Her eyes glazed over, lost in pictures of him for a moment, before she bent down to pick up the DVD remote control from the coffee table, turned up the volume, and pressed play. Illawara watched Lucy Honeychurch step, with coy apprehension, into a poppy-strewn field before being taken into a forceful embrace and kissed by George Emerson who stood there. The serene voice of Kiri Te Kanawa exalted the scene and swept out of the TV to engulf Illawara with romantic longing. Honeychurch was led away, by her chaperone, and Illawara pressed rewind to watch the scene from A Room With a View - yet again.
‘She’s so beautiful’ breathed Illawara, as she gazed at the young actress and guessed her to be the same age as herself. Hermes flew to Illawara’s shoulder as the singing began over and the scene replayed.
‘You always watch this bit’ said Hermes, ‘almost every day now, over and over. I’m bored of it’ he said. Illawara frowned.
‘I’ll guess you’ll never know love?’ She replied, took off her leather bag and started to put some of the other items on the coffee table into it. The bird sat rigid upon her puffed shoulder for a while: stung into silence.
‘Is that everything we’re bringing for Galileo?’ he asked after a while, but with less enthusiasm than before.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’ve packed a few rolls of cartridge paper, I think he’ll like that, some sealing wax and quality ink. Oh, and I’ve packed some excellent Koh-i-Noor pencils, a sharpener, and rubber to give him for his drawings.'
‘So you’ve not brought much then’ said Hermes, deadpan,
‘No, not really’ she said, staring back.
In of themselves the objects were ordinary items, but the pair debated in length about bringing pencils. In the year 1611, that they were about to visit, paper remained expensive but the artisan pencil did not exist.
'I still think the pencils are a risk; Illy' Hermes, said. Illawara flicked her hand through the air,
'It's worth it - we have to impress him. No point in going all that way and getting ignored. We need to be near him, make an impression - then maybe Dad will see us and...' Illawara's voice trailed off. Illawara turned away to glance again at the pictures of her father: Hermes shook his head when she looked away. Illawara had chosen her gifts with much thought and they pondered the chance that items brought from the future could arouse suspicion - or even dangerous accusations of witchcraft. But Illawara got her way. Illawara checked the time, ‘shit, I have to hurry’ she said. Hermes tutted aloud at her language
‘Did you remember to pack the Mystify, the Forked Tongue and the Transformation Tincture?’ Hermes added, running through his mental list as if Illawara had just returned from the shopping Mall. She rummaged through the satchel and pulled a face.
‘I’ve got the Mystify and Forked Tongue, but I forgot the Tincture. Oh, and I’ve just remembered I need to bring some fruit juice for you.'
Hermes rolled his little hummingbird eyes and tutted to himself, while Illawara hurried back to her bedroom, her skirts billowing out behind, to grab the small glass phial of the tincture: which, with his other elixirs, represented years of hidden research by the Professor. She scrambled, in the fading light, through the feminine furnishings of her room, past her four-poster bed, and walls adorned with colourful posters of music stars: Beyonce and Destiny’s Child, Justin Timberlake, Rihanna, Grace Jones, Kate Bush and David Bowie among many others. Illawara drew inspiration from the stars she loved.
Illawara hopscotched over her illustrated designs of Bowiesque clothes, mixed in with Elizabethan and Baroque styles, which lay strewn everywhere upon the carpeted floor, along with swatches of fabric samples and pages torn from fashion magazines. Her designs, samples and pages all intermingled upon the floor with random buttons and fixings that had escaped her haberdashery chest. Illawara's mannequin wobbled, as she rushed past, adorned with her newly finished prom dress of star spangled bodice and long purple skirts. Illawara paused mid-flight to be sure the dress would not topple over:
‘I’ll get Dad to take me to the prom in this’ Illawara whispered to herself as she looked at her creation before she moved on.
