by Eliza Quancy
‘How do you know all this?’ I ask her.
‘I’ve been to Melbourne before,’ Layla tells me. ‘I came when I was training to be a teacher.’ I feel a renewed respect for her. Layla has been everywhere. She had an interesting life before she came to Keroko and spent her life looking after me. I must ask her about it. She’s never talked about the past.
For the next twenty minutes, we have a look at the phone Kandin has given me.
‘It’s expensive,’ Carol says. ‘He must be rich.’
‘He forges passports,’ I say, ‘so I suppose that’s where he gets his money.’
‘Be careful, Auli,’ she tells me. ‘He wouldn’t be that rich just from the forgery business. How many people want fake passports?’
‘What about the refugees?’ I ask and I see Layla look at me hard.
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘And how much money will they have available?’
She’s right. I hadn’t thought about it.
‘Maybe it’s from his mother,’ I say. ‘Their house in Moresby looks big and expensive.’
‘Perhaps,’ she says, ‘but be careful, Auli. Don’t trust him.’
26
Layla is always telling me not to trust people and mostly I think she’s right. The only person she didn’t warn me against was Saul and look what happened there. After we’ve drunk tea, I take the mat that Carol offers me and lie down at one side of the room. When Layla lies down, too, there won’t be room to step on the floor but it’s friendly and comfortable. I can’t believe that we’re safe at last. No-one listening to catch us out. Nobody coming to get us. I’ve not felt safe since the long-ago time in Keroko when the three of us were happy together. Me, Layla and Saul. Yes, I think as I lie on the mat and pull the doona around my body. Even with the doona, I shiver with the cold, but Layla tells me it’s because I’m tired. I’ll be warm tomorrow. I hope so.
I’m safe, but I miss Jenn. I miss Keroko and I miss Moresby, the heat and happiness of my own country. Happiness? I didn’t know I was happy while I was there, except perhaps sometimes, but this place is cold.
I feel slightly better the next morning. There’s no point in whingeing. It’s the poms who whinge apparently. The British. At least Jenn seems happy although I spoke to her for about two seconds only because it’s expensive from here. Joel says he’ll bring her soon. Soon. But still no date! Layla says I shall have to be patient. She says it will give us time to sort things out. This morning she’s going off with Carol and I’m staying here because Kandin’s coming later on, to pick me up.
‘We’re going to have a rest today,’ Layla says, ‘a holiday!’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘We’re going shopping,’ Layla tells me. ‘Just window shopping to see what there is. Carol’s going to show me around. It’s so long since I was here, I’ve forgotten everything.’ She sounds more cheerful than I’ve heard her for months. Longer than that. Not since I was small. It’s like getting a Layla back that I’d forgotten existed. My mama. But not really. This is a new Layla with parts that I don’t know.
Carol and Layla leave early, giggling like young girls. After the window shopping, they’re going to the Uni where Carol is doing her masters. She’s going to introduce Layla to the people on her course and show her the library.
‘The library?’ I ask, thinking that it won’t be much of a sightseeing trip going to the library but Layla’s eyes are bright and she’s looking young and alive again. She’s quite somebody my mama. And she knows about all sorts of things that I’d never imagined.
After they’ve gone, I stretch out in the room before going to squeeze myself into the shower. Kandin isn’t coming until eleven and by that time, I’ve eaten some bread (not too bad) with jam I found in the cupboard, drunk loads of tea and I’m feeling clean and warm. The sandals I bought before we left look odd with the socks that Carol’s given me, but I need them. I’ve got to put something on to keep warm.
Kandin is half an hour late so I think he’s not coming. I text to see if he is on his way and get no reply but at 11.30 precisely, he buzzes the intercom.
‘I’m on my way,’ I tell him. I don’t want him to come up and see Carol’s flat.
When I reach the foyer, he’s standing there. Immaculate jeans and a leather jacket. His hair is almost blond from the sun. Nice contrast with his smooth brown skin. He’s still the golden boy even here in Melbourne. He takes one look at me and starts to laugh.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask him and he points to my feet.
