pacific by judy nunn sample chapter

8/4/2019 Pacific by Judy Nunn Sample Chapter

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A story of love, sacrifice and revenge swept

along on the winds of war

Pacific

Copyright Judy Nunn 2004. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmittedin any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.


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An Arrow bookPublished by Random House Australia Pty LtdLevel 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060www.randomhouse.com.au

First published by Random House Australia 2004This Arrow edition published 2005, 2007, 2011

Copyright Judy Nunn 2004

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by anyperson or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or byany means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the

statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording,scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the priorwritten permission of Random House Australia.

Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found atwww.randomhouse.com.au/offices

National Library of AustraliaCataloguing-in-Publication Entry

Nunn, Judy.Pacific/Judy Nunn.

ISBN 978 1 86471 252 0 (pbk.)

Motion picture actors and actresses Fiction.World War, 19391945 Campaigns Pacific Area Fiction.Nurses Fiction.

A823.3

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C H A P T E R O N E

Nora can I never be anything more than astranger to you? .Ah, Torvald, the most wonderful thing of all

would have to happen.Tell me what that would be!Both you and I would have to be so changed that . . .

Oh, Torvald, I dont believe any longer in wonderfulthings happening.

But I will believe in it. Tell me! So changed that . . .?That our life together would be a real wedlock. Goodbye.She left, and he sat, burying his head in his hands.Nora! Nora! He looked around. Empty. She is gone.

Hope flashed through his mind. The most wonderfulthing of all . . .? Then he heard the sound of the doorbelow as it closed.

The final performance of Henrik Ibsens A Dolls Houseat the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, received a standingovation. The award-winning production had played for

over a year to capacity houses for each of its 431 per-formances, and its success was in most part due to theyoung actress who had taken Londons West End bystorm. 2003 was certainly Samantha Lindsays year.



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In the centre of the lineup, hands clasped with her fellowcast members, Samantha walked downstage to take thefinal of the curtain calls. Thered been twelve in all. Shed

accepted the bouquet from the theatre manager, takenseveral solo calls and now, as the cast bowed, she glancedto the wings and gave a barely perceptible nod to the stagemanager. He acknowledged her message, the lightsdimmed, the cast left the stage and the audience was stillloudly applauding as the house lights came up.

Backstage, cast and crew hugged each other affection-

ately, some with tears in their eyes, and Deidre, whoplayed the maid, openly cried. It had been a long run anda very happy company; they would miss each other. Acelebratory supper had been arranged for the entire cast,but for now they continued to mingle in the wings, savour-ing the moment. Alexander embraced Samantha.

My darling doll-wife, he said, youve been a glorious

Nora, its been wonderful. Then, when hed kissed her onboth cheeks, he couldnt help adding, But why on earthdid you call a halt? We could have taken at least anotherhalf dozen calls.

Sam recognised it for the genuine complaint it was.Always leave them wanting more, she replied innocently,isnt that what they say?

He appeared not to hear her. We took fifteen on the lastnight ofLady Windemere, and that only ran for a hundredperformances, we could probably have stretched it totwenty tonight and created a record. Alexander had neverapproved of the fact that the cast had been directed to taketheir curtain calls from Samantha. The girl gave a stellarperformance in the role of Nora, he agreed, but she wasfar too inexperienced in theatre etiquette. In West End

theatre etiquette, in any event.Oh well, too late now, Sam shrugged. Alexanders

litany of complaints had become water off a ducks backto her. He was a fine actor and theyd worked well

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together, although shed had to overcome his open anti-pathy in the early days. Alexander Wright had beenunaccustomed to working opposite a virtual unknown.

However, the reaction of the preview audiences and theopening night reviews had altered his opinion and, likeeveryone else, hed eventually succumbed, albeit begrudg-ingly, to Samanthas natural charm and lack of pretension.

Shes a dear, hed say to those who asked whatSamantha Lindsay was really like and, to his secretchagrin, there were many who did. Quite the little

innocent really. He always managed to make it soundsimultaneously affectionate and patronising.

Sam was not innocent. She was unaffected certainly, butshe had realised that it made things easier for everyone ifshe simply pandered to the actors ego.

Im quite sure youre right, she now added as shenoticed the familiar scowl, and yes its been wonderful.