A collection of fantastical potted orchids, a personal project of hers, ranging from the gorgeous to the macabre, sat glowing in a sheltered spot - the wall laced with twisted shadows created by their light. Some of the flowers turned as she rushed past. Illawara struggled to locate the bottle upon her dressing table amongst all her makeup and perfumes. She then pressed a switch to her side, and light bulbs blazed around the rectangle of a mirror. Some of her orchids tried to shield themselves; others seemed thirsty for the extra light. 'Sorry, girls’, she said to the plants, absent minded, before she located the tincture, 'remember I won't be gone for long.' Illawara took up the phial of Transformation Tincture and shook the small glass bottle. The liquid inside then glowed with a blue-green fire: spinning like a dust devil within the glass. Illawara smiled and switched off the mirror lights, while the bottle illuminated her fingers as she hurried back to the living room.
On her way, she snatched up a small glass bottle of fruit juice from the fridge, its doors covered with gaudy magnets - souvenirs - of iconic buildings from around Italy: Rome, Florence, Padua and Venice were all represented. Illawara had outgrown the fridge magnets, but could not bear to toss away the mementoes. She scurried ahead and then stopped to tear off a ripening pineapple, with a snapping twist, from one of the potted plants and stuffed it into her swag before she carried on.
‘Is everything ready?’ said Hermes fluttering above as she rushed about. Illawara’s head twitched with irritation.
‘Not quite yet’ she replied, 'but I'll need to hurry up.'
Illawara rushed to the far back of the property and slid back a tall, weighty door, which took her some effort to push aside. This part of her house she shied away from, but necessity compelled her to prepare for the journey they were about to make. The door slid back to reveal a large extension, which had been gouged and cut out of the volcanic rock of the hillside on which the house rested. A picture of Maui University campus lay mounted to the wall inside. Illawara stopped, chewed her fingernail, and thought for a moment of some of her friends and fellow Students. The Prom would be in two weeks. One glimpse of her father delivering her to the Prom could end years of speculation about his whereabouts: a burden she longed to throw off. Apart from the extensive education received from her father, Illawara had since amused herself and out-witted her tutors - which only added to the mystique that surrounded her on campus: the rich-odd-cool-geek-girl too smart for her own good.
Illawara entered deeper into the vaulted passageway, the air chill upon her skin, and passed the impermeable polished walls of volcanic rock that curved around to the left. On the way, she closed the reinforced door to her father's laboratory, filled with classified documents and rare equipment - some of which Illawara had added to herself - and closed the door with a thud and twisted the handle till the sounds of bolts locking into position echoed along the chamber. Illawara hurried her way to a side room topped with a modest skylight that allowed the late glow of sunset to come down into the space like a column.
Part of the room stood divided by a screen of red velvet that reached from floor to ceiling. Illawara scurried, knowing herself to be running out of time, and laid her bag opposite the curtain, and tried to ignore the quiet hiss that crept through from the other side. She shuddered and hurried back to the main house, her skirts floating out wide as if she were Cinderella fleeing the ball at midnight. She saw Hermes flitting from side to side, flicking his head, looking from corner to corner of the main house, ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ the bird said. Illawara paused.
‘Do I have any choice?’ she answered, stopping, before she reached into a cabinet drawer and took out a small aerosol, and then a Taser gun. Hermes buzzed around her, fluttering here and there, as he watched her and spoke:
‘Once you do this our lives will change forever, Illy.'
‘I understand that’ she said
, her face focused, ‘but I need to know what’s happened to him, where he is… why he left the way he did' Illawara's voice wobbled, 'I'm not a child anymore, Hermes - I deserve answers.'
Hermes seemed pensive in his flight and whirled back and forth. ‘But you know already what he’s done’ said Hermes, ‘you’ve read all his research: is there anything left to know? We’ve talked about this for ages.’ Illawara's mouth tightened to a crease as her eyes narrowed.
‘You know why I have to do this, Hermes’ said Illawara, her face a picture of determination before she checked to be sure the Taser still had a full charge. Satisfied, Illawara hid the weapon in her side pouch attached to her ornate girdle made of costume jewellery. With her weapon concealed Illawara maintained the illusion of having just stepped out of the early seventeenth century. But Hermes buzzed about with agitation,
‘This is a big step, Illy, no going back’ he said,
‘Hush already, you’ll make me more nervous' Illawara then looked at her hands - they were shaking, 'you know I have to do this’ said Illawara scowling. Her palms became sweaty; she waved them through the air to dry them, ‘no more doubts, I’m tired of doubts' she said, 'I’m sick of not knowing what may be happening to him' Illawara looked up to the hovering bird, ‘don’t you even want to know why Dad left us here, Hermes?’ The Bird tried to reply but could not as if sharing his thoughts were beyond him. Illawara clenched her fists, ‘Dad could have taken me with him, I’m smart enough - smarter than my tutors - why didn’t he let me go with him?’ Hermes swallowed.
