by Eliza Quancy
‘Are you sure they were both going there?’ the Inspector asks.
‘I think so,’ I say.
‘And why did they leave you behind?’
‘Because they were angry with me for running away.’ I had rehearsed this part in my mind. ‘They left me the key for the shackles. It was on the table but it was bent and I could only unlock one of them.’ That’s it. I haven’t thought of anything else. I had hoped it would be enough. But it isn’t.
‘Why would they leave their home?’ the Inspector persists, and I see that what I have thought of is not nearly enough. The Inspector is suspicious. He thinks my story doesn’t make sense. But why does he care? I think it’s because he doesn’t like me. It’s almost as though he’s afraid of me, but I know that can’t be true.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I don’t know why they ran away.’
That’s it. I am dismissed and led back to the cell, still stumbling and failing to get my legs to stretch out and walk like other people walk. Like I once used to walk. It hasn’t gone well but, surely, once they check in Bougainville and find no Saul and no Layla, they will let me go. What would be the point of keeping me longer? My secret fear, of course, the fear I hardly dare admit to myself is that they might send someone to Keroko to check things out up there. If that happens, I am finished.
All day, I lie alone in my cell and it gets hotter and hotter. I think I am going to melt in the heat and a film of sweat coats my body. My blouse and laplap are wet and drops of sweat trickle down my face, into my hair. The back of my neck is wet. There is water to drink but I retch all day and my legs have pains like hot irons. Fire from both sides. Inside my body and out. And fear. I need to know what is happening but know instinctively that Joel will not speak to me while Inspector Boa is there. In fact, Joel is gone all afternoon and another man comes to bring me the bucket and some water, but he doesn’t speak to me. Does it all in silence. I listen hard and think I hear Inspector Boa going and someone else arriving. I hope that it is Joel, but I don’t know.
At last, it is evening but still hot and two eyes appear in my door. It is Joel and I feel a big relief. I am about to speak to him when he brings my supper into the cell but he looks at me and shakes his head. I understand that someone is still there, and I don’t speak.
‘Thank you,’ I say and that is all.
Later, when he comes to collect my bowl, I can see that he has relaxed.
‘They’ve gone,’ he tells me and asks, ‘How are you, Aulani?’
‘What’s going to happen?’ I ask. ‘Are you going to let me go?’
Joel shakes his head and my spirits sink. Can’t believe that my spirits can sink but they do.
‘What’s going to happen?’ I ask again.
‘They’ve sent a man up to Keroko to check your story,’ he tells me and just in time, I remember Layla’s words. Don’t trust anyone. Don’t tell him anything I tell myself and try hard to pretend that everything is all right and that it’s all fine. ‘He’ll be back in two or three days time,’ Joel says. ‘He’ll be quick. He knows the mountain. You should be able to go when he comes back.’
‘That’s good,’ I say and manage to smile. ‘Are you on duty again tomorrow?’ I ask.
‘No,’ he says,’ I’m off until Wednesday afternoon.’
I can tell that he likes me but there’s no more to say so he takes my bowl and leaves me to sleep.
9
No sleep comes. Only the night noises and the moonlight. Bright like last night. I have to make a plan. I’m not retching any more but I hardly notice with the heat and the pain and the desperation in my mind. I notice cockroaches running about all over the floor. They must have been there before and I wonder why I didn’t notice them earlier. But I don’t care. I’ve got to make a plan. I’ve got to make a plan. I’ve got to make a plan. But oh my dear, I can’t think of one.
I think of Layla. That’s what she would say - oh, my dear, oh my dear - so maybe if I think of Layla, I can find a way out. Layla always knew what to do. Have I come to the end? Do I give up now? And if they find out that I’ve killed Saul, what will happen next? I know that I shall be killed, but I don’t know how. Maybe Saul’s relatives will come and kill me. Stop it, I think. His wantoks have not been interested in him for years. Why should they care now? But I know things don’t work like that. There’s pride and revenge and it’s all about those feelings. Payback. Logic doesn’t enter into it. Calm down and think. Put the feelings to one side. That’s what Layla would say.
