[Journal Entry of Alice]
12 December 1942
Peg–
Still no answer from Matthew… something's happened, I can feel it, but neither Mum nor Vera has heard anything. That's good, isn't it? It's good that we've not received any news, that his name isn't showing up in the casualty lists?
Why does it feel so wrong?
I don't think he's gotten bored of me, he'd say something if he did - Matthew's polite in that way. Did I come on too strong in my letter where I told him I loved him? Is this what love does to people? Gets their hopes up and then disappears?
I need to hear from him; I need to know he's alright. Is he dead? Is he grievously injured? We've heard nothing… I've heard nothing… It's reduced me to running downstairs each time I hear the postman in the morning - waiting with bated breath for good news, bad news, any news… and I don't like this feeling. I jump at loud noises, at the sound of a knock or the doorbell… I feel close to tears and feel like I might burst into sobs at any given moment. I can feel the others watching me closely and my skin prickles from the sensation of their eyes watching me for any sign of weakness, any sign of despair…
(Don't they know I'm already in despair? Where is he, Peg? What's happened to him?)
I told myself long ago I wouldn't end up trapped in such a relationship like Mummy and Father… and yet here I am going to pieces over a man… even as nice as Matthew is, I hate this feeling. I don't like being attached to people in this way; I try not to if I can help it. You might ask why Peg… and I'll tell you why.
They always leave me behind.
14 December 1942
Dot finished another row on (yet another) cardigan for Baby Cooper; it felt strange to be making things for the impending arrival of the baby when Wardlow felt dark and oppressive with the weight of Matthew's sudden disappearance overshadowing them all.
Risking a glance up to the woman perched in the parlor window seat, Dot nearly clucked her tongue at the sight of dark circles under Alice's eyes; she wasn't sleeping, she was barely eating, and Alice had already nearly shredded two of her handkerchiefs by the constant twisting in her hands. Seated on the cushion with her ankles crossed and her chin resting upon her knees as her eyes watched the street without actually watching, Alice looked more like a small child waiting for their parents to return than a training doctor; the longer Dot watched her, the more she saw the toll this was taking on Miss Phryne's ward.
Biting back a heavy sigh, Dot returned to her knitting; Hugh had no clue where Matthew was - they'd been separated back in October and her husband hadn't seen the young staff sergeant since then, and his higher-ups weren't telling him anything. Miss Phryne and Mrs. Stanley finally were getting involved, albeit in roundabout ways; an American general's wife was staying with Mrs. Stanley for a bit longer before she joined her husband in Canberra, and both Mrs. Stanley and Miss Phryne had dropped the subject of searching for an Australian soldier in the midst of different conversations and the wonderful Jean MacArthur agreed to talk to her husband.
It wasn't much, but it was more than they were getting on their end, and maybe with a request coming from a general's wife, they'd get somewhere… Dot worried for Alice's mood in the meantime as they'd yet to hear anything. Surely it wasn't that hard to track down where he was and what had happened to his letters?
"What's this song?" Alice's voice broke through Dot's spiraling thoughts and she paused in her knitting.
"Song?"
"The one playing on the radio," Alice elaborated, her eyes still on the street.
The soft crooning voice of Billie Holiday reached Dot from the radio in the corner (they'd moved it from the dining room to the parlor for easier sitting and listening since last December), and the bittersweet lyrics tugged on Dot's heartstrings.
'In my solitude/You taunt me/With memories/That never die/I sit in my chair/Filled with despair'
"Oh, it's Billie Holiday… the song's Duke Ellington, I think."
"What's it called?"
"Solitude."
Alice nodded slowly, tears filling her eyes, "How apt… it's pretty."
"It is."
"Can we go see if we can find a record of it… tomorrow, maybe?"
Dot set aside her knitting and moved to sit with Alice on the window seat.
"Alic-"
"You don't think I should get it, do you?"
She always did cut to the chase, their Alice. Dot clucked her tongue and softly patted Alice's bare feet.
"If you want to get it, I can't stop you… I'm just… I'm worried about you, Alice."
"I'm fine."
"Alice… you are a very smart woman, very capable of anything you put your mind to… but you're a terrible liar."
That got her a watery laugh and Alice scrubbed at her tears with the sleeve of Matthew's jumper - she wore it all the time now, regardless of the heat.
"It's been over forty days since his last letter… I… I don't know what to think, and I don't know what to feel… I just feel numb and scared and angry… What am I going to do, Dot?"
"I don't know."
"What if he's-" she cut off her own question with trembling lips and a wavering hold on her emotions; tears streamed down her cheeks - far too many to control, and as soon as she wiped them away, more took their place.
"What if he's… dead? What am I supposed to do then? I… I gave him my heart and received silence in return… I never should have given it in the first place!"
"Oh, Alice," Dot abandoned all her usual caution around Alice and pulled the now outright sobbing young woman into her arms - cradling her and rocking her gently as everything finally came out.
Hurried footsteps alerted Dot to the presence of Miss Phryne and the Superintendent entering the parlor from out back - no doubt concerned at the sound of Alice's cries - and the copper was the first to cross the room to them.
"What happened?" he asked Dot softly - his hand smoothing over Alice's hair as a father would. "News?"
"No… no, I think it's just… I think she's reached her breaking point, sir."
"Ah," the superintendent nodded and pressed a kiss to the side of Alice's head as Miss Phryne sat behind Alice - offering her silent support while he continued to stroke her hair.
They sat like that for a long time; like a raft out at sea, they were holding Alice afloat as life continued to send wave after wave of uncertainty and anxiety her way. Dot wasn't sure if the news they awaited was good, but she hoped they'd know soon.
For everyone's sake.
