The War Within

by Rosanne Hawke

  Sonya picked at the wool on her sweater for a moment. ‘My mother died. In the Afghan war.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ I put my hand on her arm for an instant but she moved away.

  ‘It happened years ago.’ She looked down at her arm where I’d touched it, as if there’d be a mark. ‘My mother was special.’ Sonya sighed. ‘But we will not speak about that now.’

  There was a short silence. ‘I would never have taken you for a Russian, Sonya,’ I said. You’ve got such lovely olive skin.’ I don’t know why I said it. She’d unnerved me and I guess I was hoping to draw her out, to find that middle-of-the-road communication that can be found with a new acquaintance. Only it didn’t work with Sonya. She stiffened as if I’d been offensive. I spoke quickly. ‘I–I didn’t mean to be rude.’

  Liana glanced at me and I wondered what to do next when suddenly, just as if she’d pulled across a curtain, Sonya smiled again and said in a much lighter tone, ‘It does not matter. Tell me now about you instead.’ She sounded as if she’d just walked across a minefield into a safety zone. And I couldn’t help wondering whether the enthusiasm she managed to drum up was contrived.

  ‘That boy I saw with you in the auditorium, is he your brother? Or—’ here she actually smiled ‘—is he your boyfriend?’

  ‘Boyfriend?’ Liana looked blank. ‘Which boy?’

  ‘The tall one, handsome, with dark hair, black leather jacket …’

  Realisation dawned. ‘Oh, you mean Jasper Pembley,’ I said.

  ‘Jasper,’ Sonya said the name as if she were tasting it. ‘What a strange name.’

  ‘It’s Pakistani. His parents were working here when he was born.’

  Liana broke in then. ‘He’s not our brother; he’s American and we’re Australian.’

  I couldn’t say anything at that point. I was suddenly reminded of how much like a brother Jasper had been to me.

  ‘He seems different.’ It took me a moment to realise Sonya was still talking about Jasper. ‘Sort of responsible, but troubled.’ She sure didn’t miss much.

  ‘Poor Jasper’s had a hard time,’ Liana volunteered with a glance at me. ‘Almost a year ago his father was killed in Afghanistan. He was a doctor and went in to help the wounded.’

  ‘So!’ Sonya’s eyes lit up. ‘A man with a cause.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that. He had no political preference when it came to the freedom fighters. He just wanted to help injured people.’

  Sonya looked thoughtful. ‘How very interesting. And what was the name of the place where he died?’

  ‘No one knows,’ Liana answered. ‘He never said where he was going. It wasn’t in his diary. Maybe that was to protect people involved. He probably wasn’t supposed to be there when there was so much fighting. People have tried to find out what happened.’ As I listened to Liana my heart ached for Jasper. The past months must have been hell for him.

  ‘Maybe Dr Pembley walked on a mine,’ Liana continued. ‘Although most people believe the Taliban killed him. He was American, after all.’

  ‘Yes, Afghans are very protective of their way of life. Some more than others. So, it seems we all have some trouble to bear at times. It must be difficult for this Jasper. At least I was able to go to my mother’s funeral and grieve.’

  ‘Not knowing is the worst,’ Liana agreed. ‘I don’t think Jasper has come to grips with the reality that his father is dead at all.’

  I’d been watching Sonya for this entire exchange, and although she’d been a bit weird at first, she did seem genuinely concerned about Jasper. That was when I noticed a strange look come over her face, as if she were about to make a comment, but changed her mind. Instead, she abruptly looked at her watch and moved to the door.

  ‘We must get ready for the program tonight. I have asked Aslam to bring the car around the front in half an hour.’ Then she smiled briefly at us and left.

  ‘Whew. What do you think, Li?’

  ‘She sure gives the impression we’re not the most important thing in her life at the moment.’

  I decided not to worry about it and unpacked my bag. That night I’d get to wear my Australian clothes again. No dupattas or shalwar qameezes would be worn at the American school, that was for certain.

  n

  ‘Hi. Mum?’

  ‘Jaime, lovely to hear you.’

  ‘I’m in Islamabad. Dad said to ring if I went anywhere.’

