Port Moresby, New Guinea
‘Thank you, Binta. You should be a hairdresser.’
The young maid smiled shyly. ‘Yes, ma’am. You look beautiful, ma’am.’
Junie moved her head to view the back. ‘Well, here’s hoping I pass muster.’
Binta looked confused but smiled anyway before she left, leaving Junie to admire her handiwork. It was a sleek chignon and the perfect style for the dress. She stood and turned in front of the full-length mirror, swishing the skirts from her narrow waist and loving the feel of the multiple layers of fabric. Her shoulders were bare under narrow straps and with her hair up, there was quite a lot of golden skin on display; it bordered on too much perhaps, but this gown made Junie feel elegant, which helped her confidence. Tonight was her entrance into New Guinean society and she had an important role to play.
She tried to mentally prepare for the evening ahead but, running her hands across the fine material, she found herself remembering another party dress instead. It had been pink and silky and she’d yearned for Michael Riley to feel the way it glided over her skin. She imagined him here now, standing in the corner of her bedroom, watching her with the same expression he’d worn all those years ago at the Trocadero, and she felt a longing for him to materialise that was so strong it physically hurt. It came like that, quite often, just a sudden vision that he was there: alive, whole. She sometimes wondered if she was seeing his ghost.
Digger thumped his tail, watching her, and she sighed at her own foolishness.
‘What do you think? Will I do?’
He wagged at her lovingly as always and she gave him a pat. Thank God she’d been able to bring him to their new home at least. He gave some small solace to her perpetually aching heart.
‘Ready?’ asked Ernest as he entered wearing his tuxedo, hair well-oiled as always.
‘Almost,’ she said, putting on the diamond drop earrings he had given her for her birthday. They were her only adornment. The spectacular dress was enough.
‘Wow,’ Ernest said, pausing to look at her. ‘Well, I have to say you’ll be the talk of the evening. The ambassador’s wife,’ he announced, pleased.
Junie followed him out of the room slowly, any pleasure in her appearance fading. Suddenly the dress felt more like a costume than a gown.
‘Here she is,’ Eliza called happily, floating towards them in dazzling gold. The style of her dress was similar to Junie’s, although she had lace stretching across her shoulders in an intricate black and gold pattern. ‘That gown was worth every cent,’ she whispered.
‘This old thing?’ Junie said and they laughed. She had to admit that shopping for this move before they’d left had been a lot of fun – especially for glamorous evening wear.
‘Come and meet the gang,’ Eliza said, handing her a glass of champagne from a passing tray as they walked over. ‘Allow me to introduce Philippe Rafel and his charming wife, Felicity. Philippe manages a mining company.’
‘Bonsoir,’ said Philippe, bowing politely. He was quite a handsome man with thinning dark hair and brown, almost black, eyes. His plump wife Felicity didn’t seem very friendly, however, and was eyeing Junie’s dress as she said hello.
There was an older Australian couple, Gertie and Paul Baker, two Englishmen who immediately made her laugh with their foppish witticisms and a middle-aged doctor from Canberra.
‘Dr John Colgan,’ he introduced himself. ‘Welcome to the jungle.’ There was a knowing amusement in his tone and Junie decided she liked him best so far.
A few others were arriving, including a local government official and his wife, and Junie soon found herself surrounded by conversation and aperitifs as the room swelled to twenty or so. It seemed meeting the new ambassador was quite an important social event and, as they took their places to dine, Junie felt grateful she had Eliza with her.
Their dining hall was modest by Sydney standards but the view was lovely, taking in some of the port waters that were silvery in the twilight. Junie sat at one end of the long table, Ernest at the other, and she was glad she wouldn’t have to be near him and pretend to be happily married all evening. Instead she had Dr Colgan on her left and Miles on her right. Etiquette dictated the male/female seating arrangement but Eliza had assured Junie she would swap seats with her husband later. If Junie could bear Miles for that long.
‘Perhaps Dr Colgan would be kind enough to say grace tonight,’ Ernest said and the doctor stood, making the sign of the cross.
