The Road Back (20 page)

He paused and I stared at him in shock. ‘The Tans' house? Why?'

Ignoring my comment, Mark continued in a voice which suggested that he couldn't really believe what had happened.

‘Mr Tan opened the door a crack and told them to go away, but they pushed the door open and knocked him down and started kicking him and shouting. I think there were three of them. Jimmy and I rushed forward to try to make them stop.' Mark was speaking in a rush, the words tumbling over each other. I just listened, tears rolling down my face, but my body was taut with apprehension.

‘They kept saying they wanted the gold they knew he was hiding, but Mr Tan kept insisting that he had none. It was in the bank. They were kicking him in the head, so Jimmy lunged at one of the men and tried to stop him. There was sudden confusion . . .' Mark squeezed his eyes shut as though to block out what he had witnessed.

‘Mark . . . what happened?' I felt cold, my voice choking, and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Mark looked at me as if he was in terrible pain. ‘Then one of the men, not much more than a kid, lunged at Jimmy with a knife, yelling wildly. Jimmy fell. It was as though
everything froze. Then one of the other men shouted, “
Orang kulit puti
h
”,
white man. They had attacked a
white man, and they knew this would cause big trouble, so they ran.' He drew breath. ‘Mr Tan quickly found a
betjak
and we put Jimmy in it and came straight to the hospital. He'll be all right, Susan. He'll be all right.' But the way Mark said this, it seemed it was himself he was trying to convince, not me.

I felt my strength come back to me and Mark helped me to my feet.

‘I have to go to him,' I said. I got dressed and Mark, Norma and I took the short cut to the hospital.

There we sat and waited. Norma was able to find out that they were operating on Jimmy.

I sat, stony-faced, holding Mark's hand while Norma brought us some horrible coffee. She fidgeted, occasionally patting my arm and muttering comforting phrases. As I looked around, I realised that the emergency waiting room was full of injured people. The night's disturbances had left their mark.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. Pictures of Jimmy ran across my mind like a slide show; Jimmy sitting beside me in a
betjak
, his warm leg pressed against mine; leaping from bed in Lake Toba to open the shutters, the golden streaks of sunshine striping his lean naked body; laughing as I tried my first frog's leg; his intense expression as he studied the carvings at Borobudur; looking across the table at me with an amused quizzical smile as I poured out my dreams and silly childhood reminiscences; holding hands as we strolled through the streets of Bogor; comforting me after the incident of the peeping tom and when the mad woman attacked us in the Botanic Gardens. Suddenly I thought, is the crone's curse coming true? It was all too much. I buried my face in my hands and I cried and cried.

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and Evan stood before me in a faded hospital gown. My eyes went to the blood stains on it. I lifted my face to his.

His blue eyes were dull, as though the sun had gone behind a cloud. I looked at his lips as he tried to frame words. Then his fingers tightened on my shoulder and he slowly shook his head.

Norma gasped and her hand flew to her mouth as tears flooded her eyes. Mark's head dropped, and his hands covered his face as he choked.

I simply stared at Evan in disbelief, waiting for him to say, ‘It's all right. Jimmy is fine.'

But no words came. Then Mark leaped to his feet and slammed his fist into the wall.

‘
Bastards!
'

I stood up and gripped Evan's hand. I couldn't think of a thing to say. This was all happening to someone else, not to me.

‘I'm so sorry. By the time he got to the hospital he had lost so much blood . . . Do you want to see him?' Evan asked gently. I really didn't. I wanted to remember handsome smiling Jimmy as I knew him. But then I thought of what a coward I was. I had to tell him goodbye. I nodded.

‘I'll come with you if you like,' offered Norma. Mark and Evan asked if they could come as well.

‘Yes. Thanks,' I muttered.

He was lying under a green cotton sheet. His eyes were closed and his hands were neatly clasped over the top of the sheet. He looked young, innocent and strangely peaceful. I touched his hand. It was smooth and cool.

I had no words to say. Mark put his arm around my shoulders and led me away. When I got back to Norma's room, I couldn't stop crying. I simply could not take in the fact that Jimmy, my Jimmy, was dead. It was as though I was in a terrible dream, just waiting for someone to wake me up. But no one did.

*

I was glad I'd had that short time in the hospital saying goodbye to Jimmy. After that, officialdom swung into action and I had no part to play. The American Embassy in Singapore arranged for his body to be taken back to the States, as his family wanted him buried there. The six of us could do little more than light candles in the beautiful old Bogor Cathedral. I wrote a letter to Jimmy's family, explaining how Jimmy had died and just how special he was to me. His mother wrote back, thanking me for my letter, but after that there was nothing to say.

