New Guinea Moon (23 page)

‘It's all right,' she says. ‘We've been talking. Julie says I can stay at the school. She will pay. It's all right. We're wontoks now.'

‘That's right,' says Julie. ‘We're wontoks.'

‘Mr Murphy and I have been talking, too,' says Miss Elliot, and for a second Julie thinks that Patrick must somehow have magically arrived in Goroka while she and Helen have been sitting on the couch. ‘If you're sure your family will take responsibility for Helen's education
. . .
' Miss Elliot glances at Simon. ‘I wonder if perhaps you could set up a trust fund?'

‘I can't be in charge of a trust fund,' says Julie. ‘I'm not old enough.'

‘I'm sure Allan Crabtree would be willing to be a trustee,' says Simon. ‘And my dad would do it, I'm sure. And perhaps someone from the school?'

Miss Elliot nods. ‘I will speak to our headmistress.'

Julie says to Simon, ‘Couldn't you be one?'

Simon looks startled. ‘I suppose so.'

‘Please,' says Julie. ‘Because I won't be here, you see.' She blinks, horrified, because there are tears in her eyes. She says, ‘I wish I had a photo of you, Helen. To take home with me.'

Helen shoots a glance at Miss Elliot. Then she runs out of the room, and returns with the bulging yellow envelope. She rummages inside and pulls out the tiny black-and-white photograph. ‘I have another copy of this one.' She holds it out to Julie. ‘You can keep it.'

‘Do you mean it? Thank you.' Julie folds her hand around the little photo, careful not to crease it. ‘I just want to make sure you'll be okay. Even though Tony's gone. I want you to know you can rely on me.'

Helen lays her hand on Julie's arm. ‘Please, don't worry about me. You don't need to rescue me. I'm all right.'

Julie looks at her half-sister. There are many things she wants to say to her. Helen is so young, but she is braver than Julie. Julie knows she could never have left home at twelve to go to school, and been so determined to stick to it, so clearly focused on the future. Julie wants to tell her she admires her; she wants to make her all kinds of promises.

But all she can bring herself to whisper is, ‘Will you write to me?'

22

Miss Elliot takes a couple of photographs of Julie and Helen, in the garden. Julie and Simon eat lunch with them and then, politely but firmly, they are shown out into the early afternoon sunshine.

‘Helen needs to rest now,' Miss Elliot says. ‘She didn't sleep well last night.'

Julie can't help herself; she puts her arms around her sister and squeezes tight. ‘Goodbye.'

‘Goodbye.'

Julie holds onto the handrail as she descends the steps. The sun seems dazzling, the birds yelling in the trees. She says to Simon, ‘What should we do now?'

Simon rubs his hand across his eyes. ‘There's a park we could walk in, I think — or — listen, would you mind if we went back to the motel? I think I need an afternoon nap too.'

‘I wouldn't mind.'

Back at the Paradise Lodge, the bed has been made, Simon's pillow replaced and his rug neatly folded. For some reason this makes Julie feel embarrassed. She pulls the curtains closed and kicks off her shoes. Without speaking, without discussing it, they lie down on the bed, side by side. The springs creak and sag; they are not touching, but Simon's body is so close to hers she can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

Julie gazes up at the ceiling. Damp stains have traced a map on the fibro sheeting: hills and valleys, lakes and islands. A whole foreign country, drawn on the sky.

‘You should be prepared,' says Simon. ‘Some people are going to give you a hard time over this.'

‘Over what?'

‘Signing away Tony's money to a half-caste bastard.' She hears his head shift on the pillow as he turns to glance at her. ‘That's what they're going to say, Julie.'

‘Who's going to say that?'

‘Maybe your mother. People like the Crabtrees. Most expats. They're going to think you're a sentimental idiot.'

‘I don't care what they think,' she says. ‘It's the right thing to do. She was his daughter, too.'

‘Yes.' There is a pause. ‘Just be prepared, that's all I'm saying.'

‘I am.'

‘Good.'

There is another silence. The room is warm and shadowy. Outside, a bird's call rings out, echoes and dies away.

‘Helen told me she wants to be a teacher,' Julie says. ‘Or a journalist.'

