New Guinea Moon (18 page)

‘If you're sure it's okay?' says Julie.

‘Go and pack your things,' says Teddie. ‘I'll tell Barbara it's our turn to have you.'

Barbara comes into Nadine's bedroom as Julie is packing. ‘Of course it's up to you. If you're not comfortable here — I would have thought it would be more convenient — your mother knows you're staying here.'

‘I don't want to be a nuisance,' says Julie. ‘You've all been so kind.'

‘It's no trouble.' Barbara, to Julie's surprise, puts her arm around her and squeezes awkwardly. ‘We all have to help each other.'

Ryan carries her bag out to the car. His mouth is set in a mutinous line. ‘I don't see why you have to go.'

Julie scuffs at the gravel. ‘Everything just feels a bit — intense. Tony dying, and — and you and me — I think I need a bit of space, that's all.'

His face twists into a sulky frown. ‘What's that supposed to mean?'

His denseness makes her want to scream. She can't explain; why can't he just understand? She knows she is being unfair. He probably thinks she's being
difficult
. But she can't help the way she feels. Guiltily she leans over and gives him a hurried kiss. ‘Sorry.'

He lingers, waving, as the Spargos' car bumps down the long hibiscus-tunnel of the Crabtrees' driveway. Julie waves through the back window and turns around with a sigh. Andy is watching her through the rear-view mirror.

‘He was really lovely to me, after Tony died,' falters Julie.

‘Ryan's hard work, though,' says Andy. ‘Even I can see that.'

Hunched in the armchair with the busted seat in Andy and Teddie's living room, Julie rings Caroline back to tell her that she's staying with the Spargos now. The line is muddy and there's a delay. Their voices overlap, then there's a ragged silence; they can't seem to find a rhythm. Her mother's voice is distant, muffled.

‘Did you say you've moved? What for, darling?'

It's too hard to explain. Julie says helplessly, ‘I just needed to, that's all.'

‘But I'm coming in a few days — this wretched visa —'

Julie cuts in. ‘Can you put it off, Mum? I don't want to come back yet.'

‘What? I missed that —'

‘I said
I don't want to come back yet
.' Julie jams her finger in her other ear. ‘Can't I stay till the end of the holidays? Why can't I fly back on the ticket I've already got?'

‘What was that? Where did you say you were staying?'

‘With Teddie and Andy Spargo, friends of Tony's!' Julie almost shouts, conscious of Teddie and Andy sitting a few feet away in the kitchen, trying to pretend they can't hear every word she says.

‘Two men? I'm not sure that's —'

‘Teddie's a
girl
! They're
married
!'

‘— sounds as if you don't
want
to come home —'

‘No! I don't! That's what I said! You don't have to come and pick me up, like I'm a — a dog or something
. . .
'

‘I can't hear you, sweetie —'

‘That's the pips!' shouts Julie. ‘I have to hang up now!' She bangs down the receiver and looks at Andy and Teddie. ‘Sorry,' she says bleakly.

Teddie drapes an arm around her. ‘It's all right.'

‘You don't mind me being here, do you?'

‘We'll tell you when we're sick of you,' says Andy with a grin, but Julie catches the quick look that flashes between him and Teddie. She stares at the rug. Of course they don't want her around for longer than a couple of days. They're practically newlyweds. They're very kind, but she can't ask them to put her up for another three or four weeks. In a small voice she says, ‘I can pay rent.'

Teddie laughs and punches her shoulder. ‘Don't be a dill. We don't pay anything for this place anyway, it comes with the job.'

The next day, New Year's Day, they bring Tony's body back to Hagen.

They bury him at Keriga, surrounded by mountains, high in the clouds. Early on the morning of the funeral, Teddie and Andy drive her out to the plantation. The three of them help to make sandwiches in Dulcie's kitchen. Simon introduces them, making sure they understand that this woman buttering bread at the table is not just some village meri.

