by Judy Nunn
‘Jalila’s very much looking forward to her adventure –’ but to his surprise Jalila interrupted. She was quite prepared to play her part.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Adventure is good.’
‘Well I certainly hope it will be,’ Bev said pleasantly, noting as she did that the girl wore a blouse that had once been hers, and that the shawl tied at her waist had once belonged to her mother. Bev recalled it had been one of Maria’s favourites many years back. She grinned at Paul. ‘I see Jalila has scored some of the gear intended for Thelma,’ she said wryly. ‘I must say it suits her well.’
‘Yep,’ he replied, ‘Lou and I decided half to Thelma and half to the island.’
‘Good thinking,’ his sister agreed, ‘very clever.’
Jalila was attempting to follow the conversation, but with no success. The fact in itself did not bother her, but she would like to have contributed, knowing if she did it would please Paul.
Aware she was trying to understand, Paul explained the situation. ‘The blouse you’re wearing was a gift from Bev,’ he said slowly and clearly. ‘She thinks you look very nice in it.’
‘A gift?’ Jalila peered down at the blouse. She gently stroked the braided neckline with her fingers. ‘Is pretty,’ she said. Then she looked back at Bev. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure, Jalila,’ Bev replied with a smile. ‘We’ll buy you some more pretty things in Geraldton.’
Paul gave the girls a leisurely run around in Anni for half an hour or so, he and Bev talking through the plans they’d discussed over the phone. Jalila was to stay at Bev’s flat for the next few days, perhaps a whole week, and he was to drive down by car from Shoalhaven to show her around. Their cover would be that Jalila was a friend of Bev’s up from Perth on a holiday visit.
‘And when the visit’s over, I presume you’ll borrow the speedboat again to take her back to the island?’ Bev asked.
‘Probably,’ he said; he hadn’t really given this aspect much thought. ‘Jukka and Hekki wouldn’t mind. Or else I can come down in Palermo Miss – she’s off the slip now. That’d be a whole day’s trip of course, but …’ He shrugged; either way he didn’t much care. Giving Jalila her taste of freedom was all that mattered to Paul.
‘I’ll take you out each day and show you the countryside,’ he said to her eagerly. ‘We’ll drive down the coast, and I’ll show you the beaches. And I’ll show you the Pinnacles, too,’ he went on. ‘They’re ancient rock formations from the beginning of time …’
Jalila had little comprehension of what he was saying, but his excitement was communication enough. As he talked, her gaze did not once leave his face.
During their run back to the marina, the conversation again took a practical turn. Bev was to go shopping with Jalila that afternoon.
‘You’ll get her whatever you reckon she needs, won’t you?’ Paul said. ‘Just let me know the cost and I’ll transfer –’
‘Yes, yes, I know,’ Bev replied briskly, ‘we discussed all that.’
Paul said, ‘Now remember, Jalila, Bev will keep you safe. If you’re not sure, just let her take the lead.’
‘Yes, Paul,’ she replied.
‘I know everything will seem strange at first, but Bev knows what to do,’ he assured her. ‘You mustn’t be frightened.’
‘I am not frighten, Paul.’ What could there possibly be that could frighten her? Jalila wondered.
They pulled up at the marina jetty, and this time the procedure was not rushed. This time he tied alongside and saw them properly ashore, climbing onto the jetty and assisting them from the boat as if returning them from a pleasant outing.
‘Hope you enjoyed yourselves,’ he said loudly for the benefit of any passer-by who might be interested, although no one appeared to be taking the slightest notice. Still, he told himself, best to be careful just in case word gets back. ‘Anni’s a speedy little number all right, good to have you aboard.’
‘We had a great time, Paul, thanks,’ Bev said, kissing her brother fondly on the cheek and linking her arm through Jalila’s.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ He hopped back on board, started up the engines and released the bow and stern lines. ‘Bye,’ he called, as he slowly headed the boat towards the bowser in order to fuel up.
His last glimpse was of the two young women walking arm in arm along the jetty, Bev chatting away as if she and Jalila were old friends. My sister’s a bloody Godsend, he thought.