‘I can imagine that. She seems as if she'd keep her cool, doesn't she?' says Simon. ‘So that's her future all planned out
. . .
what are we going to do with you?'

Julie sighs. ‘I'm
supposed
to be a lawyer. That's what Caroline wants me to do. Become a lawyer and fight for Women's Lib. Or human rights, or legal aid, or something.'

‘You don't sound particularly enthusiastic.'

‘That's not what I want. I'm sure about that now. I want to stay here, in New Guinea.'

‘Plenty of work for lawyers up here,' says Simon. ‘Those raskols we met on the road. The guy who broke into your house. Even Helen. They could all do with a good lawyer.'

‘But I don't think I'd be a good lawyer,' says Julie. ‘That's the point.'

‘So what do you want to do?'

‘I don't know.'

He is quiet for a moment, then he says, ‘You know, if you're serious about wanting to be an administrator, there are things you could do. You could learn bookkeeping, for a start. Then
anyone
would give you a job. There are probably courses you could do. You should find out.'

‘Mm.' She knows he's right. What he says makes sense. But she's impatient. She doesn't want to slog through a university course or a training college. She wants to be here now.

Simon is saying, ‘I'm sure we could find something for you to do. If you do come back.'

‘I don't have to come back,' she says. ‘If I never leave.'

Simon shifts beside her. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, what if — what if I stayed here? I could go to Wewak or Madang, and get a job waitressing at one of the hotels, and then I could visit Helen sometimes.'

A kind of snort escapes from Simon. ‘You think dropping out of school is a good idea? And what would your mother say to that?'

‘I wouldn't have to tell her where I was. If I went now — today, or tomorrow — before she gets here, she'd never find me. I'd ring her,' she adds quickly. ‘And tell her I was okay. Obviously. I wouldn't want her to worry.' Simon shifts onto his side. It's dim in the room with the curtains shut, and Julie feels, rather than sees, his eyes searching her face. He says, ‘You can't be serious.'

‘Why not?' Her voice rises in a defensive squeak. ‘Places like that always need waitresses. Or I could clean rooms
. . .
'

‘Julie, those jobs pay nothing. They're
kanaka
jobs.'

She won't let him shock her. ‘Then I'll get an office job. I'm good at that. I can type. Allan Crabtree said he'd give me a job. I'll tell them I'm eighteen. I did that last night, the manager believed me.'

Simon groans. ‘This is a crazy idea. It's not a plan. You don't have a visa, remember?'

‘I'll get a job first, then they'll have to give me a visa.'

‘It doesn't work like that
. . .
And they'd find you in ten seconds flat and ship you home so fast your feet wouldn't touch the ground. And they'd
never
let you come back again. And that —' his voice drops to a whisper, ‘— that would be a bloody shame.'

Julie swallows hard. It's a moment before she can speak, and when she does, her voice is wobbly. ‘I don't want to go home. I want to stay here.'

‘Everyone has to leave, Julie. I had to leave, too. You'll find a way to come back, if you really want to.' His voice is gentle and sad.

‘Coming to New Guinea — it's made me feel like —' She pauses. ‘You know when you're flying, and it's all clouds below, and you can't see anything? And then all of a sudden the clouds are gone, and you can see the whole country spread out beneath you. Mountains and valleys and trees and houses — a whole world, and it was there all the time, and you never realised. As if anything was possible
. . .
'

She rolls onto her side, facing him. She feels the stir of his breath against her lips and her cheeks, lifting a strand of her hair. There is a hand's breadth between their bodies; she can almost feel the crackle of lightning as it leaps across the gap. She never felt like this when she was close to Ryan. Ryan would crowd too close, suffocating her, so that she'd have to pull away, so she could breathe again. But here, now, with Simon, she longs to move closer. She wants to touch him, to touch his smooth skin and run her hands over the planes of his body. She wants to inhale the scent of him, merge her breath with his.

She lifts her head, the slightest movement. He is watching her; his eyes are dark and huge, his brow faintly creased. He murmurs her name; it might be a question, or a plea. She whispers, ‘Ssh.' She feels giddy, but also very sure of herself as she leans forward and touches her lips to his.