  ‘What are you doing down there?’

  ‘Sports tournament. They’ve got it in January this year. So I came too. Is Dad there?’

  ‘He took Andrew to the Adelaide oval for the opening of the test series. Your father thought he should be educated—see the toss of the coin and all that. Besides, it’s Pakistan playing. By the way, Kate Sample rang to see what you were doing. Something about a beach party. Didn’t you tell her you were going away?’

  ‘Yeah, but she’s on another planet half the time. She probably thought I was back already. Mum, can you tell Dad that Jasper Pembley’s father is presumed dead. They were friends, weren’t they?’

  ‘Oh no. How’s the boy doing?’

  ‘Not good. It’s changed him. We used to get on so well. A lot’s changed here, actually.’

  ‘Give him time, Jaime, and yourself too. It must be like coming back to Australia last year.’

  ‘Guess so. Look, Mum, I’ll ring again. To catch Dad. Okay?’

  ‘All right, darling. Bye.’

  4

  Jaime

  The American Teen Centre was a blur of rock music, gyrating bodies, and imported food and drink. It was even more Western than the Year 12 dinner at my school in Australia—which was strange in the heart of a Muslim country. It was like the kids acted more Western than they needed to be, in case they forgot who they were. One guy near me was saying how sick his drink was. Kate Sample used to use words like that but I was still behind the times.

  Jasper wasn’t in the mood for dancing and we were almost through our Baskin Robbins ice creams (shipped in fresh from the U.S.) when Sonya approached us, looking as if she’d lost her phone. A strange impulse always made me want to say things to make people feel better, but with Sonya it always came out making me sound like a child.

  ‘Is anything wrong?’ I tried to appear as mature as Liana but Sonya answered me in the exasperated tone that people reserve for three-year-olds who interrupt adult conversations.

  ‘I have just received word …’ she began, then started afresh as if she remembered we weren’t worthy of her news. ‘I have to see someone.’ She sounded professional then, her earlier hesitation done with. ‘It is quite important. I shall need to take the car, so you had better come with me. We can go home from there.’

  None of us answered. It sounded unorthodox, taking us away from a program arranged especially for all the participating schools. I was sure that if we’d asked a teacher, we’d be denied permission and I wasn’t sure how to say that without appearing a wimp. She must have sensed my nervousness for she smiled suddenly.

  ‘I am sorry we have not been here long.’ She said it with one eyebrow raised and a smile that didn’t win me over. Nor did she look as if she’d listen to any excuses and suddenly I couldn’t be bothered arguing about it.

  I glanced at Liana. She nodded. ‘Okay,’ I agreed.

  Jasper surprised us then. ‘I’d like to come too. I told my host I would go back to his place by myself. I’ve been here enough times before.’

  Sonya turned her gaze on him. From my angle I could see her eyes; they were gold—I hadn’t noticed before—and wide open. Guess she was as surprised as I was.

  ‘Can you speak enough Urdu to keep out of trouble?’ she asked with just enough lift of her eyebrow to imply she didn’t expect him to speak anything other than English. None of the kids from the American school seemed to have any cultural awareness at all.


  ‘Sure. And Pakhtu.’

  ‘So? And how did you learn that?’ Interest flamed in Sonya’s face as she looked up into his and I suddenly saw him as she might. I’d never noticed before how attractive he was (that is, when his ‘half on, half off’ grin was showing). And I could see what she meant about that ‘uniqueness’ she’d mentioned earlier; an element of ‘something stirring under the surface’ that intense guys often have.

  ‘I was brought up in Peshawar,’ was all he said, and suddenly Sonya turned as if she were the lead girl in a marching group, and we followed her out to the car. Sonya slid into the front seat next to the driver and I sat in the back seat, watching the bazaar night life flashing past too fast. I marvelled at how she could travel around the city at night when all good Muslim girls were safe at home in purdah.

  Sonya seemed weirder that night—if that were possible. She didn’t make any conversation as she usually did, and before the driver had even put the brake on at our destination, she was out of the car, clutching her bag.

