The Gulliver Fortune

by Peter Corris

  Lily took a flat in Edgecliff for six months to be on hand while Kobi and Jenny settled in at school, although both were boarders. Jenny was attending a Catholic convent school in Neutral Bay and Lily saw her at the weekends. Kobi she saw less often; he threw himself into school activities—weekend science excursions, visits to the homes of school friends, sports meetings—so much that Lily suspected him of wanting to avoid her. Disparaging remarks she'd passed about Mora, she concluded, were the cause. She didn't care; she wanted an Australian gentleman and she would suffer some personal loss, if necessary, to get one.

  Lily spent her time cultivating friendships among the business people of Sydney who were accessible to her and investigating marketing techniques and promising products. She put out feelers for contracts and franchises and made sure that the managing director of every Sydney firm with substantial Pacific interests received her card and at least one telephone call. This kept her busy. At first she performed the routine duties towards Jenny—trips to the zoo, the Botanic Gardens, Bondi beach. But after the second month she began to attend weekend business lunches and other functions. Jenny spent more and more time alone in the flat watching television. Eventually she told her mother that she'd rather stay at school.

  "I'm sorry I'm so busy, darling," Lily said. "There's so much to do."

  Jenny's eyes dropped to the deep pile carpet. "Like what, Mum?"

  Lily waved her cigarette. "People to see. You want us to have lots of money and nice things, don't you?"

  "I want to see Kobi."

  Lily hugged her. "We'll have a big party before I go back . . . home. You and Kobi can invite all your friends."

  Jenny could think of two possibles in her own case; her brother, she felt sure, would have hundreds. "When?" she said.

  "Soon."

  But first Lily had another party to throw. She prepared for it carefully, hiring the best caterers, getting the invitations out early and trying to select a night that didn't clash with any obviously important event. Her targets were leading figures in the Chinese business community—importers, restaurateurs, retailers and investors—and selected Australians who had connections with them. Lily's plans had grown. She envisaged shopping centres in the island capitals, office buildings, expansion of schools and other educational institutions, restaurants and clubs. All would need building and supplying. Lily felt equal to the task and hoped to convince others of her capacity—the men with the money.

  The party began at eight p.m. on a Saturday night in March. It was a fine, mild night in a week that had seen business in Sydney buoyant after the usual post-Christmas and New Year slowdown. The forty-five guests, carefully selected by Lily as to age, marital status, competition and commercial arrangements, were in a good mood, ready for pleasure and for opportunities to consolidate their good fortune. They talked politics in a confident fashion—the conservative government, non-interventionist and complaisant, suited them and was firmly in control. Money was another major topic. Most thought that Australia's future still lay in minerals and other primary products; a few had an inkling of other opportunities, given the capital and right tax arrangements. Lily circulated, talking gaily, directing the waiters to top up the drinks and taking care not to outshine the wives. She hovered with groups that included some of the more adventurous thinkers. She put questions with an almost childlike candor and listened to the answers with a mind finely calibrated and totally engaged.

  By ten-thirty p.m. Lily had found in Richard McGregor her perfect partner, her soulmate and banker.

  Kobi's cricket match ended at five p.m. The plan for him to go to Phillip Hammersley's house for the night fell through at the last minute and in the confusion Kobi missed the bus back to school. He found himself in Ryde with money in his pocket and nothing expected of him. He had a pass for the night and most of the team members believed he was going to Hammersley's place in Epping where there was a swimming pool. No one would miss him. Kobi, at almost thirteen, was tall for his age and possessed a maturity that some of his contemporaries found daunting. Like Hammersley, his friends at school tended to be in the form above him.

  He caught a bus into the city with the idea of going to King's Cross to look at the prostitutes he'd heard about from the boys at school. Then he'd have something to eat and go to the pictures. Ben Hur was showing. He imagined he'd finish up at his mother's flat eventually. As the bus crossed the Gladesville bridge he gazed down at the water and thought of home. Jenny might be at the flat and have news. I wish Mora could write, he thought.

  Ben Hur was a long film, and Kobi felt like a walk afterwards.