‘Dear Lord, for what we are about to receive make us truly thankful. And we pray that our hosts have a safe and beneficial life in their new corner of the world, helping us to uphold what is just and fair for all. Amen.’
‘Amen,’ said the room.
The soup was served, a delicious seafood bisque, contrary to Cecil’s damning reviews of New Guinean cooking, and Junie sipped at it, wondering at the tone of the doctor’s prayer.
‘How long have you worked here in Port Moresby, doctor?’
‘Please, call me John. I’m not usually in Port, actually, just dropping by to welcome you, then I’m back inland.’
‘Well, that’s very kind of you, John. Where do you call home?’
‘Wherever life takes me, which is anywhere, I suppose.’
Junie smiled. ‘What a lovely sentiment.’
‘Not a sentiment, my dear. A fact,’ he replied.
‘And where does life usually find you at the present time?’
‘Wamena. It’s a village up in the high country. Quite remote and therefore very fascinating. I’m with some aid workers from the United Nations and we’ve been forming a clinic.’
‘How have the natives reacted so far?’
‘They’re very distrustful of white-man medicine, which makes things hard. Won’t let us take blood, for example – they think we’re stealing their spirit.’
‘What an incredible life it must be.’
‘Doctor to the darkies, eh?’ Miles said, overhearing. ‘Good Lord – I’d be more worried about them taking my blood than about taking samples of theirs.’
John flicked a glance his way then had another taste of his soup before replying. ‘Their customs and beliefs are actually quite complex. I’m not trying to convert them to our ways overnight, merely trying to support what they can accept.’ He broke off a piece of bread. ‘And protect them.’
‘Protect them from what?’ Miles laughed. ‘Hungry relatives?’
‘Ignorance,’ John replied.
Miles looked confused. ‘How do you propose to make them less ignorant?’
‘Who said I was talking about the natives?’
Junie cleared her throat as John calmly continued eating his soup.
Yes, this was one person in New Guinea she definitely liked.
‘Thank God that’s over,’ Eliza said, landing next to Junie as Miles wandered off after the speeches. ‘Who was that ghastly third man? Never heard a more boring selection of drivel in my life.’
‘Shh,’ Junie said as the man in question walked past.
‘Do you think he heard?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Hopefully it will discourage him.’
‘Behave yourself,’ muttered Ernest near her ear as he passed and Eliza laughed.
‘Oh pooh, go away. I want to gossip with your wife.’ Ernest obliged and Eliza leant towards Junie. ‘Now, what did I miss? How did you like the doctor?’
‘Very interesting, I must say – works and lives with the natives. In the jungle.’
‘Really? How positively primitive.’
‘They’ve opened a medical clinic right up in the mountains.’
‘Sounds horrid. However would you style your hair?’
Junie laughed, about to reply, but she was interrupted by an angry yell.
‘Miles?’ Eliza said.
They rushed into the next room to find Miles covered in coffee and shouting at a terrified Binta.
‘Look what you’ve done, you stupid black bitch!’ He swu
ng his hand, striking her across her face and Junie rushed forwards, standing in front of her.
‘How dare you hit my maid!’
‘Arrrgh! It’s burning!’
‘Calm down, dear. You, get some cold water and towels,’ Eliza ordered another maid who was standing nervously nearby. Other people had come to the door and Eliza moved quickly to close it. ‘Just a little mishap. Nothing to worry about.’
‘She threw it at me!’
‘I’m sure it was just an accident,’ Eliza soothed.
‘What happened?’ Junie asked the maid.
‘He grabbed me,’ Binta whispered, holding her hand to the nasty welt that was forming on her cheek.
‘Come now, it was probably just a misunderstanding. Take her away, Junie, I’ll look after Miles,’ Eliza said, grabbing the towels as the other girl returned.
‘But he –’
‘Go. You’re missing your own party.’
