Chapter Forty

 July 2003

I sit on the ferry to the South Island with Catriona, Sarah and Lou. I was expecting to feel sick, to be running constantly to the toilets or the side of the deck to throw up, but there is no sickness, no nausea, just the numb, achy feeling of the flu.

   We are opposite a New Zealand family, parents, a three year old girl and a baby boy. The girl talks to us, she whines at her parents, she runs around in the small space between our seats.

   As we move through Marlborough Sounds we stare at the strange shapes of land jutting from the water, almost unnatural looking.

   The New Zealand family leave their seats.

    'The little girl was really well-behaved,' says Lou, 'for a three hour journey with nothing to do.'

    Catriona and I nod in agreement.

     'No,' says Sarah. 'Not compared to my nephew, he would have sat still with his crayons and wouldn't have complained.

   I wonder what my baby will be like when-

   No. Don't think that. Don't think about the baby. Don't make it real.

In the evening in Picton I'm in the hostel with a group of strangers. They're drinking alcohol. I'm drinking water. We start playing a game, like truth or dare but with no dares.

   'What colour are your knickers?' I get asked.

   'White with blue lacy bits,' I say.

    One of the girls pulls her face, pursing her lips. 'That's a lot of detail. I would have just said white,' she says.

   'Do you spit or swallow?'

   'Swallow,' I say.

    The men cheer.

    'When will you next have sex?'

     'I don't know.'

     'Where are you going after New Zealand?' the girl who said I gave too much detail about my knickers says.

    'Hawaii.'

    'Oh, you'll definitely have sex in Hawaii,' she says.

    'But my boyfriend won't be there.'

    She frowns at me and I wonder if she thinks I'm lying about having a boyfriend.

I go to Queen Charlotte track for a day. I still don't feel sick on the boat. Maybe it's a sign that I'm not pregnant. Or what if I have nothing to throw up because the baby's absorbing everything?

   Stop thinking about the imaginary baby.

   The air tastes so clean here, cold in my lungs. The scent of the trees clears my head of the numb fluey feeling. The sea is calm. I think whatever happens things will turn out okay.

Steve emails. He's staying in a caravan in Cable Beach, it's much cheaper than the hostel in Broome. I wish we could have done that together. But he wanted to be near the pub.

Chapter Forty One