New Guinea Moon (15 page)

‘That's not what you told me,' says Teddie.

‘Well, of course I told you I'd rather have been at home in bed with you.' Andy winks at Julie over his shoulder. ‘We'd only been married for a month.
Now
I'd appreciate not getting kicked in the ribs all night — ow!'

Teddie has slapped him on the arm.

When they arrive at the crowded wooden hall that the Lions are borrowing for the night, Julie looks around for Simon Murphy. But although the entire white population of Mt Hagen seems to have turned out for the occasion, she can't see him or Patrick anywhere. Julie supposes this is one of those events that the Murphys are not invited to. Robyn Johansson gives her a cheery wave from the other side of the hall, and Julie waves back.

Andy fetches beers for himself and Teddie; he offers one to Julie, but she says no. Ryan, Nadine and Barbara are on the other side of the hall, securing places near the front among the rows of folding seats. There is no sign of Allan. Julie sees Ryan gaze around at the crowd, and instinctively she steps back behind the shelter of Andy's shoulder. She can't sit near the front anyway, she argues to herself; if Tony comes in late, he'll never be able to find her all the way down there. She makes sure she sits at the end of a row, just in case. Feeling slightly guilty, she promises herself she'll go and find Ryan after the film. It's just that, tonight, she feels like concentrating on the movie, without worrying about how far Ryan's hand is travelling up her thigh
. . .

The film does turn out to be science fiction, as Nadine predicted, a recent movie called
Soylent Green
, which Julie hasn't seen. It's set in an overcrowded future where food is running out, and people rely on a plankton-based wafer for sustenance. Julie watches the hero running back and forth across the screen. The hum of rain on the roof, which drowned out some of the early dialogue, gradually peters out. She wonders how Tony is getting on, shut inside his plane. She hopes it's an Islander, with more leg room than the Baron. If he's lucky, he might have some food on board, some chocolate maybe, something more palatable than tins of fish or raw rice. At least he won't have to turn to Soylent Green
. . .

A touch on her shoulder makes her jump. Allan Crabtree is squatting beside her; in the flickering light from the projector, he motions with his head for her to follow him out of the hall. Julie stumbles after him, her heart thudding, as if her body knows more than her mind is prepared to acknowledge. She tells herself that perhaps Allan is going to suggest that she stay the night with the Crabtrees, in a proper bed in Nadine's room, instead of the Spargos' camping mattress.

Outside, the clouds have cleared. The moon is almost full, and the sky is blazing with stars.

‘Julie,' says Allan. ‘I've got some bad news, love.'

He's found out that Tony is not stuck on the airfield at Koinambe. His plane had definitely taken off through the Kumil Gap, heading for Hagen. He didn't turn back, and he has not arrived, and as far as they could tell, he hasn't touched down anywhere else on the way. His plane is missing.

‘I'm so sorry, love. But we have to assume — with weather like we had today — there's a good chance he's gone down.'

Teddie and Andy have come out after them. They are standing close to Julie, warm shadowy presences in the dark. Teddie lets out a hiccupping gasp. Andy's low voice says, ‘Oh, no. No, I don't believe it.'

Julie is numb. She can't gasp; she can't speak. She hears Teddie and Andy talking, their words muffled, as if her head is underwater.

Teddie says, ‘He — he might be all right, though? Even if —?'

‘The country round there is pretty rough,' says Allan. ‘We won't know for sure for a day or two. But I wouldn't — well, we shouldn't get our hopes up.'

Andy swears. ‘I don't get it! Tony's so careful. He never takes risks. No see; no go. He hammered that into me for months.'

Teddie covers her face with her hands. Allan lays his hand heavily on Julie's shoulder, and his beefy fingers squeeze her collarbone so hard it seems he might snap it like a wishbone.

And Julie remembers then that they all know Tony so much better than she does. She's only been here for a few weeks; they've lived with him, worked beside him, been his friend for months and years. They have more right to be upset than she does. She wraps her arms around herself and shivers. Again, as she did at Teddie and Andy's party, she has that feeling of watching herself, of being an impostor.

‘You all right, love?' says Allan.

Julie nods.

Allan looks at Andy. ‘Better take her home. You got anything to help her sleep?'

‘Yes,' says Teddie. ‘I've got something.'

‘If not, I'll get something from Gibbo,' says Andy.

They bundle her into the car. The ride back into town is a nightmare jumble of sinister shadows, trees that flare suddenly in the headlights then seem to jerk away, the red eyes of the road markers glaring out of the darkness.

She hears Teddie say in a low voice, ‘He must have been rushing back for Julie. After the break-in —'

‘Shut up!' says Andy sharply, and shoots a look at Julie in the rear-view mirror.

But their words don't sink in, they glance off her like raindrops off glass.

Andy and Teddie are kind and gentle. Teddie helps her to undress, and gives her a pill to swallow. She hugs her, and tells her not to give up hope. Andy warms some milk in a saucepan, to wash down the pill, but he accidentally lets it boil over on the stove, and the stink of burnt milk floods through the whole house.

