Lost Girls (17 page)

So they
arranged to meet the next day and go walking in the hills together,
she with her goats, which she had promised to mind for the day, to
give her little brother a day off.

Francois came
another way to meet her, not wanting the village to know. He had
found her in the high valley behind their village, hidden from
village view by a mountain.

At first they
had sat side by side surveying the barren mountain. She had found
herself telling him of her childhood crush on him. He was a
handsome man and as she spoke she had felt that flush of early
teenage emotion return and make her body tingle.

As she spoke he
lay his hand on her leg and stroked it gently.

“I noticed you
too he said, but you seemed too young then. Now we are both grown
up and can enjoy these feelings.” As he said this he slid his hand
down her inner thigh, sliding it under the place where her skirt
covered it.

His face was
flushed and she could feel her own face grow warm too as she
enjoyed the touch. But at the same time she had felt awkward with
the intimacy. It was not something she had allowed to happen
before, having always resisted the urgings of the local boys at the
University.

Until this day
she had followed her mother’s Catholic adage that some things were
best kept until the time was right, in the marriage bed. She knew
this touching was of that sort.

But his touch
had brought her body alive in a new way. So she let his hand
continue its slow and intimate journey until it was stroking the
place where her legs met, first over her panties and then from the
inside. As he touched that place she could feel waves of pleasure
come over her.

Francois was
obviously an experienced lover. He had had gently stroked and
fondled her body until it was fully aroused. After that she
remembered herself allowing him to undress her and lay her on a
blanket he had brought along. It happened almost despite herself.
Then, as he stroked her more and more in that place of pleasure,
she became aware he had taken off his own pants and she saw his
maleness aroused.

It was hard to
stop his insistent touching and her body wanted more. She
remembered how he had placed his body over hers and pushed her legs
apart, then her feeling of alarm, not sure she wanted this, but not
knowing how to stop him.

When she had
felt him try push inside her at first it really hurt and she tried
to shake her head and push her body away. But she was pinioned and
he was too strong. Then the pain became sharp and she felt a place
tear inside her, and after that the pain eased. In its place she
remembered her sense of regret. It had been too cheap. But, by
then, the time to resist, alone with him on a barren hillside, was
past. She was powerless to make him stop.

So she had
allowed it to finish, lying still and unmoving on the blanket, flat
on her back with her legs pushed wide apart. She remembered, as if
a bird, watching, with a sense of sad perplexity, as his body rose
and fell and he groaned as he pushed in and out of her. For her
there had been a small amount of pleasure mixed with the pain but
it was not much. It did not override the sense of loss.

Then, when it
was done, he had removed himself from her with a shuddering moan,
leaving that part wet and bleeding. She had felt a sense of strong
remorse.

But it was
done, even if disappointing. It had given her little pleasure then
and, even now, she felt short-changed. Soon after he had dressed
and left, suggesting they meet again soon.

She had not
responded. She had known she would not do this with him again. For
the next few days she had thanked him for invitations to do more
things with her but declined. Then he was gone. She had not heard
from him over the three years since. On that day, when it was done,
she remembered she had also felt relief that no one else knew.

Since that time
she had little inclination to repeat it with another man, religious
beliefs aside. She still held to those religious beliefs but they
were not so strong now. She knew that almost everyone else her age,
married or unmarried, did these things without second thoughts.
They did not seem to feel any guilt. Now she wondered was it really
guilt and remorse? Or was it just that she had done it with the
wrong man at the wrong time and, with another man, it would be
different?

As she wondered
of other men she found the face of this man, Mark, come into her
mind. Now he was doing this thing with another girl and not with
her. So, even though she sensed a raw sexuality with this man,
Mark, that made her tingle, she did her best to ignore it and push
it away.

She expected
that Mark would leave on the same day as his girlfriend. Instead he
stayed on another night; she saw his name again in the guest list.
In the afternoon and evening she glimpsed him walking in the
distance and felt a strange thrill despite trying not to notice.
That night she was rostered to serve in the backpacker bar. She
took along her guitar; she had not played for over a week and felt
a need to make music.

At first there
was another girl behind the bar with her and while she served
Isabelle played with her guitar and sang her bracket of Piaf songs.
As she started to play she could see that Mark was sitting at a
table at the back. She had not noticed him come in and had not
served him a drink. But he had a drink in his hand and was talking
to another man a few years younger, explaining something with his
hands.

When her song
began she saw him turn towards her and put down his drink. She
sensed his attention had locked onto her. A couple times as she
looked up she connected with his eyes and sensed admiration.

When the songs
were finished there was strong applause and a steady stream tips
which she split with her co-worker. Soon after that most people
drifted off and now there were only half a dozen people remaining.
She told the other girl she was happy to be the one to lock up, so
her friend went off to bed.

At the end,
before she closed the bar, it was only him and another couple left.
This couple were only interested in each other. So she fell into a
conversation with Mark, discovering small fragments of his life,
though he was guarded in what he said. But she listened with
interest as he told her of having worked in French Africa for a
period.

She found that,
notwithstanding his guarded way, she liked him and enjoyed his
company. When the other couple left he made his excuses, though it
seemed that he would have stayed on if they did. She would have
liked to talk with him for longer

The following
day he was gone and she did not expect to see him again, such was
the traveller’s way. She felt regret as she watched his broad back
walk away down the street.

A month passed
and she decided to move on. It was now the end of July. She decided
she wanted to see the desert and booked a flight from Cairns to
Uluru, thinking that, after she saw the sights there, she would go
on to Alice Springs and look for another job for a month or two
before she travelled on again.

