‘Where’s the girl?’ Eliza asked as Delphine headed off, looking relieved.
‘With her family.’
‘Oh. Well, I’m sure that’s for the best.’
Junie went back indoors to sit on the lounge and Eliza did likewise, an awkward silence ensuing.
‘It seems there really are elephants in New Guinea. One in this room anyway,’ Eliza joked.
Junie didn’t laugh. ‘I want you to know I’m not letting Miles get away with this. He can’t just walk into my house and treat my servants this way. I don’t care who he is.’
‘Come now, Junie, it’s just the way things are here. When in Rome, and all that. You don’t want to make waves,’ she warned lightly, crossing her slim, bare legs.
‘You mean you don’t want me to make waves.’
‘What are you cranky with me for? It’s not my fault Miles is so horrid. Now let’s just drop it and talk about more pleasant things. I’m meeting the tennis crowd today and thought you might like to join in –’
‘What did you argue with Ernest about just then?’ Junie interrupted.
Eliza looked taken aback. ‘Don’t be silly, we didn’t argue. Ah, here’s the tea.’
‘He seemed angry.’
‘Oh, you know what he’s like – hates a scene. Speak of the devil…’
Ernest walked in and told Delphine to fetch the driver. ‘Everything sorted is it?’ he said tersely.
‘Yes. She’s gone home now.’
‘I hope you told her to keep things quiet. Where’s my blasted lighter?’
‘In your pocket, usually,’ Eliza said, sipping her tea.
Ernest found it and lit a cigarette. ‘Right, I’m off,’ he said, turning to look at Junie. ‘Don’t forget Philippe and his wife are coming for dinner Friday night. You might want to invite a few others if you like. Nothing too large. I want to hear more about these mining ventures of his.’
‘All right,’ Junie said.
He left without saying goodbye and silence stretched once more. Eliza was picking at a biscuit, something she rarely ate, and Junie was watching her.
‘Was he angry with you about Miles?’
‘Still on about Ernest? All right, yes, we argued,’ she said, sighing, ‘but I don’t want you to worry about it. He just seems to think I should be able to control the bloody man but it’s easier said than done, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Come on, let’s not talk about our boring husbands. Who are you inviting to this dinner party? Please say a dashing man for a change.’
‘Actually I did find one at the jail,’ Junie said, smiling as Eliza leapt forwards.
‘Oh, do tell!’ She held up her hand. ‘No, better yet, let me figure it out. Was it a dangerous gangster, immediately in love with you?’
‘We’re not in Chicago,’ Junie remarked, enjoying their old guessing game.
‘A swashbuckling pirate?’
Junie shook her head. ‘Not an eye patch in sight.’
‘Clark Gable. Tell me it was Clark Gable.’
‘If it was Clark Gable I would have committed a crime and stayed!’ Eliza laughed, pouring another tea. ‘And I would have joined you. All right, tell me now. I’ve run out of ideas.’
‘Well, you weren’t too far off. He is American. Do you remember that pilot we met at Government House?’
‘Marlon Stone!’ Eliza’s eyes were round.
‘In the flesh.’
Eliza sat back with her tea and a knowing smile. ‘Now there’s a man I never forgot.’
Junie looked at her uneasily. ‘Did the two of you…spend some time together?’
‘Some quality time,’ Eliza admitted.
‘I’m sure it was,’ Junie said, hiding an odd feeling of disappointment. ‘Well, you’ll have your chance to see him again on Friday night, if you like. I thought I might invite him along – he was very helpful today.’
‘I do like! Whatever shall I wear?’
‘That would get his attention,’ Junie said, nodding at the short tennis outfit.
‘Oh, that reminds me – I really do need you to take up tennis! Don’t say no – I’m a horrible player and I need you to be horrible with me.’
‘Not today – I’ve had a pretty trying morning, as you can imagine. How about next week?’ Junie said, yawning.
‘Of course. Actually, I really need to get a move on. I’ll call you tonight,’ Eliza said breezily, kissing her cheek as she left.
