by Eliza Quancy
3
Nobody notices my dirty state. They all walk by. Don’t speak. Keep on walking past. More and more of them. All busy busy. I look on google maps but it’s draining the battery so I do it as little as possible and set off to find the road Saul told me about. It doesn’t take long to find it. Name is Three Mile Road. I know it doesn’t mean three miles of road because I’ve looked it up. I guess that it means three miles from somewhere. I’ve had a look at it on Streetview, so it is just as I expected. A lot of low plasterboard houses all single-storey some bigger than others, a couple of stores and then some larger buildings. And all the houses seem to have bushes in front of them. Our house is smaller but more beautiful. Our house is made of cedar wood with bamboo patterns woven into the walls.
Was I born in one of these white plasterboard buildings, a store perhaps or a big house? Probably not a store. I giggle and my heart calms down a bit. It’s all just as it is on tv. I’ll have to walk up and down the road and have a closer look. There must be a clue somewhere. I’m tired and Saul keeps ringing but I’m not answering. I set off down the road and haven’t walked very far when I see a sign ‘Three Mile Hospital’. Wow. That must be it. That was quick. This must be the place. I must have been born in a hospital and there won’t be another one. I stand and stare at the outside. Lots of bushes, mostly bougainvillaea, but that means nothing. It’s a hospital so bingo, I must be there already. I walk in.
‘Can I help you?’ asks a small, round woman wearing a blue uniform. She is sitting at the Enquiries desk. I tell her that I’m looking for my mother. I was born here fifteen years ago and found in a bush outside. She laughs, but not unkindly, and asks me to explain. I tell her again. Saul said I must have been thrown out of the window. Impossible, she tells me, the windows here have louvres. No space for a baby to get through.
‘Have the windows been changed?’ I ask. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘’No,’ she says. ‘The windows are the original ones. The place was built in 2001. When were you born?’
‘2000,’ I tell her, ‘I was born in the year 2000.’ So we both know that it’s not possible that I was born in this place. In any case, she says, we would have noticed if a baby had gone missing.
To be honest, I have thought about this myself and wondered why nobody had noticed there was a baby missing. She must think I’m mad, but she smiles at me and wishes me well. Doesn’t seem surprised. Are there people turning up here all the time looking for their birth mothers? Asking if they were thrown through a window? Before I leave, I look for the washroom (I’ve seen washrooms on tv) and I find it. It’s impressive. I count five toilets and go into one behind a door. It’s got a little bolt so I decide to lock it. There’s a lever to flush it afterwards. In the big room there are five washbasins and everywhere is clean. I have a wash and tidy up. There’s no-one here. Fill my water bottle. Feel much better now I’m clean again but there’s nothing I can do about my clothes.
Above one of the washbasins, there is a mirror. I’ve never seen myself in a mirror so I go to have a look. My hair is frizzy like Layla’s hair and it’s about the same colour. Light brown from the sun but darker at the roots. Not as big as Layla’s but still it’s all right. I like our hair more than Saul’s. His hair is black and short with small tight curls - almost like no hair or a sheep’s hair - and he keeps it like that. Always very short. And he’s black. Looks nice, but I like being brown like Layla. I think I look like her even though she’s not my mother.
My blue meri blouse looks dirty and I wonder about changing. I’ve got another blouse in my bag but I don’t know how long this searching is going to take so I think I’d better save it. That’s all I can see. Just my face and part of my blouse. The mirror is not very big and it’s quite high up on the wall. I smile at myself and wonder why we haven’t got a mirror at home. Actually, I’ve asked about a mirror but Saul said we won’t have one. It encourages vanity.
Back outside, I feel tired and disappointed. Sit down for a bit at the side of the road but I don’t think people do that here. Everybody I see is walking. Nobody is sitting down and two people give me a funny look so I get up again and start walking myself. Up the road right to the end where the houses stop and then back again. There are buildings only on one side so that makes it easier. Apart from the hospital, the two stores and the houses, there is a small hotel. Nothing else. I’ve found nothing. I’m hungry and tired and will need to sleep somewhere. I’m just thinking that Saul could tell me where the place was, if only he would, when my phone pings.
