A woman behind a desk covered in three thousand pieces of paper stood up and smiled. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m Honey. I’m, um, I’m early for my . . .’
The woman squinted at her desk, pushing aside folders and papers until she unearthed what appeared to be an appointment book. ‘Right . . . ah, Honey Allende?’
Honey nodded, smiling a little, because the woman had pronounced her name properly: Ayenday instead of Alendee.
‘You’re the first appointment today. We can start now if you like?’
Honey nodded and followed the woman through a doorway behind the desk. ‘Wait one sec. I’ve got to lock the door. I’m alone here till eleven.’
Honey sank into the nearest chair and looked around. There was nothing else in the room except three more straight-backed wooden chairs and a small table that looked like it had been pinched from an old lady’s lounge room. Honey was relieved that there weren’t any posters on the wall. Once she had gone to a family planning clinic to find out about getting the pill, and the posters about genital warts and herpes freaked her out so much that she left without ever seeing a doctor.
‘Right.’ The woman sat beside Honey and placed a box of tissues and a manila folder on the table. ‘My name’s Aggie. I’m a qualified counsellor, which means I’m trained to look at people’s problems in an objective way and help them find a solution they are comfortable with. I will not judge you or lecture you, nor will I tell you what to do. This meeting is completely confidential and so is any action that you decide to take as a result of this session. Any questions so far?’
‘Do I have to do this? This counselling stuff I mean? Can’t I just, you know, get it done?’
Aggie leant forward, resting her elbows on her knees. ‘You can do whatever you like, Honey, but you requested this appointment. That indicates that you have something you want to talk about.’
‘I thought I had to talk about it first. Steve – that’s my boyfriend – he said that they make you talk first, to be certain that it’s what you want. Even if you know what you want – which I really do, believe me – they make you have this bit first.’ Honey pressed her palms against her belly and took a long, slow breath. ‘Anyway, I want to get rid of it. So if it’s not an absolute requirement, if it’s not law or anything, can we just get straight to the . . . the operation or whatever you call it.’
Aggie frowned, tapping her nails against her chin. Stumpy nails, shiny chin. Honey wondered if she was a lesbian. Steve reckoned that women who worked in abortion clinics were lesbians, spending their lives ripping the offspring from other women’s wombs because they were so bitter about not being able to get knocked up themselves. Honey told him he was full of shit, because he pretty much thought every woman with a job or a mind or a decent pair of walking shoes was a lesbian.
‘Honey, you know we don’t actually perform terminations here, don’t you?’
‘Oh. Um, Steve said –’
‘Your boyfriend?’
‘Yeah. He said that, um, he said he’s – well, not him, but a girl he used to . . . he knows a girl who got one done here once. He said if I just made an appointment –’
‘There was a surgery next door, but it moved because of the protesters. It wasn’t safe for the staff having everyone know it was there. We can still refer you, but not until we know you’re genuine.’
‘I’m genuine, I swear. I have to get rid of it and I want it done today. I have money. Cash.’ She tapped her top pocket.
‘I’ll give them a call and see how soon we can arrange it. But I do need to go through a few things with you first.’
To Honey’s relief, the questions were easy. Date of birth, had she seen a doctor, had she been pregnant before, was she making the decision of her own free will, did she have any allergies, had she ever been tested for HIV, who was her contact in case of emergency. When they were done, Aggie was true to her word, leaving the room and coming back five minutes later with a slip of paper bearing an address in Granville.
‘They can see you at two. The procedure only takes about ten minutes, but the appointment will last three to four hours and will include paperwork, blood and urine tests, ultrasound and pelvic examination followed by the medical procedure and recovery. There’ll be a uniformed security guard at the door, who’ll ask for that appointment slip and get you to walk through a metal detector. He’s there to make sure you and the staff are safe from nutcases, so once you get past him you can relax.’
Honey stood. ‘That it?’
‘That’s it. You sure you don’t want to talk a bit? You’ve got some time before the appointment.’
