by Laverne

Created on: February 12, 2009

Bourke Town Hall, Central West NSW, Australia. 12th June, 1941.

Laverne felt his hand upon her waist. Warm and rough, it splayed across her withered frame. At every twist, every gentle sway, it tightened surreptitiously. She dared not look into his eyes. She dared not tilt her head and feel his stubble brushing against her cheekbone.

Control yourself, she thought.

Across the room, she could see Ginny whisking Joe Bryant jealously around the well-worn floor. The room buzzed in the thick heat. It should have been nauseating. But something inhibited Laverne's normal thought processes, and she struggled vainly to discover what it was.`By now she should have been anxiously scanning the floor in fear of prospective male suitors, or alternately escaping to the back verandah to let her hair frizz in the dank summer air.

The human company should have left her exasperated.

Yet tonight was peculiar. The air was thick, but not foreboding, not saturated with overstated glamour and barking human interaction. It didn't press upon her so.

In fact, the only thing that pressed upon her - and quite comfortably - was James Halbourne's hand.

In fact, thought Laverne, it's not really pressing...

Clank.

Laverne gasped heavily as her shoe scuffed on Halbourne's foot.

You like him, she thought.

Halbourne swiftly clasped her lower back with his left hand, drawing their bodies together.

"Miss Walters, please...".

Halbourne, on the other hand, felt intoxicated. It was the first time that he had truly drank in those great blue wells. The first time that he had stared into the ocean that was in her eyes. Inside, it was like the raging, sleet-ridden seas that had almost swallowed him four months ago on the Norwegian Coast. She was battling something in savage conflict at this very moment. The fire and the confusion were mesmerising, echoed in her nervous swallow, the stiffened jaw that protruded those elegant neck muscles, and her quivering grey brow.

He wanted to reach inside Miss Walters and vanquish whatever accursed thing tortured the soul of such an exquisite creature.

"Uh...forgive my untimely rhythm." Halbourne finally managed to shake himself of those eyes, at least temporarily.

In truth, Laverne wrestled with her feelings.

Leave. Leave now.

She exhaled shallowly and wrenched her body away in blind exasperation.

"Not at all, sir" she finally answered, "I am sorry...but...". She could hear the quiver in her voice. Finally, Laverne mustered her last reserve of courage to firm her faltering vocal chords; "I must leave you."

The walls melted in tune with the faces around her. Seconds later, the fresh night air hit. Her well-used escape, so often sweet, now felt bitter. Tinged with a strange regret, she wiled away the rest of her night on the dusty walk home.

The civilised world was at war, and now in the midst of all the chaos, her head and heart chose to banter.

Good one, Laverne muttered to the earth. Bloody good one.

But oh god, it was a strange joy. And she didn't want it to end.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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