‘You were twelve, Illy, isn’t it obvious?’ said Hermes. Illawara's blue eyes then welled up, she coughed, took a deep breath, and waited for the sensation to pass. Illawara then fussed at herself and neatened anything she felt to be out of place on her dress until she calmed down. Illawara coughed before she spoke again.
‘If he thought I was old enough to help him when Iona left’ she continued, ‘then I was old enough to be taken with him. We were a team. He didn’t have to shut me out and hide everything from me. I could have been trusted’ she said with frustration. Illawara turned to point at Hermes, her chin set. ‘But I’m older now. I’ll get him back here, he’ll tell me everything, and then we can do things properly.’
‘And do what exactly?’ Sneered the bird, ‘you want to chase him through time just so that you can drag him back here to take you to the Prom Ball? That’s what you want isn’t it?’ Illawara's eyes grew wide before she jabbed her finger towards Hermes where he hovered in the air,
‘I don’t know how long I can keep this place – you know that – and people are asking too many questions. The lease runs out in two months.’
‘Why can we just get an extension?’ said Hermes. Illawara rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms.
‘How many times do I have to tell you? If Dad doesn’t sign the papers in person the university won’t extend the lease’ she huffed, ‘I’ve wasted so much time already’
‘Don’t beat yourself up, Illy, you only got the letter a few weeks ago’
‘Duurh?’ said Illawara, flicking her fingers off her temples, ‘and I’ve told you what it’s like for me at college. He’s still my Dad, and I’m tired of all the lies and gossip about him. You don’t have to hear what they whisper about me on Campus.’
‘Calm down’ warned Hermes,
‘And you she added, flapping her arms, ‘don’t you want anything?’ she said raising her voice, with a tense brow. Hermes faltered.
‘You know what I want, Illy. But you’ve made the price for it very high.’ Illawara put her hands on her hips before she then gestured again at the hovering bird,
‘So I suppose you want to stay as you are forever then?’ She declared. Hermes fell silent, descended to land on a perch, and then shook his beak. ‘Well, that settles it’ Illawara added, folding her arms again, and ending an argument that they had wrangled with for years.
‘You could free me; you could free me now… you could have freed me years ago’ Whispered Hermes. Illawara’s face clouded.
‘Then you wouldn’t come with me, would you?’ She said with a stare. Hermes knew well enough the conditions for his release but still felt the urge to needle his friend.
‘One day maybe you’ll know what it’s like to feel trapped. And… and’ Hermes seemed to be grasping for thoughts, ‘…the Professor may have left you, Illy’ he added, keen to have the last word, ‘but he didn’t leave you poor.'
Illawara dismissed the comment with a huff before she checked her appearance again in a mirror, ‘but if he doesn’t come back we’ll be homeless’ she said, before tweaking at herself again. She took a deep breath to egg herself on. Hermes observed how her olive skin had honeyed into glossiness in the Pacific sunshine.
She then glanced back to her reflection to check her white teeth and checked the time on her 24-hour clock before she called up to Hermes. ‘It’s 18:26. Now fly back and keep quiet before that creep gets here’ she said, her face becoming tense again.
She heard the front door close toward the front of the house, her eyes flashed, ‘shit - that’s him’ she whispered back to Hermes, and waved the hummingbird off towards granite volt area. Illawara's breath quickened, and her pulse increased as she heard the heaviness of steps, hesitating at times as if to search, before again moving forward. Illawara spied the balding head of a medium build man move between the artefacts and plant pots of the living room area, as he progressed with slowness taking in his surroundings. Illawara’s eyes squinted as she looked the man that often followed her home, sometimes via truck sometimes on foot, and she felt herself shiver with disgust to see him creeping about her living room, taking in her space: her independent dwelling for so many years.