Junie decided getting Binta away probably was her highest priority but her tongue ached to hurl abuse at Miles. Later, she decided, taking Binta to a side door and leading her to the kitchen to get some ice. ‘Wrap this and hold it to her face,’ she told the second maid. ‘Binta, take the rest of the night off. We’ll deal with this in the morning.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I – I didn’t mean to –’
‘It’s all right. I’ll take care of it,’ Junie assured her before returning to the dining room, taking another wine and trying to compose herself.
‘Everything all right?’ John asked.
Junie was fuming but forced the lie. ‘Yes, fine. Just some spilt coffee, I’m afraid.’
John studied her face. ‘Some advice, Mrs Farthington, for what it’s worth. Look out for that ignorance I mentioned. You’ll find it a powerful enemy.’
Junie awoke to the familiar throb of a hangover and blinked against the sun shining through the white curtains.
‘Ugh, pull the drapes,’ Ernest said, shielding his eyes. She got up and did so, the room immediately darkening, then went to the bathroom.
Ernest’s eyes were on her as she returned.
‘Come back to bed.’
‘Not today, Ernest.’
‘It’s been weeks, Junie. You can’t expect me to go without.’
‘Why don’t you just get a mistress like everyone else?’ she said, bitter.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he returned, but she wondered if he had one already. Probably. The rate of intimacy between them was about once a month, at best. ‘Besides, I still haven’t given up on more children, even if you have.’
Junie felt an ache in her heart as Frankie’s photo looked at her from the dressing table. ‘Maybe God only wanted to send us one,’ she said. In truth, she wondered if Ernest was infertile. She obviously wasn’t.
‘Maybe we should have more sex and give God a hand.’
He walked over and held her hands in his but they were clammy, as usual, and she felt the revulsion rise. She was saved by a knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ she said quickly.
‘Good morning, ma’am,’ said the second maid from last night, entering with a coffee tray.
‘Good morning…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name yesterday?’
‘Delphine.’
‘Good morning, Delphine. Where’s Binta? Is she feeling all right?’
‘Binta gone, ma’am,’ the maid said, placing the tray very carefully.
‘Where?’
‘Not sure, ma’am.’ She was staring at the floor. ‘Maybe she run away.’
‘But that’s ridiculous. Where would she go?’
‘Not sure, ma’am,’ she said again. The maid looked very nervous and Junie walked over to her.
‘Delphine,’ she said, trying to catch her eye, ‘what is it you’re not telling me?’
‘Nothing, ma’am. He said – nothing, ma’am.’
‘Just let it go, Junie,’ Ernest said, yawning as he poured a cup of coffee.
‘Who said?’ Junie insisted, ignoring him.
Delphine looked over at Ernest fearfully.
‘It’s all right. We won’t be angry if you tell us the truth. This is our house, Delphine – we need to know what goes on in it.’
‘Did she take off into the jungle?’ Ernest asked, half amused.
‘Police took her,’ Delphine blurted.
‘What?’ Junie said, shocked.
‘The police were at my door?’ Ernest said, not amused any more, Junie noted. Scandal was Ernest’s worst fear. ‘Where did they take her?’ Junie asked.
‘Jail.’
‘Why?’
‘He say she threw coffee –’
‘Bloody Miles! Well, we’ll just see about that!’
‘Slow down, Junie – Junie what are you doing?’
‘Fighting ignorance!’ she yelled, flinging her nightgown off and a dress on and searching for her shoes.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I’m going down to the jail!’ she said, hopping on one foot as she put a shoe on.
‘You can’t just march in there –’
‘Yes, I can! I’m a lawyer and the ambassador’s wife, so I think I have every right to march in there and reclaim my poor maid. For God’s sake, she’s only a child!’
‘I don’t want a scene.’
She stood with one shoe on, hands on hips. ‘Ernest, what do you think will be worse, everyone knowing our teenage maid was thrown in jail or everyone knowing we did nothing about it?’
Ernest had to capitulate then. ‘All right. But be discreet. Just pay what they ask for and get her out.’
But she made no such promise as she found her other shoe.
