A Town like Alice

to walk towards the airline office with his curious, stiff gait. A little shaft of pain struck her; that was Kuantan, and it had left its mark on him. With her intellect she had known that this must be so, but seeing it for the first time was painful, all the same.
    She left the rails, and walked quickly across the tarmac to him, and said, "Joe!" He stopped and stared at her incredulously. He had been looking for a stranger, but it was unbelievable to him that this smart, pretty girl in a light summer frock was the tragic, ragged figure that he had last seen on the road in Malaya, sunburnt, dirty, bullied by the Japanese soldiers, with blood upon her face where they had hit her, with blood upon her feet. Then he saw a characteristic turn of her head and memories came flooding back on him; it was Mrs Boong again, the Mrs Boong he had remembered all those years.
    It was not in him to be able to express what he was feeling. He grinned a little sheepishly, and said, "Hullo, Miss Paget."
    She took his hand impulsively, and said, "Oh, Joe!" He pressed her hand and looked down into her eyes, and then he said, "Where are you staying? How long are you here for?"
    She said, "I'm staying in the Strand Hotel."
    "Why, that's where I'm staying," he said. "I always go there."
    "I know," she said. "Mrs Smythe told me."
    There was much here that he did not understand, but first things came first. "Wait while I get my luggage," he said. "We can drive in together."
    "I've got a taxi waiting," she said. "Don't let's go in the bus."
    In the taxi as they drove into the town she asked him, "How was Mr Strachan, Joe?"
    "He was fine," he said. "I stayed with him quite a long time, in his flat."
    "Did you!" She had not known that part of it because I had not told her; I had told her the bare minimum about him since it was obvious that they were going to meet. "How long were you in England, Joe?"
    "About three weeks."
    She did not ask him why he went because she knew that already, and it was hardly a matter to be entered on behind the taxi driver. He forestalled her, however, by asking, "What have you been doing in Australia, Miss Paget?"
    She temporized. "Didn't you know I was here?"
    He shook his head. "All I knew was what Mr Strachan said, that you were travelling in the East. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I got your letter at Brisbane. Oh my word, you could. Tell me, what are you doing in Cairns?"
    A little smile played around her mouth. "What were you doing in England?" He was silent, not knowing what to say to that. He had no lie ready. They were running through the outskirts of the town, past the churches. "We've got a good bit of explaining to do, Joe," she said. "Let's leave it till you've got your room at the hotel, and then we'll find somewhere to talk."
    They sat in silence till they got to the hotel. Jean had a bedroom opening on to a veranda that looked out over the sea to the wild, jungle-covered hills behind Cape Grafton; they arranged to meet there when he had had a wash. She knew something of Australian habits by that time. "What about a beer or two?" she asked.
    He grinned. "Good-oh."
    She asked Doris the waitress to get four beers, three for Joe and one for her; large quantities of cold liquid were necessary in that torrid place. It was symbolic of Australia, she felt, that they should hold their first sentimental conversation with the assistance of four bottles of beer.
    She dragged two deckchairs into a patch of shade outside her room; the beer and Joe arrived about the same time. When the waitress had gone and they were alone, she said quietly, "Let me have a good look at you, Joe."
    He stood before her, examining her beauty; he had not dreamed when he had met her in Malaya that she was a girl like this. "You've not changed," she said. "Does the back trouble you?"
    "Not much," he said. "It doesn't hinder me riding, thank the Lord, but I can't lift heavy weights. They told me in the hospital I won't ever be able to lift heavy weights again, and I'd better not try."
    She nodded, and took one of his hands in hers. He stood beside her while she turned it over in her own, and looked at the great scars upon the palm and on the back. "What about these, Joe?"
    "They're all right," he said. "I can grip anything-start up a truck, or anything."
    She turned to the table. "Have a beer." She handed him a glass. "You must be thirsty. Three of these are for you."
    "Good-oh." He took a glass and sank half of it. They