Honey started to decline, but the sound of glass breaking cut her off. Aggie ran from the room and Honey caught the words ‘fucking cuntface fucker’ and then something incoherent and then a door opening and then, ‘For fucksake, what next?’
Honey walked out into the main office. The front window was gone, except for a few jagged edges clinging to the frame. Aggie stood amongst the shattered glass, looking out at the deserted street, holding a brick in both hands. Another was at her feet.
Honey felt like she was going to cry, not that that was such a big deal these days. But still, this was maybe something to cry about, unlike ads for toilet paper or that thing in History class about the Aboriginal kids being taken from their families. Steve and the guys broke windows a lot. Cars, shops, houses, offices, whatever. They didn’t do it for any reason except they were pissed and bored and it was fun for about ten seconds to hear the smash and then run until your blood rushed in your ears. But being inside and seeing this poor lady staring helplessly into space was not fun.
‘Got a broom?’ she said. Aggie turned and looked at her as though she’d appeared out of thin air. ‘Dustpan and brush or something? To clean up the glass with?’
‘Oh.’ Aggie shook her head and kind of smiled. ‘Don’t you worry, Honey, you’ve got enough on your mind.’
Honey noticed a door next to the one she had gone through before. ‘So this’ll keep my mind off it,’ she said, pushing the door open and seeing a sink, fridge, mop, bucket, broom. She grabbed the broom and bucket and headed back out to the mess. Aggie was on the phone, so Honey got to work sweeping the glass into a neat pile. She was just finishing scraping it into the bucket when Aggie hung up.
‘Thanks, Honey. That was really nice of you.’ Aggie took a deep breath. ‘Police are on their way. Not that they’ll do anything. Never do.’
‘This has happened before?’ Honey leant the broom against the wall and sat on the edge of the desk. The sweeping had made her dizzy.
‘Not exactly. Usually it’s graffiti or people standing out there yelling stuff. They’ve never . . .’ She stared at the brick.
Honey took a few deep breaths to clear the light-headedness, then grabbed the broom and bucket and carried them back out to the storage room. When she returned to the office, Aggie was on the phone again.
‘I’m telling you,’ she said, her voice high and screechy, ‘it isn’t anything to do with Luke. No, I’m sure. Yes, I know it – Malcolm – no, Malcolm, it isn’t him . . . yes, okay, okay, Jesus Christ! Okay! No, don’t do that, Mal, please. I will talk to him, but I am telling you it isn’t – Shit!’ Aggie slammed the phone down and kicked the wall.
She turned to Honey and smiled as though nothing had happened. ‘Thanks for your help with the glass. You don’t need to hang around here. You didn’t see anything anyway so the police won’t need to –’
‘Aggie!’ A man was running across the road, toward them. ‘Oh, Aggie!’
Aggie opened the front door just as he arrived at it. The man threw his arms around her and rubbed her heaving back. ‘Oh, Aggie, oh hey, hey, Aggie, shush. You’re okay, aren’t you? You’re okay. It’s just glass. Easily replaced. You’re fine.’
Aggie lifted her head from the man’s shoulder and looked into his face. ‘I thought all this stuff was over with. I thought we were going to be left in peace.’
‘You can’t expect that, Aggie. It’s never going to happen.’
‘What?’ Aggie pulled away from him, taking three fast steps backward. ‘What the fuck does that mean?’
Honey could tell that something really intense was going on between the two of them and they seemed to be completely unaware that she was there witnessing it all. She looked at the empty window frame, wondering if she could just sort of step out without Aggie and the man noticing. She started edging toward it, and then everything went black.
Honey was lying on her back, in the dark. Someone was squeezing her left wrist. There was a hand on her forehead. A man said, ‘If she doesn’t wake up in ten seconds, I’m calling an ambulance.’ A woman said, ‘Oh, hell.’ Honey opened her eyes and was rewarded with a smile from the cute guy. ‘Ah, there you are, sweetheart. You had us worried for a minute.’
Aggie was on her knees beside the man. ‘How’s your head?’
