The Fifth Season (50 page)

‘Here's to the end of this madness,' he said, swallowing most of the contents in one gulp, the warm, soothing sensation inside immediately raising his spirits. ‘What have you been up to since Kuala Lumpur?' he asked, topping up his whisky.

‘Aging, considerably,' she responded, holding out her own empty 312

The Fifth Season

glass, ‘and adding a few more calluses.' Hamish tipped the Chivas in her direction.

‘Where to next?' Mary Jo thought about this for a moment, before replying.

‘I hadn't given it much thought. Indonesia is not exactly the place right now to be making plans about one's future.' She looked out across the shimmering sea, the waves breaking on the beach below caught by moonlight as foamed crests rolled over the sand. ‘Right now, I just want to get out of here and file my story. After that, I think it's time I took a long break away from Indonesia and what these people are doing to each other.' Her mind was filled with the terrified faces of children left to fend for themselves.

‘Well, we'll do what we can about getting you back to Jakarta in the morning.'

‘Don't be in too much of a hurry, Hamish,' Mary Jo said, looking at him. ‘I plan to make a dash out to the refugees' main fleet before leaving.'

She could see his frown growing. ‘It is very important to me. And to the refugees,' she added.

‘There's nothing you can do, Jo,' he said, critical of her intentions. ‘If anything, you'll most probably only aggravate the situation. Do you have any idea how they would have reacted to your pilot's flying over their boat colony?'

‘They would know we were not from the military,' she said lamely.

‘No they wouldn't,' he argued. ‘and my guess is, you would be unwelcome out there.'

‘I'll be back before eleven,' Mary Jo stated, and he recalled how obstinate she could be. ‘If that's too late, then, I guess we'll catch up in Jakarta.'

Hamish remained quiet, not wishing to antagonize her. It was obvious that she was determined to go.

‘Are you taking Anne?'

‘No,' Mary Jo replied, surprising him further.

‘Why?' Hamish asked, his concern growing.

‘Firstly, I can communicate well enough without her,' she said, without boasting. ‘Secondly, I doubt if those bastards ferrying refugees out to the main body of ships would take her without screwing us to death.' Hamish was surprised with her vehement response. She glanced over in his direction again, then stretched out, placing one hand on his forearm. ‘It's okay, Hamish, just venting some of my anger over what I saw today.' Mary Jo went on to describe her encounter with the deserted children.

‘What can you achieve by going out to the fleet? Surely you're not thinking of confronting these parents?' he asked, alarmed.

‘No, Hamish, I'm not. It would be impossible to identify those responsible, anyway.' She finished her Chivas and, without waiting, poured herself another shot. ‘I want to get some coverage of conditions out there.

I want to know what drives people to abandon their children. I want to see the looks on their faces and capture this to show the goddamn world just what these people have been reduced to. Perhaps, by exposing what is really going on here, we can orchestrate some intervention. Someone has to do something Hamish. This country's turned into a cesspool and it's the children who are paying the ultimate price.'

Hamish knew precisely what Mary Jo meant. Having visited many of the refugee camps as far as Irian Jaya and witnessed first hand, the result of man's inhumanity towards his fellow being, Hamish had lost the desire to remain in Asia much longer.

‘Do you want me to come with you?' he asked sincerely, and could see that Mary Jo was pleased with his offer.

‘No,' she replied, jokingly, ‘you'd most probably scare the hell out of them.' She patted his arm and smiled. ‘Don't worry, Hamish. I'll be okay.

It couldn't be any worse than Beirut!'

‘You were never in Beirut,' he challenged.

‘See, just goes to show how smart some dumb blondes can be,' she laughed, the whiskey having the required effect.

Hamish was still unsure but knew Mary Jo well enough to let it go.

The last thing he needed right then was an argument. For a moment he remained quiet and Mary Jo followed suit, each deep in thought about the other. Then, almost simultaneously, they both spoke.

‘Mary Jo..'

‘Hamish..'

‘Sorry, you first,' he said.

‘No, it's okay. Go on,' she urged. Hamish finished his drink and placed the empty glass down without refilling it.