She hugged him genuinely. Ive loved working with you,Alexander, youve taught me a lot. She meant it. Shedlearned a great deal from him and she was grateful.Besides, Alexander couldnt help being Alexander. Whatwas the saying? A pride of lions, a gaggle of geese anda whinge of actors. After thirty dedicated years in thetheatre, Alexander Wright was a product of his profession.

Recognising her sincerity, he replied with the dignitybefitting such a compliment. Thank you, my dear. I feelits ones responsibility to encourage young actors.

He was touched by her remark, she could tell, and wasabout to embark upon one of his many, and interminable,stories of past productions, so she pecked him on thecheek. You have, and Im very grateful. She smiled. Andnow I have to get the slap off. She grabbed the bouquet of

flowers which the assistant stage manager was patientlyholding for her and headed for her dressing room. See youat supper, she called over her shoulder. Im bloodystarving!

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Alexander shook his head with exasperated fondness.She was so ridiculously Australian.

Reginald waited ten minutes before tapping on Samanthasdressing-room door. If it had been another of his femaleclients he would have waited at least half an hour, but ittook Sam only ten minutes to get her slap off, as shecalled it. And, as she never ate before a performance,she was always ravenously hungry after the show andimpatient to leave. Furthermore, she preferred to eat at

one of the small cafes where the food was good, ratherthan somewhere one went to be seen. Reginald had foundSamantha refreshing from the outset, although it hadtaken him some time to adjust to being called Reg. Heaccepted it now and theyd become close friends.

Reg! Sam was minus her stage makeup but still in astocking cap and robe at her dressing-room mirror when the

dapper little Englishman entered. She jumped up, wig inhand, and hugged him. Take a seat, she said, wont be atick. She sat, dumped the wig on the wig stand, pulled offthe cap and brushed her fair hair, normally curly andframing her face, back into a severe ponytail. Nothing elseyou can do with wig hair, she always maintained. She refusedto start from scratch and coax back the curls, it took toomuch time and after a show food was far more important.We hung around backstage saying goodbyes, she explained,God only knows why. Everyones coming to supper. Shejumped up once again and started taking off her robe.

Ill wait outside. Reg rose.Dont be silly, Im perfectly respectable. She dropped

the robe. Look! Thermals!Reg smiled but still discreetly averted his gaze. Even in a

winter vest and thigh-length, cotton stretch knickers shelooked sexy, lean and lithe, with the body of a healthyyoung animal. He found it a little confronting and hedmuch rather have waited outside.

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Sam dressed quickly; she hadnt meant to embarrasshim. Shed deliberately donned the thermals before hedarrived in order not to. What was it with the English? she

wondered. Australian actors stripped openly in dressingrooms, but even the English acting fraternity seemedprudish, and her immodesty had often been frownedupon.

Did you check that the beers arrived? she asked asshe zipped up her cord trousers and grabbed her jumper.Shed arranged the delivery of two cartons of beer for the

stage-hands who had to strike the set and bump out inpreparation for the next production.

Yes, theyre holding it at the stage door. The doormanwas most amused that it was Fosters.

Thought Id make a bit of a statement. All respectable,you can look now. She grabbed her overcoat from the pegon the door. Come on, Im starving.

Well be the first there.Goody, well grab the best table.So much for making the grand late entrance, Reginald

thought, and so much for dolling herself up. He cast a cir-cumspect glance at the corduroys. They were going to theIvy after all, the best table had been booked for the pasttwo months, and even on closing night she was still one ofthe hottest things in town. No need to rush, he said witha touch of irony, Nigels minding the table for us.

For the first time Sam drew breath. I didnt know Nigelwas coming.

Sam, he said patiently, I told you last week he needs todo this interview before you leave for Sydney. Nigel wasthe publicist Reginald employed to promote a number ofhis top clients and he knew Sam didnt like the man.

Which was understandable, most people didnt, but Nigelwas very good at his job. He says youve been avoidingmeeting him for the past five days.

Ive had to move out of the flat, for Gods sake, she

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protested, Ive been organising the furniture removal, Ihavent had time!

Then you should have made time. Sam could be infuri-

ating on occasions. Youve won the Olivier Award, forGods sake! You have to be fair dinkum about this. It wasa term shed taught him as a joke, laughing at the way hesaid it in his pukka English accent, but it usually provedmost effective. You cant just disappear from London. Weneed to keep you hot. We need to make the industry awarethat youre about to star in a Hollywood movie.