Junie went upstairs to lie on her bed beneath the fan, vaguely wondering who else she should invite to this dinner on Friday. Dr Colgan, if he was still in town. He’d be a welcome distraction while Eliza flirted with Marlon.
She was annoyed that their affair bothered her. It wasn’t as if Junie’d ever had much of a connection with him. Then the Trocadero came to mind with its beating swing pulse and she was back in the moment when Michael and Ernest were approaching simultaneously and Marlon had come to her rescue. Then she remembered the next time she’d seen him, when he’d unexpectedly kissed her – and she’d slapped him for his efforts.
Thoughts of Michael took over then, flicking in various memories like a short for a movie. The expression on his face around the campfire on the beach that first night. The hurt in his eyes near that cold stone wall. A Christmas farewell that broke what was left of her youthful hope. Her secret given to the sea.
No, no more lovers. It wasn’t worth the pain.
But as she gave in to the pull of sleep that tall American was dancing with her once more and that stolen kiss was visiting her dreams.
Thirty-nine
‘They serve prawn cocktails at sunset. With champagne, of course,’ Philippe added. The guests were relaxing after a four-course meal and, with Marlon present, the conversation at Junie’s dinner party was centred around his tourist flight business.
‘What a delicious idea,’ Eliza said, her eyes on Marlon. ‘How often do you take people there?’
‘About once a month or so. Mostly ex-pats who want to head down to Salamaua to their holiday houses, although that bar Philippe enjoys is worth the trip on its own,’ Marlon said, putting out his cigarette. ‘I could make enquiries for you if you want to go for a weekend. Plenty of friends of mine would be willing to rent out their place.’
‘Or you could just invite them to dinner and most men would offer these ladies a place for free, I’m sure,’ Philippe added in his smooth French accent, lifting his glass towards Junie.
She smiled an acknowledgement, aware that his wife Felicity was beginning to detest her, and turned to John instead. ‘I’d be interested in visiting you at the village, if that’s allowed. Where was it again?’
‘Wamena. I’m not sure if you’d enjoy it as a holiday destination, I’m afraid. It is very much a traditional life the locals lead – the Dani, they’re called – and the workers have few modern conveniences. You could come for the day though, I suppose. Marlon still runs the occasional joy flight up our way.’
‘Isn’t that where you go to see the Shangri-La Valley?’ Felicity asked.
Junie’s head snapped towards Marlon. ‘The Shangri-La Valley? Where the American plane crashed?’
She’d been obsessed when that story had hit the headlines in 1945 when a plane went down in the remote New Guinean highlands, killing several people and stranding a handful of survivors. It was an amazing enough story of rescue in itself, made even more poignant for Junie as she thought of the ill-fated Elite, but it was also a tale that fired her imagination. Somewhere called Shangri-La really existed – it wasn’t just a fictional place in a book or a movie.
‘Oh no, now you’ve done it,’ Eliza said with a sigh. ‘She’ll never leave you alone until you take her there,’ she told Marlon with a knowing smile.
‘What is this Shangri-La place?’ Philippe asked.
‘You remember, I told you about it when it was in the news a few years back. Honestly you never listen to a word I say,’ Felicity said, annoyed. ‘The American
s lost in the jungles with the cannibals? The rescue?’
‘Cannibales? Surely not,’ Philippe said.
‘No, no, apparently so. Something to do with appeasing the spirits after warfare, or so the people say in Wamena,’ John told them. ‘But no-one really knows all that much about the valley tribes, not even the Dani.’
‘The Kurelu, they’re called,’ Marlon added. ‘They’re completely cut off from the western world, like a lost race.’
‘How is that even possible in this day and age?’ Eliza asked him, twisting her hair around her fingers.
‘You’d understand better if you saw it from the air,’ Marlon said, gesturing as he spoke. ‘The whole valley has limestone cliffs protecting it, all the way down, and they’re pretty much permanently enshrouded by cloud, so it really is hidden. A pilot came across it by accident in 1938, then of course came the plane crash and rescue mission in forty-five, and it was front-page news. Aside from that it is a complete mystery – no-one really knows what’s down there.’
