Worth Fighting For

by Mary-Anne O'Connor

  ‘He was the one, wasn’t he? That night at the Trocadero?’ Marlon said, remembering now. The look on her face. The young man he recognised when they met in Wau. Must be the uniform.

  Junie nodded.

  ‘The man you actually loved?’ he added, seeing it plainly now.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, beginning to cry and Marlon took her in his arms as she dissolved into sobs, sharing the grief with her, comforting what could never really be comforted.

  ‘I need to know where it happened…I need to know why.’

  Marlon held her and stroked her back, the bloodshed of war once again fresh in his mind. ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I think we’d all like to know that.’

  ‘It was…like a needle in a haystack but now…’ Junie wiped at her eyes as she pulled back and they sat together in silence.

  ‘Maybe it’s better we don’t know,’ Marlon said. ‘It would be a difficult thing to see.’

  Junie wrung her handkerchief through her hands. ‘What we’ve imagined already couldn’t be any worse.’

  ‘True.’ He’d been down that dark path in his mind many times over the years.

  ‘For me it’s not a matter of if we should find this Kuji and ask him where he found it, but…but when and how we can organise a group to go down there.’ Junie had found her practical voice again, although it was somewhat muffled by tears.

  ‘Being married to the ambassador should help things along.’

  ‘I can’t exactly show him this,’ Junie said, pointing at the inscription.

  ‘Burning Palms,’ he read quietly. ‘Sounds exotic.’

  ‘It was.’

  A twinge of jealousy spiked in Marlon, despite the circumstances. ‘Lucky man.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t. Quite the opposite in the end.’

  Maybe it was the sorrow that flooded her face, or maybe it was the way she managed to sound guilty and innocent at the same time that moved him to say his next words, but whatever the reasons, he couldn’t take them back once they were out.

  ‘What if there was another purpose for going down there?’

  ‘Such as?’

  Marlon stood, picking his hat up from the table and making up his mind. ‘Have you told anyone about this?’

  ‘Only Eliza.’

  ‘Good. Don’t say anything to anyone else for now, all right?’

  ‘All right,’ she said, watching him in confusion. ‘What do you plan to do?’

  ‘I’ve got an idea, but you’re going to have to trust me. Can you do that?’

  Junie nodded, and it was easy to read her complete confidence in him. ‘I do trust you.’

  Marlon tipped his hat and left, thinking that when she sent him a look like that maybe she really shouldn’t.

  It was dark when Marlon returned to his apartment and he turned on the light and rummaged in the back of the cupboard, pulling out the box and unlocking it. Picking up the gourd, he stared at the black gold inside it.

  Philippe would want in, that much he knew.

  He moved to the window, opening it wide to the lights of the port, thinking of the dangers involved, the power in his hands.

  Yes, there was more than one form of treasure that had found its way out of Shangri-La. But what price would be paid if they went in for more?

  Forty-three

  Junie tapped her pen, wondering if she should tell Katie and the girls but knowing Marlon was right. She shouldn’t tell anyone else for now. It was too explosive on its own – just a missing piece of the needle from within what was, still, a very large haystack. Better to wait until he came back with whatever plan he seemed to be devising.

  Sighing, she picked up the letter that had arrived yesterday, trying not to feel hurt by the last few paragraphs but failing.

  Frankie had a wonderful long weekend with us all at Braidwood. I’ve never seen a child more fascinated with ‘secret adventures’ before – we really need to get her off those Enid Blyton books. I must have watched her explore your dad’s old desk for an hour!

  Your mum and dad both dote on her and I really don’t understand why you haven’t taken her back home more often but then again I don’t really understand what you’re doing in New Guinea away from her. I know if I’d had a baby to the man I loved, I could never bear to be parted from them. Especially when it’s all you have left.

  Anyway, I’m done preaching to you, Genie-Junie, if you are still that girl (and I guess you are). I wish you’d come home and prove it to me. Maybe Frankie will convince you better than I can that boarding school was a bad idea.

  Love regardless,

  Katie

  Junie picked up her little girl’s letter, unable to keep from crying over it again.

  Dear Mummy

  I am well eggsept I have hurt my finger when it got betten by a cow on the farm but Katie says cows don’t have propa teeth but I got bit so they do have gums that hurt any way. Marigold says you are in a house but I think you are in a casel because you are a famous pursen in new gini. I think it has hiden passige ways and you can run from baddies if they try to steal your treasure. I wish I culd find a passsige to you because I am sad at night and cry in my pillo but the teachers don’t know becus I turn it over so they don’t know its wet next day.

  I miss you Mummy. Tell Daddy to let you come home now but don’t tell him I cry becus it’s a secret.

  Love Frankie xxxxxxxxxxoooooooooo

  PS don’t get aten by any corocdiles becus I love you.

