New Guinea Moon (20 page)

Perhaps she even falls asleep for a minute.

A sudden sharp tapping near her ear makes her jump out of her skin.

A dark face is peering in the window. She bites back the urge to scream. Then she sees that it's Moses, the Keriga foreman. She winds down the window. ‘Hello.'

He looks worried. ‘You all right, misis?'

‘Not really.' She gives him a wobbly smile. ‘I seem to have crashed my car.'

He wrenches at the car door and forces it open, then holds out his large, comforting hand. ‘You come.'

Moses carries her suitcase, but Julie clutches the yellow envelope and her shoulder bag tightly to her body. Her knees won't stop shaking, so she also has to cling to Moses's arm. It feels like a rod of steel. All the way to the house, he talks to her, a stream of murmurous reassurance that she hears but barely understands, a mixture of English and Pidgin and maybe something else. Simon has told her that most nationals speak two or three languages before they learn Pidgin. What language does her sister speak? She has lost a father and found a sister. She feels delirious.

Moses helps her up the steps, calling for Dulcie. Dulcie comes hurrying out, takes one look at Julie and gently pushes her into a chair, exclaiming in concern. Dulcie and Moses have an agitated conversation, with much shrugging from Moses, and at last he jogs down the steps and away across the grass.

It's not until Dulcie fetches a bowl of water and a cloth that Julie realises she's cut her head; blood is sticky behind her ear, oozing through her hair. She winces as Dulcie gently sponges at the cut. ‘I crashed the car,' she tells Dulcie.

Dulcie clucks absently. ‘You sit there. I make you a cup of tea.'

Julie sits, gingerly touching her scalp. Inside the house, she can hear Patrick's querulous voice, and Dulcie soothing him.

Simon comes bounding up the steps. ‘Julie? Moses told me you crashed a car! What the hell were you doing driving out here?'

‘I've got my learners,' says Julie. ‘I can drive.'

Simon raises his eyebrows. ‘Apparently. But if you wanted to come for a visit, I could have picked you up.'

Julie says, ‘I found something.'

She finds she can't look at him; she's staring at the floor. Her throat is tight.

Simon draws up a chair beside her. ‘Tell me.'

Wordless, she hands him the envelope. Frowning, he sorts through the contents, and she sees comprehension dawn on his face. He looks up.

‘I think I know who her mother was,' she says. ‘Tony used to have a meri when he first came up here. He said it didn't work out.'

‘Hm,' says Simon. ‘There are quite a few meri and employer situations that
don't work out
like that. At least he seems to have taken responsibility for the baby, even given her his name. There aren't many expats who'd do that.'

Your father did.
But she doesn't say it. ‘We would never have known about Tony and this girl if he hadn't died. It was all a big secret.' Julie looks at him in anguish. ‘She doesn't know he's died. We have to tell her. And who's going to pay her school fees now?' She jumps up. ‘I need to find her. I need to get to Goroka. Can you help me get the car out of the ditch? It's not far to Goroka, is it? Could I drive there?'

‘It's possible to drive there,' says Simon. ‘But you're not doing it. Sit down. You're in shock.'

Dulcie brings out a mug of tea. It's hot and sweet. As Julie sips at it, she can hear Simon and his mother having a murmured conference in the doorway behind her.

Simon sits down again. ‘Listen, Julie. We have to ring the Crabtrees, tell them where you are.'

‘I'm not staying with them any more. I'm at Andy and Teddie Spargo's house.'

‘Okay, then we'll call them. They can come and pick you up.'

‘No — no, no, I have to go to Goroka. I have to find Helen.'

Saying her name makes it seem more real. She can almost see the anxious little girl, sitting on the end of a boarding school bed, her hands folded, waiting to hear her fate. Waiting for Julie
. . .
Does Helen know that she has a sister? ‘I can't just leave her there. Please, Simon.'

He runs his hand over his head. ‘You've only got the address of this school, right? She won't even be there, Julie. It's the holidays.'

‘She might be there. Some kids stay at boarding school for the holidays, don't they?'

‘Yes,' he has to admit. ‘Sometimes.'

