New Guinea Moon (6 page)

‘That's a meri blouse,' says Nadine.

‘Oh!' Julie lays it down.

‘But they're not just for meris. Everyone wears them, Europeans as well. You can buy one if you want to.'

‘Of course I could,' says Julie hastily. ‘But it — it wasn't really my colour.'

Somewhere in the distance, piglets are squealing in distress. Scrawny chickens flap in cages of split bamboo; puppies squirm and pant. The scent of wood smoke mingles with a musty odour. Julie wrinkles her nose and recoils a little as she realises that it's the smell of unwashed human bodies. For a minute she feels almost faint as two men strut past in traditional dress, resplendent in wide belts with rear skirts of bunched leaves, like bustles, over their naked buttocks.

Ryan follows Julie's gaze. ‘You know what they call that?
Arse-gras
.'

‘No,' says Julie. ‘Really?'

‘A beard?
Mausgras
— mouth grass. Hair?
Gras bilong het
— head grass.'

‘You're making this up.'

Ryan shrugs. ‘Cross my heart
. . .
I used to speak fluent Pidgin when I was a kid. But I've forgotten most of it now.'

Julie can't take her eyes off the villagers. Short and sturdy, they stride through the marketplace, feathers swaying in their hair. The moons of seashells from the far-off ocean glow pale against their dark chests. One man has thrust a cigarette casually through his pierced nose, and another has tucked a plastic lighter into his headdress, among strings of grass-seeds and slender cassowary feathers.

Ryan offers Julie his bag of salty plums, and cautiously she takes a small, hard, pinky-orange nugget. She says, ‘It looks like a poo from a Technicolour rabbit.' She grimaces at the peculiar sour-sweet-salty tang, and Nadine laughs.

‘Urgh!' Julie shudders. Then: ‘Can I have another one?'

Sometimes Barbara stops to greet someone, or to wave and smile at an acquaintance. These friends are mostly women, and all of them are white. There are locals all around, but the Crabtrees don't seem to know any of them. Julie keeps a lookout for Simon Murphy, but she doesn't see him.

Slowly Barbara's basket fills with fruit and vegetables. Using the money her mother gave her, Julie buys a string bag. ‘That's a
bilum
,' says Nadine. ‘You'll have to wear it hanging off your forehead like a native.'

Julie shoots her an uneasy look. She is pretty sure that
native
is a word her mother would disapprove of. But maybe the rules are different here. And what should she say instead? Papua New Guinean? Indigenous person?

Ryan catches the look. ‘We don't say
native
any more, Nads, remember? It's
national
.'

‘Oh,' says Nadine. ‘I forgot. Anyway, it's not as rude as
kanaka
.' She darts away to her mother's side and begins to beg for a puppy.

Well, that answers that question. ‘I was just wondering what the right word was,' says Julie.
‘Native
sounds so
. . .
colonial.'

‘Yeah, well,' says Ryan. ‘This was a colony.' He squints at her. ‘A word to the wise? Just be a bit careful what you say. I mean,
we
know you're not a snob or anything, but you don't want people to get the wrong idea.'

‘What's it got to do with being a snob?' says Julie. ‘It's about —' She stops herself. She remembers how much she hates it when Caroline lectures her on Women's Liberation or civil rights. She says, ‘I'm going to buy some fruit to put in my bilum.'

She buys a pineapple, some passionfruit, bananas and tomatoes, a bag of salty plums and a stick of sugarcane, just to see what it's like. Nadine shows her how to strip off the tough outer casing with her teeth, then chew on the fibres to release the thick, sweet, sticky juice.

Barbara sniffs. ‘That will be the first fruit ever to cross Tony McGinty's doorstep.'

Julie doesn't even try to imitate Barbara's imperious haggling; she pays whatever the women ask. ‘They expect you to haggle, you know,' Barbara warns her. ‘They'll take you for a fool.'

‘I don't mind,' says Julie. ‘It's all so cheap, anyway.'