He lets his fingers brush against her back, then pulls them away. She is the one who unbuttons his shirt, who slides her hands down the sides of his body, who presses herself against his warm chest and his wildly beating heart.

He kisses her tentatively; when he touches her, it's as if he's exploring a new land, step by hesitant step. She laces her fingers through his and holds on tight; they've come so far, she's not about to let him lose his way now.

23

The hammering at the door comes as an explosion. Julie is stunned awake, gasping. Simon's arms had been wrapped around her, but now he tears himself free, throwing himself off the bed, scrabbling for his clothes.

The angle of the light has shifted; they must been asleep for a couple of hours at least. It's late afternoon.

The banging at the door intensifies. Confusedly she assumes it's the raskol gang, come to seize her roll of cash. ‘What do we do? They're going to bash the door down!'

Simon hitches up his jeans and peers through the crack in the curtains. He says, unnaturally calm, ‘It's Allan and Ryan Crabtree. Do you want to let them in?'

‘No,' says Julie. ‘Not really.'

‘Julie! Julie! We know you're in there!' shouts Ryan. The door rattles violently. ‘Are you okay?'

‘Yes!' yells Julie. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, quickly buttons up her shirt and yanks at her skirt to straighten it up. Simon is hauling on his shirt. She says, ‘I'd better let them in.'

Simon half-shrugs and turns away as Julie fumbles with the lock. As the door begins to open, Ryan and Allan almost fall inside the room. The sudden light from the doorway reveals Julie and Simon, rumpled, but fully dressed; Ryan, panting and furious, his fists clenched and raised; and Allan, scowling, his eyes narrowed and darting around the room. With a violent movement, he drags the curtains open, and the watery afternoon light wavers in. The double bed, with its ravaged landscape of crumpled blankets, stands like an accusation.

‘What the hell is going on?' shouts Ryan. ‘What have you done to her, you little prick?'

‘
What?
What are you talking about?' Julie steps back.

Ryan barely glances at her. ‘You are in so much trouble,' he says to Simon. ‘In a hotel room with a white girl —'

‘Settle down!' barks Allan. He looks at Julie. ‘Are you all right, love? He hasn't hurt you?'

‘Yes
, I'm all right. Of course he hasn't —'

‘What's that?' Ryan springs forward, pointing triumphantly to the matted clump of hair above Julie's ear.

Julie gingerly touches her head. ‘I banged my head —' Perhaps she shouldn't mention crashing Tony's car. ‘It was an accident,' she says lamely.

‘It's okay, love, it's over now. We've found you; we've come to take you home.' Allan approaches, his arm outstretched to embrace her, but Julie backs away.

‘But I don't want to come home — What are you
doing
here?'

‘— looking for you all over town —'

‘— Teddie Spargo —'

‘— Patrick Murphy shut up like a clam —'

They are all speaking at once; all except Simon, who stands silently in the corner of the room. Then suddenly, as if at a signal, everyone falls quiet.

‘Don't feel like you have to protect him,' says Ryan. ‘Just say the word and I'll give him a smack in the mouth.'

‘Shut up!' roars Allan, his face bright red. He turns to Julie. ‘Tell me straight, love. Did he force you to come with him?'

‘
No!
' Julie actually stamps her foot. ‘If anything,
I
forced
him
. He didn't want me to drive to Goroka on my own
. . .
'

‘Why the hell did you want to come to Goroka?' says Ryan.

‘I was looking for —' Julie stops. ‘I was looking for my half-sister.'

‘
What?
' Ryan bursts into laughter, until a glare from Allan shuts him up.

‘When I was clearing out Tony's flat —'
God, could that be only yesterday?
‘— I found some papers. He has another daughter; she's at school here. Her name's Helen. Here, look.' She fumbles in her bag for the little photo and thrusts it into Allan's hands.

Ryan whistles. ‘Mac had a dirty little accident? Jeez, he managed to keep that quiet.'

‘Shut up!' says Julie fiercely. ‘That's my sister you're talking about.'

Allan is frowning over the photograph. ‘You are sure about this, love? Some native girl might have tried to tie one on; it does happen.'