When her body hit the floor the shooting stopped.
A dark fog crept towards her, enveloped her. She watched her blood slowly spread. Red lava on snow-white tiles. She cursed Rafiq for betraying her.
Tiny particles of dust swirled in the shattered room. A piece of glass gave way to gravity, clinked to the ground. The door of a cupboard slowly opened. Outside, clouds covered the sun. Footsteps crunched the gravel of the alleyway.
On the hill overlooking the village, the soft whistle of Lennon’s Imagine drifted in the air.
28
Steven finished the last sentence he was writing and pulled the sheet of paper out his typewriter.
‘Tell me what you think of this.’
He put the typewriter on the floor and began to read:
Thursday: January 4, 1979: 13.54GMT
Algiers: Nicolette de Dercou, Australian photographer for the Melbourne Herald, was shot dead by unknown gunmen on the Constantine-Sétif road yesterday. Her body was found on the side of the road seventeen kilometres from Constantine. She had been shot several times in the chest and abdomen.
Miss de Dercou was on assignment covering the funeral of President Boumedienne.
Also found was the body of Rafiq al-Zain, a 29-year-old Algerian, believed to have been her guide. He was killed by a single bullet through the head.
Authorities believe it to be the work of insurgents. Algeria has a long history of social unrest, but has enjoyed relative peace since Boumedienne came to power.
Michael Davies, Bureau Chief here in Algiers, said ‘We are greatly saddened by Miss de Dercou’s death, and our condolences go out to the families of both victims.’
Steven lowered the sheet of paper and looked at DJ. ‘Think it’ll do?’
‘I’d say so. Brief and to the point.’
Steven nodded and sat looking at the sheet of paper in his hand.
‘You okay?’
‘Yeah. I just wish she hadn’t run.’
‘You weren’t to know.’
‘That’s just it, I thought I did know – after the way she froze that day, I figured she’d just stay in that cave till they released her. A couple of days of being roughed up, and she’d forget all about chasing gunrunners. I figured all she’d want was to get home.’
‘Yeah, but she did run, and once she caught on that you weren’t kidnapped, she became a loose cannon. You had no choice.’
Steven nodded – he knew what DJ said was true. But he’d liked Nicolette – she’d reminded him of himself, many years ago. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should start something in her memory. Some sort of award or something for photojournalists. Call it The Nicolette de Dercou Award.’
‘What about The Nicolette de Dercou Award in Perpetuity?’
‘Yeah, something like that. She’d like that.’
‘She would. She was a good kid.’
‘Yeah, she was that…’
29
Nicolette held her grandfather’s hand as they walked the decks of the Neptunia. A gentle sea breeze played with her long curls.
‘Is Australia very far away?’ she asked.
‘The other side of the world.’
‘Have you been there before?’
Louis shook his head. ‘No, but I’ve seen postcards – it’s very beautiful. I think you’ll like it.’
Nicolette considered that information for a moment. ‘Is it like Algeria?’
‘Some bits. It’s very big. And they’ve got strange animals there. I saw a picture of an animal with a head like a deer that stood on its hind legs and hopped instead of walking. But what was really strange was that it carried its baby in a sort of pocket at the front.’
Nicolette laughed. ‘Animals don’t have pockets, Grandpa!’
‘This one did.’
‘Where? Where did you see the photo?’
‘In a newspaper.’
‘Well, there you are, then. You always say you can’t believe anything you see in the papers. That they always lie.’
‘I say you can’t believe anything you read in the papers. Words can twist the truth so that even though they’re telling you one thing, they’re really saying another. But photographs, now that’s different – you can’t mess with photographs.’
Nicolette thought about the difference between words and images – what her grandfather said made sense. She wondered if these animals were dangerous.
They passed a group of children playing with a skipping rope and stopped to watch for a while.
‘Why don’t you join them?’
‘I like walking with you better.’ Nicolette pulled him away from the children. ‘Grandpa, is Jamilah going to be all right? Rafiq?’