I lie in the half-dark with the moon lighting up the cell and I try to do this. There is one solution. I will have to ask Joel to let me escape. He likes me. But does he like me enough? What would happen to him if he let me escape? I don’t think I would be worth it. Whatever I might promise wouldn’t be worth it. He would lose his job. But it’s the only chance I’ve got. As I send my mind round in the same circles over and over again, I see Saul’s face looking at me. And all the time, he is smiling. It is still hot, but at last, I sleep.
Wednesday arrives. The day of reckoning when the man will return if he’s as quick as Joel said he would be. I’m feeling sick again. The baby is pulling my stomach apart from the inside. The father is pulling my mind apart with his everlasting smile and I’m dying to go to the toilet.
‘Hello,’ I shout. ‘Can you help me? I need the toilet.’
It’s like torture while I wait for the slow slow steps of the duty officer who brings the bucket. I think I won’t be able to hold on, but I do. When the body needs like that, it drives out everything else but as soon as I’m relieved, the anxiety returns. I ask to wash and the man brings water and a bowl. It helps a little. After that, he brings me food and water to drink. It’s corn and once again, my stomach settles after the food.
I’m beginning to feel better. The retching is not so bad and not so frequent. At least, I’ll be able to fully concentrate on being killed I think and laugh. Layla says that you should always laugh. However bad things are, it will help to laugh. Help your body and your mind. But you mustn’t let others see you laughing or they will hurt you more and worse than before. How does Layla know all these things? And why did she teach me all this?
The day gets hotter but passes faster than yesterday and the day before. It’s because I’m afraid. I listen to one man go and another arrive. Someone brings my evening meal. It isn’t Joel but I heard him speaking so I know he’s back. He’s out there in the office where they sit together and do their work. I saw the place when I went for my questioning. Every so often, I hear his voice. Why doesn’t he come? I think that he’s waiting for the other policeman to leave. I’m lucky that I’ve got Joel to guard me in the evenings. Lucky? Yes. Layla says we should value every good thing, however small. Always value every good thing she said. I remember all her teaching and the life lessons most of all. I must have been listening. There’ll be plenty of the bad stuff she told me. What bad stuff I used to think?
At last, It happens. The other man goes and shortly after that, Joel comes to my cell. First of all, he brings me the bucket and the jug and the bowl for washing and I’m grateful. Still embarrassed, but grateful. Then he takes them away.
‘Will you come back?’ I ask him and he nods. I hardly dare to look at him because I know that the man who went to Keroko has come back. I heard them talking late this afternoon but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Joel will know by now that I am a killer but it doesn’t show in his face. I hope he will listen to me. I hope that he will understand why I did it, but from all that Layla told me, he won’t. Nobody will sympathise with a woman, although she never talked specifically about a woman having to kill anybody. Just spoke in general about things that people did and about attitudes towards women. And she taught me how girls and women should behave if they want to survive. We lived in such isolation that I had to learn everything from her.
When Joel comes back, he comes in and closes the door. Sits down on the bench while I sit on the mat.
‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘What did the man say when he came back from Keroko?’ I can’t bear it any longer. I just have to ask and I have to hear him say it.
‘It was a mess,’ Joel says and looks at me. ‘The whole house was a mess. Torn apart. Bits of bedsheets and table-cloth. Some books torn apart. Everything as you said. (No, I never said anything about a mess.) Your guardians have gone.’
I look at him and wait for the next part but it doesn’t come and he doesn’t look shocked. Perhaps there’s been a miracle. Layla taught me about those, too. They crop up every so often, but you can’t rely on them. I shall have to keep on pretending.
‘I’m free to go then,’ I say and it’s then that I really see his face. It’s full of something. Not shock. It’s anxiety. Fear. My left foot starts twitching and I try to keep it still. I look at him.
‘No,’ he says. ‘You’ve got to stay here. They’re going to charge you, Aulani.’
My foot bumps harder against the mat. I look at it as though it doesn’t belong to me. Can’t control it.
‘What with?’
‘Stealing.’