‘It’s a wonder no-one has organised an expedition,’ Junie mused.
‘You can’t be serious! No-one in their right mind would approach such blood-thirsty cavemen,’ Ernest said, scoffing.
Philippe drew on his cigar. ‘Depends what’s there.’
Marlon watched him and Junie wondered at his intense expression, but it was quickly masked.
‘I wouldn’t risk it,’ Miles said, agreeing with Ernest. ‘Bunch of savages, by the sounds of things.’
Junie shot him a look, resenting anything that came out of his mouth. It was only after quite a good deal of persuasion from Eliza – and martinis over lunch on Wednesday – that she’d agreed he could attend tonight.
‘Don’t forget they saved the survivors’ lives and I’m told no-one got put in a boiling pot,’ John pointed out.
‘Not even the pretty girl,’ Marlon added, rolling a cigarette and looking over at Junie. ‘Most un-Hollywood, really.’
‘The girl who was rescued was rather attractive, wasn’t she?’ Eliza said, clinking her glittering bracelets as she sipped her champagne. ‘What was her name again?’
‘Margaret Hastings…and the plane was called the Gremlin Special. I’ve saved the newspaper clippings,’ Junie confessed with a self-conscious smile. ‘Lost Horizon is my favourite novel.’
‘Really? I found it a bore,’ said Felicity. ‘Romantic, fairy-tale rubbish.’
Junie blushed but met the woman’s gaze regardless. ‘It was the notion of a Utopian society that captured my imagination, so I tend to fear accusations of political radicalism rather than romanticism.’ She nodded politely. ‘You’ll forgive me if I take that as a compliment.’
Felicity gaped like a fish and Eliza appeared to have some trouble swallowing her wine.
‘I am sure your raisonnement politique is anything but radicale, madame,’ Philippe said smoothly, shooting a dark look at his wife. ‘And long live the romantic in all of us.’
‘Bien dit!’ toasted Eliza and the rest were obliged to follow suit.
‘Novels aside, I can assure you this lost horizon has a very real valley beneath it,’ John stated.
‘And the whole area is quite spectacular from the air, however “lost in time” it may be, as the romantics say,’ Marlon said, with a meaningful look at Junie. ‘I’d be happy to take you.’
‘I’m not sure I should allow it,’ Ernest said.
‘Oh, don’t be silly, Ernest. Marlon is an experienced pilot. I want to go too,’ Eliza said. ‘Honestly, what’s the point in coming to New Guinea if we don’t do something adventurous?’
‘But this seems rather extreme,’ Ernest said.
Junie plotted for a minute. ‘Well, it does seem a nice photo opportunity for you. “Australian ambassador visits remote frontiers.” Getting to know the natives and so forth.’
‘With his beautiful wife,’ Marlon added and Junie felt foolishly pleased by the compliment.
Ernest seemed to consider then. ‘Well, I suppose it might be a bit of an adventure as you say…’
‘Excellent, I’ll contact Gus Peterson, my reporter friend. What day shall we go?’ Eliza said.
‘We are taking a trip to Hong Kong,’ Philippe said, appearing disappointed, ‘but please, you must go without us this time.’
‘I could take you on Wednesday?’ Marlon said, checking his small diary.
‘Perfect,’ Eliza exclaimed. ‘It’s all settled. To finding Shangri-La!’
Junie drank with the others, surprised to find herself so thrilled, a feeling that increased as Marlon smiled at her over his wine, his dark eyes holding hers.
‘To next Wednesday,’ he said, and she dropped her gaze.
Marlon finished his conversation and hung up the phone, pleased. Word had come through from John via radio: he’d managed to talk their mutual native friend Pukz into accommodating five tourists overnight in his village, and Marlon was grateful. Not just because he wanted to spend the extra time with a beautiful woman, although she was that. He wondered if Eliza had told Junie about their brief affair and hoped she hadn’t. Junie Farthington was already enough of a challenge.
Pushing thoughts of women aside, he made for the door and hailed a taxi to take him to the jail.
Hopefully Pukz would have the answer he needed. It was the best shot they had for now.