‘Try the hotel, Aulani.’
‘Thank you, Saul,’ I reply and wonder if he’s a mind-reader but then I think that he doesn’t have to be because I told them why I was coming and I’ve told Layla that I am already in the city. She will have told him.
He would never tell me which building it was. Only the name of the road. That’s all he would say. I walk back towards the hotel feeling tired but at least my hands and face are clean. I find the place and look at the bushes. Hibiscus. My heart beats faster, but I look at the windows and my heart sinks. Louvres again with flywire on the outside. Impossible to throw anything through those.
I walk in and see a desk with no-one there. A bell says ‘ring for attention’ so I do. Someone comes but it’s an Aussie woman with jet black bouffant hair and a huge chunky necklace. I’ve never seen anyone with hair like that not even on tv and wonder how she’s got it to stay in that shape. It looks stiff and hard. A very strange waitpela meri.
‘What can I do for you?’ she asks.
‘I’m looking for my birth mother.’ I start to speak and see her eyes flicker for just a second before her face sets back into its smile. Face is stiff the same as her hair.
‘And how can I help you with that?’ she asks.
‘When I was born, I was thrown out of a window and I landed in a bush. That’s where I was found. This is the place.’ I watch her face as I say this but her smile doesn’t shift.
‘Not here,’ she says and looks me over. I see her looking at my dirty laplap and meri blouse. Looks at my feet. No shoes. I see in her eyes what she thinks of me. ‘Haven’t you seen the windows?’ she says. ‘It’s not possible to throw anything out of our windows and certainly not a baby.’ She tries a little laugh, forcing herself to be polite.
‘Then they must have been changed,’ I say. ‘This is the place where I was born.’
‘This is a hotel,’ she says, beginning to sound irritated. ‘It’s always been a hotel.’
‘It’s the right place,’ I tell her. ‘I know it is.’
‘Sorry,’ she says as she steps out from behind the desk and walks away down the corridor, leaving me standing there. She doesn’t sound very sorry but there’s nothing I can do. I’ll have to leave and there’s nowhere else to try. This is where Saul told me to look and I don’t think he would lie to me. My phone rings again.
‘I’m outside waiting for you.’ It’s Saul and I don’t know if I’m relieved or cross but mainly I’m scared because he will be angry. He’s there outside the hotel. I can see him standing by the gate.
‘Was this the place?’ I ask, wanting to know before the anger streams out of him.
He nods. ‘What did you find out?’
‘Nothing,’ I say and feel myself begin to tremble, but Saul says nothing and sets off up the road. I follow. He’s going too fast. He is angry. I’ll get it later, but first, he takes me to a small house full of people and I’m given a mat in a room with a lot of other girls. I’m not used to sharing, but I go to sleep as soon as I lie down. I’m exhausted.
The next day we leave at dawn and start the climb back up the mountain. It will take three days to get back to Keroko. I think it’s strange that we live there all by ourselves. Just the three of us. I’ve kept asking about it. Why is there no village? No people at all? But neither Saul nor Layla will give me an answer. I’m sure there must be a reason. It’s hard work climbing up. Going down was easier and much quicker. We wa
lk in silence and I follow behind. When we sleep, Saul lights a fire and gives me a mat but we don’t talk. Maybe just a word. He is angry and I am miserable. He will beat me when we get home and we both know it.
4
When we reach our house at last, Layla is gone. We look for her everywhere but she is gone and her clothes are gone. We phone her over and over, but there is no reply. Saul’s black face gets darker. Like thunder. He was born in the North Solomons. Buka. They are all black there Layla told me. Not the light brown colour of her people. And what about my people I wonder, where is my village and what do my people look like? I think sometimes that I come from the same place as Layla because mostly, I look like her.
‘Give me your phone,’ he says.
I hand it over.
‘Go to your room and wait.’
I go there.
