The Ellie Chronicles (56 page)

We arrived in a little courtyard. Toddy jumped off the bike and swung the gate shut so we were protected from the eyes of neighbours. I waited while he did that, then followed him into a narrow high building that could have been a house or an office block. We went up the back stairs and into a little room that had a table and a couple of chairs and a fridge and not much else. Toddy got me a glass of water which I drank in one go. I was insanely thirsty. He filled it again while I reminded myself to take a water bottle with me next time I went riding in the middle of a haystack.

‘OK,’ he said, ‘here’s where you’ll be staying. You can go out in this neighbourhood with no problems as long as you keep to your cover story. You’re Paula, right?’

‘Yep, Paula McClure, daughter of Mr Jerry McClure and Dr Suzanne Spring. I live at Apartment 127 in Block D, at the UN Staff Residence, my birthday is October 31 and I have a sister named Laura.’

‘Let me see your ID.’

I hauled out my old reddish-brown wallet, which had been my mother’s, and gave Toddy my little pass, which wasn’t much bigger than a credit card and had my photo and the usual date of birth and address stuff, along with a lot of writing that I couldn’t read. Toddy inspected it carefully, front and back, then nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s good,’ he said. ‘They do a nice job. It’ll pass OK.’

‘Seems like I’m not the first person he’s seen from Liberation,’ I thought. He held out his hand for the other card, my ‘Permit to Live in Havelock’. It also had a photo of me, with a whole lot of details down the lefthand side, and instructions in French and English about travel limitations and how to get a new card if you were careless enough to lose this one. Toddy approved of that too, although he didn’t look too familiar with it. As a ‘local’ I guess he didn’t need one.

‘Now,’ Toddy continued, ‘like I say, you can go out in the street but you shouldn’t unless it’s necessary. Better stay here, safer. Now, here is the situation. I have contacts who are trying to find where the little boy is. Your arrival here is good, it will put more pressure on them to come up with answers. If we find him and you think you can get him out, well, that’s for you to decide. We will help you so far but no more. We are not soldiers, we are not heroes, we just try to make a living. This is your war, not ours. You want to be Rambo, fine, go ahead, but me, I’m just a simple boy who doesn’t want trouble.’

‘I’m just a simple girl who doesn’t want trouble either. But when people come to my farm and kill my parents and then, as if that isn’t enough, they come back and kidnap my little brother –’

He held up his hands. ‘All right, all right, I know these are not good things, but in war bad things happen, OK? We better get you some breakfast. I’m a good cook. You tell me what you want, I make it for you.’

I grinned. ‘I didn’t expect someone to be cooking breakfast for me.’

‘Ah, that’s life, huh? Always surprises. You like toast? Eggs?’

ALTHOUGH THE STIR-CRAZY feelings I got in this narrow little building were nothing compared to the feelings I’d had in the hay bales, they were still pretty bad. Toddy had gone out nearly four hours earlier, saying not to move till he came back, but at the same time, if a kid with a Fremantle Dockers shirt could walk around this town, surely I could? If I’d brought my Bulldogs top I’d have worn that, cos that’s got to be better than a Dockers top any day, but I didn’t know how aware these people were of the subtleties of football. To be honest I don’t care much about it myself but it had given me a warm and fuzzy feeling to see that purple and green and red, and the white anchor.

I decided to give Toddy the full four hours but when he still hadn’t turned up after four hours and five minutes, I wrote him a note saying
2.05 pm
. I figured I’d better not put any details about who I was, or where I was going, in case the wrong person found the note. Then I took a deep breath and went downstairs and through the back door into the courtyard.

A narrow alley got me into the street and as soon as I came into the bright sunlight I did my best to look relaxed and at home, like I walked down this street every second day of my life. Oh yeah, this was Wirrawee, this was Stratton, this is just me everyone, don’t take any notice, it’s just little old Ellie, I mean Paula, off for a stroll.

It worked for about a millisecond.

I turned right, walked about three steps, looked up and around, and nearly panicked. There wasn’t a single other foreigner on the street but there sure were a lot of people who looked right at home. Once upon a time I would have been right at home in this town too, and not so long ago either, but it didn’t seem to count any more.

I forced myself to keep walking, but at the same time wished I were back in the middle of the haystack. My senses felt overwhelmed. The eyes were copping it, through the sight of hundreds of people, all obviously different to me. When we’d arrived the street had been quite calm and peaceful, but things had warmed up now, and the crowds were out and about. My ears copped it from the voices all around me, which sounded harsh and high-pitched, and which talked so fast that I felt like I was in a washing machine of sound. The conversations were punctuated every twenty seconds by a long blast or a series of bips from a car horn, as taxis and cars and motorbikes argued for priority. My nose copped it from a strange, slightly mouldy smell, which could have been a sewerage pipe gone wrong, or could have been just the typical lunch fragrances drifting from the restaurants.

