Free Women and War by Janet Tanner Page B

the accelerator even harder into the floor and as the car surged forwards to its maximum speed she seemed once more to hear her mother’s voice in the roar of the tyres on the road. ‘We have decided, Alys, the best thing to be done with you.’
    She had come to see Alys in her room; since admitting the truth Alys had scarcely left it. Frances had stood with her back to the window looking at her daughter who sprawled miserably on the bed. ‘We are going to send you to Darwin.’
    Darwin! The top end of the continent with the whole dead centre between her and Race. Alys had jerked up, bringing her cushion with her, to gaze at her mother with horror-filled eyes.
    â€˜Your father and I have decided it’s the best thing. I’ve been in touch with Sylvia and James Crawford and asked if they would be willing to have you until it is all over and then …’
    â€˜You’ve told Aunt Sylvia about me?’ Alys had interrupted, shocked.
    Frances had given a tight little laugh. ‘My dear girl, if we don’t get you to Darwin and out of the way, before very much longer everyone will know. No, I’ve spoken to Sylvia, told her of the predicament we are in and begged for her help. As you might expect, she has been marvellous. You are to go there now – next week. I shall tell people that you are travelling. Sylvia has promised to arrange for the adoption – in her position as organiser for the Red Cross it’s something she knows all about – and you will be able to come home again in a year or so and no one here will be any the wiser.’
    Alys had hugged her pillow.
    â€˜Adoption?’ she’d repeated. ‘You mean you want me to give my baby up?’
    Frances’ lips had tightened. ‘What other choice do you have? You don’t seem to realize the position you are in, Alys – a young girl, unmarried, having an illegitimate baby. The practical considerations are enormous, and leaving those aside, think of the shame of it!’
    The shame, Oh yes, she had hardly been able to avoid thinking of that, what with Daddy not wanting to look at her and Mummy talking about ‘letting herself down’ and Beverley in floods of tears saying she had ruined the wedding and she, Beverley, would never be able to face any of her friends – or Louis’ family – ever again.
    â€˜No, by far the best thing is for you to go to Darwin – right away,’ Frances had said firmly.
    â€˜And what about Race?’ Alys had asked.
    â€˜Him!’ Frances snorted. ‘The least said about him the better!’ Then, as she saw Alys’ face crumple, she sat down on the bed beside her, taking her hand in a way which oddly Alys found more embarrassing than comforting. ‘Forget him, Alys. See the unhappiness he has caused you. Just accept that I know what is best and everything will be all right.’
    Alys had said nothing. She knew from past experience it was useless to argue with her mother who, as usual, had come up with a solution which, looked at logically, was as foolproof as any could be in the circumstances.
    Except that it did not take account of her feelings. It did not take account of the terrible way her heart dipped at the thought, even now, of giving up her baby. And it took no account of Race at all.
    He had to be given the chance to have some say in the matter, Alys decided. After all he was the father. And oh – it gave her the excuse to see him again if nothing else.
    The thought spurred her on now and keeping her foot flat to the boards she raced the Morris on towards Bathurst.
    Mount Panorama, Bathurst, had been a New South Wales beauty spot long before motor cars had been invented let alone raced, but now the scenic driveway which skirted it had become a road racing circuit, host for the first time ever to the Australian Grand Prix. The rises, shaded through every imaginable hue from palest yellowy green to the deep