‘You can’t go out in those,’ he says. ‘It’s winter. Your toes will freeze to death and when it rains, your socks will get wet. And apart from that…. you look hilarious.’
‘Tough,’ I say (like they do in the movies - the mere presence of him somehow changes my vocabulary and sends me into film set mode.) ‘It’s all I’ve got.’
‘Come on then,’ he says and I follow him out into the cold, blowy Melbourne day. Layla was wrong. I’m still shivering. He’s got a car waiting and I’m surprised. Maybe Layla is right and he is wealthier than he ought to be. But how would I know? His mother is probably rich. Or his father. He has hardly mentioned his father, who must be from Papua New Guinea. I must ask about him.
It’s nearly three hours later when we arrive at his house in West Brunswick. It’s not as big as the Port Moresby house but it’s huge compared to Carol’s flat. We’ve been shopping and Kandin has bought me an enormous amount of clothes. More than any human being could manage to wear in a lifetime. Layla will be cross.
I started off saying no, no, no but then he started buying me things without me trying them on.
‘They’ll be the wrong sizes if you don’t try them on,’ he said, ‘I’m going to buy them for you anyway so you might as well try them on and get them in the right size.’
So I decided to enjoy it and face Layla’s wrath later. I’ve got all sorts of clothes and I love them. I’ve got some jeans. I’ve always wanted some jeans. In the movies, the women look sexiest in jeans in my opinion. Not in those evening gowns with shoulder straps and overflowing breasts. My breasts wouldn’t overflow in any case. They’re quite small but my bum is big. Sexy, Kandin says and I shake my head but secretly I agree with him. I think I look good in these clothes.
I’ve got some boots. Two pairs. One shortish pair in red leather with soft creased tops and another pair of long black leg-hugging ones. High heels. I’ve never worn heels before. They’re impossible to walk in but Kandin says I’ll manage it soon and I think that if I could manage the shackles, I ought to be able to manage anything, and definitely heels because they make you look elegant. If you can walk in them that is. I’m not sure how I can be thinking these things and laughing when I remember my shackles. (I haven’t told Kandin, but he’s seen my scars.) I don’t laugh for long because my mind soon bumps against memories of Saul and I don’t want to go back in that direction.
There is some warm, practical stuff in my shopping bags. Thick tights. Warm, fluffy socks. Three sweaters. One that looks sporty. Plain and bright red but classy-looking. And underwear! I’ve never seen such sexy bras and matching panties. Feels as though I might be getting ready to appear in a strip club. But I like them. I look good and it’s nice. And a three-quarter length belted wool coat. Tweedy looking. And a long anorak. Kandin said I might need it for hiking. Hiking? I know what ‘hiking’ is but I can’t imagine myself ever doing it. Why would you?
It’s late afternoon when we get to his place. We had lunch in town so I’m not hungry. We’re going for a rest, he says and a drink. I know what kind of rest he means and I’m right. As soon as we get in the house, not five minutes later, we’re in bed. Soft and warm. Smooth skin. He’s brought our drinks in here and they’re on little cabinets at each side of the bed.
‘What is it?’ I ask when I’ve had a sip.
‘G & T,’ he replies. ‘Gin and tonic.’
It tastes bitter and the slice of lemon makes it sour but it’s wonderful
ly relaxing after only a few sips. Much better than the beer and the wine we drank in Port Moresby.
‘Do you like it?’ he asks and I nod.
Kandin falls asleep after we’ve rolled about on the bed together, but I can’t sleep, I’m too excited. I get up and get dressed. I put the jeans on. They’re my favourite and I go into the living room to have a look around. The living room is similar to the one in their house in Port Moresby but on my way to the bathroom, I notice a door that’s slightly open and I have a quick look inside. It’s full of computers. All of them on. They’ve got screensavers of naked women and some with men and women together in pornographic positions. I don’t like what I see. It makes me feel uneasy, suspicious. Layla’s right. I need to be careful. I can’t trust him.
