by Judy Nunn
Bev was rarely dumbfounded, but right at that moment she couldn’t come up with a response. Her expression clearly said, ‘You’re what?!’ but she seemed unable to reply, or to make any form of comment. She was vaguely aware this was the second time he’d done that to her in two days.
Good, Paul thought, I’ve floored her. He’d been patiently waiting for his sister to calm down and shut up long enough for him to explain his plan.
‘We’re going to live a lie, Bev,’ he said, ‘well, for as long as we can. I do understand what you’re saying, you know,’ he added reasonably. ‘I’m aware we may be on borrowed time, but the longer I can give Jalila her freedom, the more quickly she’ll heal.’
In the short walk to the library, Paul had decided not to tell his sister about Jalila’s harrowing outburst, for fear it might be interpreted as a sign of a permanently unstable mind. He had no idea himself how it should be interpreted, but he now firmly chose to believe the outpouring of emotion he’d witnessed was a step in the right direction.
‘The difference in her is already amazing,’ he continued enthusiastically. ‘You’ve seen yourself how she responds to everything around her, every new experience. You said I was doing the right thing bringing her here, remember?’
Bev bit back the caustic retort that sprang instantly to mind. I was hardly recommending you marry the bloody girl!
‘So what particular lie are you going to live?’ she asked, trying not to sound arch.
‘The one you’ve set up for us so perfectly,’ he said. ‘Jalila’s the younger sister of a friend you went to uni with. I’ve met her several times here in Gero with you; we fell madly in love so we got married. Simple. Particularly with your help – you’re the best liar I know.’
‘Thank you,’ she said drily.
‘It’s true,’ he insisted, ‘you’re the most unlikely librarian I’ve ever met – not that I’ve met many – you should have been an actress.’
‘I’m not sure even my acting skills are equal to convincing the town you’ve married a girl they’ve never heard of without your parents or any friends there to see it.’
Elbows on table, he leant forwards, an urgent plea. ‘You will help us, won’t you?’
‘You really are serious about this?’ She felt she might hit him.
‘Bloody oath I am. We can pull it off, I know we can. Shoalhaven people don’t pry. They’ll accept the fact that I’m in love and they’ll accept Jalila – they won’t ask questions, you know what they’re like.’
His boyish enthusiasm, which under normal circumstances might have charmed her, was now enough to push her over the edge. Her brother was naive to the extreme – it was time he grew up, and Bev wasn’t going to take any more of his nonsense. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you, Paul?’ she barked angrily. ‘You’re behaving like a romantic idiot, can’t you see that? This isn’t Romeo and bloody Juliet, you know, this is real life! What you’re proposing to do is downright irresponsible! Furthermore, it’s a criminal act. You’ve smuggled an illegal immigrant into this country.’
‘A refugee.’ Paul remained implacable. He refused to be angered, this was the sort of reaction he’d expected from his volatile sister. He was only surprised she hadn’t blown her stack earlier.
‘An illegal immigrant …’ Bev ignored him. ‘You plan some sort of sham marriage that’ll never be recognised! You intend to salt her away in a community where she’ll have no legal status, where at any moment she can be discovered and kicked out of the country –’
‘And as I told you, if that’s the case, I’ll go wherever she’s sent,’ he said. His sister’s needling was beginning to take effect.
‘She has no qualifications, her command of English is poor, if your relationship doesn’t work out what the hell will happen to the girl!’
Paul’s resolve was rapidly crumbling; he was about to lose his temper. ‘Our relationship isn’t a brief affair, I can assure you,’ he replied icily. ‘I intend to look after Jalila for as long as I live.’
Bev didn’t heed the warning signs. ‘What you’re doing is far more than irresponsible, Paul,’ she went on, ‘it’s downright cruel! You’re giving the girl false hope, you’re leading her on …’
He stood, slamming his fist on the table, making the coffee mugs jump. ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think, Bev.’ She’d gone altogether too far. ‘I don’t need your help, forget I asked. I’ll do this on my own.’ He glared at her, they were both angry now. ‘But I’ll fucking well do it, I can promise you that. I’ll marry Jalila and I’ll bring her to Shoalhaven, and I don’t give a shit what you or anyone else thinks!’