‘This is my mother, Dulcie.'

Teddie and Andy shake hands politely, but Julie notices that they don't seem to be able to find much to talk to her about.

Dulcie puts her arms around Julie. ‘You poor little girl,' she says softly. ‘It's sad to lose your
papa
. It's a sad day for you. I'm glad he's coming here to us. We look after him.'

Julie nods, and whispers, ‘Thank you.'

She blinks down at the tomato she's supposed to be slicing. Despite Dulcie calling her a little girl, for the first time in her life, she feels more like an adult than a child; she is one step closer to her own death. One of her parents has died; one of the shields protecting her has fallen.

Dozens of people come out from town to attend the funeral. They stand under the sky, while Graham prays. Julie looks out over the sea of bowed heads, and she wishes fiercely that Caroline could see this. She wants to show her mother that Tony wasn't a loser or a weirdo, that he belonged here, that he was loved and honoured, that he had a place in the world. Gibbo's lank hair is scraped back in a ponytail; Allan and Ryan and Andy are wearing suits. When she sees that, she starts to cry.

Robyn hugs her. ‘We're so, so sorry, honey,' she murmurs. ‘He was just an adorable man.'

So many people hug Julie that day, her ribs feel bruised.

After the service, Julie finds herself alone in a corner of the wide verandah. She isn't exactly trying to hide from Ryan, but she doesn't think she can face his smothering sympathy. And she definitely doesn't want anyone to try to kiss her, not today. The mountains seem much nearer here, a blue haze rising over them like smoke. Simon comes up, carrying a cup of tea. ‘I thought you might need this.'

‘Thanks.' Julie takes a grateful sip, and almost chokes.

‘I should have warned you, there's a slug of brandy in it. Dad's idea.'

‘I think I just need to get used to it
. . .
' Julie sips again, and the brandy travels like a trail of fire down her throat, and curls in a warm pool in her stomach.

Out on the lawn below the verandah, guests mill about, dispersing, waving solemn goodbyes. They are going back to their cars, back to town, back to their lives. Julie swallows. She is the only one with nothing to go back to.

Simon leans his arms on the railing and stares down at them. ‘So, I guess you'll be leaving soon.'

‘My mother will be here in a couple of days.' Julie sets down her cup. ‘I wish I didn't have to go. I wish I could stay until the end of the holidays, like we planned.'

‘Why don't you?'

‘I can't keep staying with the Spargos. I mean, they've been great, but they don't want me hanging around forever. And I don't want to stay with the Crabtrees. But Curry won't let me go back to Tony's flat on my own
. . .
'

There is a silence. Julie thinks,
Ask me to stay with you; ask me to stay here
. It seems so much the obvious thing for Simon to say that she is almost embarrassed for him.

But instead he says slowly, ‘You know, you probably can't stay on now. You don't have a valid visa any more, now that Tony's gone.'

This news startles her. It hasn't occurred to her that her continued presence here might actually be illegal. ‘But — they wouldn't kick me out, would they?'

Simon shrugs. ‘They're pretty strict on visas.' He says it apologetically, as if he's a member of the government himself.

‘But no one's going to
know
, are they? Are they?'

‘I don't know. I don't know how they police it.'

‘Why would they care?'

‘I don't know.' Simon gives her an apologetic smile. He says abruptly, ‘Come and see my pigeons.'

Julie sets down her cup and saucer on the railing and follows him. Her feet are like lead. Why hasn't he invited her to stay, even knowing that she might be — what was the word? —
deported
at any moment? His silence bruises her. She trails after him through the shabby, rambling house, out through the kitchen. They pass a lovingly tended vegetable garden and some sheds. Julie stumbles on, hardly noticing where she's walking. Above her head, the clouds roll over themselves, folding like egg whites into the blue batter of the sky. Pigeons. Who keeps pigeons? Old men on rooftops. Lonely old men
. . .

