King Rat

“There’s nowhere open at this time of night.”

“Wrong again.” He jerked a thumb at the back of the car. “Got a lot of canned goods, and a bottle of scotch. You in a cooking mood?”

“Oh yes. We’ll have a cookup. What a wonderful idea!”

Betty liked Mike very much. He was very kind and not on the make. It was nice to flirt just a little with him, for he was safe and happily married. It was good to have a man to talk to now and then. With just Mother and little Jean in the house, well, everyone has to have a little laughter from time to time. Oh how I wish, she said to herself, that Grant was back and this awful war was over and then the three of us—perhaps Mike’s wife Gill would be here then—then the four of us could have picnics and bathing parties and play bridge and live, live, live.

Betty Larkin’s house was on a quiet street. It was a medium-sized house, three bedrooms. Her mother lived with them now that Grant was away. Mother was all right really, and it was good to have someone in the house that you could trust. Someone to look after Jean when Betty took turns at the hospital war work. Five shifts a week, nursing. Days and nights alternate weeks. Then there were the Regimental committees. It was good to have something to do and it took your mind off—well, Grant.

Betty unlocked the door. “Is that you, dear?” she heard her mother call out.

“Yes, Mother. Mike’s with me. Are you in bed?”

“Yes, dear. I’ve just tucked up Jeannie and she’s all right. Don’t forget to lock up.”

“Yes, Mother.” She turned to Mike and said softly, “I wish I had a shilling for every time I’ve been told to lock up!”

She led the way to the kitchen. Mike put down the tins and looked around. This was the first time in the kitchen, the second time in the house, but a quick look around told him where everything was. In no time at all, the tin of ham was open and he was slicing it.

Betty laughed. “I don’t understand how it is you Americans are so well trained.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re all so adept in the kitchen.”

“Nothing to it. Where’s the ice?”

“That’s at least something I’ve got.” She opened the small freezer and emptied the tray. “How would you like the ham? Grilled?”

“Great. How about some hot cakes?”

“What’re they?”

“You got any flour?”

“Oh yes.” She opened a cupboard. He nodded when he saw it was self-rising flour. “How about an egg?” He didn’t want to ask, for eggs were short.

Betty smiled. “Lots. We’ve six beautiful hens in the back of the house.”

“Then you just sit and watch. I’ll have us a meal before you’ve had two scotches.”

Happily Mike turned toward the stove. He mixed the batter deftly, had two pans going, one for the hot cakes and one for the ham. And all the time he kept a running patter of what was new in the States, how he liked Australia, what was new with his kids, three new teeth yet! How Gill wanted to come over and how this stinking war wouldn’t last more than a few weeks. “The Japs have had it,” he said with finality, sliding the cakes and ham onto plates. “Now all we need is a little maple syrup.”

Betty enjoyed the meal and enjoyed his company. He helped her with her chair and gave her the choicest of little pancakes. He got the coffee on the boil and cleared away the plates. “You’re remarkable,” she laughed. “Grant is useless in the kitchen. And you’re almost miraculous.”

“Nothing to it.” He grinned. “Coffee on the terrace?”

It was still hot outside, but it was less hot than inside the house. And the view from the veranda was wonderful.

“Oh how I wish I was up in the Blue Mountains, right now. Have you been there, Mike?”

“No.”

“It’s wonderful. Like the Alps, I suppose, though,” she laughed, “I’ve never seen them. But it’s always cool and the mountains are a sort of hazy blue. We have a little cottage up there, but to save money, I rented it.”

“You go up there summers? I mean in normal times?”

“Yes. Grant built it on his weekends. It has just a wonderful view and there’s a little stream nearby. It’s a paradise. But, you have to be careful. There are a lot of black mambas around!” Her laugh was sweet and gay. “It’s a crazy life we lead down under. When we rent the place we rent Milly along with it. Milly’s our mongoose. That’s certainly the only way to be safe from snakes!”

“I hate snakes.”

“Me too.” She settled back happily in her long chair.

He stretched out his legs and sighed. “Great. Say, thanks, thanks for making me feel at home. I haven’t felt so good for months. Home cooking does it.”

“Just as well you cooked. Perhaps you wouldn’t say the same if I’d done it.”

“It’s got to be better. Got to be.”

They sat in comfort. then he broke the silence. “You’re very pretty, Elizabeth.”

There was a touch in his voice and her genes registered it. But then, there was no harm, surely, in a man paying a little compliment. Or for a girl to accept it. Was there?

“Thanks.” She looked at him and to hide that the touch had registered so hard, she got up. “Can I get you some more coffee?”

“No, no, thanks. Sit down. If I want some, I’ll get it. You take it easy.”