  ‘I shall not be long,’ she called as she pulled a red woollen shawl around her shoulders and turned towards the shops.

  ‘She should have taken us with her.’ Liana sounded concerned and I knew what she was thinking.

  ‘Yeah, no girls walk around here alone at night. That hasn’t changed, has it?’

  It was Jasper who answered me. ‘No, it hasn’t.’

  ‘Then what can be so urgent that it can’t wait for tomorrow?’

  None of us shared anything. Jasper looked as if he had a few thoughts about it that he didn’t like.

  ‘I’m out of here.’ And he heaved his long legs out the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I hated to sound so shrill, but I didn’t feel like being left in the bazaar with a driver who we knew nothing of, except that he drove too fast. Apparently Liana felt the same. She was a step ahead of me, though.

  ‘I don’t think you should follow her, Jasper. She mightn’t appreciate it.’

  ‘Don’t sweat; I won’t be long.’ He actually grinned as he sauntered off, his hands in his jacket pockets.

  ‘That’s the brightest I’ve seen him since I’ve been back,’ I murmured.

  Liana didn’t answer; we both leaned forward, watching him casually walk along the narrow street as if he were window-shopping. The sweepers hadn’t come yet to clean the streets and the day’s rubbish still littered the narrow pavement. A dog with only one ear slunk past the car, sniffing the ground and nosing over long-life milk cartons. Only a few late male shoppers strolled by, talking and laughing.

  Jasper stopped at a narrow Afghan rug shop, staring in the window as if he had ten thousand rupees to spend. Then he slipped inside. That was when the horn suddenly blared. The driver had drifted off to sleep and slumped onto the wheel.

  ‘Great. A sleeping driver, no guy and Sonya nowhere to be seen.’ That might sound like feminine helplessness in Australia but in Afghanistan, you could get arrested for not having a male escort. Even a ten-year-old little brother could make a girl respectable—without one, she was nothing.

  5

  Jasper

  Inside the shop, Jasper could hear voices speaking earnestly in Pakhtu. The sound came from up a flight of narrow wooden stairs.

  ‘Za! Go! The car horn! That is the warning. You must not delay, Sonya,’ came a deep voice. ‘What could be wrong?’

  ‘Don’t worry. It is most probably one of the kids I brought with me.’

  The man made a popping sound like a shaken bottle of soda imploding. Even Jasper took a step backwards. ‘You did what? Why do such a foolish thing?’

  ‘I am sorry, Uncle jan. I had to. I am looking after them. It is a pity I have to at a time like this, but they are only school kids and you did say to do everything as normally as possible.’

  Jasper was startled to find Sonya could speak Pakhtu. He knew she was Russian, so how did she learn it?

  His eyes were used to the dim light in the shop by then; it seemed to be closed for the night, but he could still see the rich red colours of the rugs hanging on the walls and covering the floor. More rugs were rolled and stacked along one wall like hundreds of cells in a beehive. Cushions made of carpet were set against the other walls for customers to lounge against while they argued about the price and drank green tea. Striking blue lapis and silver jewellery was displayed in a glass cabinet.

  Jasper fingered the beads on a woven donkey bag. The voices upstairs were lower now and he couldn’t pick out the words. He glanced around the dim room and his eyes were drawn to a spot on the wall above him. He could only just make it out in the low light. It was an old photo in a silver frame. The tall, burly man holding a Kalashnikov AK 47 was a Pakhtun, but the one with him was a Westerner; the fairer hair gave him away instantly. Surely not. Jasper leaned up against the wall, straining for a better look. His breath came in a gasp. ‘Dad!’

  ‘Za, Sonya.’ The voices were at the top of the stairs. ‘I shall see you tomorrow, or before, if I can manage it.’

  Stunned as he was, Jasper knew he mustn’t be found in the shop. He quietly let himself out, and with a contrived appearance of nonchalance, he gazed into the next shop window.

  Sonya emerged from the doorway and saw him instantly. ‘What are you doing?’ Her voice was sharp. ‘I told you to stay in the car.’

  He took a deep breath and turned casually to face her. ‘These are excellent rugs,’ he said.