He was about to storm off, but just at that moment the door opened and Susan, the Library Manager, popped her head in, investigating the sound of raised voices.
Bev stood and the two women exchanged a look. Bev’s was one of apology. Susan’s, upon recognising this was an argument between siblings, was one of I’ll leave you to it, after which she quickly closed the door.
The moment had been broken. ‘That was Susan,’ Bev said, ‘she’s my boss, I think you’ve met her.’
Paul didn’t reply. His burning anger had faded, he was sullen now.
‘You’ve probably cost me my job.’ Bev knew she wasn’t under threat, she and Susan were good mates, but she couldn’t resist having a dig.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said stiffly. He rarely lost his temper, out loud anyway, as a rule he fumed inside, keeping his thoughts to himself. Deep down, he was still fuming.
Bev had no intention of apologising, but she did realise she’d hurt him. ‘I know you’re not deliberately leading Jalila on, Paul,’ she said. Of course she knew this. Her brother might be naive but he was certainly not shallow. That was part of his problem – Paul felt things too deeply. Despite his youth there was no doubt at all that he loved this girl. ‘And I know you love her. I knew before you did, remember?
No reply.
She was silent for a moment. Then … ‘You do realise everything’ll fall apart when the refugees are discovered on Gevaar Island. People will twig Jalila’s one of them.’
‘That’s possible,’ he said.
‘More than possible. Probable, I’d say. Ah well,’ she went on briskly, ‘we’ll face that when we come to it.’
She sat. Paul stared wordlessly at her.
‘Come on, sit down,’ she said. ‘We’ve got another five minutes or I really will get the sack.’
He sat.
‘If we’re going to do this together,’ she went on, ‘we’re going to do things my way.’ Bev recognised her brother’s love for this girl was unshakeable. Just as she recognised she would do all in her power to help him. And he’ll need help, she thought, he’ll need all the help he can get. ‘My way,’ she repeated. ‘OK? You promise?’
Paul nodded. He’d stopped fuming now.
‘Right, first thing, we’ll have to let the family in on the story.’
‘Lou, yes of course –’ he said, and was about to go on.
‘No, not just Lou,’ she interrupted, ‘we need Mum and Dad on side as well. We have to tell them everything, and I mean absolutely everything.’
‘Dad?’ Paul’s turn to be taken aback.
‘You didn’t think that part through, did you?’ Bev said with a touch of irony. ‘Of course Mum and Dad have to know. Did you really believe they’d accept without question you turning up out of the blue with an exotic new wife?’ She found his blank look in return irritating. ‘Didn’t it occur to you they might want a few details, like for instance, where you got married?’
‘Registry office,’ he said defensively.
‘Oh come on, Paul,’ she was downright scornful now, ‘give me a break, you can’t just palm them off like that.’
Bev realised she might be coming close to overstepping the mark once again, so she dropped the scorn, but pressed on relentlessly nevertheless.
‘Mum and Dad have to embrace this whole mad idea as much as we do, can’t you see that? They have to acce
pt you and Jalila as a couple who love each other desperately enough to take this sort of action.’
‘Mum maybe, but Dad,’ Paul protested. ‘If we tell Dad about the refugees on the island he’ll report them to the authorities. He’ll see it as his duty to do so,’ he added scathingly. ‘Christ alive, you know how he is.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she replied in all seriousness, ‘but I don’t think you do.’
‘Eh?’
‘You’ve always been critical of Dad, I know.’ She could have added and I know why, but she didn’t. ‘He’s a conventional man, I agree, he does things by the book, he doesn’t have Lou’s charisma and all that … But there’s a part of Dad you’ve never recognised.’
‘And that is?’
‘He’s a romantic. He tries not to let it show of course, probably thinks people would see it as a weakness, but I can promise you at heart Dad’s an out and out romantic. You won’t have any trouble at all convincing him how much you love Jalila. Believe me,’ she said drily, ‘it shows.’
