New Guinea Moon (22 page)

He shrugs. ‘If you want.'

Even as she's counting out the cash, she's berating herself. Dumb, dumb, you don't pay first! What if the room's no good? She's already given him the money; now she's got nothing to bargain with. But it's too late, she's too embarrassed to say she's changed her mind.

He pushes the register toward her and she signs it neatly. She
has
done this before, in Brisbane, before she flew up to Port Moresby. But Caroline booked that room. Julie only had to turn up and pay
. . .
She remembers, too late, that she meant to use a fake name — is that against the law? Oh, well, she's obviously not cut out for a life of crime.

The manager fishes a key from a hook and leads Julie outside, to a row of rooms whose doors face the car park. The Jeep is there, but she can't see Simon. Is he hiding? He wouldn't abandon her — would he?

The manager opens the door and stands aside so she can see the room. ‘Very nice,' she says, distractedly. Is she supposed to tip him now, or something?

The man sniffs. ‘You want some dinner? I could rustle you up some eggs or something. I can bring it to your room if you like. Maybe you'd like some company.' He leans against the doorjamb and looks her up and down.

‘No, thanks.' She is repulsed, and she lets it show.

‘Shit, I was just being friendly. No need to be a stuck-up little bitch.' He gives her a dirty look over his shoulder as he waddles away. Julie whisks inside and slams the door shut.

The room is clean. Clean-ish. A fluorescent tube flickers and buzzes. The double bed is covered with a crooked tartan rug. A drawing of a Highland warrior scowls down from one wall, a poster of a fluffy kitten is pinned to another. Julie wiggles the doorhandle. It seems very flimsy — She almost falls over as the door is pushed open.

It's Simon. He looks embarrassed but determined. ‘I think I should sleep in here, on the floor. Just in case
. . .
I saw the way that sleazy creep was looking at you; I don't trust him.'

Julie feels weak with relief. ‘Yes, please. Please, do stay.'

They bring in the bags and food from the Jeep. Julie locks the door, and pushes a bedside table up against it for good measure. She switches on the reading lamp and turns off the harsh fluorescent light, and the room at once seems cosier, more friendly. Simon folds a rug from the car and sits on the floor, his back to the wall. ‘What's for dinner?'

Julie investigates Dulcie's basket. She's been too nervous to eat all afternoon, but now suddenly she feels ravenous. ‘Ham-and-cheese sandwiches. Tomatoes, bananas, hard-boiled eggs
. . .
Oh, and cake.'

‘I feel as if I'm in the Famous Five,' says Simon.

For a moment Julie feels as if she's a little kid again, blessedly free from all her grown-up worries — Tony's death, Helen, Caroline's looming arrival, her own forced departure from New Guinea. It's as if they're playing cubbies in their own hidden den: cosy, safe and secret. She says, ‘Your mother is
cool
.'

Simon is silent, unwrapping the greaseproof paper around the sandwiches. The soft light strikes his face so that the shadow of his eyelashes sweeps down his cheek. At last he says, ‘It's taken me a while to appreciate her.'

Julie is quiet, waiting.

‘I used to wish Dad had married a
normal
woman. A European woman. It really pissed me off. It made our lives so hard, you know? We'd go into town, people would cross to the other side of the street. And Mum's life, too. It's been harder for her.' He looks at Julie. ‘It would be hard for Helen, too, you know. If she was parachuted into Australia. Not knowing anyone
. . .
It's such a different world. She's just a kid. It's a lot to ask.'

‘Okay,' says Julie.
‘Okay
, I get it.' She shreds the sandwich paper, not looking at Simon. ‘I thought we were talking about your mother.'

‘Yeah.' Simon sighs. ‘She misses the village; she gets lonely, especially when I'm away at school. She never got to go past Grade Three; she can hardly write her name. It's not fair
. . .
She's smart; she could have done anything.'

‘I thought you said it was the best of both worlds,' says Julie.