‘Fine. How long was I –’
‘Barely two minutes,’ said Aggie, ‘but it felt much longer.’ She stroked Honey’s forehead. ‘Stay here with Luke for a minute, okay? I have to go talk to the police and I’ll be right back.’
‘I’m fine. Sorry to be so much trouble.’
‘This is not your fault at all. Just relax.’ Aggie’s voice wavered as she turned to the man and said, ‘Yell if you need me?’ He nodded, placing his palm against Aggie’s cheek and mouthing something that Honey could not make out. Then Aggie was up and gone and the man was holding Honey’s hand again.
‘I’d like to get up. Maybe go outside.’
‘Slow, okay?’ He leant over her, taking hold of her shoulders and helping her to a sitting position. His hair smelt like peaches, which would normally be nice since she was used to men who smelt like cigarettes and sweat and grease, but in her present condition it made her want to puke. Fortunately he stood up before the scent overpowered her. ‘You okay?’ he asked, and when she said yes he took hold of her from behind, his arms around her chest, and pulled her to her feet. Then, holding her by the elbow, he led her out onto the street.
Outside, she pulled a slightly squashed cigarette packet from her backpack and lit up before offering one to the man, who shook his head with exaggerated force.
‘You’re anti-smoking, huh?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Me too. I’m quitting.’
‘I can see that.’
‘Yeah, well . . .’ She shrugged. ‘After today, I’m quitting.’
‘Good for you. What’s so special about today?’
Honey laughed, which hurt her head and throat. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘I’m missing something.’
‘Yeah.’
He squinted at her. ‘Something to do with why you’re here?’
Honey shrugged.
‘Something to do with why you’re here and also to do with why you fainted?’
She shrugged again. ‘So do you work here?’ she asked, stubbing out the cigarette before it was even half gone.
He laughed then. ‘I work across the street.’
Honey looked across the street and finally got the joke. The entire block was taken up by the Northwestern Christian Youth Centre. ‘I have to go,’ she said.
‘Why?’ Luke smiled and touched her arm.
‘I have an appointment.’
‘But I promised Aggie I’d watch over you until she got back. She’s had enough drama today without me making it worse by losing you.’
‘Did you smash the window?’ Honey asked.
‘No! Why would you think that?’
‘Just something I overheard. Aggie was sticking up for you.’
He smiled and let out a little sigh. ‘Ah.’
‘Are you and her –’
‘Friends.’
‘Friends?’
‘Close friends. Despite our differences.’
‘You’ve got a hide showing your face around here!’ A fat man with a red face charged towards them from the car park.
‘Here’s trouble,’ Luke said. ‘Hello, Malcolm, how are you this morning?’
The man stopped in front of Luke, glanced at Honey and then stuck his finger into Luke’s chest. ‘You have exactly thirty seconds to fuck off. Starting now. Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight –’
‘I’m afraid I can’t leave yet. Aggie has left this young lady in my charge until the police have finished inside. It would be irresponsible of me to just walk away.’
The man looked at Honey. ‘And you are?’
‘She’s one of your clients, Malcolm, so be nice.’
‘Oh,’ Malcolm said, his voice dropping to a conversational level. ‘Sorry you got caught up in all this. If I ever get my hands on the bastards who did this –’ He looked menacingly at Luke, ‘– God help me, I’ll kill them.’
‘I don’t know that God would actually help you if you –’
‘That’s it. Get the fuck out of here now!’ Malcolm grabbed Luke by the front of his shirt, lifted him half a foot off the ground and then dropped him. Luke staggered backwards, straightened, held up both hands in a gesture of surrender and then turned to Honey. ‘Come on, we’ll wait across the street.’
‘Oh, no you won’t.’ Malcolm grabbed Honey’s arm. ‘She’ll remain here, thank you very much.’
Honey shook off his hand and was immediately yanked to the side by Luke, who put a possessive arm over her shoulder, pulling her tightly against him. The two men eyed each other off.