I know, I know. But its the last night!It appeared for once that fair dinkum wasnt going

to work. Fine, Reg snapped, Ill tell him to come toFareham then, shall I? She glared back at him, and herhazel eyes held a glint of defiance, but Reginald was fullyprepared to stand his ground. Hell be happy to make thetrip, Im sure.

All right, you bastard, you win. She gave a resignedshrug and he knew that she wasnt really angry, just as heknew that the language was not intentionally insulting.Sams voice held no nasal twang and was not particularlyAustralian, but her behaviour certainly was and Reg hadgrown to love her for it. She tossed her scarf around herneck. Lets go.

Lippy, he reminded her. Then, whilst she slashed thelipstick across her mouth, he added, And a touch of eyes.She glared at him once again in the mirror. Well, at leastsome mascara, he said. Its the Ivy, Sam, and theresbound to be press photographers sniffing around.

I dont know why were not going to Zorbas, shegrizzled, the foods much better.

Because the others want to go to the Ivy, thats why.

Stop being such a prima donna.It was a biting night, unusually cold for so early in

September, and as they walked up the broad Haymarkettowards Piccadilly Circus, Sam turned to look back at the

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theatre, at the stateliness of the Corinthian columns withtheir gold embossed motif and the arches and stonework,all perfectly floodlit. A glorious building, its interior was

of equal magnificence, with molded ceilings, crystal chan-deliers, polished marble, and layer upon layer of Englishgold leaf. What a privilege it had been to work there.

She remembered the first time shed been to the Hay-market, as the actors fondly referred to the TheatreRoyal. It had been December 1994 and shed caught thetrain up from Fareham during the two days shed had

free of rehearsals. So many firsts, she remembered. Herfirst trip to England, her first visit to London, and herfirst experience of West End Theatre. Shed seen the newTom Stoppard play, Arcadia, and the Theatre Royal hadjust that year undergone major restoration. Shed beeneighteen years old and it had been the most magicalexperience of her life. And now, nine years later, shed

worked there. Shed played a leading role at the Hay-market, the most elegant theatre in London. During theeight performances a week for over a year, she had neveronce taken the experience for granted. And now itwas over.

Its been a good run, hasnt it? Reginald had beenstanding silently beside her for a full minute or so. Heknew what she was thinking.

Ever master of the understatement, Reggie, shegrinned. It was their secret language. He drew the line atReggie and she only ever used the term in private.

He took her hand and smiled. Onward and upward,Sam. Onward and upward.

I hope so. The forthcoming film role was potentially thebiggest step yet in her career, but movies were risky business,

as they both knew. And she would miss the theatre.

Torpedo Junction. Its a rather old-fashioned title, dontyou think? Nigel sat, pen poised over his notepad, gin and

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tonic untouched. Hed graciously waited until Sam hadfinished her supper, a huge steak God knew where thegirl put it, she was built like a whippet and then hed

insisted the three of them retire from the main arena of therestaurant to one of the more private leather booths.

Come on, Sam, Reg had urged, recognising that shewas loath to leave the others. Theyll be partying for ages,you can join them later. Then, when shed looked a littlerebellious, hed muttered, You promised youd be fairdinkum.

Okay, shed said meekly enough.Old-fashioned in what way? she now asked a little

archly. She couldnt help herself: she found Nigel such asupercilious bastard.

It sounds like a war movie from the 1940s.Well, it is in a way, isnt it? Torpedo Junction was

the infamous Japanese submarine hunting ground during

World War II.Nigel adjusted his Gucci glasses and gritted his teeth. Hedidnt like Sam any more than she liked him. Little upstart.Didnt she realise that, as a journalist with his own PRcompany and all of the contacts he had to hand, he coulddestroy her? And if she wasnt on Reginalds books hedtake great delight in doing so. But he couldnt afford tolose the account of Reginald Harcourt Management, so hegave a glacial smile and continued.

So thats what it is then? A war film?No. What a waste of time it all was, Sam thought. She

hated playing these games. But it was part of the job,she told herself as she took a breath and tried to soundpleasant. Its about love really. Human love.

Ah, he pounced like a hungry cat. It was exactly what

he was after. So its a similar genre to Pearl Harbor then,a war story with a love theme. Nigel scratched away at hisnotepad, delighted. At this early stage, before commence-ment of filming, the production house was releasing no

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specific details about Torpedo Junction, merely the title,the principal cast, and the fact that it was the next big-budget production from Mammoth.