I spoke to Mr Robinson on a scratchy phone line and he was full of sympathy, asking me what I wanted to do.

I chose to return to my
kampong
to try and find some solace in the calm routine of a simple life. There I tried to cope with the fact that I'd lost the man I'd secretly allowed myself to think might love me all my life. The villagers gave me the space to be alone and I was grateful for this healing time.

But when a letter arrived from my mother full of trivial, happy news, unaware of what had happened, I suddenly desperately wanted to go home, to my family and the familiar safety of my Australia, where violence didn't come in the middle of the night.

Mr Robinson was understanding and agreed that I could leave the programme early.

My friends and I had a quiet last dinner together. Evan, David, Mark, Alan and Norma. They all said that they were disturbed by the events, but they all wanted to stay on in Indonesia, even Norma, and they did.

After they finished their term they received individual letters of thanks and glowing references. But although Australians continued to work as volunteers in Indonesia, funding for this particular programme was withdrawn. We were its only participants.

Of course, Sukarno was never released; it had just been another of those rumours that continually swirled around Indonesia. He died three years later, still under house arrest.

Jimmy's murderers were never caught. Mark told me that he was pretty sure that one of the men involved had also been part of that unpleasant incident in the markets all those weeks before. He said he thought they'd used the riots as a cover to try to extort money from Mr Tan. It seemed to me that Jimmy had paid a very high price for their greed. I still couldn't believe he was gone.

*

Susan stopped talking and there was silence in the room.

Then Megan asked in a quiet voice, ‘Bunny, do you think that curse, that spell the old woman put on Jimmy, was the reason he died?'

Susan shook her head. ‘I don't think so. It was just a bizarre coincidence, darling.'

‘What a tragedy, Mum. I had no idea that your time in Indonesia was so sad,' said Chris.

‘Did Poppy know about Jimmy?' asked Megan bluntly.

‘Yes, of course I told him all about it. Years later, he offered to take me back to Indonesia. A healing journey, he called it. But I didn't want to do that. The past is the past and I couldn't relive my times with Jimmy with anyone else except Jimmy. Not even Poppy.'

‘Maybe you shouldn't go to the reunion then,' said Chris quietly. ‘I understand now why you haven't gone to previous reunions.'

‘Oh, darling, I'll never forget Jimmy or the violence that caused his death. I put it behind me a long time ago but when I think about it, it still hurts,' said Susan, drawing a knitted throw around her and folding her hands. There didn't seem to be anything else to be said, so the three of them sat quietly again for a few moments before the clock on the mantel chimed. It was getting late, so Megan disappeared to bed to read. Chris tidied up the kitchen then, as he went down the hallway to his bedroom, he passed his father's office and saw that the desk lamp was on.

Peering in, he could see his mother standing and staring at a painting which was almost hidden amongst the many other framed photos and memorabilia that covered the wall. It was the painting of a lake, a large mysterious pool of clear blue, floating between dark green hills in silver moonlight. Chris realised that this must be the painting she'd bought of Lake Toba, almost a lifetime ago.

Slowly Susan turned and gave him a soft smile.

Chris nodded in return and went to his room and lay in the darkness, listening to the gentle sounds of night in Neverend.

Susan worked her way
around the verandah with the watering-can, drenching her hanging baskets. She paused as she spotted Chris in his fluoro safety vest walking slowly towards the house, having finished work for the day. She sighed as she saw his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. He looked tired and down in the dumps and her heart ached for him.

‘Hi, darling. Can you put the kettle on, please? I'm ready for a cuppa,' she said as he climbed the steps onto the verandah.

‘I'm ready for a double scotch, I think,' Chris sighed. ‘That road to the plateau is starting to get to me.'

‘Actually, you might need a stiff drink. Jill rang today. She spoke to Megan and she asked to speak to you as soon as you got back from work. She sounded very cranky.'

Chris groaned. ‘Oh no, what now? Where's Megan?'

‘In her room. Doing her homework, she says.'

‘Right. I think I'll get us some tea first.'

A little later, holding a mug of tea, Chris tapped on Megan's bedroom door and stepped into the room. ‘Hi, sweetheart, I'm home. How was your day?'

‘Horrible.'

‘Why was that? School again?' Chris perched on the edge of the bed where Megan sat cross-legged in front of her laptop.

‘Not school. It's Mum. She's having a rave.' Megan rolled her eyes.

‘So, are you going to tell me?'

Megan lifted her mobile phone. ‘It's the bill for this. It's sort of gone up since I've been here, Dad. The account is still in Mum's name and she says she's not paying it. She wasn't very nice about it.'

‘How much is it?'