‘Can we talk about what happened in Jakarta?'

‘It's a long time ago, Hamish,' she answered, with a touch of sadness in her voice.

‘This is the conversation we should have had in Kuala Lumpur,' he suggested, casting his mind back to their abrupt parting. Mary Jo leaned slightly in his direction and looked directly into his eyes.

‘Why did you really leave without contacting me again?' She had asked this very question a thousand times before, wondering why she deserved such shabby treatment. They had been close, perhaps even in love. Mary Jo had to restrain her rising anger. She had never really forgiven Hamish for his past behavior.

‘You know I was called to Geneva. I really did try to contact you that night, Jo. Things were confused, and I just ran out of time.'

‘That's it?' she asked, indignantly.

‘No, it isn't,' he answered, defensively. ‘What ever happened to your friend, Fieldmann?' At first, Mary Jo did not understand and thought she had misheard.

‘Eric? Eric Fieldmann?'

‘Yes, Jo.'

‘What's Eric got to do with anything?' she asked, mystified.

‘Jo, listen,' Hamish said, ‘I tracked you down that night, anxious to let you know what was happening.'

‘And?' she waited, now perplexed by whatever he was suggesting.

‘I phoned his room and you answered,' he explained, now feeling a little foolish.

‘Eric? And me?' Mary Jo's mouth opened wide. ‘My god, Hamish! Did you think we were getting it off in his room?'

‘And you weren't ?' he demanded, the old wound open now, memories of her naked with someone else flowing through his mind. Mary Jo's thoughts flashed back to that time, her memory of what really transpired clouded by the excessive amount of alcohol she and her associates had consumed earlier in the evening. She looked at Hamish, slowly shaking her head.

‘Would you believe me now if I said nothing happened?' Mary Jo observed Hamish closely for his reaction. His eyes dropped momentarily, then returned to hers.

‘Did it?' he asked, annoyed with himself immediately for doing so.

Mary Jo leaned back, withdrawing her hand from his arm. She knew that even with the truth the question would always be on his mind, like a minute particle of poison, slowly eating away at his confidence and trust.

‘I guess you earned the right to ask that question,' she said. Hamish waited uncomfortably, wishing now they had not got into this. He wanted Mary Jo to deny his allegations, while firmly believing the worst. ‘Does it really matter any more what happened?'

‘Yes Jo, it does,' Hamish replied.

‘And if I tell you that nothing happened, would you accept me at my word?' she challenged. Hamish's mind raced. He had visualized this discussion many times before. Could it be possible that nothing really did take place between them?

‘Yes, that would do it,' he said, not entirely sure that it would. Mary Jo rose to her feet and leaned over the stone balustrade to the pool below.

‘Feel like another swim?' she asked, redirecting the conversation. Hamish looked up surprised, believing then he had his answer. He rose to his feet and placed his hand gently against the small of her back.

‘Sure, why not,' he agreed, an emptiness forming in his stomach. ‘The sun will be up shortly,' he added, then felt a little foolish as he turned and went inside to change. They could always be friends. He turned as she entered, removing the shorts he held from his hand, throwing these casually back onto the wicker chair.

‘You won't need those,' Mary Jo moved into the bedroom, heading for the door.

‘Skinny dipping?' Hamish hesitated, looked down at his damp shorts, and shrugged, then followed Mary Jo to the lifts and down to the salt-water pool. There, in the early morning hours they both undressed under the soft moonlight and plunged into the tepid, unguarded swimming pool together.

Chapter Twenty-three

‘Try and eat something
,'
Budi insisted, holding the bowl of steamed rice for her to accept, but Hani merely shook her head.

‘I can't, Budi, can't you see, I can't!'
she sobbed, her rib cage sore from dry-retching for hours. He tried to force her to sit up but she slapped at him wildly, barely missing his head.

‘If you don't eat, it will be worse,'
he insisted. Hani could not see how this might be possible. Why did she feel like this?

‘No, Budi, please!'
she pleaded, nausea dominating her mind. She pushed his hand out of the way and leaned over the side of the perpetually moving deck.