I didn’t know, and in my narrow life I didn’t have enough to compare it with.

At least my sense of taste and my sense of touch were getting off pretty lightly, although people bumped into each other much more than I was used to. The first few times it happened to me I apologised, but no-one else seemed to bother, so I gave up.

People certainly looked at me, but not with the piercing stare of the girl on the motorbike. They glanced, looked away, and then often looked back, not suspiciously I thought, or hoped, but more like they were asking themselves, ‘Hmm, who’s she? Haven’t seen her before.’

Of course that was not the kind of look I wanted to attract. I felt myself going red every time it happened, which meant that I stayed red most of the time, as it happened so often.

My mind was in too much turmoil for me to think. Instead I ploughed on, not yet ready to form opinions as to whether I should keep going or cross the road or go back or jump up on one of the cafe tables on the footpath and dance an Irish jig.

I made myself walk to the end of the block, and cross over at the intersection, then come back on the other side. It took all that time for my heart to beat a little slower, and for my breathing to get a bit steadier. I still felt as though I were the centre of attention, and I wasn’t wrong about that. But so far nothing horrible had happened, and the attention still seemed to be curious, not threatening.

Then something horrible did happen. I was coming towards the open doors of what looked like a supermarket, and I was slowing down, thinking I’d have a look in there, and maybe even try to find the nerve to go in and buy something. Jeremy had said everyone loved American dollars, and I could use them at street stalls even. I thought it would be good for my confidence to go in and get some chewing gum or Pepsi or bananas, anything that was universal and uncomplicated and noncontroversial. Asking what size bottles Absolut vodka came in, for example, wasn’t on my agenda.

As I came to a stop, feeling the money in my pockets with one hand, wondering if I should take the plunge, a couple of young guys in uniform suddenly appeared at my right elbow. I think they had been leaning against the wall of the building, but they had been blocked from my view by a woman selling cigarettes and matches from a little trolley. One of the men clicked his fingers at me and held out his hand. I’d been warned by Jeremy that this might happen, and it was the signal to produce my ID. I let go of the money and fumbled in my other pocket, dragged out my mother’s wallet and showed him the cards that Toddy had already inspected.

There’s something about people in uniform. I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t just apply to cops and soldiers. With me, it applies to anyone umpiring a game or behind the counter of a shop or driving a bus. I guess it’s one of the reasons companies issue uniforms to their employees. It immediately gives them authority, and makes people like me nervous. I didn’t actually need a lot more to be nervous about. I had enough stuff on my list already. So even though I’d practised in my mind many times, before I left home and during the truck ride and while I was upstairs at Toddy’s place, how I’d handle a situation like this, I couldn’t stay cool and calm and casual while these guys looked me over. I know I went red again; I found it impossible to look at either of them, and my head dropped a little, like I knew I was guilty and was willing to come along quietly to whatever cell they had reserved for me.

They didn’t say a word. One of them, the one who snapped his fingers, just seemed to be reading the data, and very slowly at that. The other one read it as well, over his friend’s shoulder. Around us the pedestrian traffic continued to move, parting like a river does around a rock, but if I was getting curious glances before, I was getting a hundred times more of them now. I suppose when people see someone being stopped or questioned, they immediately assume the person’s committed a couple of murders at least. A lot of time passed. Seemed like years. Another five minutes and I would have reached menopause. The first soldier said something, but I couldn’t understand it. I croaked, ‘What?’ and glanced up at him, our eyes meeting for the first time. I went even redder. He didn’t look much older than me, but he looked very smart, although that could have just been his dark glasses.

‘Where you live, Paula?’ he said.

I understood then why some people confess everything so easily when they get arrested. In answer to his question, I was almost ready to sob, ‘I’m not Paula, you know I’m not, I’m Ellie, and I’m probably on your ten-most-wanted list for all the damage I did during the war and all the soldiers I killed.’

Instead, I found enough sense to croak again, giving him Paula’s address.

The only thought I could summon to my brain was the word ‘Gavin’ and I kept trying to say that to myself to remember why I was here and that I was on the side of good things, positive things, nice things like saving someone who deserved a break for once in his young life. The soldier looked so sceptical when I said my address that I wondered if he knew something I didn’t, like that the house had been pulled down or my street had been wiped out in an earthquake. I had an insane impulse to run, and would have, if I’d been able to think of anywhere to go. As it was I had to push my feet into the ground to make myself stay, and squeeze my fingernails hard into the palm of my hand.

He didn’t say anything for a long time, just stood there tapping my card against his fist and looking at me. Finally, when I was about to burst, he gave me back the pass and said, ‘OK, you go.’

