She thought quickly. 'What about Jennifer, though?'
'I know. I've been thinking about her. I'll have to keep out of her way.'
'Oh dear… Can anyone get measles when she's as young as Jennifer?'
'I don't know, darling. I could ask the surgeon commander.'
'Would he know about babies?'
He thought for a moment. 'I don't suppose he's had a great deal of experience with them.'
'Ask him, Peter, and I'll ring up Dr. Halloran. We'll fix up something, anyway. It's lovely that you're back.'
He rang off and went on with his work, while Mary settled down to her besetting sin, the telephone. She rang up Mrs. Foster down the road who was going into town to a meeting of the Countrywomen's Association and asked her to bring out a pound of steak and a couple of onions. She rang the doctor who told her that a baby could get measles and that she must be very careful. And then she thought of Moria Davidson who had rung her up the night before to ask if she had any news of Scorpion. She got her at teatime at the farm near Berwick.
'My dear,' she said. 'They're back. Peter rang me from the ship just now. They've all got measles.'
'They've got what?'
'Measles-like you have when you're at school.'
There was a burst of laughter on the line, a little hysterical and shrill. 'It's nothing to laugh about,' Mary said. 'I'm thinking about Jennifer. She might catch it from Peter. He's had it once, but he can get it again. It's all so worrying…”
The laughter subsided. 'Sorry, darling, but it seems so funny. It's nothing to do with radioactivity, is it?'
'Oh, I don't think so. Peter said it was just measles.' She paused. 'Isn't it awful?'
Miss Davidson laughed again. 'It's just the sort of thing they would do. Here they go cruising for a fortnight up in parts where everyone is dead of radiation, and all that they can catch is measles! I'll have to speak to Dwight about it, very sharply. Did they find anyone alive up there?'
'I don't know, darling. Peter didn't say anything about it. But anyway, that's not important. What am I going to do about Jennifer? Dr. Halloran says she can catch it, and Peter's going to be contagious for three weeks.'
'Hell have to sleep and have his meals out on the verandah.'
'Don't be silly, darling.'
'Well, let Jennifer sleep and have her meals out on the verandah.'
'Flies,' said her mother. 'Mosquitoes. A cat might come and lie on her face and smother her. They do, you know.'
'Put a mosquito net over the pram.'
'I haven't got a mosquito net.'
'I think we've got 'some somewhere, that Daddy used to use in Queensland. They're probably full of holes.'
'I do wish you'd have a look, darling. It's the cat I'm worried about.'
'I'll go and have a look now. If I can find one I’ll put it in the post tonight. Or I might bring it over. Are you going to have Commander Towers down again, now that they're home?'
'I really hadn't thought. I don't know if Peter wants to have him. They may be hating the sight of each other after a fortnight in that submarine. Would you like us to have him over?'
'It's nothing to me,' said the girl carelessly. 'I don't care if you do or don't'
'Darling!'
'It's not. Stop poking your stick in my ear. Anyway, he's a married man.'
Puzzled, Mary said, 'He can't be, dear. Not now.'
'That's all you know,' the girl replied. 'It makes things a bit difficult. I'll go and look for that net.'
When Peter arrived home that evening he found Mary to be somewhat uninterested in Cairns but very much concerned about the baby. Moira had rung up again to say that she was sending a mosquito net, but it would clearly be some time before it could arrive. As a makeshift Mary had secured a long length of butter muslin and had draped this round the pram on the verandah, but she had not done it very well and the liaison officer spent some time on his first evening at home in fashioning a close-fitting cover to the pram hood from the muslin. 'I do hope she'll be able to breathe,' his wife said anxiously. 'Peter, are you sure she'll get enough air through that?'
He did what he could to reassure her, but three times in the night she left his side to go out to the verandah to make sure that the baby was still alive.
The social side of Scorpion was more interesting to her than the technical achievements of the ship. 'Are you going to ask Commander Towers down again?' she inquired.
'I really hadn't thought about it,' he replied. 'Would you like to have him down?'
'I quite liked him,' she said. 'Moira liked him a lot. So funny for her, because he's such a quiet man. But you never can tell.'
'He took her out before we went away,' he said. 'Showed her the ship and took her out. I bet she leads him a dance.'
'She rang up three times while you were away to ask if we had any news,' his wife said. 'I don't believe that was because of you.'
'She was probably just bored,' he remarked.
He had to go up to town next day for a meeting at the Navy Department with John Osborne and the Principal Scientific Officer. The meeting ended at about noon; as they were going out of the office the scientist said, 'By the way, I've got a parcel for you.' He produced a brown paper packet tied with string. 'Mosquito net. Moira asked me to give it to you.'
'Oh-thanks. Mary wanted that badly.'
'What are you doing for lunch?'
'I hadn't thought.'
'Come along to the Pastoral Club.'
The young naval officer opened his eyes; this was somewhat upstage and rather expensive. 'Are you a member there?'
John Osborne nodded. 'I always intended to be one before I died. It was now or never.'
They took a tram up to the club at the other end of the town. Peter Holmes had been inside it once or twice before, and had been suitably impressed. It was an ancient building for Australia, over a hundred years old, built in the spacious days in the manner of one of the best London clubs of the time. It had retained its old manners and traditions in a changing era; more English than the English, it had carried the standards of food and service practically unaltered from the middle of the nineteenth century to the middle of the twentieth. Before the war it had probably been the best club in the Commonwealth. Now it certainly was.
They parked their hats in the hall, washed their hands in the old-fashioned washroom, and moved out into the garden cloister for a drink. Here they found a number of members, mostly past middle age, discussing the affairs of the day. Amongst them Peter Holmes noticed several state and federal ministers. An elderly gentleman waved to them from a group upon the lawn and started towards them.
John Osborne said quietly, 'It's my great-uncle-Douglas Froude. Lieutenant General-you know.'
Peter nodded. Sir Douglas Froude had commanded the army before he was born and had retired soon after that event, fading from great affairs into the obscurity of a small property near Macedon, where he had raised sheep and tried to write his memoirs. Twenty years later he was still trying though he was gradually abandoning the struggle. For some time his chief interest had lain in his garden and in the study of Australian wild birds; his weekly visit into town to lunch at the Pastoral Club was his one remaining social activity. He was still erect in figure though white haired and red of face. He greeted his great-nephew cheerfully.
'Ha, John,' he said. 'I heard last night that you were back again. Had a good trip?'
John Osborne introduced the naval officer. 'Quite good,' he said. 'I don't know that we found out very much, and one of the ship's company developed measles. Still, that's all in the day's work.'
'Measles, eh? Well, that's better than this cholera thing. I hope you none of you got that. Come and have a drink-I'm in the book.'
They crossed to the table with him. John said, 'Thank you, Uncle. I didn't expect to see you here today. I thought your day was Friday.'
They helped themselves to pink gins. 'Oh no, no. It used to be Friday. Three years ago my doctor told me