‘Hani,'
he coaxed,
‘I promise. Just take a mouthful and you will feel much
better'.
Budi half-filled the ceramic spoon and moved this towards her mouth. Her eyes were partially glazed and he knew she was dehydrated.

Hani attempted to take the small mouthful of steamed rice, the starchy smell sufficient suggestion to cause her to choke. Budi wrapped one arm around her, worried that if she felt this way now, how could she possibly cope with the open-sea crossing.

Unbeknown to the new arrivals, cholera had broken out in the camp days before, many already stricken with the deadly disease, and it was this which concerned the others aboard the ship. The locally prepared food Hani had consumed on the beach had only contributed in part to her condition. She was more than two weeks late.

‘Tell her to sit up, and watch the shore,'
one of the others suggested, annoyed with the young woman. Budi turned and glared at the woman, sitting bunched amongst a number of others chewing on a strip of
dendeng,
the local bully-beef. Hani felt slightly delirious. She thought she could smell
ajam gule,
her mother's favorite dish of chicken curry, spiced to burn  one's stomach. Her mind wandered, images of her father carrying home one of the half-meter mountain
kalong,
the bats cooked in a steaming pot as an asthma cure for her brother. She shivered, half-conscious now as her fever continued to ravage her weakened body, shadows playing with her mind. Within the hour, her condition deteriorated even further.

‘Hani?'
Budi called, shaking her gently, his concern growing when she did not respond. His father shook his head, one finger across his lips. Let the girl sleep, the message read. In her mind, demons chased each other as she slipped further away.

Suddenly, she cried out,
‘Budi!'
as childhood stories returned to haunt her weakened state, the imagined outline of the
kuntilanak
ghost appearing, striking her with fear. As this apparition continued to transform from one persona to another she screamed, her mother's face appearing before her to warn that this evil would steal her baby's blood, then change into a beautiful woman to further deceive. Before mid-morning, Hani's condition caused fear amongst her fellow travelers, many of whom whispered that she should be thrown overboard without delay.

Deep inside her womb, and barely two weeks into gestation, the minute embryo which had contributed to her nausea was lost forever and Hani commenced bleeding profusely.

* * * *

She kept her body immersed in the pool, just below the water-line. Even though the water was lukewarm, the gentle sea-breeze still chilled as it brushed softly across her face. They had splashed around for almost an hour, like children without a care in the world. Then, as they tired, Hamish indicated that he'd had enough.

‘Come here, first' she invited, and Hamish swam closer, stopping short of touching. He could see her breasts through the water and, although tempted, he kept his distance.

‘Let's finish that conversation now,' Mary Jo offered.

‘I thought we'd been down that path already,' Hamish replied, a touch churlishly. Mary Jo stood, exposing her body, and brushed her short hair back. He could see her erect nipples, his reaction instant.

‘The answer to your question is no, Hamish. I did not sleep with Eric on that occasion.' She moved slowly towards him. ‘But you should know, we were once an item and very close.' He had guessed as much but remained silent. ‘I had not seen him for some time and, to be honest, at the time I was both angry and pleased to see him, but I guess that's natural enough. Don't you agree?' By now Mary Jo had positioned herself within reach and her hands moved to the back of his neck.

‘I don't know what to say, Jo,' he tried to apologize but it sounded hollow. ‘It just seemed……' he attempted to continue but Mary Jo pulled his head down to accept her warm mouth. She kissed him tenderly and she could tell immediately that he was aroused. As they embraced, he pulled her closer, and Mary Jo's hands found their way, guiding him inside, crying out as he lifted her knees and lunged forward before she was prepared.

They continued to kiss passionately, oblivious to their surrounds, the warmth of their bodies lost in the near-weightless conditions as they moved together, their thrusts gentle at first, then faster as the moment built, Hamish's hands pulling roughly under her thighs. Mary Jo pushed harder against his body, her fingers interlocked behind his back as his excitement grew, his hot breath against her cheek, punctuated with rhythmic grunts of pleasure. Suddenly, she felt his uncontrollable spasm and Mary Jo cried out, her own climax sending waves of sensuous pleasure through her entire body.