I almost laugh. What does he mean ‘stealing’? My foot is still twitching.
‘They found the money in your bilum,’ he says, wrapped up in the bag with the salt. They say you must have stolen it.’
‘They left it for me,’ I snap. ‘It was on the table with the key for the shackles.’ I’m surprised at how fast I’ve replied and how angrily. Almost as though it were true.
I see Joel hesitate before he replies. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he says. ‘They’re going to keep you, Aulani. They won’t let you go.’
‘Why not?’ I ask and at last my foot slows down.
‘They think you’re a witch.’
‘What?’ I shoot back. ‘That’s crazy. How could I be? They don’t exist,’ but I see straight away that my last statement was a mistake. I remember Layla telling me about witches. Not much but a bit. Everybody believes in black magic she told me. People get killed for it.
‘You know that’s not true,’ Joel says slowly, dropping his eyes like a girl. ‘You know they exist. Everybody knows. In my own village some years ago, a woman killed a young boy. Sanguma. The boy was my father’s little brother.’
‘What happened to her?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘It was before I was born. But I know she escaped.’
‘Why do they think I’m a witch?’ I ask.
‘It’s because you were shackled,’ he says and points to the scars around my ankles, bands of thick white skin that mark my legs. ‘Long time shackled, not just for a couple of days. That means you were dangerous.’
I don’t know what to say. A miracle happens. No Saul in the house, but now this. Joel gets up and goes out and I sit up on the mat and lean against the bench. I’ve got to get out. I know from Joel’s face and I know from the things that Layla told me that if they keep thinking that I’m a witch, they will kill me. Or worse. I stand up and shuffle to the door.
‘Joel,’ I call. ‘Joel, come back,’ but he doesn’t come. ‘Joel, I’m thirsty. Can I have some water?’ He doesn’t answer, doesn’t come. There is no sound at all.
Night comes. Moonlight. The night is like day. Not dark but long. Never-ending. Every so often, I call for Joel. When morning comes, it will be too late. He will be gone.
10
The interview room looks different now. Pale green walls. Painted plasterboard. The same, I suppose. Didn’t really look at it last time. There’s a ceiling fan and it wobbles as it turns. Hope it won’t fall. Hope it will. Hope it won’t. Inspector Boa is wearing the same shirt with the same mark. Not washed. Maybe his wife has left him. She would have washed it. Should have washed it. Women wash the shirts even though they do other work as well with jobs in offices and shops. And they work in the garden but still do the washing and the cooking and the childcare. So many things I know even though I have not been part of that life. That ordinary life.
‘How much did you take?’ This is the second time he has asked the same thing.
I give the same reply. ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘The money was on the table with the key.’
‘You didn’t say that yesterday,’ he says, triumphant. One point to him.
‘It didn’t seem important.’
‘You mentioned the key,’ he reminds me.
‘Yes,’ I say and I don’t have to remember to be submissive, to look down. It’s all I can manage. I’m afraid and trying hard to hold on. To think clearly and give the best answers.
‘Why did you mention the key and not the money if they were together side by side on the table?’
‘The key was important,’ I say. ‘To get the shackles off and it was bent. Only one came off.’ If it hadn’t been for the bent key, I think, I wouldn’t be here at all. Wouldn’t have phoned them up. If I’d known what would happen, I wouldn’t have phoned them anyway. If only I’d known.
‘And why were you shackled?’ he asks. The killer question. The one to which he’s sure he knows the answer.
I don’t reply.
‘Why were you shackled?’ he asks again, louder and harsher, more insistent.
‘I ran away,’ I tell him softly.
‘Write that down,’ he instructs a policeman I haven’t seen before, who is sitting in the corner where Joel sat last time. The man has a big scar down his cheek. ‘Ran away. Lazy. Wouldn’t work.’
‘No,’ I say.
‘Be quiet,’ he orders sharply. ‘It’s not your turn to speak.’ Boa turns again to the man in the corner. Scarface. ‘Disobedient,’ he adds. ‘Write that down. You heard her, didn’t you?’