‘The market is cheap. But the shops are so expensive
. . .
'

Julie closes her ears to Barbara's complaints. Drinking in the smells and colours, the rise and fall of voices, like a song whose words she can't quite catch, with the cool clear sunshine falling on her bare arms, she feels as if she's been asleep and is now waking up, blood tingling through her veins. But the sensation of coming to life is painful, too. The snotty, grubby children with their distended bellies, the dirt and poverty, the puppies with their rheumy eyes, the terrified shrieking of the pigs — the Crabtrees seem not to notice these things. Julie can't believe that a place so intensely beautiful can be simultaneously so distressing.

‘There's Teddie Spargo!' exclaims Barbara. ‘Teddie! Teddie! Over here!'

Julie sees the young woman with the long red hair who was in the HAC office the day before. She turns in her flowing caftan, gives them a dreamy smile and floats over in their direction.

‘Did she say Teddie Spargo?' says Julie to Nadine. ‘Is she related to Andy?'

Nadine's face is tight and unhappy. ‘No,' she says bitterly. ‘She's his
wife
.'

‘They just got married a few months ago,' says Ryan. ‘Poor old Nads. She's in
lurve
with Andy. When she got home from boarding school and found out he'd got married — well, poor old Nads.'

‘You're a
pig
, Ryan,' says Nadine fiercely, and stalks away.

‘Oh, dear,' says Julie. ‘Should I go after her?'

‘She's got to get over it,' says Ryan. ‘No point mooning round after someone you can't have. You've got to be realistic.'

Julie wonders if Ryan yearns for someone too. Maybe he is in
lurve
with Teddie
. . .
She walks over to where Teddie and Barbara are deep in conversation.

Teddie sweeps back her hair with a languid gesture. ‘
. . .
literally
no
food in the house,' she is saying. ‘I was trying to explain to Mary — the girl who comes in — I wanted her to stop cooking dinner for us, she makes horrible food, just disgusting, so I want to take over. But my Pidgin is pretty lousy, well, just about non-existent actually. I asked Andy but he was no help, he only knows how to say “unload the plane” and “get out of the way”. So I looked up the phrasebook and I told Mary,
no kaikai, no kaikai
, thinking that meant no cooking, right? But she must have thought I meant
no food
, because when we got home from work
all the food
was gone.' Teddie rolls her eyes dramatically. ‘The cupboards were empty, the fridge, everything. We had to go to the Highlander for dinner. She
totally
misunderstood me.'

Barbara frowns. ‘You need to be careful, Teddie. Give them an inch and they'll take a mile.'

‘You think she did it on purpose?' says Teddie, wide-eyed.

‘Oh, Teddie, of course she did! They're not stupid.'

‘Well, it's my own fault,' says Teddie. ‘I gave Mary the excuse.'

Nadine reappears. She says scornfully, ‘You do realise that Mary isn't a name?'

‘What?'

‘Meri
— it means a maid — it's not her actual
name
.'

‘No!' says Teddie doubtfully. ‘I'm sure her name's Mary. I can't have been calling her “Maid” all this time.'

‘It means
woman
,' says Ryan. ‘Actually.'

‘That's even worse!' wails Teddie.

‘Would you like me to have a word with her?' says Barbara. ‘That might be for the best. You really can't let them —'

‘Oh, that reminds me,' Teddie interrupts. ‘There's a kind of do this arvo, at Colditz. A pool party, barbie kind of thing. Andy thought Ryan and Julie might like to come along.'

Nadine opens her mouth to protest, then shuts it again.

‘Well,' says Barbara stiffly. ‘Of course you don't want the boss hanging over you all the time. I can understand that.'

‘Oh, you can come if you like!' exclaims Teddie. ‘But, you know
. . .
you'd probably be
. . .
bored —'

‘Why can't I go?' demands Nadine.

‘It's not for kids,' says Ryan. ‘There won't be lemonade and fairy bread.'

Teddie looks at him and Julie. ‘So you guys are coming?'

‘Sure,' shrugs Ryan. ‘Why not?'

‘I don't know,' says Julie. ‘I'd better check with Tony.'

‘Oh, he won't mind,' says Barbara. ‘He'll be relieved, he was wondering how on earth he was going to keep you entertained.'

Oh
.

Julie says, ‘What's Colditz?'

‘It's the flats where the guys live — the other HAC pilots,' says Teddie. ‘It looks like a prison block.'

‘Those flats are perfectly good accommodation,' says Barbara.

‘How come you and Andy aren't living there, Teddie?' says Ryan.