Forty
In all her life, and for the rest of it to come, Junie knew she would never experience another day quite like this: the day she first saw the New Guinean Highlands from the air. Green, purple and blue, they rolled beneath the plane like the great southern lady rolled in her waves: misted, mystical and breathtakingly wild.
Marlon, Junie, Ernest and Eliza had set out early with Gus Peterson, the journalist, and the trip had been a pleasant one in the morning sunshine with the landscape becoming increasingly remote with each passing mile. The country had been unveiled from behind brief curtains of clouds, a heavenly vista in vast undulations, almost too beautiful to take in.
As much as she was looking forward to seeing the village, Junie didn’t want to leave the air but they eventually began their descent to make a hair-raising landing in Wamena.
Junie’s immediate impression was that she’d stepped into the pages of a National Geographic magazine as dark-skinned, almost naked people stared at her in wonder and a little fear. Women with bare breasts held babies with round tummies and the men came forwards adorned in paint and brightly coloured feathers with strange cylinders over their private parts. They were not a tall race, the visiting party towered above the villagers, but they were wiry and, Junie imagined, very strong.
A handful of men welcomed the group in a strange, halting language, managing to do so despite large bones through their noses, an adornment Junie imagined denoted seniority. They seemed quite friendly with John and Marlon, especially Pukz, who Junie found out was actually the chief’s son, and soon they were being shown around while Gus took photos for his story. The villagers had experienced having their pictures taken by tourists a few times before, Marlon told them, and didn’t seem to mind, standing proudly before the cameras.
‘Over here, Junie,’ Ernest instructed as he prepared a pose with Pukz and the chief, hissing in an undertone, ‘For God’s sake, what’s going on with her hair? Fix it will you, Eliza.’
Eliza combed Junie’s hair down and Junie stood and smiled obligingly for the camera, trying not to feel embarrassed by the look of disgust Marlon was directing towards Ernest.
Then they moved through the village and the sights soon overpowered any negative undercurrents. The huts were domed in grass, a design that undoubtedly protected them well from the rain, and the main house, the honai, was quite large. Native women were decorating the clearing in front of it with flowers and Junie was told it would be the location for a celebration tonight, something that had the villagers quite excited.
‘They may not be into clothes but they’re big on accessorising,’ Eliza observed, and it was true. Th
e women were using whatever the forest could provide and the result was a kaleidoscope of rich colour. Necklaces and headdresses in red, orange, yellow and green appeared brilliant against dark complexions and Junie felt it a shame the photos would appear only in black and white.
Large brown eyes followed her every move, but they weren’t unfriendly. In fact, the villagers were going all out to impress, and not only with adornment – there would be quite a feast, judging by the mounds of food being prepared. Large baskets of fruits and yams were being cleaned and Junie was pretty sure pork would also be on the menu, based on the amount of pigs – wam – running around.
John’s clinic was bigger than she’d expected and Junie was impressed by how well run it was. The United Nations had given them two staff from Port Moresby, local women with nursing training, and limited medical supplies, but it was still very basic. While the doctor was busy telling Ernest what they needed, Junie visited each patient, eavesdropping on the conversation for future reference.
‘Smile, your worshipfulness,’ Eliza said, as Gus clicked away with his camera.
Junie obliged, stroking the cheek of the little girl lying in the bed, who stared at her with apprehension. She looked to be only Frankie’s age and was suffering from a fever.
‘Don’t be afraid, little one. I won’t hurt you,’ Junie whispered softly and the girl slowly returned her smile.
Junie reached to pour her some water but Marlon was there, handing her the glass. ‘Allow me.’
‘Goodness, is it hot in here?’ Eliza asked no-one in particular.
After their village visit it was time for the scenic flight, although Junie couldn’t imagine anything superseding what she’d seen so far. Pukz was coming as a guide and they were told he was the only person in his village ever to have flown in a plane. He was also the only one who had much knowledge of English, although it was very limited, but John said he was slowly picking it up as he worked alongside him in the clinic. Likewise, John was trying to learn Dani, hoping to get as fluent as Marlon.
Worth Fighting For Page 28