Honey started to say that she just wanted to leave, but then out of the corner of her eye she spotted the same van that had circled her in the car park earlier.
‘That van was here this morning,’ she said. ‘I think they took a picture of me.’
Luke and Malcolm turned toward the van as a middle-aged woman in a beige linen sundress climbed out. She smiled as she approached them and thrust a piece of yellow paper into Honey’s hand. ‘Smile, dear, you’re a star.’
Honey stared down at a photo of herself, taken less than two hours ago at this very spot. Above the photo, in a gothic- dripping-blood font, was printed Baby Killer!!! Under the photo it said: Parents and Citizens beware! This child killing child was spotted entering the Holocaust Headquarters in Koloona Street wearing a Parramatta Heights Senior School uniform!!!!! Does she share a class with YOUR child!!!!
Luke was saying something to the woman. Honey couldn’t understand a single word. She was vaguely aware that only Luke’s vice-like grip was keeping her standing. Malcolm had disappeared. Honey stared at the crappy, grainy close-up of her face. You could see the pimple she had tried so hard to cover, but because of the poor-quality print it looked like a black spot in the centre of her forehead. She looked like a Hindu. A blonde, pale-skinned, school-uniform-wearing Hindu.
Her head began to clear and she was able to make out a few words of the conversation. She heard Luke saying ‘compassion’ and ‘non-confrontational’ and the woman saying something about Luke being blind and greatly deceived. ‘Slaughter of the innocents’ came up, as did ‘infanticide’ and ‘legalised murder’. Honey knew these phrases were directed at her, but she had no real reaction. Not until she heard the woman telling Luke that the photos were a legitimate means of lifting the veil of secrecy that had so far protected people like her.
‘Like me?’ Honey said, looking the woman in the eye. ‘There’s a veil protecting me? Really?’
‘Honey, you don’t have to –’
‘Not anymore there’s not.’ The woman said, smiling. ‘My camera is my weapon and I will use it to expose you and your type.’
Honey felt Luke’s grip on her arm tighten, his hipbone stabbing her in the side she was held so close. ‘Aren’t you a bit late?’ she said, loud and fast. ‘For exposing me, I mean?’
The woman frowned and took a step back. Honey tried to move towards her, b
ut was held fast by Luke. ‘Where were you ten years ago when my step-daddy was fucking me every day after kindergarten? Huh? Huh? Where was your fucking camera when my current father figure was stealing all my shit to sell for drug money and then shooting up his fucking crap in my bedroom? Where was your fucking camera then, you stupid bitch?’
Everything went black, but she hadn’t fainted because she could hear perfectly well. She could hear Luke telling her she was okay and the woman screaming that she didn’t have to listen to that kind of filth. She heard the argument that ensued when Malcolm, Aggie and Luke insisted that the policeman charge the woman and the woman and policeman insisted that no law had been broken. And she heard the sound of her own sobbing – a raw, ugly soggy noise that seemed as though it could never be stopped.
15.
Luke took Honey across the road and asked Belinda to sit with her in the rec room while he waited in his office for Aggie. He waited impatiently, pacing and biting his nails, unsure what he would say to her when she arrived, but certain that having her close again would soothe him.
He wondered if the girl was God’s reminder that Aggie was, after all, a woman who contributed to the murder of babies for profit. A woman who exploited lost children, manipulated them into paying to have their bodies ripped open, their wombs robbed. But Lord, he prayed to the oak outside his window, Lord, she is a lost child herself. Should I feel compassion or disgust? Do I condemn her or embrace her? And if what you want, my Lord, is for me to lead her to you, why, oh why, oh why, must I be tormented with such passion? Don’t you know I am your faithful servant and would do anything you ask of me? Must you test me so? Please, Lord, I beg you, take away the desire that clouds my judgement. Please, Lord, help me to know what is right.
‘Luke?’
He turned and sighed. Aggie looked dishevelled, red-eyed, pale. She sank into the chair behind his desk. Without a word, he sat across from her.
The Gospel According to Luke Page 9