‘A lot, I guess. More than double what it was last time.'

‘Ouch, that's bad,' said Chris, frowning. ‘I had no idea the phone plan was in your mum's name. We should have reorganised it; I didn't think. Why has it gone up so much?'

‘I dunno,' said Megan sulkily. ‘Movies. Apps, I guess.'

‘Can't you look at that stuff on your laptop?' Chris stood up and folded his arms. ‘Didn't you get a message from the phone company to say that you'd exceeded your limit?'

‘I suppose, but I miss my friends! There's no one here to talk to and the phone's my lifeline. Anyway, Mum wants you to call her.'

‘I'm not surprised. Was there anything else she wanted to talk about?'

‘No. She just ranted.'

‘Okay, I'll leave you to get on with your homework and make that call to your mother,' said Chris tersely. He'd have a further talk with Megan after speaking to Jill.

*

Chris held the phone slightly away from his ear.

‘Are you listening, Chris? This simply can't go on. You said you wanted to be responsible for her, so why am I getting her damn bills?'

‘I'm sorry, Jill. I'm not totally across everything yet. I'm dealing with things as they come up. I'll handle this right away and make sure the plan is changed or stopped.'

‘I think you and your mother are letting Megan get away with blue murder!'

‘That's not true, Jill. Mum might be very loving but she doesn't let Megan get away with much. We are both very clear about what her boundaries are. But, according to Megan, she hasn't made any friends up here so the phone is her lifeline and that's why the bill is so high. I'm sorry that I didn't realise you were still responsible for paying for it. We'll get Megan a new plan straight away so this doesn't happen again.'

‘I hope you can afford one. Have you got a job yet?' Jill said cuttingly.

‘I'm working. We're managing,' said Chris. ‘I'll try to get Megan out of the house more so she's not on her phone so much. That should help keep the bills down.'

‘Well, that might be difficult. By the amount she seems to use her phone, it would seem that she's not at all interested in life in Nowhereville.'

‘Jill, it's all a big adjustment for her. She is actually doing well at school. Her grades are excellent. And I'm doing the best I can. I'm hoping this arrangement will be temporary, but so far living in Neverend hasn't been too bad.' Chris took a breath. ‘I'll sort the phone out. It won't happen again.'

‘Okay, well, I'm glad she's still doing well at school at least.' Jill sounded somewhat mollified. ‘Tell Megan I'll Skype with her later in the week.'

Chris rang off and stood for a moment, considering the conversation.

‘How did that go?' asked Susan, coming into the room.

Chris filled her in on the situation with Megan's phone bill. ‘I have to say that I felt a bit guilty at not realising that Jill was still being billed for Megan's mobile, but she settled down when I said I'd pay it,' Chris told Susan.

‘Really Megan has to pay the bill,' said Susan, pointedly. ‘She can't be so selfish. Fancy just ignoring the phone company's warning that she had exceeded her limit. It's totally irresponsible.'

Chris sighed. ‘I know that, Mum, but I'm not sure how she'll get the money to repay me. I don't give her that much pocket money and she's too young to get a job in one of the local cafés or shops.'

‘She can certainly help me in the garden, but that won't be very lucrative.' Susan tapped her fingers together and thought for a moment. ‘Hmm, I've got a solution, I think. Mollie Watson could use someone to give her a hand out at her place. She's broken her wrist and can't do as much as she would like. Megan can ride that bike the Fergusons lent her down there – it's only about three kilometres – and feed the animals and help with anything else that Mollie needs done.'

Chris nodded slowly. ‘That sounds promising. I'm not sure how she is going to take to farm work, though.'

‘She'll be perfectly fine. She just needs to accept a bit of responsibility. Kids can't have everything their own way all the time, you know that. Megan might not like the idea, but just tell her she hasn't a choice,' said Susan, crisply.

*

‘But Dad, I don't know what to do with farm animals. It sounds yucky. Couldn't I just help out here or something?' wailed Megan, sitting up straight on her bed.

Chris stood firm. ‘No! Your grandmother has managed to arrange a job for you so that you can repay that monstrous mobile phone bill, and you should be grateful.'

When Megan stared sulkily back at her father and didn't answer, Chris snapped. ‘Give me your phone. It's confiscated for the time being. Email your friends and tell them that you're off the air for a bit.'

‘What? No way! What if it's urgent?' Megan's voice rose.

‘Tell them to call the landline. You're sounding like a spoiled brat, Megan. Tomorrow afternoon you're to put on some old clothes to work in, and we'll take you out to meet Bunny's friend. If you work afternoons after school and Saturdays, you'll pay off this debt before you know it. And won't that feel good?' Chris walked back to the kitchen, leaving a fuming Megan behind. She slammed her bedroom door with a bang.