  He had things to think about. The prostitutes, with their shiny hair and tight skirts, had excited him. The purple dress one of them wore was cut so low he could see most of her bosom. Women's breasts were no novelty to him, but this was different. It was not just that most of the street women were white; their breasts were enticements, half-hidden, like secrets. One of the women had called out to him: "Hey, boy!"

  He'd spun around to look at her because at home boi meant something else, possibly insulting. The short, wide blonde sidled across the pavement, swinging her massive hips. Her nipples poked out through her thin blouse and she smelled of perfume and cigarettes. Her red lips parted. "Gotta quid, sonny?"

  "Yes," Kobi whispered.

  The blonde reached for his arm. "Never too young t' start," she said.

  Kobi had fled. The memory of the way she moved and smelt had stayed with him and distracted him through the early part of the film. Walking to Edgecliff and thinking about the encounter, he was aware of uncomfortable feelings in his groin. Erections were nothing new to him; he and Mora had had pissing contests and had touched each other until they grew hard. But this was different.

  He could still hear the blonde's raucous laughter in his ears as he let himself into the flat with the key Lily had given him. It was well after midnight and Kobi was tired. He'd get a blanket from the cupboard in the hall and sleep on the couch, not disturb anyone. The door opened quietly and Kobi was surprised to find lights still on in the flat. He was about to call out when he heard a sound that froze him. It was a laugh, like the prostitute's, harsh and strident. He tiptoed forward and into the living room, which still bore the marks of the party, although the caterers had dealt with most of the debris. Cigarette smoke and liquor fumes still hung in the air. The laughter came again, and Kobi looked through the half-open door into his mother's bedroom.

  Lily was sitting on top of a fat white man who lay on the bed. Lily laughed, pulled away, and the man's penis came out of her. It was red and distended. Lily squeezed it.

  "Put it back," he said.

  "It's lovely," Lily said. "I want to touch it."

  "Put it in!"

  Lily did; she dug her hand under his spread buttocks and probed. "Come on, Richard. Come on!"

  The man convulsed, pushing Lily up like a buckjump rider. He shouted and Lily laughed again.

  Kobi left the flat silently and caught a taxi back to Stanmore. He slept on top of some nets in a shed by the tennis courts and surprised the morning duty master by taking a seat for breakfast.

  "Hullo, Clarke. Where did you spring from?"

  "Just got back, sir."

  "Fit for tennis after chapel?"

  Yes, sir."

  "Goodoh. Get a proper breakfast into you."

  46

  The masters at Newington noticed a sudden change in Kobi Clarke. The quiet, friendly boy of the first few months was replaced by an aggressive, striving individual who won more respect than friendships. His interest in cricket and tennis lapsed, although he remained an excellent player of both games when he chose, in favour of water polo and football. He played with an equal mixture of skill and vigour and became a respected and feared competitor. In the classroom his work was consistently of a high standard. He excelled in mathematics and Latin, but was never below fifth or sixth place in the class in the other subjects.

  His temper was uncertain. He
rarely got into fights because the first one he had, towards the end of his second term, was over in a matter of seconds. His opponent's lip was pulped, two of his teeth were loosened and he nursed bruised ribs for ten days. "Clarkey", a name signifying respect rather than affection, and earned in the swimming pool and on the football field, was not someone to pick on.

  In his first two years in Sydney the softer side of Kobi was revealed only to his sister. Lily began to spend more time in Sydney than in Kieta; the ostensible reason was the welfare of the children, but in fact she seldom met them. Kobi saw her for as short a time and as irregularly as possible. Jenny was indifferent to her mother, happy at school and happy to meet Kobi on weekend afternoons to go for walks and to the pictures. Lily maintained the Edgecliff flat the year round, and the children sometimes spent time there in her absence.

  On one such occasion Jenny opened a telegram they had found under the door.

  "She'll be back next week."

  "Shit!" Kobi thumped a pillow with his fist.

  Jenny refolded the telegram and replaced it in the envelope. She was used to Kobi's fluctuating moods, which could run from hilarity to deep depression in a few seconds. She said nothing but looked at him.