  She softened slightly. ‘I needed to do some business for my father and I don’t want to worry about you loose on the street.’

  ‘He sells rugs?’ Then he forced himself to say, ‘I’m sure my father would have been interested in these.’

  Sonya hesitated, but only a moment. ‘We’ll return now.’ She led him back to the car.

  6

  Jaime

  Liana and I watched Sonya and Jasper talking outside the shop before they returned to the car. When Jasper threw himself in the back seat beside me I didn’t need telepathy to know there was something wrong. He said nothing but breathed heavily as though he was running a race inside his head, and if he didn’t win, a catastrophe would occur.

  Jasper was dropped off at the house with us and as Liana walked in with Sonya, I stayed outside hoping he would tell me what happened. I’d always been taught to talk about what’s bothering me, and Jasper’s obvious hurt and his quietness broke me up. I knew he wouldn’t share anything unless I started the ball rolling.

  ‘Jasper, what was in the shop? Sonya was in there, wasn’t she? Did she see you then?’

  He shook his head. ‘She doesn’t know I was inside—’

  ‘What happened?’ The look on his face wasn’t encouraging. At first I thought he would shrug and return to his host’s house, but then an oh-what-the-hell look came over his face and he began to talk at last. He told me about the shop, the voices, Sonya knowing Pakhtu (which seemed to bother him a lot) and the photo.

  ‘The guy could have picked it up in a second-hand shop, but perhaps he knew Dad.’ He moved his arms as if to keep warm and his pacing practically wore a circle on the pavement.

  ‘Maybe I should have said I was there. It could have been all above board. Maybe I could have asked. But when I heard them coming down the stairs I had this feeling that something wasn’t right.’

  I didn’t know what to say. He was too upset and I knew that whatever I said, he’d take it the wrong way. Instead, I simply nodded to keep him talking.

  ‘And Sonya—what’s she up to anyway? Drives around in a Russian embassy car, her father’s away and yet she goes to an Afghan rug shop and is on friendly, and I mean cosy, terms with the guy there.’

  ‘That’s weird. Afghans wouldn’t be that close to Russians. Even though it’s years since they moved out, memories are long.’

  ‘So, what’s with her, I wonder. She’s as cool as a hous
e shut up for winter. She hardly flinched when she found me outside the shop. Said she was doing business for her father.’

  I found myself staring at him in pity. Even then I thought of Sonya as a regular girl. Maybe her father had bought a rug and she had made a payment for it. But I knew I couldn’t say that to Jasper. It was as if the negative feelings he held inside needed to be justified and pinned onto another reason. He was using Sonya as a scapegoat and his comments seemed to confirm that, yet it gave no satisfaction. It only left me with the unfulfilled urge to hug him and make him better.

  As he turned to go to his host’s house, he looked back at me and I caught my breath at the tortured look on his face. ‘I knew he wasn’t thinking about the carpet shop any more. ‘God, Jaime. I wish I knew what happened to Dad.’

  n

  The next morning I couldn’t concentrate on anything Liana said at breakfast. I kept worrying about Jasper and playing with my food.

  ‘All ready for today?’ Sonya whisked in. Her voice pulled me out of my reverie.

  ‘Yeah,’ I answered dutifully. ‘Just have to finish getting ready.’ I paused.‘Do you have a spare hairclip I could borrow for the hockey game?’

  She took the clip out of her own hair and handed it to me. It was blue lapis lazuli with a silver fastener, a French one that popped open when the clasp was squeezed. I was flabbergasted. ‘This is too good for playing hockey.’

  I was meaning to be polite but she sounded annoyed when she answered me. ‘Think nothing of it. You are my guest.’

  That was when she noticed my bangle. ‘How beautiful.’ She stretched out a finger and rubbed it along the carving on the outside. It was the first time I’d seen her reach out in any way to either of us.

  ‘My uncle gave it to me.’

  ‘It was my uncle who also gave me this clip. Please wear it. This is my wish.’ Her tone had totally changed and as she stood there looking at me, I had the strangest impression that we had something in common, but I couldn’t think what it was.