‘The school is the only clue we have. There's nothing else, no phone number, no home address
. . .
Please, Simon! I can drive there. I've calmed down now. Look.' She holds out her hand, flat, to show him how steady it is. Unfortunately it's trembling like a
guria
shaking a house.

Simon grabs her hand and presses it between his own. Her heart flips over. ‘You can't drive anywhere,' he says firmly.

Julie says faintly, ‘If you don't let me, I'll sneak out in the middle of the night.'

‘Moses says your car is too wrecked to drive.'

‘Then I'll take Andy's car. All I have to do is drive along the Highlands Highway, don't I? Goroka's the next town.'

‘It's a four-hour drive!'

‘I don't care. My mother will be here soon; I'll have to go home. This is my last chance.
Please
, Simon! If I don't look after her, nobody will. She's my family
. . .
She's my wontok.'

‘Julie —' He shakes his head, smiling. He's still holding onto her hand. ‘All right,' he says, and sighs. ‘You win.'

‘You mean I can take the car?'

‘No! You can't drive to Goroka.' He lets go of her hand, abruptly, as if he's just realised that he's holding it. ‘I'll take you.'

19

Patrick won't let them leave until Julie has rung Teddie at HAC and told her that she's safe, and not to worry.

‘I'm staying with the Murphys tonight,' says Julie, winding the phone cord around her finger. ‘Maybe two nights.'

She tells herself it's not really a lie — after all, she will be with Simon.

‘Okay,' says Teddie distractedly. The other phone line is ringing. ‘Have fun
. . .
'

As Julie hangs up, she feels slightly indignant that Teddie hasn't questioned her more closely. But then a liberating lightness washes through her; she is free. She can go wherever she likes. She is going to find her sister, and no one can stop her.

She says to Simon, ‘Let's go.'

They take the Jeep. ‘It would be much quicker to fly, you know,' says Simon.

‘No,' says Julie. ‘I don't want to do that.'

‘More expensive,' agrees Simon.

But it's not the expense; Julie knows that she couldn't fly anywhere in New Guinea without Allan Crabtree finding out about it. She doesn't know if the Crabtrees would try to stop her on this quest, but she doesn't want to take any chances. Tony had kept Helen secret; for now, Julie figures she should do the same.

‘What are you going to do, if you find her?'

‘We
will
find her,' says Julie. ‘I know we will.'

‘And?'

Julie is silent for a moment. ‘Tell her about Tony. Tell her I'm her sister. She needs to know that I'll look after her, that I'm her family now.'

A burst of rain sweeps over them. Simon turns on the windscreen wipers, and as Julie watches their hypnotic arc, she finds her eyelids growing heavy.

When she snaps awake again, the road looks different. The trees have thinned out, the slope of the mountain dropping away to one side. The rain has stopped, and the valley floor spreads out in a sunlit vista, as brightly and improbably green as a lime spider.

‘Sorry.'

‘That's okay. You looked like you needed it.'

‘I wasn't snoring, was I?'

‘Oh, no. Not at all.'

‘Good.'

There is a pause. Simon says, ‘You were drooling, though.'

‘I wasn't!' She stares at him in horror.

‘Just a little bit.'

He grins, and she realises how rare it is to see him smile. Suddenly self-conscious, she shifts in her seat. One of her feet has gone to sleep, and she rubs it, grimacing, as pins and needles take hold.

‘How far have we got to go?'

‘Hours yet. I hope we get there before dark. Not much fun driving this road at night.'

‘Sorry,' says Julie.

‘That's okay. I volunteered, remember?'

A truck, laden with passengers, rattles past them, and Simon veers aside to let them pass. A fleck of gravel flies up and strikes the windscreen, and Julie can't help flinching. She hopes Simon hasn't noticed. Dulcie has packed them a basket of food, but she is too nervous to eat. She keeps trying to picture her first meeting with Helen, but her imagination seems to shut down; she can't push the scene beyond
Hello, I'm Julie . . .

The road twists and turns through the mountains. Julie glances out at dizzying drops and hastily looks away, wondering why crawling along the ground is more frightening than flying miles above it.

‘Shit,' says Simon softly.

‘What? What's the matter?'

