Chapter Sixteen

 March - April 2003

We are somewhere, somewhere in the Northern Territory near the sea. Perhaps it is Darwin, but with the warping of time, space and me that happens around Steve I can't be sure where I am.

   We are walking, looking for somewhere to swim in the sea. The roads are empty and endless. Steve is sure there is a beach somewhere nearby. 

   A truck slows down as it passes. Two men look out of the open window.

   'Are you lost?'

   'We're looking for the sea, to swim,' says Steve.

   They give us directions. 'It's lovely there,' they say.

   We find a beach. It's not lovely but we swim anyway, wrapping our bodies round each other in the water.

   'What's that smell?' I say.

   'Maybe it's you.'

   'Hey.'

   He sniffs. 'It smells like petrol.'

   We look around. The dark blue water. The brick walls.

   'Let's go,' he says. 'This isn't a good place to swim.'

   We come out of the water. 'I bet those men in the truck are laughing at us,' he says. 

   The whole area seems deserted. I don't put my clothes on over my bikini as we try to find our way back through the maze of roads. I might as well get dry properly in the sun.

   I see a building site ahead, with men working on it. I dress quickly, before we get close enough for them to see me.

   'Oh,' says Steve, 'you've put your clothes on.' He looks at the building site. He seems disappointed somehow, as if he wanted builders to leer at my exposed body as we walked past.

   'Of course,' I say.

We are drunk, the embarrassing couple in the pub with their hands all over each other.

   'Have you thought anymore about anal?' he whispers in my ear.

  I jerk back. 'No.' 

  Why is he mentioning this again? I said no before. Why would he even want to do that?

   'But it's nice and we wouldn't have to worry about you getting pregnant.'

   I shake my head.

   'What's the point of you having a perfect arse if I can't fuck it?' he says.

  'The point,' I say 'is that it's attached to the rest of me, which is also perfect.'

   'You are perfect.' He kisses me, pulling me back close to him.

In the hostel in Darwin I see across the crowded room two men who were in the hostel in 1770. A slim blond man and a large dark man. They were on the beach when the tour guide rubbed mud into my legs. They were at the picnic table the night I went into the woods with Ian.

   What will they think if they see me now with yet another man?

   Maybe they won't remember me. I barely spoke to them in 1770.

We ride camels on the beach. Dromedaries. I always think of them as not being proper camels because they only have one hump. 

We are walking up the road near the hostel, our arms round each other. I am leaning into him as if I can't stand alone. The blond man from 1770 is walking towards us.

   'Hi,' he says to me as he passes.

   'Hello,' I say.

   I think how wispy and weak, how insubstantial I must look clinging onto Steve.

   Steve turns to look at him walking away behind us. 'Who was that?' he says.

   'We were in the same hostel in 1770,' I say.

In the evening we are sitting at a table in the hostel with another man. He and Steve talk about Cairns, the man mentions the bar Steve and I met in.

   'You meet some dodgy girls there,' says Steve.

   'Hey,' I say, pushing Steve's arm.

   'So she would be the missus, then,' says the man.

   Steve nods. 'She's the missus.'

   I go to sort out my laundry, to pack my backpack ready for tomorrow when we're leaving to travel into Western Australia. When I come back Steve is sitting alone, smoking. His face looks hard as he stares into the distance.

   'I've been thinking,' he says. 'You just need to find a nice boy and you'll be all right.'

   I don't understand what he's talking about.

   'I think we should go our separate ways now.'

   How can we, when we have booked our travel together?

   I stare at him. It's gone midnight. It's the first of April. I wait for him to say 'April fool.'

   'Why?' I say.

   'I just think we should.'

   I am crying. I don't want to cry. I shouldn't mind this. I shouldn't. This was never going to be love. We both knew that. But we were supposed to be travelling together to Perth. I don't think I can do it alone. I can't travel alone. I'm not the same person who travelled up the east coast. Something about Steve has changed me, weakened me.

  And why? He said I was perfect, so why?

  I ask him. He shakes his head. He won't look at me.

  'Is it because I don't wash my bikini enough?' I say.

   He shakes his head.

   'Is it because I probably won't get pregnant?'

   He shakes his head.

   'Is it because I'm too skinny?'

   He shakes his head.

   I want to ask him, did someone say something to you about me in 1770, did they tell you I'm a slut who lets anyone touch her, who'll fuck boys she's only spoken a couple of sentences to in the woods?

   But I can't ask him that because then he'll know it's true.

   I imagine how it must have happened. Maybe they approached him out of pity, not bearing to see a good man think he'd found himself a good woman when that woman was me.

  Or maybe he overheard them talking about me. Perhaps they were laughing at him for being the man who could only get the girl that no decent man would want to touch with a barge pole.

I go to bed but I don't sleep.

  I'll be okay I tell myself. I don't need him. I'm just annoyed that he was the one who broke up with me. I should be the one doing the leaving.

I'm in the kitchen in the morning, waiting my turn to use an oven.

   Steve walks in. He stops. We stare at each other.

   'April fool,' he says.

   I shake my head 

   'It was.'

   I shouldn't believe him. I know I shouldn't.

   But I don't want to travel alone anymore.

   I smile at him.

   He smiles back, but I see a change in his eyes.

  It's power. 

Chapter Seventeen