him. “As long as I can and as long as you’ll have me.”

  *

  One evening, Peter told Natalie his parents were returning from their overseas trip. “I’m going to meet them at the dock. Would you like to come?”

  What’s this going to mean to our relationship? What if they don’t like me and try to take Peter away from me? He’s mine now and I’m going to make that clear. “Sure, let’s go shopping and buy you some modern clothes to go with your new hair-style.” She had fun. Peter, with his long, skinny body made a good model as he tried on all sorts of brightly coloured outfits. Finally, she was satisfied. He left the store wearing a black shirt with green, paisley bell-bottomed trousers.

  They drove to the dock and waited for the passengers to disembark. An old, bald-headed man and a conservatively dressed lady with permed hair approached them. Peter did the introductions. She saw a fleeting look of shock on their faces but they quickly overcame their surprise and made polite conversation.

  No reaction! That’s a bit boring.

  May 7th was drawing closer. Preparation for the Vietnam moratorium march was revving up. Posters were plastered all over the campus and speakers were exhorting students to attend. Peter and Natalie took time out to listen. The speaker pointed to a map of South-East Asia with bright, yellow arrows going down from Vietnam, through various other countries, to Australia. “The notion of the yellow peril is ridiculous. China has no intention of invading countries to her south to create a pathway to Australia. The idea of a domino effect with one country after another falling to communism is nothing more than government fabrication. Our young men are being forced over there to kill for no good reason. We have to stop it, now.”

  Natalie was left wondering. Who’s right, him or the government? All she knew was that spreading love throughout the world was her life purpose. Logically, that made killing people wrong.

  Natalie and Peter walked out of the room into the warm sunshine. She turned to him. “What do you think?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “One thing I do know is I don’t want them sending you over there. Lectures are cancelled for the day. Let’s go along and see what it’s all about.”

  They made their way toward the city in the old Fairlane. On hearing the hum of voices, Peter parked the vehicle. They walked toward the sound of chanting, ‘bring home our boys’, expecting to run into familiar faces, but recognised nobody. Hundreds of people packed the street ahead of them, not just university students, but people from all walks of life. They joined the crowd, watching it swell as they were pushed along. Natalie could see nothing but the crush of humanity all around her and clung to Peter’s hand. Their slow progress came to a halt, leaving them sardined within the mass, unable to move in any direction or hear what was going on. Finally, the mob dispersed and they made their way back to the car, relieved to be able to avoid competition for public transport.

  Natalie looked up at Peter. “I wonder if all these people are committed to the cause or have come along out of curiosity like us.”

  Peter shrugged. “It’s been interesting to be part of it anyway.”

  Chapter 8

  1945

  Delyth entered the parlour one evening to find Gwyn, sitting in his usual chair beside the fire, staring into space. As she approached him, she noticed his hands were shaking. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  She put her arms around him but he pulled away.

  Delyth returned to the kitchen. What have I done to upset him? Nothing came to mind. She made a pot of tea and put a cup beside him with a couple of biscuits. He said nothing so she returned to the kitchen to drink hers on her own.

  *

  Gwyn continued to sit there. Why must she fuss over me? Can’t a man have a bit of time to himself? He sank back in his chair, sliding deeper into a void, where he looked out at the world from another place. I don’t belong to Delyth’s frothy, superficial world. He’d seen too much, shared too much pain. Instead of time healing as he’d hoped, he was increasingly tormented by memories from the past. He found himself back there with his mates. It was getting harder and harder to return to normal life. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

  *

  Next morning it was as if nothing had happened and they went about their business as usual, except for a slight feeling of estrangement.

  Episodes like this continued to happen, some worse than others. At times he would go a day or two without speaking to her or wander off for hours, not letting her know where he was. No matter how hard she tried, Gwyn would not let her in. It was, however, the thought of snuggling up with him in bed at the end of the day and feeling his love for her that sustained her through all his remoteness and preoccupation with things unknown.

  With chapel arranging an excursion to the beach at Mumbles, Delyth got busy preparing food. She made a huge batch of Welsh cakes and joined other women in making sandwiches. They’d had to pool their coupons for the bread, which had just started to be rationed, despite never been during the war years.

  “Will you join us, Gwyn?”

  “Course I will bach. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

  The children were full of excitement, with their buckets and spades, as everyone climbed aboard the bus. Delyth glanced across at Gwyn as he sat down beside her. He looked very spruce with his hair slicked down to keep it tidy in the wind. The bus set them down at Swansea depot and the group headed off to the slip by the Big Bridge to wait for the Mumbles train. The children started cheering when they heard clattering along the line. The big, red train came into sight. With no wheels visible from the front, it seemed to slide along the track.

  Everyone clambered aboard, taking the twisting staircase upstairs, where they would get the best views along the way. Once they were seated, they waved down at the people below. Pedestrians and cyclists waved back. They were on their way, with a good view of the long stretch of sand along the beach with its fresh salty smell. A few boats bobbed about in the bay. Before long the conductor arrived to take their fares. He was smartly dressed in his uniform, with his leather satchel and silver machine with a wheel on top that produced the tickets. Once everyone had paid he returned downstairs to catch up with other passengers who boarded along the way. It was wonderful to feel the breeze in their faces as they headed toward the Mumbles peninsular with all its novelty shops. When the trained stopped near the pier, the group alighted. Children rushed down to the beach, where they started making sand castles for the competition.

  Gwyn looked across at his wife. “Would you care for a stroll along the pier?”

  They soon came to the slot machines. Delyth watched as Gwyn flicked the levers to get the little, silver balls racing about, getting ever higher scores. He was always such a dab hand with anything like this. She smiled at his enthusiasm. After continuing their walk along the pier, where they chatted with a few fishermen dangling their lines, they joined the others on the beach for a picnic lunch.

  With the weather warm and sunny, some of the children even ventured into the sea. After the sand castle judging, there were races along the beach for various age groups
– running, orange races, egg and spoon and three-legged races. The children were exhausted when the time came to return home, with most of them falling asleep on the way back.

  *

  Despite his effort to settle back into life in Trebanos, Gwyn remained dissatisfied, frustrated by the shortages and rationing. Why did I endure all those years of fighting? Then, at least, I’d had a purpose. Now life seemed ordinary and mundane.

  He worked hard, taking all the overtime he could get, not only to save money but to keep his mind occupied, away from those dreadful war memories that flashed into his head uninvited more and more often. He worked until he was ready to drop with exhaustion. The return of the Rugby season in September brought some respite from the boredom, but then he had to contend with Delyth constantly complaining about having to go to the films on her own. His involvement in choir practice dropped off as well.

  He started to stay up late at night, avoiding going to bed. The moment he closed his eyes a kaleidoscope of memories flashed before him. War experiences replayed themselves like a broken record. Try as he might, he could make no sense of the harrowing life he’d been part of. He remembered shooting people. How many did I kill? I’m a Christian. How could I have done that? More memories came – the filth, the hunger, the repetition of it all. Worst of all were the cries of pain from both sides. It was all so real, so big and bright. He felt it all as if he were still there. He’d seen good pals with excruciating injuries. If only those memories would go away. Yet, they continued to dominate his life. He could feel the torment of it, as if it were happening all over again. He was so restless in bed despite trying hard not to disturb his dear little Delyth. He loved her so much and was determined not to taint her with all the ugliness he’d experienced. He knew she missed the cuddles with his waiting for her to be asleep before he went to bed but he couldn’t cope any more with the intimacy of married life.