Saving Abbie

by Allan Baillie

  Ian petered out and hunched his shoulders. Listen to me, rabbitting on to an ape! But it’s because she is smart, and she is such a great listener. Maybe she even gets some of it. ‘You really know what I’m saying, hey?’

  Abbie scooped a small piece of ice out of the glass, balanced it on the tip of her tongue and moved it between her lips.

  ‘Yeah, well, anyway, it’s Mum. It’s all Mum. Look, when I was telling you I was the guy that got you out here, well, that’s not really true. By myself I wouldn’t know how to get you across the street. You’re here because of Mum, and I guess I just don’t know why.’

  Abbie cracked the ice between her teeth.

  ‘Everything has changed. You didn’t know Mum before I was stuck with you on the sinking ship. Then she was so quiet you’d hardly know she was there, just floating around and worrying all the time about everything, especially me, like she wanted to keep me in a glass bubble. But now? You saw the way she told Dad to stop going on and come back to bed? Like a general.’

  Abbie reached up and softly patted the kitten who was still on her head.

  ‘And then wham! We’re here. Wasn’t easy to get you here, but General Mum did it. Plane from Mackay to Brisbane, then trucks, vans all over the place, then by jumbo to Jakarta, by a plane – a propeller plane! – to Borneo. To Pangkalanbun in Central Kalimantan, Indonesia. And by taxi to Kumai, to here. A lot of work and a lot of money. Mum’s work, Dad’s money.’

  Abbie sniffed.

  ‘Okay, smart ape, you want to tell me how we got away with it? Because I don’t know. Dad will grouch at paying for an ice-cream cone and this trip cost a lot of money. But we’re here. And now I get to stay up with you. Mum even allows me to sleep in the same room as a wild animal! That’s you. Crazy, isn’t it?’

  Abbie nodded her head gently.

  ‘Yeah, well, you’re not helping. I don’t know why. I don’t know how long it will last. I’m just waiting for Mum – the old Mum – to wake up, start screaming about what she’s done and put the clamps on.’

  Abbie gazed at Ian with her large round brown eyes for a long moment. Then she took the kitten from her head, placed it gently on the floor and swung over to Ian. She plopped herself on Ian’s stomach and reached back to tug at his ears.

  ‘Okay, okay, we can get to do things until then. We’re almost there. Can you really smell the jungle?’ Ian peered beyond the river but there was only the darkness. Abbie spread her lips and rippled them. She leaned her head into the crook of Ian’s shoulder and blew a fat kiss up at him.

  ‘You feel better now?’ Ian stroked at the few strands of light red hair around Abbie’s bald head. ‘Good, and you should. No sinking ships, no cages now, not any more. Never.’

  The sound of a lonely engine droned from the river. Abbie peered across Ian’s arm, a frown creeping over her face.

  ‘End of all the nightmare, hey?’ He scratched her head, listening to the engine throbbing across the still night air. ‘I forget I know only a bit of your story, Ab. Maybe the easiest part. I mean you didn’t start off in a cage in the middle of a crappy ship sinking in a cyclone. You started in that jungle out there. I don’t know how you got from there to the ship four thousand kilometres away. But maybe I don’t want to know.’

  The droning engine on the river shuddered for a moment. The hair on Abbie’s back and arms suddenly lifted.

  ‘I hope you can’t remember any of it.’

  But Abbie tensed. She strained wide eyes across the street, over the old government building to the lapping of the dark river.

  The slow engine shuddered again as it passed. There was no other sound.

  In the bright morning Abbie waddled out of the ‘losman’, the budget hotel where they were all staying. She was holding Ian’s free hand and she hesitated on the dusty pavement, her eyes shifting about between the battered cars wheezing along the street and the staring people moving around her.

  A pale brown man in a tropic suit edged up to Dad. He had an old camera and he was carefully keeping Dad between Abbie and himself. ‘Hello sir, hello.’

  ‘Yes?’ he said, panting a little. Dad was hauling the heavy family suitcase to the road.

  ‘That is an orangutan, yes. It is your – ah – pet?’

  Dad shook his head. ‘Don’t look at me. It’s my son’s.’

  ‘She is definitely not a pet.’ Mum joined Dad on the footpath, carrying some bags from the Kumai marketplace.

