it?”
“No. But while you were out there, somehow it seemed to sum up the difference, the distance, if you like, between us.
I don’t know what your home was like in Rotterdam, but I’ll bet it didn’t have an outside toilet. Your home in South Yarra certainly doesn’t. Do you think we’ll make a go of it?”
She said nothing for a few moments and when she finally spoke she chose her words carefully. “Darling, we’re both intelligent, that’s the main thing. Ill admit I didn’t think I’d ever marry a policeman. I thought I might finish up marrying a diplomat—I know that was what Mother would have liked.” Even in the dim light from the dashboard she saw the expression on his face, as if he had flinched. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But as I said—we’re marrying each other, not our parents. I’m in love with you, and it doesn’t matter a damn to me whether you’re a policeman or a diplomat or a—a garbage man. You’re intelligent. And we both have something else—curiosity. We both want to know. About everything. I’ve had the advantages of an expensive education and I’ve travelled more than you have, and, well, there was that sort of life I lived in London.”
“That’s what I mean. You’re bound to miss all that. A Sunday barbecue at one of my mates’ place—that’s not much of a substitute for an embassy dinner.”
She looked at him coolly. “I hadn’t finished. I was going to say that I have an education, but you have it, too. In another way. You know more about people than I might ever know if I live to be a hundred. You aren’t as dumb as you try to make out, darling.”
“I’ve never been this way before. But you give me an inferiority complex.”
She said half-angrily, “Then why did you ask me to marry you?”
He grinned, at himself as well as at her. “Maybe I m a masochist.”
“You make any more silly remarks about your inferiority complex and I’ll give you something for your masochism.”
When she got angry the Dutch accent of her girlhood came back.
“I love you, you know that?”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Then she smiled and moved closer to him. He was tempted to take a hand from the wheel and put his arm about her; but there had been a time, when he had been on traffic duty, when he had arrested drivers for doing just that. “There’s just one thing, darling.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know that I like being back in Sydney. I find it, I don’t know, dull.”
Oh, that’s great, he thought. I’ll have to see the Commissioner, see if he will give me a beat in London or Paris. Maybe he could get them to swap me with Maigret or Gideon of the Yard. “I was afraid of that.”
“Does that make me sound—unpatriotic?”
“Why should it? You weren’t born here. What makes Sydney so dull for you?” He was ready to defend the city, but first he had to learn what was her attack. Not so long ago, before his visit to London, he would not have even listened to any criticism of Sydney.
She was aware of his hurt civic pride and she hung back now with her estimate of what made the city unattractive to her. “I’ll probably change my mind in six months or so. Sydney itself isn’t so bad. I like the climate and the harbour. What I miss is—dignity, I suppose you’d call it. But perhaps a city has to be old to have that. How many young people have it?”
“You have it,” he said.
She kissed him for that. “What troubles me is the people. They are, I don’t know, so—so insular, I suppose. They seem to think this is Babylon itself, as if no other place could compare with it.”
“Even the people you work for?” As soon as she had arrived back she had stepped straight into a job with a public rela-
tions firm and she was making almost as much money as he did and would soon be earning more. That was going to be another bone that would stick in his throat; and in his mother’s. It wouldn’t please Brigid Malone to have a
“No. But while you were out there, somehow it seemed to sum up the difference, the distance, if you like, between us.
I don’t know what your home was like in Rotterdam, but I’ll bet it didn’t have an outside toilet. Your home in South Yarra certainly doesn’t. Do you think we’ll make a go of it?”
She said nothing for a few moments and when she finally spoke she chose her words carefully. “Darling, we’re both intelligent, that’s the main thing. Ill admit I didn’t think I’d ever marry a policeman. I thought I might finish up marrying a diplomat—I know that was what Mother would have liked.” Even in the dim light from the dashboard she saw the expression on his face, as if he had flinched. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But as I said—we’re marrying each other, not our parents. I’m in love with you, and it doesn’t matter a damn to me whether you’re a policeman or a diplomat or a—a garbage man. You’re intelligent. And we both have something else—curiosity. We both want to know. About everything. I’ve had the advantages of an expensive education and I’ve travelled more than you have, and, well, there was that sort of life I lived in London.”
“That’s what I mean. You’re bound to miss all that. A Sunday barbecue at one of my mates’ place—that’s not much of a substitute for an embassy dinner.”
She looked at him coolly. “I hadn’t finished. I was going to say that I have an education, but you have it, too. In another way. You know more about people than I might ever know if I live to be a hundred. You aren’t as dumb as you try to make out, darling.”
“I’ve never been this way before. But you give me an inferiority complex.”
She said half-angrily, “Then why did you ask me to marry you?”
He grinned, at himself as well as at her. “Maybe I m a masochist.”
“You make any more silly remarks about your inferiority complex and I’ll give you something for your masochism.”
When she got angry the Dutch accent of her girlhood came back.
“I love you, you know that?”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Then she smiled and moved closer to him. He was tempted to take a hand from the wheel and put his arm about her; but there had been a time, when he had been on traffic duty, when he had arrested drivers for doing just that. “There’s just one thing, darling.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know that I like being back in Sydney. I find it, I don’t know, dull.”
Oh, that’s great, he thought. I’ll have to see the Commissioner, see if he will give me a beat in London or Paris. Maybe he could get them to swap me with Maigret or Gideon of the Yard. “I was afraid of that.”
“Does that make me sound—unpatriotic?”
“Why should it? You weren’t born here. What makes Sydney so dull for you?” He was ready to defend the city, but first he had to learn what was her attack. Not so long ago, before his visit to London, he would not have even listened to any criticism of Sydney.
She was aware of his hurt civic pride and she hung back now with her estimate of what made the city unattractive to her. “I’ll probably change my mind in six months or so. Sydney itself isn’t so bad. I like the climate and the harbour. What I miss is—dignity, I suppose you’d call it. But perhaps a city has to be old to have that. How many young people have it?”
“You have it,” he said.
She kissed him for that. “What troubles me is the people. They are, I don’t know, so—so insular, I suppose. They seem to think this is Babylon itself, as if no other place could compare with it.”
“Even the people you work for?” As soon as she had arrived back she had stepped straight into a job with a public rela-
tions firm and she was making almost as much money as he did and would soon be earning more. That was going to be another bone that would stick in his throat; and in his mother’s. It wouldn’t please Brigid Malone to have a
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