I am hungry and thirsty and I want my phone. Want to ring Layla. Where is she? Layla is my mama, my proper mama, the one who loves me. Where has she gone? I lie down. I’m weary but too scared to sleep. Frightened of Saul. He’ll come in sooner or later. My body is stiff and tense. Heart pounding. I hear him clicking his phone and hear him leave a message but I can’t hear what he says. Must be to Layla. Where is she? Oh Layla, where are you? I need you. It gets dark but I don’t sleep. We use kerosene lamps to save the generator fuel but Saul doesn’t bring one for me. Then I hear his footsteps. He is bringing a lamp. I can see the light and the shadows swinging on the wall.
There is no door to my room. Only one door in our house and that’s on the toilet where the shower is. Saul stands in the doorway and puts the lamp down. It’s almost dark but in his hands, I can see something glinting. Like metal. He walks towards me.
‘Lie down,’ he says.
I lie down on my mat. I was sitting with my back to the wall when he came in.
‘Put your feet together.’
I do as he says and watch while he fastens each ankle into a metal holder. There is a little click as each one snaps into place so that my legs are chained together. He tests each one to check that it’s locked and then pulls the chain to check that it won’t come loose. And that it’s not too long.
‘Now you know what shackles are. Get up,’
I struggle to get up. Half fall down. Try again and sink back on to the mat. Saul watches.
‘Get up,’ he commands. ‘Stand up, Aulani and walk towards me.’ He moves away and stands in the doorway. What has he done? Is it a joke? He’ll take them off again, won’t he? I fall back on the mat but he tells me again to walk towards him.
‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘I can’t walk in these.’
He walks towards me and asks for my hands.
‘Hold them out.’
Slowly, I stretch out my hands. He pulls out his knife and cuts the palm of my right hand.
‘Now the other one.;
‘No, Saul. No.’
‘Hold out the other one.’
There is no choice. He cuts the palm of my left hand and blood drips from me.
‘Now get up or I’ll lock your hands as well.’
Somehow I get up and shuffle towards him.
‘Closer,’ he says. ‘Closer,’ then, ‘turn around.’
I get there. I turn around and he ties a scarf over my eyes.
‘Now go and lie down,’ he says and leaves the room.
I reach up to untie the scarf he’s fastened around my head but the wounds in my hands open up and the blood pours faster as I pull at the knot. Can’t get it off and I look for the mat in the dark. Don’t find it. Lie down on the floor. I shake. Don’t cry. Can’t believe this has happened. Saul doesn’t behave like this. He is strict but fair. Beats me sometimes but not often. I can’t believe that I am lying with my feet chained together and oh, the pain in my hands. Oh, Layla, where are you? It’s because of Layla. Suddenly I think I know. She’s gone and he blames me.
The next day he puts antiseptic on my hands and binds them up. The scarf is gone.
‘You’ve got to work,’ he says. ‘You need your hands.’
‘I can’t work,’ I whisper. ‘I can’t walk.’
‘Yes, you can,’ he says. ‘But you can’t run away.’ He pauses. ‘Like you did last time.’ He pauses again and looks at me so that I am forced to drop my eyes in respect. ‘You’ve destroyed our family,’ he says. ‘Now you will work and you will serve me. I will make you clean again.’
What does that mean I wonder? Make me clean again? I think he’s gone mad but don’t dare to argue with him.
Saul goes out and leaves me alone to sweep the house. While I’m sweeping, my phone rings. It must be Layla. I look around for the phone and then I see it. My phone is on Saul’s shelf, the one above Layla’s but I can’t reach it. Can’t climb on anything with the shackles. I can see her name on the display. Layla, it says. Her name lit up. Green on black. Layla. It rings and rings and then stops as I sink to the floor and sob. Oh Layla, where are you?
The days go by and I manage better with the shackles. Getting down the steps out of the house is difficult. I fell the first time and slid all the way down but I’ve learned how to do it without falling. My hands heal and I garden, clean and cook. No studying. That’s all finished. No phone. No laptop. No books. But no beatings. Saul leaves me alone. He gives me clean clothes but no panties. He cut off my panties so I could wash and shower but after that, didn’t give them back. They won’t go on over the shackles and he won’t take the shackles off, but he leaves me alone. No more shuffling towards him. No more cutting. No beating. Just shackled, that’s all.