But we came together from Papua New Guinea, I remind myself. He’s my wantok. Well, only half, I suppose. He’s mixed race. He’s got a mother who’s an Aussie. I hear a noise from the bedroom and quickly move away from the computers and go into the bathroom. I don’t want him to know that I’ve been looking into his private room because I don’t know what to say. I’ll discuss it with Layla later.
‘Hurry up, Auli,’ he shouts. ‘You’ve been in there for ages.’
‘Sorry,’ I reply. ‘Are you waiting for the bathroom.’
I hear him laugh.
‘Of course not,’ he says. ‘I used the shower room at the back. But I’m missing you, Auli.’
I’m not sure that I like him calling me ‘Auli’. Perhaps it’s because it feels as though he’s taking liberties. Pretending to know me better than he does. (He doesn’t know me at all and I’m feeling wary.) He makes some coffee but it’s too strong for me, so I ask for tea and we have a hot drink and eat some cake. I start to relax again. Chocolate cake. Tastes delicious. It’s got real chocolate pieces that melt in your mouth and he’s put dollops of cream on it.
‘What work do you do?’ I ask him suddenly in the middle of him telling me about a movie he saw recently. He looks at me in surprise.
‘You know what work I do,’ he replies. ‘I forge documents.’
‘You must make a lot of money,’ I say and he nods.
‘Yes, Auli,’ he says. ‘I do make a lot of money.’
I want to ask him about his mother and father and the rest of his family, but he says he has to take me back. He has to work tonight and has to start soon.
I expect him to say that he’ll pick me up tomorrow, but he doesn’t. Just says that he’ll be in touch and he drops me off with a quick peck on the cheek, leaving me clutching all my shopping.
27
My feet are much wider than most Australian women’s feet so it was hard to find the boots. The black ones look gorgeous but they’re uncomfortable and I should have left them in the shop. The short red ones, on the other hand, are soft, ankle-length and easy to pull on. It’s as though they were made for me and I love them.
I was right about Layla’s reaction. She takes one look at all the bags when I walk in and says I’ll have to take them back.
‘You can’t keep them here, Aulani,’ she says. ‘There’s not enough room.’ I see I’ve changed from Auli into Aulani so I know she’s cross although I doubt that Carol notices. Layla can be cross while she’s smiling. But I always know. For once, however, she’s only slightly cross. She’s had a lovely day with Carol and as soon as I’ve taken my coat off, she starts to tell me about it.
Unlike me, they didn’t spend long in the shops. They’ve spent most of the day at the Uni talking to people there. Carol tells me that Layla could be accepted on to a master’s course. She’s got the qualifications. Her teacher’s degree would make her eligible because she graduated with first-class honours.
‘Oh Layla,’ I say. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why didn’t you ever talk about these things?’
‘Well, I did talk about things, Auli,’ she says. ‘Don’t you remember the lessons? All the lessons we had?’
‘I do, but they were lessons for me, weren’t they?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘But I prepared your lessons, Auli, and I carried on learning.’
So when is she going to start doing the master’s course I ask and Layla explains that she can’t, it would cost too much money. Other PNG students are sent by the university back home. Nobody could afford the fees or to live here without being sponsored.
‘Then why are you so pleased?’
‘Because they said they’d have me. In principle, they said, there wouldn’t be a problem and even though I can’t go, it makes me happy.’
It is at this moment that I resolve to find the money to send Layla on her master’s course. I don’t know what you do with a master’s degree once you’ve got it, but I don’t need to know. The sight of her happiness at the mere thought of being able to do it is enough. My first thought is Kandin but as soon as the possibility occurs to me, I dismiss it. Layla would never accept Kandin’s money. And it would be impossible to take it and pretend to Layla that it was mine. I’ll have to find another way.
After we’ve talked about the courses at the university and what Carol is doing for her dissertation, we finally get round to the lowbrow stuff of looking at my shopping. Carolyn is impressed and shares my pleasure at the clothes and the boots, but Layla still keeps muttering and making disapproving noises.
‘I’m not giving him sex for these, Layla,’ I finally say in frustration. ‘I’m going to bed with him because I like him. These are just presents.’
