On The Beach

"Your trouble is you won't face up to things," he told her. "All this has happened, and is happening, but you won't accept it. You've got to face the facts of life someday."

"All right," she said angrily, "I’ve got to face them. Next September, if what all you people say is right. That's time enough for me."

"Have it your own way." He glanced at her, grinning. "I wouldn't bank too much upon September," he remarked. "It's September plus or minus about three months. We may be going to cop it in June for all that anybody knows. Or, then again, I might be buying you a Christmas present."

She said furiously, "Don't you know?"

"No, I don't," he replied. "Nothing like this has ever happened in the history of the world before." He paused, and then he added whimsically, "If it had, we wouldn't be here talking about it."

"If you say one word more I'm going to push you over the edge of that deck."

Commander Towers came out of the island and walked across to them, neat in a double-breasted blue suit. "I wondered where you'd got to," he remarked.

The girl said, "Sorry, Dwight. We should have left a message. I wanted some fresh air."

John Osborne said, "You'd better watch out, sir. She's in a pretty bad temper. I'd stand away from her head, if I were you, in case she bites."

"He's been teasing me," she said. "Like Albert and the lion. Let's go, Dwight."

"See you tomorrow, sir," the scientist said. "I'll be staying on board over the week-end."

The captain turned away with the girl, and they went down the stairs within the island. As they passed down the steel corridor towards the gangway he asked her, "What was he teasing you about, honey?"

"Everything," she said vaguely. "Took his stick and poked it in my ear. Let's have a drink before we start looking for a train, Dwight. I'll feel better then."

He took her to the same hotel in the main street. Over the drinks he asked her, "How long have we got, this evening?"

"The last train leaves Flinders Street at eleven-fifteen. I'd better get on that, Dwight. Mummy would never forgive me if I spent the night with you."

"I'll say she wouldn't. What happens when you get to Berwick? Is anybody meeting you?"

She shook her head. "We left a bicycle at the station this morning. If you do the right thing by me I won't be able to ride it, but it's there, anyway." She finished her first double brandy. "Buy me another, Dwight."

"I'll buy you one more," he said. "After that we're getting on the train. You promised me that we'd go dancing."

"So we are," she said. "I booked a table at Mario's. But I shuffle beautifully when I'm tight."

"I don't want to shuffle," he said. "I want to dance."

She took the drink he handed her. "You're very exacting," she said. "Don't go poking any more sticks in my ear-I just can't bear it. Most men don't know how to dance, anyway."

"You'll find me one of them," he said. "We used to dance a lot back in the States. But I've not danced since the war began."

She said, "I think you live a very restricted life."

He managed to detach her from the hotel after her second drink, and they walked to the station in the evening light. They arrived at the city half an hour later, and walked out into the street. "It's a bit early," she said. "Let's walk."

He took her arm to guide her through the Saturday evening crowds. Most of the shops had plenty of good stock still in the windows but few were open. The restaurants and cafes were all full, doing a roaring trade; the bars were shut, but the streets were full of drunks. The general effect was one of boisterous and uninhibited lightheartedness, more in the style of 1890 than of 1963. There was no traffic in the wide streets but for the trams, and people swarmed all over the road. At the corner of Swanston and Collins Streets an Italian was playing a very large and garish accordion, and playing it very well indeed. Around him, people were dancing to it. As they passed the Regal cinema a man, staggering along in front of them, fell down, paused for a moment upon hands and knees, and rolled dead drunk into the gutter. Nobody paid much attention to him. A policeman, strolling down the pavement, turned him over, examined him casually, and strolled on.

"They have quite a time here in the evenings," Dwight remarked.

"It's nothing like so bad as it used to be," the girl replied. "It was much worse than this just after the war."

"I know it. I'd say they're getting tired of it." He paused, and then he said, "Like I did."

She nodded. "This is Saturday, of course. It's very quiet here on an ordinary night. Almost like it was before the war."

They walked on to the restaurant. The proprietor welcomed them because he knew her well; she was in his establishment at least once a week and frequently more often. Dwight Towers had been there half a dozen times, perhaps, preferring his club, but he was known to the headwaiter as the captain of the American submarine. They were well received and given a good table in a corner away from the band; they ordered drinks and dinner.