Paul couldn’t help feeling dubious. He’d never thought of his father in such a way. David Miller a romantic? David Miller was a man who never displayed his feelings.
‘Besides,’ Bev added the clincher, ‘Dad’ll do anything Mum says.’
‘Yeah, that’s true.’
Which is proof positive, you dumb bastard, Bev thought. Mum’s the love of his life – he gave up a successful career and settled in a backwater just because of her. The man worships the very ground she walks on, always has. But he never dines out on the fact. Keeps everything to himself. God you two! You’re so bloody alike! ‘Leave things with me for the moment, Paul,’ she said, rising from the table. ‘I’ll ring Lou and drop the news on him.’ God only knows what reaction I’ll cop there, she thought. ‘Between the two of us we should be able pave the way with Mum and Dad, to a certain extent anyway. I’ll leave it up to Lou as to how much we tell them at this stage, but at least we can prepare them for the fact that you’re seriously in love.’
‘Thanks, Bev.’ He stood, hugging her impulsively.
She returned the hug. ‘I don’t know what the hell’s going to come of this,’ she said, ‘but good luck to us all.’
He was about to leave.
‘And don’t forget the bathers.’ She picked up the little boutique carry bag that sat on the table. ‘That’s what you came here for, remember?’
He grinned as he took the bag. ‘Thanks for these too,’ he said.
Jalila was still out on the balcony when he returned to the hotel, sitting there watching the water park. But she was enjoying the sight of the revellers now, and upon hearing him enter the room, when she turned, her face once again lit up with pleasure at the mere sight of him. It was as if her explosion of anguish had never happened.
She stepped inside, into his arms, and they kissed.
Holding her close, so aware of her body, the shape and the feel of her, the touch of her skin, Paul fought against his stirring of sexual arousal. Not now, he told himself, not yet, the time isn’t right.
‘Do you want to go to the water park?’ he asked, gently disengaging himself from the embrace. She would have stayed there quite happily in his arms while he fought off a burgeoning erection.
‘Yes, please.’
‘Good, then that’s what we’ll do.’ He picked up the carry bag from the table where he’d dumped it. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘new bathers.’
Paul loaded up his backpack with towels and bathing costumes and Jalila’s wrap-around, and they left the hotel, crossing Foreshore Drive to the parks and the oceanfront beyond.
They bought takeaway sandwiches at the Dome and ate them sitting on the grass, looking out at the beach and the ocean and the dozen or so early-season swimmers, whom Jalila very much admired.
‘In the middle of summer,’ he explained, ‘when it’s holiday time and the weather’s really hot, there are many, many more people swimming. Australians love to swim.’
‘You will teach me swim, Paul?’ she asked.
‘Sure, I’ll teach you to swim.’
‘To swim,’ she corrected herself. ‘You will teach me also English?’
‘Yes, Jalila, if that’s what you’d like. I’ll also teach you English.’
‘Also teach,’ she said to herself.
When they’d finished their lunch, they changed into their bathing costumes in the respective change rooms and spent a good half-hour frolicking in the water park as they had the previous day. Then, back in dry clothes, they went shopping.
To Jalila, the supermarket was a wonder-world. She’d found the dress shops that she’d visited with Bev on the day of her arrival fascinating, but the supermarket was something else altogether. The endless shelves of packaged foods, the vast aisles of refrigerated goods, the huge, colourful displays of fresh produce, all this was of far greater interest than clothes.
They returned to the hotel laden with supplies, which they packed away together, Jalila delighting in the process. Stacking butter and eggs and cheese and vegetables and goodness knows what else into her very own refrigerator!
‘Is like house, Paul,’ she said, standing back to survey the well-stocked kitchen, the bowl of fruit on the island bench, the vase of flowers on the table. It wasn’t actually a vase, they’d had to make do with a water jug, but she loved the flowers.
‘You’ll have your very own house soon, Jalila,’ he said. ‘When we go home to Shoalhaven you’ll have your own pretty little house just a block from the beach.’