Bev was obeying her brother’s every instruction to the letter, but even as she did so she was distracted. Bev was concerned. More than concerned, Bev was worried. He has no idea, she thought. He has no idea whatsoever. He doesn’t realise he’s in love with this girl.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Back on the island, Lou had fielded things with the others as he’d promised Paul he would. They’d both agreed it best not to let the group know in advance what was going on, but, uncertain of the reception his news might receive, Lou didn’t relish being the bearer. He’d wanted at least to tell Hala and Rassen, but Paul had been insistent.
When, after a good hour’s run, he’d returned the old Princess to the jetty, Karim and Azra had appeared disappointed the speedboat was still nowhere in sight. They’d obviously been hoping for a ride when Paul got back. But they hadn’t hung about waiting, which would have seemed presumptuous, choosing instead to kick the soccer ball around with little Hamid.
Lou joined Rassen and Massoud on the verandah of the yellow hut where they were hunched over the chessboard. As the group’s leader, and for translation purposes, Rassen must be the first to know.
Both men glanced up, acknowledging his presence with a smile and Rassen looked down to the jetty, which was clearly visible from the verandah.
‘Paul and Jalila not back yet?’ he asked.
‘Ah … no …’ Lou said hesitantly.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, no,’ Lou assured him, ‘nothing that can’t wait until after you’ve finished your game.’ He sat. ‘Please do go on, I don’t want to interrupt.’
But by now he also had Massoud’s full attention.
‘No point,’ the young Iranian said, ‘I’m going to win anyway. ‘Now tell us what’s going on, Lou – you look uncomfortable.’
‘I do have some news, I’m afraid,’ Lou admitted. ‘Mightn’t be a bad idea if Hala was here too, a woman’s point of view and all that, you know.’
Massoud rose from his chair with a whimsical look to Rassen that said ‘something important’. The Australian was all but squirming.
He left wordlessly to return only minutes later with Hala, and the four of them convened inside the hut where the seating was more comfortable.
Lou told them everything, including Jalila’s background, as he and Paul had decided he should, and all three listened without saying a word.
‘He’ll bring her back to the island in a few days,’ Lou concluded, ‘perhaps a week. He’s determined to give her “a taste of freedom” – those were his very words.’
Lou turned to Hala, keen to assure her that Jalila would be safely chaperoned by his granddaughter. ‘She’ll be staying with Paul’s older sister, Beverley,’ he said. ‘Bev’s a fine young woman, strong, capable – she’ll look after Jalila, I promise you.’
But Hala, an unconventional woman at the best of times, was the last person he needed to convince.
‘Well we’ve all seen the effect Paul’s had on the girl,’ she said. ‘That young man’s a miracle worker. In my opinion Jalila was completely beyond repair.’
Rassen didn’t appear to embrace the situation with quite the same degree of fervour as his wife, but he was in agreement about Jalila. ‘Yes, I would have considered her a lost cause too, I must say, and having now heard the reason for her condition, little wonder.’
He looked to Massoud. ‘This is a bold idea of Paul’s,’ he said with a touch of uncertainty, ‘but I believe it may be a good one, do you agree?’
‘Yes,’ Masso
ud said, ‘without a doubt.’ Then he added wistfully. ‘A taste of freedom – lucky Jalila.’ There was a moment’s pause, both men reflective, both aware of what the future might have in store for them.
‘We’ll inform the others,’ Rassen said, ‘but not now. When we’re gathered together for lunch in the blue hut. They’ll want to know what’s happened to the speedboat by then.’
It was close to four o’clock when Paul returned and they were all there to greet him at the end of the jetty. He hadn’t known what to expect. An outcry perhaps? Mixed emotions at least, some jealousy, some bitterness, an element of why her, why not me? But there was no such reaction. They simply stood there respectfully while Rassen, as always, acted as their spokesperson.
‘We all agree this is a fine thing you are doing for Jalila, Paul,’ he said. ‘You are helping to heal this girl.’ He looked about at the group, ‘This is good, yes?’ Every single one of them nodded in agreement, even little Hamid who had simply been told Jalila had gone away to visit a friend. ‘Is good,’ they all said in English. ‘Yes, this is good.’