‘Here they are.' Simon halts beside an aviary of tin and chicken wire.

Julie peers inside. Several goose-sized birds the blue-grey-purple colour of the hazy mountains are strutting about. Each one carries a crest on top of its head, a fan of lacy feathers, each feather tipped with a blue-and-white eye, like a peacock's tail.

She forgets that she's upset with Simon. ‘They're beautiful
. . .
But they're not
pigeons
!'

‘Yes, they are. Big ones. They're Victoria Crowned Pigeons.' Simon coos softly to the birds and they turn toward him. Carefully he eases open the aviary door and tosses in a handful of seeds. ‘They're kind of rare. I've been breeding them.' He closes the door. ‘It's not easy. They're very faithful; they mate for life. And they're very intelligent.'

‘Because they mate for life?'

‘I'd say that was an intelligent thing to do. Make a good choice and stick to it.'

Julie sneaks a look at him, but he's not looking at her; his eyes are fixed steadily on the birds.

‘They're lovely,' she says. ‘I can see why you like them. But they're so
big
.'

‘Related to the dodo, actually. The dodo was a kind of pigeon. The dodo was much bigger than these, though. More meat on the bones.'

‘I think I've seen those feathers.'

Simon nods. ‘They look good in headdresses. That's one reason why they're getting rarer.' He falls silent; Julie has never heard him talk so much, except when he was explaining the coffee business. Even on the night when they'd had that long phone call, she'd ended up doing most of the talking.

She tangles her fingers in the wire and stares at the birds. ‘Can they fly?'

‘Oh, yeah, they can fly.'

‘They can't fly inside there.'

‘No.' He gives her a sad smile. ‘That's the price for keeping them safe.'

‘But they don't understand that.'

‘I said they were intelligent. But maybe not that intelligent.'

Julie watches as the birds peck and murmur. She still doesn't understand why Simon won't invite her to stay at Keriga. She is intelligent, but not that intelligent.

She stands beside Simon, so close that their fingers, interlaced in the wire, are almost touching; so close that she can feel the heat coming off his body, and smell his aftershave. And even though she's decided that she doesn't want to be kissed on this day, she thinks, if Simon turns his head — if he moves his mouth toward her — she just might be able to make an exception.

Simon steps back. The wire of the cage shakes as he removes his hands.

‘We'd better get back. They'll be looking for you.'

Julie hears herself say, ‘When you say
they
, do you mean Ryan?'

He has a guarded expression on his face. ‘I didn't say anything about Ryan.'

‘Oh. Okay. Never mind.'

‘I was thinking of Andy Spargo. They're driving you back, aren't they?'

‘Yes. Yes, of course.'

She follows him back to the house, careful to stay behind him, so that he can't see the furious red that flushes in her cheeks.

17

It's time to clear out the unit. Everyone has an opinion.

‘Think you're up to it?' Allan says heavily.

‘I can take care of it,' says Barbara. ‘Leave it to me.'

‘Do you want me to come and help?' offers Teddie. ‘Or just keep you company?'

‘Graham and I can help you out, honey,' says Robyn. ‘We're praying for you.'

‘I could have a crack at it,' says Gibbo. ‘Get you started. Better to be a diamond with a flaw, than a pebble without.'

But Julie tells them all, ‘I'd rather do it alone.'

‘If that's the way you want it,' says Allan. ‘It's up to you. It's all yours, you know. You're his next of kin, his only child. There's life insurance, too. That'll come to you.'

Julie nods, silenced by the lump in her throat. Money, life insurance, inheritance. It all seems meaningless and unreal. But Tony's possessions, in his home, the bits and pieces of his everyday life, his clothes and plates and records — they are real. She owes it to him to take care of his things. In a strange way, this will be the last time she gets to spend with the man who was her father. She doesn't want anyone else there, getting in the way, filling up the space with chat. She wants to finish the job before Caroline arrives. She is relieved when Ryan doesn't even offer to help.