No, its not a war story with a love theme, she saidtightly. That wasnt what shed meant at all, Sam thought,cursing the man. What the hell did it matter anyway?Whatever she said hed misquote her.

Whod like another drink? Reg asked, giving Sam awarning glance as he rose from the booth. It was the wayNigel often conducted interviews. Offend the subject just

enough to make them defensive. That way they gave awaymore of themselves or, in this case, more of the project.The subject matter of the script was under wraps, and Samknew that.

Im fine, thank you, Reginald, Nigel said, taking themildest sip from his gin and tonic.

Another red for me, thanks, Sam gave Reg a nod that

said she not only knew exactly where she stood, but shewas more than a match for Nigel Daly.Its not at all like Pearl Harbor actually, Nigel, she said,

draining the last of her glass and smiling, she hoped,sweetly.

What is it like then?Why dont you ask me how I feel about working with

Brett Marsdon? Its what everyone will want to know,surely.

She was right of course, but hed be able to sell anotherwhole story on the Torpedo Junction theme if he could getit out of her. So you dont want to discuss the script? Hegave it one last try.

Its about people, Nigel. One of the best scripts Ive everread. And its all about people.

The smug bitch, he thought. She went on to parrot thedetails which had been generally released. It was anAmerican production, Mammoths biggest budget movieof the year, they were shooting offshore, interiors at Fox

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Studios in Sydney and on location somewhere in the SouthPacific or far north Queensland, the specific details hadntbeen released yet. It was nothing he didnt know already.

Nigel gave up.So tell me about Brett Marsdon, he said. How do you

feel about working with Hollywoods hottest property?Not all of the questions were trite. In true form, Nigel

questioned her about the fact that she would be playingan Englishwoman. Film critics are very quick to judgeaccents, he said.

Ive been working in the English theatre for the pasttwo years, she replied, a fact of which Nigel was fullyaware, she thought. Hed not only seen a number of herperformances, but Reg would have sent him her CV. Sheglanced at Reginald but he sipped his white wine and saidnothing. It was not his job to field the questions.

Of course, Nigel replied smoothly, but this is your first

movie role, is it not?Is it not, she thought, whoever said is it not? But, awarethat he was once again needling her, she gave a cheekysmile instead of biting back. Oh no, I was a prostitute ina low-budget thriller three years ago.

Really? It was Nigels turn to glance at Reginald. Thatwasnt on the CV.

I ended up on the cutting-room floor, the whole scenedid. And the movie bombed anyway.

I see. Well, he could hardly use that, could he? Heasked her about her ties to England. After a year as thedarling of Londons West End, did she anticipate comingback to Britain, or would Hollywood claim her? Surpris-ingly enough, she warmed to the theme.

Ill go where the work is, of course, she said, but Id

like to live in Britain when I can. She grinned at Reg. Ivebought a house here.

Oh? Nigel feigned interest. Where?Fareham.

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Fareham! His surprise pleased her. Had he expectedher to say Chelsea or South Kensington? Why on earthFareham? Its miles from anywhere.

Its where I did my first panto. Well my only pantoactually, she corrected herself. Cinderella at FernehamHall, Fareham, 1994.

Nigel winced. The traditional Christmas family panto-mime was hardly something to boast of, and certainly nota production in a backwater like Fareham. Really, the girlwas impossible.

Sam looked at Reg. She had no intention of cloaking herhumble beginnings in secrecy and she couldnt give a damnif others wished that she would. But she didnt want tooffend Reg. Reg had been responsible for her success and,in the early days, hed suggested she neglect to mention herlack of formal training to the press. Surprisingly enough,Reginald Harcourt gave an encouraging nod.

It was the first time Id ever worked in the theatre, Samsaid, although the producers didnt know it. Not that theywould have cared, I suppose. I was only hired because ofthe soapie.

Nigel looked incredulously at Reginald. Hed knownthat Samantha Lindsay had started out as a teenager inan Aussie soap, but surely they didnt want to go in thatdirection?

Reginald made his one and only contribution to theinterview. I think its time Sams background was dis-cussed. It makes her different, he suggested mildly. I thinkreaders would find it interesting.

Readers maybe, Nigel thought, but hardly prospectiveproducers and casting agents. Oh well, if the girl wantedto hang herself, and if he had the agents permission, he

was only too happy to oblige.How fascinating, he said as he scribbled in his pad.

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If you loved

Pacifcyoull loveJudy NuNNs New book

Available 20 October 2011

Theres so much more at

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