‘Well, that cleared the air,' he said to Susan, his voice filled with irony.

‘I've never heard you raise your voice to Megan before. Probably shocked her a bit. I suppose she's always seen you as the father who comes along with presents, spoils her and leaves again. Not quite that way now.'

‘We're both learning,' he sighed. ‘So, off to see Mollie tomorrow?'

‘Indeed. She's looking forward to having regular help until her wrist heals.'

Chris nodded, and gazing down the hallway at Megan's closed door, he realised he felt real satisfaction about the way they'd handled the issue, in spite of the drama it had caused. He turned back to Susan, who changed the subject.

‘Chris, I have formally accepted the invitation to go to the reunion,' she said.

Chris smiled, pleased to hear she'd reconsidered. He thought she'd enjoy connecting with the people of her past, despite the sad ending to her trip to Indonesia. ‘Are you going to drive down to Sydney, or fly?'

‘Fly. Airfares are pretty cheap these days and if I drive I'll have to overnight in Sydney and I see no point in doing that. No, I shall just be away for the day, and I have to say that now I have made the decision, I'm quite looking forward to the lunch. I am curious to see everyone again after all these years.'

*

‘You look the part,' said Susan the next day as Megan appeared in the kitchen in cut-off shorts, an old shirt of Susan's and a pair of gumboots.

‘I look stupid in these.' Megan lifted one booted foot.

‘You'll look worse if you come home from the farm with your favourite shoes covered in cow poo,' said Chris cheerfully as he joined them.

‘Dad, I can't believe that you're coming too. It's so embarrassing. It's like you're chaperoning me.'

‘Rubbish. I haven't seen Mollie Watson for years. I used to ride out to her place all the time when I was your age, and the Watsons were always pleased to see me. I'm looking forward to catching up.'

As the three of them drove out to the Watsons' place, Megan asked, ‘So who is this lady?'

‘Mrs Watson,' said Susan, ‘is a lovely person. Her husband, Don, was a great friend of Poppy's. Don ran quite a few head of cattle back then, but Mollie sold off some of the land after Don died and really only keeps a couple of horses and some goats. She sells the kids.'

‘The baby goats? What for?' asked Megan.

‘For their meat,' her grandmother replied.

Megan made a face. ‘To eat? Oh, yuck. Poor things. That's awful.'

They were driving along an old road lined on either side with poplars that cast their dappled shadows across the paddocks. Susan braked and turned into a driveway marked by an old milk can with
Watson
painted on its side that served as a mailbox. She drove up the short driveway to a rambling farmhouse.

Mollie Watson was tall and lean with curling brown hair speckled with grey. One arm was in a sling, but she was carrying a bucket in the other. She put it
down to wave as Susan parked near the house.

‘Hey, Susan. Chris, it's good to see you,' she said, embracing them both. ‘Let's go in and have a cuppa. I'll show you round what's left of the farm later, if you like.' She looked past Susan and Chris to Megan, who was standing at a distance with her arms crossed. ‘Hello, Megan,' she said, looking her up and down. ‘Ah, smart girl, you came dressed in the right clothes. Here, Megan, could you carry this bucket for me, please? It's got the chook food in it. The hens' yard is over there. You can put the food in their feeder and check if there are any eggs in the laying boxes. We'll be in the kitchen.' She handed the bucket to Megan as if they were old friends.

‘Pushing her in the deep end,' said Susan with a smile as an uncertain-looking Megan headed towards the chook house. The hens, which had been pecking about in the back garden, recognised the feed bucket and followed behind the young girl in hysterical excitement.

‘Best way, I think. She'll be fine. Once she sees the new baby kids, she might even come to like it here. How about we have that tea and then you two can come back for her in a couple of hours? I'll have worn her out by then,' said Mollie, grinning.

‘That's fine, but don't give her an animal to bring home, Mollie!' said Chris. ‘We don't want any more complications in our lives.'

*

When Susan and Chris went back to collect Megan later on, she was full of chatter about the animals on Mollie's farm.

‘I had to feed one of the little kids with a baby's bottle, because his mother wasn't interested in him. He was so sweet. Wish I could bring him home and look after him,' she said, beaming.

‘No way. Besides, you don't want to get too attached. You know what happens to them. Anyway, it will be romping around before you know it. So how was the rest of the work?' asked Susan.

‘It was fine, a bit smelly in the hen house, though, and the chooks are stupid. But I managed. I helped Mollie – she asked me to call her that – chop up her vegetables for dinner. It's hard for her with only one hand.'