Night after night, I cry myself to sleep but I find that crying doesn’t help. After some time, my tears stop and my heart hardens. I learn to hate and go about each day with the hate growing bigger, turning my heart to stone and spreading into my whole body. Into my soul. I’m turning completely into stone, rock hard. I hate Saul but I can’t run away. Or shuffle away. I wouldn’t survive because I couldn’t get far. I can’t reach anyone. Can’t reach Layla. She’s gone and there is no-one else.
I try to talk to him.
‘Where is Layla?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know,’ he replies.
‘Why did she go?’
He looks at me and says nothing. His silence means that she went because of me. Saul idolises Layla. She was his whole world and now she is gone. His anger gets cold and hard not hot like it was to begin with.
One day he comes to me in the garden and orders me into the house. I shuffle towards the steps that lead to the veranda. It’s the only way into the house and every day it is hard.
‘Faster,’ he orders and I try, hating him with every step. ‘Go to your room and lie down. You need a rest.’ He laughs. Saul never laughs. He hasn’t smiled or laughed since Layla went. His laughter is more frightening than his anger. I go and lie down but he doesn’t come. The time passes and afternoon comes. It must be time to cook. My hands are dirty from the garden and I need the lavatory. Slowly I get up and shuffle towards the shower room. There is no sound from where he is. I go in and use the toilet, wash my hands. Go back to my room and lie down again. Still no sound. I watch a gecko run around the walls and make its knocking noise. Tap tap tap. The light changes and the crickets start to chirrup. Louder and louder. It’s evening. The dark is coming. There is no light from the living room. He hasn’t lit the lamp. I am afraid so I don’t sleep. I can feel my heart beating. I can hear it in my ear.
Then he comes.
‘Turn over.’
I do.
And then he rips me apart and when he leaves I’m bleeding. Broken and bleeding.
5
My phone doesn’t ring anymore and neither does Saul’s. In the mornings, the birds sing and in the evenings, the crickets chirrup. After that, the night brings noises. I think there’s a carpet snake in the roof but it won’t hurt. I hear it sliding about. There are no spiders or ants because I clean and clean. The ants are hard to keep out. Every day they are back but the house is spotless despite my
shackles because if Saul sees a dirty mark or spilt food, he beats me.
More important even than the cleaning is the circle. Every day, I have to check the circle and brush it round. Like Layla, Saul won’t tell me why I have to do it. It seems like a waste of time, but I can see that he thinks that the circle is more important than anything. And Saul no longer helps with it like he used to do. It’s only me. I shuffle round and round and I’m careful. He doesn’t speak to me and I remain silent. When I’m in the garden and he’s not in sight, I try talking. Just softly to see if my voice still works. It sounds croaky.
Every day, he’s vicious. Rips me apart and whispers that he’s driving them out, driving them out, driving them out. Often more than once, and my hatred grows. He says he’s making me clean and driving them out. Driving what out? I can’t keep living like this, but I do. I learn to cope. When Saul comes into my room, my spirit slips away and stands by the window. Watches this large, heavy man ripping my body, but I’m not inside it. Day after day, I leave my body behind. I’ve learned to do this and it helps. Sometimes I go further than the window and almost forget to come back, but always I do come. Something makes me remember and brings me back. If I can’t protect my body, I shall die and I don’t want to die. Most of the time, I don’t want to die.
I plant pumpkin seeds and watch them grow. I used to love eating pumpkin and Layla made the best pumpkin pie. I don’t like any food now. I eat to survive. I garden to survive. I clean to survive. There is no way to escape. There is no way to escape. The thoughts repeat. But maybe, maybe there is just one way to escape, just one way to do it. One way out of here. Only one way that I can think of, so I start to think about that. I look for a weapon but I know that I will have to be sure. Confident and sure. No turning back and no hesitation. It will have to be a knife. I use knives for the vegetables. If I’m careful, I will be able to hide the kitchen knife under my mat but if Saul finds it or if I fail, it will be the end of me. I am sure of it.