‘I hope so, Princess.’
‘But if the fighting goes on, what are they going to do? They could get killed.’
Louis thought about an Algeria constantly at war – it was a very definite possibility. ‘I guess they’ll just have to do whatever it takes to stay alive. It’s all you can ask of people, really. But don’t worry about them; they’ll be all right. Come on, let’s go see if your mother’s over her seasickness yet. Let’s forget about Algeria for a while.’
The Neptunia glided over a sea of blue glass. On her deck people strolled arm in arm or sat in deckchairs reading. Africa lay behind her, Australia ahead.
Overhead, a gull screeched.
The Yellow Papers
Dominique Wilson
Trade PB 352pp
ISBN: 9781921924613
e-ISBN 9781921924620
It’s 1872 and China – still bruised from its defeat in the two Opium Wars – sends a group of boys, including seven-year-old Chen Mu, to America to study and bring back the secrets of the West. But nine years on Chen Mu becomes a fugitive and flees to Umberumberka, a mining town in outback Australia. He eventually finds peace working for Matthew Dawson, a rich pastoralist.
When the bubonic plague ravages Sydney, Matthew Dawson’s daughter returns to her father’s property with her son, Edward. But it’s a lonely life for a small boy surrounded only by adults, and he soon befriends Chen Mu, forging a friendship that will last a lifetime.
Years later, Edward visits a mysterious and decadent Shanghai, where he falls in love with Ming Li, the beautiful young wife of a Chinese businessman. Invading Japanese armies tear the couple apart and years pass before they reunite, each scarred by the events of World War II and the Korean War. But will it be only to be torn apart once again?
The Yellow Papers is a story of love, obsession and friendship set against a backdrop of war and racial prejudice.
‘Dominique Wilson is a wonderful storyteller. Spanning the histories of China and Australia, this tale, woven between tenderness and violence, percolates with alternating emotions until the final page is turned. The research is impeccable, the realism unforgiving.’ Brian Castro
‘Moving and thought-provoking. An outstanding novel of originality and psychological depth.’ Julienne van Loon
‘A sorrowful and captivating historical epic … will satisfy a readership hungry for a gripping, grandiose read.’ Bookseller & Publisher
‘The story is created around the basic emotions of hope, trust, love, hate and betrayal which are woven through the pages seamlessly, making a rich story richer for the telling. Each chapter unfolds bringing with it a small segment of the whole, that once started is compelling and difficult to put down. It is beautiful, insightful, rich, thought-provoking and unforgettable.’ http://www.bluewolf-reviews.com
‘Dominique Wilson’s depiction of racial prejudice, torture and brutality is distressing and appalling, yet they are central to the narrative and they contrast with her exquisite rendering of the love at the heart of the story. I started this book ignorant of the historical events it depicts but finished it culturally enriched and enlightened.’ Maureen Eppen, Good Reading Magazine
‘Wilson conveys the pain of racism and war – it’s honest, emotive, vivid and at times raw. A recommended read
for anyone who likes historical fiction and has a tendency to think over the issues raised for some time afterwards. A big thumbs up from me.’ www.theblurb.com.au
‘I was impressed by the uncompromising ending. The novel gathers tension towards the end and the characters find themselves locked in a destructive pattern of relationships forged by ideology rather than human behaviour. I can’t say more without spoilers, but this is a novel that saves its biggest shock till the end. Five Stars.’ Lisa Hill, ANZ LitLoversLit Blog
Dominique Wilson was born in Algiers to French parents. She grew up in a country torn by civil war, until she and her family fled to Australia. She is the author of The Yellow Papers (Transit Lounge 2014) and her short stories have been published nationally and read on ABC Radio. She was founding co-managing editor of Wet Ink: the magazine of new writing, and Chair of the Adelaide branch of International PEN. Dominique holds a Masters and a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Adelaide.
More at dominiquewilson.com.au
That Devil's Madness Page 28