  Rugged jungle trip, Ian was thinking. We have to carry our food to survive. Don’t know how Abbie’s going to last … He slung his share of the market load over his shoulder.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Dad was hunching his shoulders before the man in the tropic suit. ‘Not a pet. Not allowed any more by the Indonesian government, and about time. We’re taking her back into the jungle.’

  ‘Ah yes, I understand. May I take a picture?’ The man stepped nervously before Abbie.

  And Abbie let go of Ian’s hand and snatched the camera from the hands of the man in the tropic suit.

  ‘Hey!’ shouted Dad.

  The man’s face was frozen in a startled look. Abbie turned the camera round, held it lopsided and put her thumb on the button.

  ‘Abbie …’ Ian said.

  The camera flashed and Abbie gave a toothy grin.

  ‘Get out of it, you monkey!’ Dad grabbed the camera back and returned it to the man in the tropic suit. He looked at his camera and his face began to flush.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Dad said.

  ‘That ape is dangerous! It should be wearing a collar and chain.’

  ‘No,’ said Mum simply.

  Abbie took Ian’s hand and shuffled a little, as if apologetic.

  ‘It should be kept in a cage.’

  ‘She has had quite enough of cages, thank you.’ Mum took Abbie’s free hand.

  ‘I think that’s it,’ Dad said. ‘You have your camera and it’s not damaged. I am sorry … hey!’

  Suddenly a short man in a rainbow shirt grabbed at Dad’s suitcase. Dad pushed the man back a step and swung the suitcase back from him. ‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’

  The short man looked down at his empty hands, then up at Dad’s darkening face. His own face – like a rockmelon with a drooping moustache – seemed to be falling apart. ‘Oh, sorry, sorry!’ He flapped his hands in the air and hunched his head. ‘I am Yos, I am helping you …’

  ‘Helping yourself, more like it!’

  ‘No, no …’

  ‘Beat it before I call a cop.’

  ‘There is a misunderstanding …’

  ‘Perhaps I can help.’ The man in the tropic suit stepped between Dad and the rainbow shirt man, Yos, and smiled.

  Abbie tilted her head and looked at the man in the tropic suit and immediately he shuffled away. Dad and Yos frowned together at him, then they both saw each other’s puzzled expressions, as if to say: ‘He’s not mine, is he yours?’ The tension evaporated.

  ‘You are Mr Foster, yes? I am Yos, I take you up the river, yes?’ Yos talked very fast, before Dad got angry again.

  ‘Oh, yes. Thank you.’ Dad released the suitcase into Yos’s hands.

  Yos then, with a gentle smile, took the bags from Mum and carried them all.

  ‘Yes …?’ The man in the tropic suit hovered uncertainly, like a stork in a pond. He muttered something about a cage again as Mum and Ian escorted Abbie across the road. Then he was gone.

  ‘You look like the cat that got the cream.’ Mum glanced down at Ian.

  He beamed back. ‘I didn’t know that Abbie took photos.’

  ‘It’s you, with all the pictures you took of her. That’s what’s done it. Don’t encourage her.’

  ‘I wasn’t. But that was great! And you stuck up for Abbie. And Dad stuck up for Abbie too. It’s like we’re a family.’

  ‘Oh, you mean with Abbie. Don’t build it up too much. After only a week … you know.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’

  Abbie swung loosel
y between Ian and Mum, hardly putting any weight on her feet. And when Dad and Yos looked like they were set for a long walk, she started to look furtively at Ian and Mum. Finally she let go of Ian’s hand and swung into Mum’s arm.

  ‘Don’t be so lazy!’ But Mum smiled a little all the same.

  ‘She’s adopting you,’ Dad said.

  ‘We women have got to stick together.’

  That’s the thing, Ian thought. Abbie has become a part of the family. Not like a dog. With a dog you tell it to do something and it does it. But with Abbie, she thinks about it and maybe she does it, or maybe she doesn’t, or maybe she does something completely different with a weird logic about it. Like giving Dad the glass when he wanted to get his sunglasses, like taking a photo of the guy when the guy wanted to take a photo of her. It was more like having a little sister around.

  After a short walk Yos turned into a yellow house with an open door. He stepped over the welcome mat, past the pile of sandals and entered a cool lounge with a TV flickering away in front of two small children. Dad hesitated at the door but Yos waved him in, shoes and all.