There’s a silence while Scarface writes it down and Boa flips through his papers. The fan whirrs and wobbles. Finally, he looks up.
‘You are charged with stealing,’ he tells me and nods to Scarface who is still in the corner sitting down. ‘Take her back to the cell.’
My legs hurt. I fall on the way back because Scarface grabs my arm and hurries me along. I can’t walk fast. My legs still won’t move properly. When we get to the cell door, he opens it and pushes me inside. Hard. I fall on the mat and you can see the marks from his fingers where they’ve pressed into my arm. Three red marks dipped into my skin. Nothing compared to the shackles, I think. Or the ripping. I can feel nervous laughter rising within me but I keep it down. It will make things worse. Everything will make things worse for me.
The day passes quickly racing towards its end and then the next day and the next one. How many days do I have left? Joel doesn’t come. Bucket. Jug. Food. Water. Lie down. Sometimes retching. Not so much now. Hot. Sweaty. Skin is damp. Lie down. Sit down. Stand up. Think. Don’t think. No way out. Joel doesn’t come and Joel doesn’t come and Joel doesn’t come.
***
‘Hello,’ I hear. ‘Hello, Aulani. Are you thirsty?’
At last. It’s Joel. Nobody calls my name. Only Joel. My heart leaps with hope and I try to push it back but it won’t go down. It’s the evening. He opens the door and comes in.
‘They’ve all gone,’ he says and sits down on the bench.
I look at him but don’t speak.
‘I had a couple of days off,’ he tells me. ‘I went to the village.’
‘Oh,’ I say and am quiet again. Don’t know what to say but I’ve got to think of something.
‘What was your guardian’s name?’ he asks.
‘Saul,’ I say. ‘ Kroening. Saul Kroening.’
‘No,’ he says. ‘Your mother. What was her name?’
‘Layla,’ I tell him, ‘but she’s not my first mother. Layla’s my guardian, my second mother.’
‘It was her,’ he says and stops to look at me. I hear the note in his voice, the anxiety.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Layla,’ he replies. ‘She’s the one who killed my father’s little brother. She was married to Saul and he took her and escaped.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Layl
a would never kill anyone,’ and I stop as my mind fills with the knowledge that I, too, would never kill anyone. But I did.
‘But she did,’ he tells me. ‘Layla is a witch.’
‘Did you tell them?’ I ask. I mean did he tell Inspector Boa and the others. He knows who I mean.
‘No,’ he says. ‘It was they who told me and that’s why I went to my village to find out. And it’s true.’
‘I didn’t know,’ I say but I suppose I did know. That’s why Saul became afraid of her. He loved her but he believed she was dangerous. I remember his words. You’re dangerous, Layla, you’re dangerous.
Joel holds out his hand to me. Wants me to sit beside him on the bench, but I don’t take it. Don’t take his hand. I mustn’t trust him. Don’t trust anyone, Layla told me. Don’t trust anyone. But he’s my only chance. I go to sit with him and let him touch me. We sit close and closer. We lie down together and he’s gentle. It’s not a ripping, it’s a wave, an ocean wave of pleasure in my lonely life.
The days pass and I count them. With my nail I scratch a mark at the bottom of the wall behind the bench. One small mark for each day. It’s hot, but every day I walk up and down in the small room forcing my legs to stretch out and walk. I’m shuffling less. In the evenings, Joel comes and we talk a little and we lie together.
‘Is there a date for the court?’ I ask him, day after day.
‘No,’ he says. ‘No date,’ and he explains that it always takes a long time.
‘Why so long?’
‘Usually, it’s because we want to keep the girls,’ he tells me and blushes.
‘What for?’ I ask but I already know.
‘We have them over the bench,’ he tells me.
‘All of you?’
‘Yes,’ he replies but he doesn’t look ashamed. It’s normal for that to happen. No shame.
‘Then why am I different?’ I ask and that’s when his face changes.
‘They’re afraid of you,’ he says. ‘Your court date will be quicker because they don’t want to keep you here.’ I understand. There’s nothing I can say to him. I’ve tried.