Rassen himself had been surprised by the reception he’d received from the group as a whole. He hadn’t told them of Jalila’s past, but it hadn’t been necessary. They’d all been through their own form of hell, and they recognised that the girl, too, had suffered immeasurably. Rassen had told them only that Paul was offering Jalila a taste of freedom in the hope it would help heal her. He’d needed to say no more. Every single one of them knew the damage war could wreak upon the human spirit, and they’d all witnessed the recent change in this girl who had appeared beyond saving. They were genuinely happy about anything that might advance her recovery.
Perhaps ignorance is bliss under circumstances like this, Rassen had thought. Perhaps they really do believe that ahead of them lies the freedom they seek.
Now as Paul stood on the jetty accepting handshakes all round, he too, like Rassen, was touched by the generosity of the group’s reaction.
Then Sanaa stepped forwards, saying something in Arabic and offering him a parcel wrapped in brown paper.
‘Sanaa is worried that after your long trip, you will be hungry,’ Hala translated. ‘She says you have probably not had lunch, and that this is a meal of rice and meat, which is still pleasant eaten cold.’
‘Thank you, Sanaa.’ Paul smiled appreciatively as he accepted the parcel. ‘You are quite right. I have not had lunch, and I am very hungry. I shall eat this on the trip home.’ He looked around at the group and pointed at Anni. ‘Now who’d like a quick trip on the speedboat before I leave?’
Karim’s, Hany’s and little Hamid’s hands all went up like a shot.
While Paul took them all out for a run, Lou left aboard the old Princess in order to get a head start. They’d already loaded the vessel up with the rubbish to be returned to the mainland.
Paul caught up with him a good half-hour out of Shoalhaven, and the two boats ambled into the marina side by side.
First thing the following morning, after refilling Anni’s fuel tanks, Paul returned the keys to the brothers who, like him, were early risers.
‘Was your sister’s friend impressed?’ Jukka asked at the front door of their fisher’s cottage, coffee mug in hand.
‘Bloody oath she was,’ Paul replied. ‘Anni went down a real treat, just like you said she would. In fact I wouldn’t mind borrowing her for another spin,’ he said, paving the way for Jalila’s return. ‘Say, maybe next week? If that’d be OK?’
‘Sure, no worries. Want a coffee?’ Jukka opened the door wide. ‘Come on in.’
‘No thanks, mate, I’m heading down to Gero. Going to take Bev’s friend out for a drive, show her the sights.’
‘Jeez, you really are keen, aren’t you?’
As Paul set off down the path, Jukka, a confirmed bachelor like his brother, at least in this stage of their respective lives, called after him, and only half-jokingly. ‘You want to watch your step, mate. Starting to sound a bit dangerous to me.’
Paul just smiled and gave a backwards wave over his shoulder.
An hour later he pulled his Land Rover up outside Bev’s apartment in Fitzgerald Street at the western end of Geraldton’s CBD. An attractive two-storey block of six units built in the art-deco style of the late 1930s, Fitzgerald Flats was very conveniently situated for Bev and in an area that suited her lifestyle. A ten-minute stroll to the library, several nearby coffee shops, a local wine bar, the Provincial, which was one of her favourite haunts, and a very short walk to the foreshore. There was even a gymnasium across the road, which several of her fitness-conscious friends frequented, although Bev preferred the ocean to a gym workout herself.
‘Can’t be bothered, too lazy,’ she’d say on a hot Saturday afternoon, ‘going for a swim, see you at the wine bar.’
As Paul expected, Bev had already left when he arrived. During their run on the boat the previous day when they’d discussed their plans, she’d offered to forego her early Sunday morning tennis, which was a regular commitment and which he knew she loved, but he’d insisted she stick to her schedule.
‘I’m putting you out enough as it is, Bev,’ he’d said, ‘and I’ll be at your place by nine anyway.’
They’d even discussed the regular Sunday family roast in Shoalhaven.
‘Mum and Dad’ll be disappointed if neither of us turn up,’ he’d said, ‘and I’d like to take Jalila out to dinner. Why don’t you go along as usual and I’ll stay with her until you get back to the flat.’
‘Oh.’ Bev had been a little stumped for an answer, which was quite unlike her. ‘You think that’s a good idea, do you?’