  "I hate her," Kobi said.

  Jenny's smooth brow wrinkled. She looked very Chinese when she was puzzled. "Why?"

  But Kobi would not tell her.

  Towards the end of each term Kobi made an effort to be pleasant to one of his schoolfellows and he had no difficulty in securing an invitation to spend the holidays in his company. In this way he acquired a knowledge of eastern Australia. He stayed on farms in the Monaro, at houses on the Palm Beach peninsula and the south coast, and visited Melbourne, Canberra and Brisbane. Lily, foreseeing useful contacts in the Australian establishment, approved and was generous with money. She was unfailingly charming to the parents she met and it did not escape Kobi's notice that, on these occasions, her hair, clothes and makeup were designed to make her look as Occidental as possible.

  For three years Kobi did not return to Bougainville. Jenny did and kept him up to date with developments there. Kobi was little interested in the expanding Hong businesses or the stagnation on Rabi Island. His question to his sister was always the same: "What's Mora doing?"

  Jenny made a point of knowing. "Still at the mine," she said in her 1962 report, "but he wants to quit."

  "Wish the bugger could write," Kobi muttered.

  "I think he'd learn if you told him to," Jenny said.

  Nothing had gone right on Rabi Island. The clearing was harder than it should have been, owing to outcrops of rock and the presence of ticks that put many of the labourers into the sick bay. Eventually planting got under way, but the trees failed to thrive. Many reasons were given—the soil, the wind, microscopic infestations, even the presence of spirits who did not want the white man to make money out of this bit of land. Leo battled the odds gamely, helped by a reasonable cash flow from the Hong company, but he knew he was losing.

  Lily seldom visited him during her infrequent and short trips to Kieta. Sue and Harry played in the labour lines, often slept there and quickly became indistinguishable from the plantation workers' children. They were scrubbed up and presented to Lily on her visits. She was appalled by their shy, foot-twitching awkwardness.

  "Leo, they're kanakas!" Lily exclaimed.

  Sue and Harry turned and ran. Lily raged at her husband and Miss Chan. She wanted to dismiss the woman, but Leo dug in his heels.

  "You frightened them, dear," he said. "They get on very well with Sally. They do their lessons . . . well, sometimes."

  Lily could see which way the wind was blowing and she was wise enough to trim her sails to it. It suited her to have Leo semi-occupied and out of the way. There seemed to be no hope for Sue and Harry, with their sun-darkened faces, their shins scarred by mosquito bites, with scrub cuts and cropped hair. But she had Kobi and Jenny gaining in sophistication every day. She forced herself to be calm and accepted a tepid gin and tonic (Leo's kerosene refrigerator was giving trouble).

  "I'm sorry, dear," she said. "I'm anxious about one thing and another. I'm sure the children are healthy and . . ."

  "Should see Harry swim," Leo muttered. The beer he was drinking was his tenth for the day and it wasn't yet noon. News of Lily's surfside arrival had shaken him. "Like a bloody fish."

  "I'm sure," Lily said. "And you're satisfied with Miss Chan, are you?"

  Leo looked at her blearily. He was having trouble with his eyes lately, finding it hard to focus. And his bladder. He was thin, despite the amount of beer he consumed. These days, drink tended to make him belligerent. "Entirely," he said.

  "Good." Lily drained her drink with a shudder. She was sure the water used to make the ice wasn't clean. "Perhaps I could just have a word with her before I go. I have to get back to town—some dreary thing in the administrator's office. Queen's birthday drinks, I think."

  "Invited to that, are you?"

  Lily smoothed the skirt of her white suit. "Times are changing, Leo."

  "Goodoh," Leo said without much understanding of what she meant. "Well, you can pop in and see Sally. Her room's down the hall on the right."

  Lily touched his unshaven cheek with her gloved hand before she left the room. She found Sally Chan's door open; the woman was sitting on her bed smoking a cigarette. She wore a white dress with a full pleated skirt and short sleeves. Lily noticed that her fingernails were long and painted bright red. Her toenails, visible in the high-heeled, open-toed sandals, were the same colour.