When she came
to Yulara she saw a “Positions Vacant” sign at the Desert Sails
Motel. After a short interview she gained a position on the
strength of a reference from Cairns and her multilingual skills.
Again the living was cheap with a room provided and her days off
gave her the chance to explore. After a fortnight of work she had
four days off. She caught a bus to Alice Springs.

As she left the
bus and walked down the main street of Alice Springs toward the
mall, she looked across the street. Her heart skipped a beat. There
was that man, Mark, walking down the street, another girl on his
arm, again very friendly. She felt regret that he was always with
someone else, usually a girl prettier than her.

But then he
looked her way, saw her and gave her a huge grin. He brought his
friend across the road and introduced this girl to her.

“This is one of
my best friends from Alice Springs, Martha, who is a nurse in the
hospital. I have not seen her for almost a year, even though I am
often in Alice Springs, and here she is walking down the
street.”

Then he
addressed them both, “So, as I start walking along to have a coffee
with Martha, what do you know? I discover another friend, Isabelle
who I met over a couple nights when I stayed at a backpacker lodge
in Cairns. She was the delightful bar maid who served me drinks
late in the night and listened to my drunken stories when most
other people would have told me to go off to bed. Plus she plays
the guitar, sings like an angel and talks with the most delightful
French accent.

Martha held out
her hand in welcome. Now they all walked along down the street
together before stopping at a cafe for a coffee and snack.

Isabelle found
something nice about meeting a person she already knew, and she
liked his friendly friend. They all chatted freely, exchanging
tales of the road and them talking of the goings on in this bush
town. The picnic races were coming up the next weekend. Martha
asked Isabelle and Mark if either would be able to come.

Isabelle
replied, “Regretfully I cannot, I must catch a bus back to my job
in Yulara in 3 days time. Then I must work for another ten days
before I get my next break.”

Mark also said
that he had to head out of town this afternoon and would be away
for at least two weeks before he got back again, in fact he must
leave very soon, he had just come to the town to get a couple
things before heading out.

After half an
hour he excused himself, saying he had a long way to drive tonight
as he was expected at the Granites Gold Mine, in the Tanami Desert
over 500 kilometres to the north-west, tomorrow at daylight. As he
left he promised Martha he would call and see her when next in
town.

Then he turned
to Isabel, took her hand lightly in his own and said, “I sincerely
hope to meet you again somewhere in your travels.” He said it with
such charm she felt herself blush inside.

Then he was
gone and it was just her and Martha left to finish their coffees
and food.

She found she
really liked this girl, Martha. She was down to earth and good
natured. She was also attractive in a well rounded way, if not
classically beautiful.

Isabelle could
not help herself; she wanted to know about what was between Martha
and Mark. With Gallic directness she said. “Are you and Mark very
good friends, do you know him well?” Then she blushed, self
conscious at her prying.

Martha looked
at her directly and laughed. “Oh, you mean, is he my boyfriend or
lover? Are we shagging? God no! The girls he picks up girls are
much classier than me, much more your type, often girls from other
countries, people who want to see the outback. He offers to show
them and I am sure he offers them more than that. You know, nights
out under the stars, two of them in one bed. I am sure he tells
them when it is cold that he will keep them warm.” she said with a
lascivious grin.

“Every time I
see him he has a different one on his arm. Not that I would mind
trying him on, just a one night stand would be fun, I am sure he is
a great lover, you can tell it by the way he looks, so intense!

“But I have a
regular boyfriend who works in the hospital laboratory. He is not
as wild and exciting like Mark but he is much safer. Now he has
gone away to Sydney for two weeks to see his family. That is why I
am out on my own and at a bit of a loose end.

“Perhaps if
Mark stayed in town tonight and we kicked on we would have a shag
at the end of the night. I am sure he would give me a wild ride and
one to remember, but that would be it. You can be sure I would
never tell my boyfriend. But never so far and we probably never
will.

“Mark is just a
good time mate. Someone to have a drink and a laugh with, a good
friend but not in the way you were thinking. It is better that way
as sometimes the sex thing gets in the way.

“I have known
him for a couple years since I treated him in hospital one time
when he cut his hand pretty bad. He is as tough as an old boot and
his hand got better before you could blink. But we became friends
and now I see him now and then, maybe once every six months.

“I know almost
nothing about him. He seems to come to the Alice for a few days
once in a while; it is like a base for him. Sometimes, when he
comes to town, he rings me and invites me out for a drink. But then
he is gone again and months go by until I next see him around.

“So it was such
a pleasure to run into him this afternoon and an equally big one to
meet you. Where are you staying in town? Perhaps we could go out
for a drink together tonight instead.”

Isabelle
admitted that she had yet to find a place to stay; she had only
stepped off the bus from Yulara five minutes before she met
them.

Martha said. “I
have a little flat near the hospital. It has a spare room, with no
one in it. Why don’t you stay there while you are here?”

So it was
agreed. Isabelle wanted to give her some money but Martha would not
hear of it. “No way, it would have been empty if you had not come.
Tell you what. I have been promising myself a trip to the Rock for
over a year. If you can squeeze me into your room, I am happy to
sleep in my sleeping bag on the floor, that will save me some money
in return.”

So it was
agreed. Next weekend Martha would come to the Rock and stop with
Isabelle in return for her giving Isabelle a bed in Alice
Springs.

They walked
down the road to Martha’s house and, after Isabelle was settled,
went out for a drink. Their friendship grew from there.

Isabelle really
liked the frank and open way that Martha talked about her life and
loves. She had always kept her personal secrets much closer to her
own chest.