She smiled, putting her arms enticingly about his neck. He had told her he was taking her ‘home’, wherever that might be, but she hadn’t really given the matter much thought. Jalila lived only in the moment, it was wiser that way. And each moment with him was precious, wherever they were.
Now, Paul thought. Now the moment is right.
She was expecting him to kiss her, she was inviting him to, but he didn’t. Instead he unlaced her arms from around his neck and crossed to the table, where he picked up the jeweller’s box that still sat there.
He returned to her, opening the box warily, wondering again whether it might possibly have been the sight of the rings that had acted as some sort of catalyst to her outburst.
It hadn’t been, he had no cause for worry. She smiled as she looked down at the open box he held out to her.
‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied. Her eyes were not haunted this time.
He lifted out both rings, slipping the empty box back into his pocket, and took her left hand in his.
‘I don’t know the right words, Jalila,’ he said, embarking a little stiffly upon his formal declaration. ‘I don’t know what a priest would say, but this ring is a symbol of my love and I must make a vow to you …’
He slipped the ring onto her finger and they looked up to meet each other’s eyes. He was about to start on his vow when he realised she hadn’t understood a word he’d said. He also realised that the gist was all that mattered anyway. And she had certainly understood the gist.
‘It fit,’ she said happily.
‘Yes.’ They looked down at the ring, which she now twirled on her finger, and he smiled, thankful both for the fit and the fact that he didn’t need to make a formal declaration at all. ‘I asked the girl in the jeweller’s shop to try it on. She seemed to be about your size.’
‘Is pretty.’
‘Very pretty.’ He offered her the other ring. ‘You have to give me mine now,’ he said, holding out his left hand, fingers splayed.
‘Ah yes.’ She took his hand and slipped the ring onto his finger.
‘It fit. Is good.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘it’s very good.’ He gathered her in his arms. ‘I now declare us husband and wife,’ he said and kissed her.
‘We is married?’ she asked.
‘Yes, we are married.’
‘Are married,’ she corrected herself. Then she laughed. It all seemed something of a game to Ja
lila. A game she was very much enjoying.
Paul crossed to the wall of windows and the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. With careful deliberation, he pulled closed the heavy, ceiling-to-floor drapes, shutting away the outside world.
By the time he turned back to her, she was already naked, clearly visible in the half-light, standing by the bed, ready to offer herself as ‘payment’ or ‘gift’ or whatever they were going to call it, but obviously prepared to be taken.
This wasn’t the way he would have wished. He would have preferred to kiss her, and while kissing her to slowly undress her, perhaps for them both to undress each other. But of course, he told himself, given her past, this would hardly be natural to Jalila.
He undressed himself hastily. It seemed wrong to be fully clothed while she stood there naked, and as he approached her he couldn’t help but feel some trepidation. How would she receive him? What would be her reaction? The times she’d offered herself to him there had been no fear, despite the violence she’d known at the hands of men, and there appeared no fear in her now. But she was so detached. Was he to be nothing more than a business transaction?
It seemed he was. As he stood naked before her, still uncertain, his mind wondering which tack he should take, she surprised him by suddenly demanding instruction. Unnervingly like a servant seeking orders from a master: ‘How you want, Paul? What you like?’
Jalila was keen to please him, but he seemed undecided so she took the initiative. She needed to know whether he wished to take her from the front or from the back, or perhaps he would like her on her knees before him – he might wish her to take him in her mouth.
Paul did not answer, nor did he make any overtly sexual advance, kissing her instead with infinite tenderness.
She returned the kiss with equal tenderness, and as he lowered her onto the bed he continued very gently to kiss and caress her. She responded in kind, kissing and caressing him too. Such displays of affection were unfamiliar to Jalila and she liked them very much.
When finally he entered her, their coupling, too, was something quite strange to her. How could a man take her like this, easing himself inside her with such care? Why would a man kiss and caress her as he possessed her body? Why would any man wish to do such a thing? Men when they pleasured themselves were always brutal.