  But as Mum stepped over the threshold Abbie pulled away, trembling. ‘Mrs Foster …’ Yos was looking at Abbie. ‘Better you stop.’

  Mum saw the long red hair rising on Abbie’s back and stood still. ‘What’s up, Abbie?’

  Abbie craned her neck, staring with wide eyes into the dim room and sniffing the heavy air. She seemed to be hearing beyond the TV set, listening to the strange soft sound of water rippling far below the floor. And scenting beyond the cut vegetables, to catch a whiff of yesterday’s fried dinner.

  ‘She has been in a house like this. It was not a good place for her.’ Yos almost murmured the words.

  But then Abbie relaxed in Mum’s arms and sucked her lip.

  ‘Not this house, eh?’ Yos smiled at Abbie.

  ‘Okay?’ Mum asked Abbie and stepped into the house, pushing aside the moment of tension as if it had never been.

  ‘Indra, Janur!’ Yos called to the children. ‘Look at what I’m bringing now!’

  The children turned, saw Abbie, waved at her and returned to the cartoon. Abbie pouted.

  ‘Don’t do that.’ Ian reached across and patted Abbie on the nose with a single finger.

  Yos sighed. ‘Those children are not interested in animals unless they’ve got lasers and teeth as big as houses.’ Then he passed through a cluttered kitchen to a plank over the river.

  Ian smiled at Abbie. We’re not like that, are we? Remember Reene’s phone call, Ab? Yeah, yeah, after the sinking ship, we were the Three Musketeers, mates for life. So poor Reene phones us in quarantine just to see how you were getting on. She tried to talk to you but all she gets from you is raspberries … ‘Hey, how did you do that?’ Abbie was suddenly holding a mango away from Mum’s side.

  ‘I’ve got to watch you like a hawk, haven’t I?’ Mum shook her head.

  Ian looked back at the house, at the bowl of fruit in the kitchen, then in astonishment at the area directly under the house. Most of Yos’s house was hanging over the river, propped up by a jungle of bamboo stilts.

  Dad followed Yos and the family suitcase, walking stiffly and slowly across the plank to a heavy barge. Then he reached back to Mum, who raised an eyebrow at Abbie. ‘You going to trust me?’

  The orangutan looked down at the splintered plank and at the slow swirling black water below. She rubbed her head for a moment, then shoved the remnants of the mango into her mouth and launched herself from Mum’s body. She spread herself like a spider on the framework that held the plank above the river.

  ‘Fine,’ said Mum. She patted Dad’s hands away and ran the length of the plank.

  Abbie looked at Mum in faint wonder and reached out for her. But Mum stepped back. ‘Don’t even think about it! You’re on your own.’

  ‘Now everyone talks to the ape.’ Dad wrinkled his nose.

  Then Ian swayed across the plank with his arms wide, thinking: Now everyone!

  On the other side, Yos manhandled the suitcase down some creaking steps near the barge to the top deck of a long green boat. ‘This is my ship, my klotok,’ he said with a touch of pride.

  ‘It’s very nice,’ said Mum.

  ‘I take tourists up the Sekonyer River, to the Lodge and the orangutan areas, Tanjung Puting, Pondok Tanggui, then all the way up to Leakey Camp. Tourists sleep down below and eat maybe on top. I am a great cook! And sometimes I take an orang, like Abbie, home.’

  Ian looked at the bottom deck of the boat from the steps above. There wasn’t much head room down there; Dad would be able to sit on the bottom deck but he wouldn’t even be able to walk around bent double without banging his head on the top deck. It was better for orangs though. There were no glass windows, just open spaces with rolled covers. There was a tiny cabin at the bow for the steering and another cabin for the engine at the other end. And a roofless toilet hung over the stern.

  ‘But no orangs on my klotok today,’ Yos sighed. ‘My boat is slow, and we are in a hurry, yes?’ Yos stepped across the deck and swung down to another boat, a red speedboat with painted yellow flames curling back from the bow.

  ‘Hey …’ Ian suddenly beamed and scratched his ear. But Yos shrugged and hung his head in embarrassment. ‘My son’s boat. But today he is sick.’ He pulled the suitcase and market bags down from the klotok and placed them in the back. Then he leaped into the front and began to fiddle with the starter button. ‘He calls it Dragonfly.’

