Chapter Eighteen

 April 2003

We are on the bus to Broome.

   'I know we've only known each other for about a month,' says Steve, 'but it feels like longer.'

   'Am I that boring?'

   'Don't be silly.' He squeezes my hand. 'Normally when you start going out with someone you only see them once or twice a week on dates, but we're together practically all the time.'

   'Yeah, I suppose.' 

   Are things moving too fast, I wonder.

Broome for us is all about the beach. We swim in the turquoise sea and lie on the warm sand. He falls asleep. I write our names in shells. 

   Early one morning we walk to Cable Beach and in a spot where no one is around swim out to sea. He pulls me close and kisses me, moving my legs so they're wrapped around him. He pushes the front of my bikini bottoms to the side.

   'We can't,' I say.

   'There's no one here.'

   'But what if-'

   'No one will know.'

   So I let him, even though it feels wrong under the bright sun in the sparkling waves.

   He buys postcards, one to send to his parents, one to send to a group of friends in Essex living in a house share. He shows me the one he wrote to his friends. He says he's having a great time with lots of sex.

   Is that all I am to him?

   He doesn't show me the one he wrote to his parents. I wonder if it's because it mentions me or if it's because it doesn't.

We are in a pub. Steve comments on the difference in attitude between two different German bar staff who work there.

   'We like this one, don't we?' he says after we've bought our drinks. 'He's friendly and happy. We don't like the other one, do we?'

   'No,' I say. 'We think he is surly.'

   'What does surly mean?' 

   I don't know how to explain the word 'surly.' 'It means, just, you know, you must know what surly means?'

   He shakes his head.

   'It means, like the way he is.'

   We drink.

   'So, when are you going to fall in love with me then?' says Steve.

   I struggle to swallow my lager. Why is he talking about love?

  'I don't know,' I say. 'When are you going to fall in love with me?'

   'I already have.' He pulls a sad face.

   He wasn't  supposed to say that. He said he wasn't going to fall in love.

   It's too soon. I can't stay with someone who says 'I love you' too soon. He doesn't know me well enough to love me.

   But... But... How can I break up with him so soon after all the fuss I made in Darwin?

   And like he said, it feels like we've known each other longer. So maybe...

   At least it's longer than Ian in 1770 who'd known me less than 24 hours when he said, 'I love you.'

   I look into his eyes. I can't tell him I love him too. I know that's what you're supposed to say in this situation, but I can't bring myself to lie. He looks like he's going to cry so I take his face in my hands and kiss him.

We are in bunk beds in the dorm. Steve is on the top. One night I am woken by a crash. Steve's mattress is heaped on the floor next to me. I lift up the corner. Steve is under it. He snores. I drop the corner. He's alive. I go back to sleep.

   'Why am I on the floor?' he says in the morning.

   'You fell.'

   'And you didn't wake me up and check I was all right?'

   'I did check you were all right. But if falling out of the top bunk didn't wake you, I don't know how I could have woken you.'

   'But how did the mattress get there?

   'No idea how you did that.'

 

One evening we watch a film in the hostel lounge. Ever After. I've never seen it before. Steve says he's watched it loads of times because it was his ex-girlfriend's favourite. 

   'It's a stupid film,' he says.

   'Yeah,' I say, 'it takes all the magic out of Cinderella and makes it safe and boring.'

   'Safe and boring,' he repeats like it's something he wants to remember.

   

We come back from the pub, climbing up the concrete stairs to our dorm. He is behind me. His teeth are sinking into my buttocks through my jeans. I want to cry out in pain, but it's late. People are sleeping. I grip the rail until he stops.

   In the morning it still hurts. I twist my neck round in the shower and see the purple bruising.

   Back in the dorm I tell him about it.

   'I wouldn't do that,' he says.

   'You did.' There's no one else here so I quickly pull my skirt up to show him.

   'You probably fell over or something and don't remember,' he says.

   We leave Broome later that day. Sitting on the bus is painful. I lean into Steve and he puts his arm round me.

Chapter Nineteen