‘No such thing as ‘just presents’,’ Layla says. ‘You’ll pay for them, Auli. Everything comes at a price. The ferryman is always waiting.’
She might be right. We’ll have to see but for tonight I’m going to enjoy them and I say so and after that, she relaxes. I go to put the kettle on and make a pot of tea.
‘There’s something else I need to tell you about,’ I say but before I can say anything else, Layla asks about Jenn.
‘Did you speak to her today, Auli? How is she? When is Joel bringing her?’
I spoke to them this morning I tell her, but only briefly. It’s terribly expensive to phone from here. Jenn seems fine and Joel says the same as before. He’ll bring her soon but he hasn’t got a date yet.
‘We need to find somewhere to live,’ Layla says, ‘and work out how we’ve going to earn money. We’re illegal, you know. Or we shall be soon. Even now, we’ve only got tourist visas. Not allowed to work.’
She’s right and I’ve spent a whole day forgetting about these problems. We ask Carol if she’s got any ideas but she hasn’t. One thing is sure and that is that Jenn won’t be able to stay here. This flat is for student accommodation only and people will complain. It will attract attention to us. And in any case, there’s not enough room.
We spend the rest of the evening wondering how to solve this problem and then we go to bed. It’s not until the next morning after Carol has gone to the Uni that I talk to Layla about the computers that I found in Kandin’s house.
‘What do you think?’ I ask her.
‘Sounds as though he’s making money from porn,’ Layla says. ‘You need to be careful, Auli. I don’t like him.’
I can understand Layla saying that, but I can’t explain why I’m drawn to him the way that I am. I tell her that he pulls me towards him like a magnet and that I can’t understand it, but Layla laughs.
‘Oh, Auli,’ she says, ‘You’re so naive sometimes. It’s sex that pulls you and it’s strong. That’s why you have to be careful. It’s nothing to do with him being ‘nice’ or a good person. It’s clear that he isn’t either of those things.’
I remind her that Kandin gave us sim cards and bought me clothes, but she dismisses this. ‘It’s not because he’s good, Auli. It’s because he wants something.’
‘What could he possibly want that I don’t give for free?’ I ask. ‘I don’t have anything that Kandin could possibly want.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Layla says,’ but I don’t think you are. You’ll find out.�
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Then we discuss what we’re going to do when Joel and Jenn come, where we’ll live and how we’ll manage.
‘There are only two ways I can think of,’ Layla says.
‘And what are they?’
‘One is prostitution. The other is to look for work in the Queen Victoria market, probably the night market. It’s just possible we might be able to find someone who would employ us without papers. But….’
‘But what?’ I ask.
‘Even if we do, it won’t pay enough,’ she says.
‘So it’s prostitution then,’ I say and Layla looks miserable.
‘Not for you, Auli,’ Layla says. ‘I’m not letting you go and do that.’
‘And I’m not letting you,’ I reply. ‘So we’re stuck.’
***
It’s three days before I hear from Kandin and when I ask him where he’s been, he just says, ‘busy’ and that’s that. His tone tells me not to ask further. For each of these three days, I’ve texted Joel, and Jenn is fine but I can’t speak to her, it’s too expensive. Joel says he’s saving up for them to come. No date yet. And since we’ve got nowhere for them to stay, I don’t complain or tell him to hurry up.
‘Do you miss me, Auli?’ he texts.
‘Of course,’ I reply.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks.
‘Nothing much,’ I reply. ‘Waiting.’
‘Waiting for what?’
‘Waiting for you and Jenn.’
I can almost hear the relief in him after these exchanges, always the same, even though we don’t speak.
We email as well and I write empty words about walking around Melbourne and he writes stuff about work, but the emails are not the same as the texts. The texts are urgent and I feel his need as he feels my resistance, but I don’t feel I can tell him that he and Jenn can’t stay with us where we are.
I miss Jenn and at the same time, I long for Kandin even though increasingly. I don’t trust him and sometimes I don’t even like him. I don’t long for Joel. I keep on trying to work out what I should do.