  "Miss Chan, may I come in?"

  Sally Chan waved the cigarette. "You've come to dismiss me."

  "On the contrary." Lily entered the big room and noted and appraised the contents swiftly. Likes nice things, she thought. Can't really afford them. "How much are you being paid, Miss Chan?"

  "Ten pounds a week, Mrs Clarke."

  "I will pay you double, as of now, to keep Mr Clarke happy."

  "Mrs Clarke?"

  "Don't take me for a fool, girl. I can see what's going on. All right. It suits me. Can the children read and write?"

  Sally Chan nodded.

  Lily smiled. "Then you're doing an excellent job. I want to pay you twenty pounds a week and a bonus at the end of the year. I hope you're happy here?"

  "Your husband is a good man, Mrs Clarke."

  "I'm sure he is. We have an arrangement, then?"

  "Yes."

  "There is one more thing." Lily shifted on the bed to bring herself closer. She lowered her voice and spoke in Chinese. "If you become pregnant I will cut your heart out.

  Sally Chan gasped and drew away. She had no doubt that Lily meant what she said, and the Hong influence among the Kieta Chinese was powerful enough for Lily to have such an act carried out. But she recovered quickly from the shock of the unveiled threat; she was safe.

  "Do not worry, Mrs Clarke. I won't become pregnant. Mr Clarke is sick and he cannot make love."

  "What do you do, then?" Lily had acquired an interest in unorthodox sex as a consequence of her relationship with Richard McGregor, who needed extra stimulation to perform satisfactorily.

  Sally Chan stubbed out the cigarette that had burned unnoticed in her fingers. "I . . . make love to myself and Mr Clarke watches me."

  "That's all?"

  "Yes."

  Lily got off the bed. "You say Leo's sick. In what way?"

  "He makes water all the time and has a terrible thirst. He is losing weight. And he's impotent. I think he has cirrhosis."

  "Does he know this?"

  "I mentioned something once. He said that people with cirrhosis cannot drink and that he would rather be dead."

  Lily sat down again and studied the young woman, looking for clues to her character. She detected intelligence and suspected greed, but what was the balance? Risky, but worth the risk, Lily thought. She opened her handbag and produced a chequebook. "Miss Chan," she said, "I think you should be paid your increased salary ret
rospectively for, let us say, six months. And I'm sure you have already earned a substantial bonus."

  "Thank you, Mrs Clarke."

  Lily scribbled with a gold pen. She tore out the cheque and put it on the bed. "I have a generous nature, you'll find, apart from being good to my employees. I think that people with serious illnesses should be . . . indulged, not upset. Don't you agree?"

  Lily Chan looked down at the cheque. The amount was double what she had expected. She picked up the cheque and folded it. "Yes, Mrs Clarke," she said. "I do agree."

  47

  His father's death in 1962 brought Kobi, almost sixteen, back to New Guinea. Wearing a dark suit, collar and tie and his heavy black school shoes, he stood with his mother and brother and sisters in the sweltering heat of a tropical afternoon while Leo was buried in the Catholic section of the Kieta cemetery. Only Lily and Kobi were dry-eyed. Jenny had seen her father on holidays and loved him; for Sue and Harry he was the only parent they really knew. They stood a little apart from their mother, beside Sally Chan, who was slim and elegant in her black dress.

  Kobi's feelings were mixed. He knew his father had been a kind man, but he wished he had been a stronger one. He was embarrased for him as a cuckold and hostile towards him as a European. He glanced at his mother, who touched her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief which Kobi knew would be bone dry. Probably a going-away gift from Richard McGregor, he thought. He wondered whether his father had known of Lily's infidelity. When the priest had finished reading he closed the Bible and looked at Lily. She shook her head. The priest bent, took up some of the dark, sandy soil thrown up around the grave and dropped it onto the coffin.

  The family moved away. Kobi heard his mother's firm, clear voice mention a headstone. The priest touched him on the shoulder.

  "This was your father's, my son. You should have it." He handed Kobi the Bible with Violet Clarke's copperplate writing in the back. Kobi took it and muttered his thanks.