He smiles. ‘The worst of both worlds, too.' His face splits in a giant yawn. ‘Sorry. I've been up since six.'

‘Oh, I didn't realise — sorry.' She watches as he shakes out the rug and spreads it on the threadbare carpet. ‘You can't really sleep on the floor.'

‘It's okay. It's not as hard as the beds at boarding school.'

‘At least take a pillow.' She throws one down to him.

‘Thanks.'

Julie reaches over and snaps off the lamp. Light leaks into the room around the edge of the skimpy curtains. She pulls the blankets over herself and lies on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Simon, there's plenty of room up here. I promise I won't
— No, no. She can't say that.
Simon, are you comfortable down there? Simon, this is ridiculous, isn't it? Come up on the bed.

He is asleep. She can hear the deep, even rhythm of his breathing.

She is so tired, but she feels wide awake. She thinks about Helen.

This is not like paying the motel manager before she's seen the room. She has all the power in this situation; Helen has none. Perhaps she'll be able to persuade her to come to Australia, in spite of what Simon says. But what if she can't persuade her? Could she
make
her come?

This is uncomfortable knowledge. It makes Julie feel prickly and miserable. She doesn't want this power. She wants Helen to
want
to come with her. What was it Simon said? Run into her arms and weep for joy?

And how would you feel
, she asks herself,
if someone turned up out of the blue and wanted to take you away from everything you knew? Think how much you hate it when your mum tries to force you into things you don't want to do. Now imagine it was a stranger.

Julie grimaces into the darkness. She wanted this visit to be a wonderful meeting; but she's messed it up. Far below, sunk in the earth, she senses a slow, faint rumbling. It's a minor
guria
, too weak to shake the building; it's just strong enough to set up an uneasy quivering, rocking deep in her gut, like seasickness. Her hands creep out to hold onto the edge of the bed. Her eyes are wide open, staring into the dark.

‘How did you sleep?'

Simon grimaces. ‘Not very well. Terribly, actually.'

‘Me either. I kept waking up and not knowing where I was.' Julie lets out a sigh as the Jeep rounds the corner and she sees that the green car is still parked underneath Miss Elliot's house. ‘Oh, good. They're home.'

Simon glances at her. ‘Did you think they'd run away?'

When he puts it like that, it sounds ridiculous; but some part of Julie had been afraid that she and Simon would arrive and find them gone.

Simon parks the Jeep, and once again they climb the steep steps. The front door opens almost before Julie has finished knocking.

‘Come in,' says Miss Elliot.

The four of them stand awkwardly in the living room. Helen looks at the floor, her hands clasped in front of her. Today the clips in her hair are tiny birds.

Julie feels herself smiling nervously. Simon rubs the back of his head.

Miss Elliot says softly, ‘Helen? Don't you have something to say?'

Helen keeps her eyes lowered. She murmurs, ‘I'm sorry about yesterday. I was upset. But I shouldn't have behaved like that. It was rude and I apologise.'

This speech has obviously been carefully prepared. Julie can imagine Miss Elliot sitting Helen down and rehearsing it. Her stomach churns. This is all wrong. She, Julie, was the one who behaved like a spoilt brat yesterday — why would Miss Elliot make Helen apologise to her?

Miss Elliot shoots her a swift, worried, sideways glance, and in a flash Julie understands. It's because Julie is white, because she is rich, because she controls Tony's money now. This is horrible: to see Miss Elliot and Helen feeling forced to almost grovel to her, to stop her from abandoning Helen completely, so she isn't thrown out of the school
. . .
It shouldn't be like this. Julie is only offering what Helen is owed, what should be hers by right. Tony was her father, too. She is just as entitled to his inheritance as Julie is.

Julie flings out her hand. ‘Don't! Please don't. I should be the one apologising. I shouldn't have snatched your reports and stuff. That was just — rude. I'm sorry. Can we — can we start again? Please?'

Miss Elliot and Helen look at each other. Then Miss Elliot turns to Simon. ‘Perhaps you and I should go and sit in the kitchen? Would you like a coffee?'