I’d lost interest in shopping. I walked away, trying to keep my head high, hoping I looked calm, from behind at least. I knew I didn’t look calm from in front. Heading towards the next corner I passed Toddy’s place on the other side of the street. There was no way I could go there right now, not with the possibility that two pairs of eyes were boring holes into my back. I came to the corner and randomly turned right. This road was a lot clearer. With a burst of hope I saw the two boys I’d noticed earlier about thirty metres ahead, just hanging out it seemed like. I accelerated and caught them as they rambled along.

‘Hey guys!’ I called.

They turned around. They looked friendly. I hoped I wasn’t going to get them into trouble. ‘Can you do me a huge favour?’

‘Depends,’ the black-haired one said, but he was still being friendly. I had the feeling they were those very cool kind of kids who can be friendly with girls who are older than them and girls who are younger than them and boys who are older and boys who are younger . . .

and old ladies and grandpas and people working in shops and migrants who can’t speak English and teachers and babies . . . God I love those sorts of kids, who just don’t feel threatened the way someone like Gavin does. Gavin approaches everyone like they’re holding a samurai sword behind their back and they’re about to pull it out and use it on him. Trouble is, in his life, that’s more or less exactly what’s happened.

‘I’m getting hassled by a couple of soldiers back there and I’m worried they might be following me.’ I paused. They looked at each other. ‘I just wondered if you might go and have a look around the corner. See if they’re coming.’

They looked at each other again and the red-haired one shrugged and said, ‘OK.’

It was as easy as that for them. They headed back there with no great fuss, quite quickly. Just as they got to the corner the two soldiers came around it and nearly ran into them.

Were they following me? I think so. I thought so. There was a moment when all five of us were frozen in surprise. The soldiers had to step out onto the road if they were going to get around the boys. The boys had nowhere to go except backwards. I could have gone in any direction but I was meant to be an innocent Paula on a walk through the streets, not a fugitive from justice.

The dark-haired boy swung around and waved to me. ‘Don’t forget to tell Mom,’ he called. Mom? Where were they from? Then he and his friend both moved a little, like they’d planned it, so they were blocking the soldiers. It was a beautiful piece of choreography. The red-haired one folded his arms and said something to the soldiers like he was asking a very serious question. Maybe for directions. That was the last I saw. I waved back to them and walked on quickly. Coming up on the right was a coffee shop. It had a sign in English out the front:
American coffee, 20. We take cards. Relax with friend.
I dived in there. It was tiny. A very funky young woman with long black hair was sitting at a computer. She stood as I came in. There was a little bar, but I swear, there was room for about four customers. She saw my confusion and pointed to the stairs, which were also very funky, but narrow. Made of stainless steel. ‘Upstairs,’ she said. ‘Coffee upstairs.’

‘Can I use your toilet?’ I asked. I was already heading for a door behind the bar. She blushed and put her hand to her throat. ‘No, is not allowed,’ she said.

‘Sorry, I’m really busting,’ I said. Seemed like Paula had pretty bad manners. I opened the door and slipped through it, closing it behind me. I was in a very narrow corridor, made even narrower by boxes and tins. There was a big stack of Lavazza coffee. They must do good business for a tiny shop. Maybe there was a chain of them and this was the headquarters. I reached the end of the corridor and opened the next door. Behind me the girl opened the first door. I heard her start to say something, but even as she drew breath for the words I was through the next door and closing it again.

Now I was in their sitting room. God this was embarrassing. Another funky-looking girl was there and a thin pale-faced guy who looked British. Who the hell was he? ‘Just looking for the toilet, sorry,’ I said, and went on by while they looked at me like I was a complete freak. This was getting seriously surreal. Down another corridor and at last out into, well, not fresh air, but as close to it as I was likely to find in Havelock.

Their yard was about the same size as their sitting room. I scuttled straight for the back gate and was through it and gone before anyone could follow me from the building. I threw a left and headed down the alley to the street and started a long circumnavigation of the suburb. I couldn’t hear any police sirens or tracker dogs but I was playing it pretty carefully, so I went half-a-dozen blocks further round than I probably needed. My confidence to walk down the main street was gone so I kept to side streets and lanes, although at one point I cut across a big park. The only way to get through this whole thing was to look confident, but I felt like I’d turned into cheese gratings and could melt at any moment.

By the time I got back to Toddy’s he was there and not very happy. When I came through the back door he practically leapt down the whole staircase in one jump and grabbed me with both arms. ‘Where have you been? Are you all right? Did anything happen?’

I told him the whole thing, not feeling very proud of myself, and he wasn’t too happy. ‘Are you sure you weren’t followed?’ he asked me three times, till I got to the point where I wasn’t sure if I had been or not.