  Now’s the moment Yos roars the motor and belts off with our enormously valuable suitcase, Ian thought. Sells Dad’s underpants in Jakarta.

  Dad took two steps down to the red boat, then moved back. The motor coughed, belched black smoke and Abbie made an alarmed squeak. She leaped into Ian’s unready arms, forcing him to stagger backwards. The boat didn’t seem to want to start.

  ‘Dragonfly,’ Yos snorted. ‘Hmmph! Squashed Bug.’

  ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ Ian rubbed the back of Abbie’s head.

  ‘Well, I can still make my son’s monster go,’ said Yos with a smile.

  Abbie turned and listened to the motor as it wheezed and spluttered into rough stability. Then she began to relax.

  ‘All right?’ Yos helped Mum down into the front of the Dragonfly, but he was really looking at Abbie.

  ‘Yeah, she’s okay.’ Ian climbed down the steps, frowning a little. Abbie sat at the back between Dad and Ian, her eyes darting everywhere as Yos pushed the Dragonfly from the klotok, but when Yos grinned at her Abbie grinned back.

  ‘Don’t speed until she gets used to it,’ Mum warned.

  The boat moved away from the clutter of the rickety walkways on the bank and headed towards the ships in the port.

  For a while Abbie stared at the growing space of the water between the Dragonfly and the bank, but she was also studying Ian’s face. Ian knew Abbie’s careful look, and he made sure that there was no sign of fear showing on his own face. Not that there was anything to be frightened about. But Ian’s face passed the examination and she slowly began to enjoy herself, reaching her long arms behind Ian’s back to trail her fingers in the rushing water.

  The boat’s bow began to rise as Yos slowly accelerated, but Abbie appeared to be more interested in the wooden ships now. They were ships that seemed to have slid from a past century, long bowsprits, high masts with stained sails roped to massive booms. A rust-streaked freighter, alone among the wooden ships, looked out of place. Most of them were being loaded with timber, some with blackened logs.

  Yos noticed Dad frowning at the logs. ‘They burn the jungle so they can get at the trees. My jungle …’

  Suddenly Abbie stiffened on the seat and growled deep in her throat.

  ‘Hey …’ Ian turned towards her.

  Dad reached forward and grabbed Yos. ‘Slow it down.’

  The Dragonfly died on the water, but by now Abbie was standing on the back of the seat with a yellow bucket held over her head.

&nb
sp; ‘What’s up, Abbie?’ Ian reached for her.

  The orangutan’s lips curled, and she hissed through her teeth. Then she swung the yellow bucket back and hurled it at the rust-streaked freighter.

  Ian grabbed Abbie’s shoulder, squeezed, then looked at the freighter again. ‘Oh’, he said dully. ‘The ship.’

  ‘What’s wrong with the ape?’ Dad growled.

  One of the booms on the freighter swung a load of timber from the wharf to the hold, snaring Ian’s eyes. ‘No Abbie, it’s not the same ship,’ he said. But there was a soft quiver in his breath.

  Yos turned the Dragonfly towards the flung bucket and the freighter.

  Ian stared at the ship numbly. It has the same small castle of superstructure in the middle, he thought. It has the same skinny red-and-black funnel. It had the same rust streaks marking the white superstructure and the black hull, so much so that the ship looked red in the morning sun. Because the ship was empty the hull was high, and because it was surrounded by the smaller wooden sailing ships it looked much bigger.

  Their freighter had looked like this on Albatross Beach – more than a year ago – when Ian and Reene crawled out of the cave they’d been sheltering in. The first part of the cyclone had come and gone, with fragments of beach houses spreading across the dunes, and the ship was tossed on the sand. Its rust had been caught by the early morning sun too, giving it an ancient crimson glow. It had been almost out of the water, making it seem immense on the tiny bay. It had been deserted and quiet.

  There had been a boom – like the one they saw working now – dangling over the side of the ship. And Reene said the boom was a staircase and they had to go up and explore on board. Just like that …

  Abbie was twisting around to look at the ship as Yos turned the Dragonfly, showing her frozen face to Ian and Mum. Her lips rolled back from her teeth in a silent snarl of fear.

  ‘Let the bucket go, Yos,’ Mum said quickly. ‘Get us away from here.’