Julie shakes her head.

‘I'd love one,' says Simon, and he follows Miss Elliot into the kitchen. The door closes firmly behind them, and Julie feels a sudden unexpected twist of jealousy. What if Simon
fancies
Miss Elliot? She is shocked at how sick this thought makes her feel.

Helen and Julie are alone together.

Julie clears her throat. ‘I really am sorry about yesterday.' There is a brief pause. ‘I hope your head's okay.'

‘No,' says Helen. ‘I have a big lump. Here.' She touches her temple, and stares at Julie accusingly.

‘Oh, God!' says Julie. ‘Sorry!'

Helen puts her hand to her mouth and begins to giggle, and then Julie starts to giggle too.

‘Let's sit down,' says Julie, and they settle side by side on the sagging brown couch.

Helen smoothes her hair, and Julie looks at her carefully. ‘Your face is the same shape as Tony's. Your chin and your nose. I can see it.'

Helen nods. She says, ‘Do you have a picture of him?'

‘No.' Julie feels stricken. ‘I'll get you one.'

‘I never met him,' says Helen.

‘I only met him a few weeks ago,' says Julie. ‘He and my mum split up when I was three. Just before he came up here. Just before —' She takes a breath. ‘Before you were born, I guess.'

Helen nods again. ‘My mother has a husband now,' she says in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘A new family.' She lowers her eyes and says softly, ‘But it's better if I live here now.'

‘Do you miss them?' says Julie. ‘You must miss them.'

Helen shrugs. ‘I do. But I can't live with them. They live far away. There's no school there. I have to go to school.' She shoots Julie a quick, intense look.

‘I know,' says Julie. ‘I know how important it is. I'll make sure you can keep going to school. Whatever happens. I promise.' She takes a deep breath. ‘Look, it came out all wrong yesterday, but I meant what I said — if you wanted to, I'd really like you to come and live with us. With me and my mum. We live in Melbourne. It's a big city. We live near the sea, near the beach. You could go to my school
. . .
'

But Helen is shaking her head, gently but firmly. She says, ‘I like my school. I want to stay at my school. I live with Miss Elliot in the holidays. She is like —' Helen bites back a word, then changes her mind, ‘— like a sister,' she finishes shyly.

Julie doesn't know what to say. ‘That's — that's good. Good. It's good that — that you're happy.'

Helen nods. She seems relieved, as if a great danger has passed. ‘I want to go to teachers' college one day,' she confides. ‘Then I can be a teacher, like Miss Elliot. There is the teachers' college here in Goroka. Or perhaps I can go to the university in Port Moresby. Miss Elliot says I would be a good teacher, or a journalist for the newspapers, one day. We have our own newspaper, at school. We can put in stories. One of my stories was in the newspaper last term.'

Now it's Julie's turn to nod. ‘That sounds great. You sound like you've got a better idea of what to do with your life than I do.'

Helen smiles, and tucks her hair behind her ear. She looks confident and self-possessed, and for a moment Julie envies her.

‘If you change your mind about coming to Australia, just tell me, okay? I'll try to find a way to make it happen. But if you're sure you want to stay here, then I'll make sure your school fees get paid. After that —' She hesitates. ‘I don't know, we'll have to see. I'll have to talk to my mother, and — there are other people I can talk to.' She is thinking of Allan Crabtree, and Patrick and Dulcie. ‘But I promise I'll do everything I can. Because we're family now.'

Helen nods. She holds out her hand, and Julie shakes it. Helen's hand is small and cool and dry.

‘Maybe I could visit you in Australia, one day?' suggests Helen. Julie senses that she is suggesting it as a kindness to her, Julie.

‘I would really like that,' says Julie. ‘You could visit me and I could visit you.'

‘I would like that, too,' says Helen.

Simon and Miss Elliot come out from the kitchen. Helen rises, and slips her hand into Miss Elliot's.