After this night, for the rest of her life, the smell of burning milk will make Julie retch. Sometimes it will take her a moment to remember why, but it's her body, holding grimly onto knowledge that her mind has tried to forget.

14

After that first night, Barbara takes over. She marches into Teddie and Andy's house early the next morning and hustles Julie into the car.

‘You'd better stay with us for now,' she says briskly. ‘There's a spare bed in Nadine's room; you can bunk in with her.'

Julie puts up a feeble struggle. ‘I'd like to go home.' She means,
to Tony's place
.

Barbara pats her knee. ‘Of course you do. As soon as we can manage it. We're having a bit of trouble tracking down your mother. Perhaps she's gone away? Have you heard from her?'

‘She's in Sydney, staying with a friend. I've got the number somewhere.'

Barbara nods. ‘We'll find her, don't you worry.'

Christmas is only two days away. Julie leans her head against the cold glass of the window. The car smells of dog. She thinks of the gifts she'd carefully wrapped for Tony and hidden under her bed. A lump rises into her throat. She closes her eyes and swallows hard.

Barbara spends most of the day holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder while she scribbles on a notepad. There's no answer from Caroline's friend's number.

‘Perhaps they've gone away?' Barbara looks at Julie. ‘Did your mother mention anything like that?'

‘I haven't spoken to her for a little while
. . .
'

‘Hm.'

Clearly Barbara thinks this is odd, even reprehensible, but she is kind enough not to say so. She leaves messages for Caroline everywhere. Even the police have been notified; although, as Barbara says in exasperation, they're being no help at all.

Julie sits numbly on the couch with Ryan's arm around her, while Nadine tries to distract her with her pets. Julie leans against the warmth of Ryan and the circle of his arms feels like safety. He doesn't speak. He doesn't say,
I'm so sorry
, or
poor Tony, I can't believe it;
he just holds her. Sometimes she lets Nadine nurse her hand, as if it's one of her wounded animals, and Koki brings cups of sweet tea and rubs her back with her callused hand. Roxy the dog licks anxiously at her ankles and whines softly, as if she knows what's wrong. Everyone is kind, but Julie knows she can't start to cry, because once she starts, she won't be able to stop. She leans against Ryan, and concentrates on not letting herself cry.

She wishes she was at home — home in Melbourne. She could be hanging out with Rachel, eating doughnuts at Southland, skating at Rollerama. She wishes she could lose herself watching TV. Her head feels full of cold fog.

Allan comes in and shakes his head. He murmurs gruffly to Barbara, but Julie overhears. They've found the plane. It's in the Jimi Valley, not far from Koinambe. But it will take days to reach the wreckage and retrieve Tony's body. There's no mistake; there will be no miracle, no reprieve. But somehow she still can't feel it.

In the afternoon, she goes to bed, takes another of Teddie's pills, and sleeps like a felled tree. She wakes in the middle of the night and hears Nadine's snuffly breathing in the next bed, and for a second she doesn't know where she is.

Tony's dead
. It slices down like a guillotine blade. She turns her face into the pillow and the tears flood out of her. She sobs, choking into the pillow, so she won't wake Nadine. She thinks about creeping across the hallway to Ryan's room, sliding into his bed, for the comfort of his eager body, for the oblivion; she almost does it; it's only exhaustion that pulls her under and keeps her paralysed, tangled in the blankets like an animal in the net.

On Christmas morning, she wakes up late. Nadine's bed is empty. Julie lies unmoving beneath the blankets for as long as she can bear it; she dreads dragging her grief into the Crabtrees' family Christmas. But at last the hollow, lonely feeling overwhelms her. She pulls on some clothes and shuffles out into the big living room where the lopsided Christmas tree fills the air with the scent of pine.

But it's only Nadine who sits beneath the tree with Christmas wrappings strewn around her. The others sit motionless, looking as shell-shocked as Julie feels. The radio is on, but it's not wafting the expected Christmas carols; a newsreader is speaking. Ryan beckons Julie over and she wedges herself into the armchair beside him.

‘The news once again: Cyclone Tracy has devastated the city of Darwin. The extent of damage is unknown at this stage, but early reports indicate —'

Julie leans forward and holds her head in her hands. It seems like some kind of grotesque joke. For a wild second, she wonders if Caroline has gone to Darwin; if her mother has been killed; if she's an orphan now. The next instant she realises how unlikely this is. But over the next few days, photographs appear in the newspapers: flattened buildings, piles of rubble, uprooted trees, mile after mile of torn and twisted sheets of tin and fibro, scattered at random where a town had once stood. And it's as if nature has echoed the chaos in her own heart.

On Christmas night, Caroline rings.

‘Oh, God, darling,' she says. ‘I'm so sorry. I can't believe it. Trust Tony to wait until you were there to fly himself into a mountain. Oh dear, poor Tony. I didn't mean that
. . .
Julie? Are you there?'