Teddie wrinkles her nose. ‘I don't know,' she says vaguely. ‘Curry gave us the yellow house when I came up. He's such a sweetie
. . .
See you later
. . .
'

She waves, and melts into the crowd, with her basket boy trotting after her.

Barbara gazes after her. ‘She really is the most exasperating girl. I don't know how Andy stands it
. . .
We rented the yellow house for them. Because we assumed there must be some reason why they got married so quickly.'

Ryan whistles. ‘Up the duff?'

Nadine squeaks. ‘They're having a
baby
?'

‘Well, there's no sign of it,' says Barbara. ‘I suppose they might have been mistaken — or she might have —' She stops. ‘Anyway, I expect they will have one soon enough. There's not much else to do.'

‘And we
do
make our own fun,' murmurs Ryan, so that only Julie can hear.

‘It's not fair,' says Nadine. ‘I never get to do
anything
.'

‘I could walk you round to Colditz, if you like,' Ryan says to Julie. ‘It's not far.'

‘Okay — thanks.' Caroline told her not to bother bringing her bathers, because Tony lived so far from the sea. Had she thrown them in, after that last repack, or not? She can't remember.

‘So, Mum, Mum, can I have that puppy?' asks Nadine.

‘No
, darling! We've already got Roxy, and you've got enough pets, you only get to see them for six weeks a year anyway! And those poor little pups are
racked
with disease.'

Julie follows them back to the car, nursing her bilum of fruit in her arms.

‘Should be a good do, this arvo,' says Ryan. ‘The Colditz guys are pretty cool.'

Julie wonders fleetingly if Simon Murphy might be there
. . .
But already, somehow, she knows that he won't be.

6

When Teddie said
pool party
, Julie had visions of a palm-lined, turquoise swimming pool, like something out of Hollywood. When she arrives at Colditz with Ryan and the Spargos, and sees the canvas-sided tub of lukewarm water, filled with a garden hose, she feels hot and foolish.

A knot of shirtless young men stand around the homemade barbecue, beers in hand. There is one young woman in the pool, in a crochet bikini, her hair dangling in wet strings, her skin as golden as a goddess's. The men around her gaze at her with the same drooling eagerness as the boys around the barbecue, poking hopefully at the meat. Julie tries not to stare, torn between envy and scorn. A couple of other girls sprawl on the grass, careless and loose-limbed, but they are far outnumbered by the men.

If I can't find a boyfriend here, there really is no hope
.

Andy strips off his shirt and leaps into the water with a whoop. But Teddie and Ryan head for the shade beneath the trees, and Julie follows them. The thought of exposing her pale, skinny body beside the golden goddess is too humiliating. Teddie smiles vaguely around, behind her dark glasses and big hat. Ryan drops onto his stomach and starts plucking up blades of grass with his usual scowl.

Neither of them seems inclined to conversation, so Julie eavesdrops on the group slouching in deckchairs nearby. They are discussing Independence, though from the way they speak, they might be talking about impending Armageddon.

‘It won't be safe to stay. We'll all be murdered in our beds. They're getting cheekier already. Did you hear the
raskols
roaring up and down Wahgi Parade last night?'

‘As soon as the
kiaps
pull out, there'll be nothing to stop them from slaughtering each other. It'll be full-scale tribal warfare.'

‘They'll kick us all out. This time next year, there won't be any Europeans left, apart from the God-botherers.'

‘It's the end of an era
. . .
It'll never be the same.'

It's odd, Julie thinks. There is anger in the way they speak, bitter resentment at their dismissal from the scene. But there is a wistfulness too, nostalgia for the lives they are still leading, as if they see themselves as ghosts already; they miss living here and they haven't even left yet. Did the Romans sit around talking like this, before their empire fell?

‘Hey, Ryan, what's Curry going to do? Stay here or
go finis
?'

Ryan shrugs and mumbles. ‘If it was up to Dad, we'd stay here forever. But I'm pretty sure Mum wants to go home.'

Julie leans forward. ‘If your family leaves — what would happen to the company?'

Andy throws himself down on the grass, scattering drops of water over them all. ‘Don't worry about Mac, Juliet. Someone'll give your dad a job, whatever happens. He's the best pilot I've ever met.'