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There were eight seats in her compartment and only four others were filled, leaving the seats directly opposite and next to her empty. She wished they would remain vacant but finally a young man in uniform stepped on, looked at his ticket and smiled at her.
‘May I?’ he asked politely.
‘Of course,’ she replied, crossing her legs at the ankles and tucking them neatly beneath the seat.
He appeared younger than her, going by his soft, clean-shaven skin. She watched him put his kit bag overhead before settling opposite her. There were two other couples within the compartment, older than both of them and each reading either a book or newspaper.
Once seated the young man gave her a grin. ‘How far are you going?’
‘All the way to Farina,’ she replied.
‘Good grief, so am I,’ he said, then frowned. ‘I thought I knew most people from Farina. You aren’t familiar.’
‘Did you grow up there?’
He nodded. ‘Born in Adelaide, but my father and uncle took over the general store at Farina when I was only a few years old. Our family moved there and I left not so long ago to join the RAAF.’
‘Congratulations. Your family must be proud.’
He shrugged. ‘I used to watch the odd aeroplane landing in the desert nearby – often crash landing,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘And I’d dream of what it must be like to fly in those huge skies over the Flinders Ranges.’
Fleur smiled. ‘I know someone like you from Farina who used to daydream about what lay beyond the ranges.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Er, Tom Catchlove.’ It felt nice to say his name, but it also frightened her to speak it, as though she were casting a spell over a happy outcome for her journey. She’d told no one where she was going or why. Appleby’s, now hers with no protest from Irma, would be closed for at least a week . . . perhaps longer. It felt thrilling but at the same time reckless, and she knew she risked desperate disappointment at the end. But Tom was worth it.
Her companion’s big smile warmed her thoughts and banished her fears momentarily.
‘Tom? I know Tom. He was always nice to me. Used to encourage me in my dream to join the RAAF.’
She nodded, feeling her throat clog with emotion. ‘That sounds like him,’ she said.
He sat forward and reached out a hand. ‘I’m John Napier Bell.’
Fleur shook it. ‘Fleur Appleby. So you’re going home,’ she said, sounding pleased for him.
‘Yes, but only briefly. I’ve recently finished training in Victoria and so we’ve all been given some time to visit our families.’
‘And then you return to your base?’
‘Yes. Although there’s talk that some of us may go to England.’
She frowned. ‘Why’s that?’
He gave a light shrug, dashing in his uniform whose buttons he had loosened for sitting. ‘There’s talk of war with Germany.’
One of the other men looked up and Fleur thought he was giving them a sour look for talking.
‘Oh, surely not,’ she said, sounding incredulous. ‘We’re all only just getting back to normal after the last war.’ But even as she said it, she recalled how her father would shake his head at the breakfast table, reading his paper, and remark that a new chancellor in Germany had big plans.
Bell nodded. He didn’t look at all bothered at the notion of war, with all the youthful energy that his age had in vast reserve. ‘Seems unthinkable, I agree. But this Hitler bloke, who is on the rise in Germany, shows a lot of hostility in his nature. He fought in the Great War and feels the soldiers were betrayed.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to think about this,’ she said, feeling her belly clench.
‘Sorry.’ He grinned. ‘But, if it comes to it, I want to be in the skies over Europe with whichever squadron I belong to.’
‘Gosh, so brave,’ she said with an uneasy but affectionate smile.