Julie sits up in alarm, peering ahead. She sees an old, battered car slewed across the narrow road, blocking the way ahead, and a couple of men lounging against it. ‘Have they broken down?'

‘I doubt it,' says Simon grimly. ‘Lock your door, Julie.'

Her heart begins to hammer. She snaps down the lock and pushes her shoulder bag out of sight beneath the seat, as Simon slows the Jeep and pulls up near the parked vehicle. He keeps the engine idling as he winds down the window and leans casually out.
‘Wanem, yupela?
'

The two men push themselves off from the car and saunter across. One of them rests his bum on the bonnet; his weight makes the Jeep sag. The other one jumps up onto the running board, so his face is level with Simon's. He grins, showing betel-stained teeth. He has a machete thrust through his belt.

Julie tries to keep her face neutral. But her heart is pounding as she sees one, two, three more men emerge from the trees, detaching themselves from the dappled shadows. They stand motionless in the road, watching. The jungle folds around them all like a smothering cloak, dark, damp, and choking.

These are the raskols she's heard so much about. For a fleeting moment, she wonders what might have happened if she'd driven this road by herself, as she'd wanted to. Thank God she is with Simon.

But then she realises that this isn't over. It hasn't even begun. There are five of them, standing around the car, relaxed, loose-limbed, confident. One of them picks his teeth with the tip of a knife. Simon leans out through the window, apparently just as relaxed as they are. But he keeps the engine running. Menace hangs in the air like the thrumming echo of a war cry.

She wants to whisper to Simon that she has some money. Could she extract a couple of notes without letting them see the whole roll of cash? She is so conscious of the bundle in the bag under her seat, she can't believe the raskols don't sense it too. The man's powerful smell fills the car: tobacco and musk and grease and sweat.

Simon and the chief raskol are speaking. Julie can't follow their rapid patter of Pidgin, back and forth — is it even Pidgin? It's too fast to tell. She sits upright, on the edge of her seat, taut as a guitar string. Could she make a run for it? Crash off into the bush and hide? She dismisses the idea instantly; they would catch her at once. Does Simon have a weapon — a gun?

For the first time in New Guinea, she is truly frightened. Her palms are slippery with sweat, and cold as ice.

The chief raskol's right hand rests lightly on the machete in his belt. He is frowning. Now Simon is reaching into his back pocket.

‘Simon?' Her voice is a squeak.

‘It's okay.' He doesn't look at her; his gaze is fixed steadily on the face of the man leering through the open window. As Julie watches, he pulls out his wallet and plucks out a ten-dollar note. It vanishes into the raskol's fist as if sucked up a vacuum tube. The man is still frowning. He says something: demanding more. Simon shakes his head. The raskol's fist thuds into the side of the Jeep, and Julie jumps. Slowly, reluctantly, Simon pulls out another note — a five this time. He shows the raskol his empty wallet, shrugs and grimaces. Frowning, the raskol accepts the five-dollar note. It's as if he's turning over possibilities in his mind.

Julie holds her breath. Rapidly she runs over Caroline's self-defence lessons in her mind, the list of vulnerable places to target if she's attacked — the throat, the crotch, the top of the foot. Could she grab the machete? She remembers the axe-blade scar on Tony's head. She remembers the promise she made to him:
Don't do anything silly . . .
It was almost the last conversation they ever had. Her eyes blur with sudden tears.

And then, at last, the raskol smacks his palm on the Jeep's bonnet. He yells something over his shoulder, and the car blocking their way begins to inch aside. Julie hadn't even noticed the driver at the wheel, waiting for his orders. Simon quickly winds up the window and shoves at the gear stick. The Jeep rolls forward; the chief raskol jumps out of the way. The car in front jerks back and forth. ‘Come on, come on,' mutters Simon. His hands grip the wheel. The raskols yell at each other, flinging their hands in the air.

As soon as there is room to pass, Simon throws the Jeep into gear and the vehicle shoots forward through the gap. Then they are roaring away, bumping from side to side as the Jeep hurtles down the road.

Julie lets out the breath she's been holding. ‘What did you say to them?'

‘Not much. Asked them where they were from. Figured out he was one of my wontoks, luckily, that's why they let us go.'

‘Did you have to give them all your money?'