It seemed she may just need to practise law sooner than expected.
The life of an ambassador’s wife was being rewritten, or such was the entertaining thought that crossed Marlon’s mind as he watched Mrs June Farthington stand beneath the ceiling fan in the local jail in Port Moresby. He wasn’t sure which part of the scene amused him the most: the reaction of the clearly flustered police sergeant or the presence of a large, rather fluffy black dog sitting protectively at Junie’s side. Looking at her gorgeous face and figure, he decided he’d have to start attending some of these political dinners Philippe was always trying to drag him to. The photo in the newspaper announcing their arrival really hadn’t done her justice. She looked even more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her, all those years ago, and the memory of that stolen kiss sprang to mind.
‘I’m sorry, ma’am. She has to have a trial.’
‘And you are being a trial for me. Just tell me how much the fine is and give me my maid back.’
‘As I said, I cannot do that –’
‘May I be of assistance?’ Marlon enquired politely from behind.
‘No, I’m quite –’
The sight of him halted her and he had to laugh when she found her words.
‘Oh God, what fresh hell is this?’
‘Now what kind of a way is that to greet an old friend?’ Marlon reached down to let Digger sniff his hand then scratched his ears, receiving a wagging tail in response.
Junie gave him an exasperated look and turned back to the sergeant. ‘Look, I really haven’t got time for this –’
‘Then you shouldn’t be wasting it,’ Marlon said, leaning over to murmur in her ear. ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree.’
‘What do you mean?’ she whispered back.
‘You don’t bribe the sergeant; you bribe the judge. Actually, with your connections, you may not even have to offer him a bribe.’
‘How do you know?’
‘It’s not my first time here.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘Come on, I’ll introduce you.’
An hour later they were helping a very shaken Binta into a taxi and Marlon’s admiration for Junie was growing by the minute. Watching her take on that crooked Judge Mosley had been entertaining, to say the least, and Marlon felt hi
s old interest in Mrs Farthington return. He wanted to see her again, married woman or not. Years ago such things bothered him but then again, years ago, he’d been pretty naïve. The war had taken care of that affliction.
‘Looks like you learnt a thing or two at that law school of yours,’ he said. ‘I might have to pick your brain regarding a friend of mine. Are you free for lunch this week at all?’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ she said, putting on a wide-brimmed hat and squinting up at the sun. ‘Good lord, is it always this humid?’
‘Constantly. There’s a nice air-conditioned restaurant nearby if you’d like to have a drink before you go.’ Damn, he was sounding too keen. Seems he forgot everything he knew about women around her.
‘Not today. I have to get Binta to her family. Probably best to keep her away from certain gentlemen of our acquaintance for now.’
Not today. That wasn’t a no.
‘I’d say so,’ Marlon agreed. ‘Off you go then. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.’
‘Thank you for your help today,’ she said before she got in. ‘I never did ask you what you were doing there.’
‘Oh, I often hang around police stations. You never know when a beautiful lady might walk in with her dog and need a crash course on bribery.’
He patted Digger, who licked his hand, and Junie laughed a little as she went, the sound of it staying with him as he headed back to the station. She really was the most distracting woman – he’d just left his mate to cool his heels in a jail cell for an unnecessary hour to help her out. Oh well, Joseph would just have to be patient. It’s not every day a woman like that crosses your path, especially here.
Now all he had to do was figure out how to make it happen again.
Eliza was on the verandah and Junie saw Ernest drop his hand from her arm before walking rapidly away. They looked as if they’d had an argument, Junie thought, surprised.
‘Everything all right?’ she asked.
‘Oh, there you are. I was worried,’ Eliza said, her frown disappearing as she glided towards Junie in a white tennis dress, cool and immaculate as always. ‘How did everything go?’
Junie gave her hat to Delphine, not quite sure how to respond. ‘Fine…in the end,’ she said. ‘Everything’s all right now,’ she said gently to the nervous maid. ‘How about you fetch us some tea?’
Worth Fighting For Page 27