He spotted her, his shifting eyes at once fixed upon her, gawking, she dressed so different from the shorts and t-shirts she usually wore. He puzzled, digesting what he saw, but then prowled forward with a smirk. Illawara took several steps back, ‘so you’ve made it then’, she said. Her voice, although cold, assured him that he had the right girl. The man whistled,
‘This is quite some place you got here’ he uttered casting his gaze about the place. He made the sound again, the noise that made Illawara’s skin crawl.
She walked back; he walked forward. Hermes watched from his vantage point unseen upon a perch high above, knowing that, in his current form, he would be unable to help Illawara. His own heart trembled. Illawara kept moving backwards with her hands behind her back, not taking her eyes off the shabby man for a moment. ‘Don’t keep walkin’ away, honey, I’m not gonna hurt you’ he said, with a leering smile, but started to unbuckle his belt that held up his khaki shorts under his pot belly. Illawara gnashed her teeth but maintained her concentration, although all she could hear was the blood that pumped through her ears.
He whistled again, ‘that’s quite some get up that you’re wearin’ he said, eyeing her over, ‘you some kind’a royal or somethin’?’
‘More royal than you’ll ever be’ Illawara snarled back,
‘Whoohoo, sassy gal’ said the man that wore a faded Hawaiian shirt, pockmarked with food stains, hanging somewhat over his shorts that contained a robust pair of tanned legs.
Illawara sized him up, her first chance to study the man in detail as she walked backwards, he looked quite strong, a Texan day labourer or part-time trucker perhaps is all she could assume from his accent and appearance. His swollen nose with burst capillaries and veined ruddy cheeks suggested a thirst for alcohol: she understood that she would have to be careful - even while walking away from the man she could smell him. A waft drifted to her off the man: a smell of drink, body odour and dry cologne. The reflections of Illawara and the man passed across a mirror three meters high and four meters wide, cut through with her ballet barre: Illawara dressed in all her pomp stepping backwards, the Trucker, pink, sweaty, and unkempt, stepping ever forward. He tossed his belt to the floor with a clatter.
The man made a sudden lunge ahead, but Illawa
ra, lithe and agile after many years of swimming and dance, maintained her distance from the aggressor with ease, even while moving backwards. Hermes almost screeched with fear at the pounce, although if he did, he knew the stranger would not comprehend him: Illawara being the only one to understand. Bird cries and a pecking beak would not be enough to spare Illawara from the man if he got hold of her. ‘So you like to play dress up, huh?’ he said with another leering grin, admiring Illawara’s outstanding efforts as if they were for his benefit. He puckered his lips as if titillated. ‘I like a kinky woman… but I’ve never seen a gal wearing this’ he added with a broad gesture in her direction. ‘Why don’t you run along and put'on those tight little shorts you usually wear: shame not to see that purty li’ll booty you got goin on there’ he added with another lunge and groped forward as they then passed into the Vault area at the rear of the house. Illawara jangled but avoided him again. ‘I hope this is leading to your bedroom - you li'll prick tease’ the man shouted as they passed along the corridor before Illawara glanced back to see if she were close enough to the curtain,
‘Almost there’ she thought. The man dashed forward, the moment she looked away, and grabbed Illawara’s corseted waist. She almost screamed when she felt his hot reeking breath, as he tried to smother her lips with his mouth. His slobbering jaws grazed off her neck and chin, being no George Emerson, and Illawara answered his assault with pepper spray in the man’s face. He howled like a dog and struck out, but Illawara, fast and nimble, ducked the uncoordinated blow, but the man lunged forward again. Illawara sidestepped him using her superior balance and stuck out her Chopin clad foot to trip up the man: no match for the block of satin covered wood. He crashed downward to the floor, and almost disturbed the thick velvet curtain that hung, somewhat dim, in the failing sunshine. A loud hiss emerged from behind the veil. Illawara leapt forward after the man fell, and unleashed another dose of pepper spray into the red face of the man that howled even more and thrashed around.
The Hermeporta Beyond the Gates of Hermes Page 5