Diamonds in the Dust Read Free Page B

Hatti, we must drink tea. I tell you
mem
good.”
    Hatti inspected Connie Hadley’s face with a sharp, assessing gaze. “She’s very very good.”
    * * *
    They drove in a ramshackle old Ford to Connie Hadley’s house on the edge of town. Hatti had expected something impressive, at the very least something smart, but that wasn’t what she got. The sky was almost dark by the time they arrived, but there was just enough light to make out an old single-story house of slatted wood set in the shade of a thicket of scrub pines. It had seen better days. Its yard was enclosed by an unpainted fence, the brick front path was cracked, and there were holes in the wire screens. But as soon as Hatti stepped inside, she felt her spirits lift. Oh, it was still plain and basic, but like its owner it buzzed with life and energy.
    A gramophone record was playing a Glenn Miller tune and four large, boisterous white men filled the living room with their laughter and chatter. Hatti was introduced first to Maya’s twin brother, a handsome polite Malayan with serious eyes, and then to each of the men in turn. They were all young and muscular, smoking cigarettes and drinking beers, and with shoulders that belonged on a bullock. Each one was in army uniform.
    “G’day, Hatti,” one said immediately, and pushed a beer into her hand. He had bright marsupial eyes and a ready smile. “You had a beaut of a day, I hear.”
    “Thanks,” she said for the beer and shrugged. “It was different.”
    “I bet.”
    “It was a good thing for Maya and me that Mrs. Hadley found the witness.”
    He chuckled. “Sure was.”
    Another soldier came over and slapped him on the back. “Keep your mouth shut, Alfie.”
    “What do you mean?” Hatti asked.
    “Nothing. Where are you from?”
    “Brisbane.”
    “Come and speak to Doug. He’s from Brizzie too.”
    The soldier called Doug was tall and softly spoken. The sight of his cropped red hair and his hopeful, earnest eyes did something real bad to her innards, but she knocked back her beer and talked with him about hunting possum. It was during this conversation that Maya announced loudly to the room in general, “Hatti has son in army too.” They all regarded the newcomer with interest, and that was when she decided it was time to go home, but Connie Hadley materialized at her side and touched her arm, anchoring her.
    “Where is he?” she asked.
    “Malaya.”
    “Oh, Christ!” someone groaned.
    “No,” Connie said quickly, “he’ll be safe in a Japanese prison camp by now. He will survive, don’t worry.”
    “It’s his birthday tomorrow,” Hatti blurted out, because what the hell else could she say?
    They all sang “Happy Birthday” to Tom, and Hatti refused to let herself cry so she downed another cold beer instead.
    “You ought to come on down to the forces’ canteen one day,” Connie suggested suddenly. “I mean it. We’re always looking for volunteers, and you never know, you might come across someone from the same division as your son who knows him and who—”
    “Yes.”
    “You’ll come?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good.” Connie fixed her eyes on Hatti’s, gave her a gentle smile and said again, “Good.”
    That was all. After that, she left. She thanked Connie once more for rescuing her from the police station and refused her offer of a lift home, but Alfie and Maya insisted on walking her home through the dark streets. The night sky was littered with pinpricks of starlight, and as she walked, she thought of the same stars shining down on Malaya. A breeze rippled up from the sea and cooled her hot cheeks, giving her time to get her thoughts straight. Damn fool. Too many beers. But it had been beers or tears, one or the other.
    As they approached her house—a corrugated iron shack with an outside dunny out back—the only sound was the pattering of Maya’s feet as she hurried to keep up with Hatti’s and Alfie’s long strides. Hatti made her decision.
    “Alfie, why did Brian