‘Yeah, sure. Why not?’
Because you’re getting too involved, she thought, that’s bloody well why not.
‘Right you are then,’ she’d said.
Paul let himself into the unit with the spare key that was imaginatively hidden under the pot plant by the front door.
Jalila was sitting in a chair by the windows, which looked out over the street. To Paul she appeared mesmerised by a palm tree that grew on the grassy verge of the sidewalk, but in actuality she was not seeing the palm tree at all. She was reliving the experiences of the previous afternoon. In any event, lost as she was, she didn’t hear the front door open.
Paul found the sight of her extraordinary. There was a serenity about her, a grace, even in her motionless state, the straightness of her back, her long slender neck, the tilt of her chin. But Jalila has always been graceful, he thought, what makes the sight of her now so extraordinary? Perhaps, he decided, it was the fact that her head was not covered by a shawl and that the sleeveless, floral dress she wore was so very Western. Was that all it was? No, Paul thought, it was something that emanated from the girl herself, something from deep within Jalila.
‘That’s a very nice dress,’ he said.
She turned to him, neither startled nor surprised, but clearly pleased to see him.
‘Hello, Paul,’ she said and she looked down at her dress with its pattern of little pink flowers; she’d never owned such a dress before. ‘Yes, is very pretty.’ She stroked her bare upper arms, unaccustomed to the public exposure of so much skin, but enjoying the experience. She did not in the least mind, also, being bareheaded, as Bev had suggested. The wearing of a shawl or scarf had become merely a long-term habit she’d observed – it held no special significance for her.
‘If you’re comfortable without the shawl it’d call less attention to us,’ Bev had said, having noted aboard the boat that the girl travelled happily with her head uncovered, ‘otherwise, no worries. Your choice entirely, of course.’
Jalila had decided then and there she would obey every single instruction of Bev’s. The demands of her early village upbringing belonged to a lifetime ago, that person had long ceased to exist. She had, however, baulked at a bathing costume.
‘But you’ll need bathers for the water park,’ Bev had said.
In their initial walk along the foreshore f
rom the marina to Bev’s flat, Jalila had been fascinated by the huge water park, where families and children of all ages played on the sculptures of all shapes and sizes that served as fountains and jets and geysers, spraying and showering and propelling water in all directions. It had seemed to her a most magical place.
‘Paul will certainly take you there if you ask him,’ Bev had promised her.
But during their shopping expedition, the sight of the flimsy costume on offer had been a step too far for Jalila. She’d shaken her head. Modesty forbade she expose that amount of flesh.
‘Right you are.’ Hands in the air, Bev had surrendered. ‘Get drenched, ruin your new clothes then, see if I care.’ Already Bev, good-natured and bossy, had adopted the role of big sister.
Jalila hadn’t understood what Bev was actually saying, but she knew no offence was intended and that Bev was not cross. Bev was very nice. Jalila liked Bev.
‘Bev buy me many pretty things, Paul,’ she now said. ‘We go shops … We go lunch … We eat …’ she paused ‘… sand-wich,’ she said, enunciating the word perfectly and with pride, it was a new word, one she’d only just learnt. ‘We drink coffee in street … I meet Bev friends …’
Paul said nothing, but pulled up a chair opposite her and sat. Jalila wanted to talk and he wanted to listen. He realised then that this was the extraordinary and indescribable change he’d sensed emanating from the girl. Already, after less than one day, Jalila was embracing her freedom, and with this came an assurance he’d never seen before.
Bev had intimated as much when he’d phoned the previous night.
‘Is she all right?’ he’d asked. He’d been worried, beginning to doubt the wisdom of his decision, sure that Jalila must be, if not frightened, at least confused. The whole experience was bound to be nerve-racking for her. ‘Is she coping with everything? I mean, it must be …’
Instantly aware of the anxiety she could hear in her brother’s voice, Bev had been quick to reassure him.
‘Jalila’s absolutely fine, Paul,’ she said. ‘Honestly, nothing fazes that girl. She doesn’t say much, but she’s soaking up every new experience, every sight and every sound, it’s wonderful to see. You really have done the right thing, you know.’