  Holding the letter against her heart, Junie ached with a wrenching, maternal longing. Only six more weeks and she could go home for holidays, she reminded herself. It isn’t that long. Yes, it is, her mother’s heart screamed back. It’s an eternity.

  Maybe she couldn’t do this. Maybe she should go home for good and let Ernest take her to court and be done with it – but not before she exhausted this lead on Michael’s final resting place. She was too close to the possible answer here and a clue presenting itself almost like a miracle surely had to mean something. Perhaps it was a sign from him somehow, if she could believe in such things.

  She owed Michael this; she owed it to them all. Maybe it would be the final part of the puzzle she could share with their child one day: who her father really was; why she couldn’t be with him; how he served his country. Where he died.

  It would be the kindest way to tell Frankie the truth, if Junie ever decided she could. That he was safe in Shangri-La forever now. Laid to rest in paradise.

  Forty-four

  Philippe’s house was extravagant, as expected, and Felicity was certainly in her element tonight as she sat next to her husband at the end of the table. Her hair was heavily lacquered and she wore a new dress she’d had made in Hong Kong – which had cost a small fortune, she had no hesitation in sharing. The blue silk did look expensive but it was an unfortunate style for her large frame, her exposed arms white and jelly-like as she sawed at her steak. Junie could almost feel sorry for her if it weren’t for the snide put-downs that Felicity directed her way. She reminded her too much of Constance then for any real pity.

  ‘And how did you enjoy your adventures with the cannibales?’ Philippe asked Junie.

  ‘I don’t even know where to begin, really. The village had domed huts and it was so colourful – the people decorated everything. Even the ground. And they did a performance for us wearing giant masks and feathers up to here.’ She gestured above her head. ‘And the way they painted their faces –’

  ‘Savages,’ mumbled Miles.

  ‘No, they weren’t savage at all,’ she said. ‘They were gentle and welcoming and the men seemed…well, very proud.’

  ‘And what of this clinic they have set up?’ Philippe asked, looking to Ernest.

  ‘Needs more funding, of course. I think that’s why I was invited,’ he said. ‘It certainly got some attention in the press, though, have you seen it yet?’

  They hadn’t and he clicked his fingers. ‘Junie, hand that paper over.’

  ‘I hat
e to think what they did without it,’ Junie said, taking the newspaper out of her purse and passing it down. ‘Some of the children would certainly have died without modern medicine. John is teaching what he knows to the chief’s son, Pukz, who’s also trying to learn English, which is quite hilarious at times,’ she said with a giggle, looking at Marlon. ‘It was just…amazing, the whole thing. And I haven’t even mentioned the flight! That was like nothing you can even describe.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll give it a try…at great length too,’ Felicity remarked. ‘I’m just joking, of course. What did you make of it, Eliza?’

  ‘Let’s just say they gave me a little spade when I asked for directions to the ladies’ bathroom.’

  ‘How disgusting,’ Felicity said as the others laughed.

  ‘Here it is,’ Ernest announced. ‘The Sydney Morning Herald no less.’ The inside page spread was passed around to the impressed table.

  ‘Listen to this: “Ambassador to all: Farthington extends his hand to primitive man”. I say, that reads well,’ said Miles, squinting at the caption below the photograph of Ernest and Junie with Pukz and the chief.

  ‘Oh, you look lovely in that one. Like a movie star!’ exclaimed Eliza at the photograph of Junie with the sick little girl. ‘“Mrs Farthington was moved to tears by the brave children in the mountains who fight illness that western drugs can prevent. She has vowed to continue to support the clinic in the future and this journalist sees a beautiful patroness in the making,”’ she read. ‘Honestly, darling, you’re a modern Florence Nightingale!’

  ‘You’d think they would have done your hair and make-up,’ said Felicity, appearing bored as she glanced over.

  ‘It has served its purpose well, no?’ said Philippe, ignoring her. ‘The handsome young diplomat and his lovely wife caring for the native peoples. Perfection for the publicity machines.’

  Ernest looked pleased.

  ‘I would like to go back,’ Junie admitted. ‘There is so much to be done.’

  ‘You mean money to be spent,’ said Ernest, folding the paper back up.

  Felicity agreed. ‘The poor always cry poor. They have two nurses and this doctor of yours building a nice little bamboo hospital. How much more do they really need?’ That made a few at the table laugh but Junie was unimpressed.

  ‘For a start, they need more equipment.’

  ‘Enough for now, ladies,’ Ernest said. ‘Let’s talk of something more pleasant than sick natives, shall we? Who has any other topics for discussion?’

  Junie opened her mouth to argue but Marlon intercepted. ‘Actually, I do.’

  ‘As long as it doesn’t involve government funding, talk away,’ Ernest said, pouring more wine.

  ‘Actually it’s an opportunity to make money. Potentially a great deal,’ Marlon said and the table turned towards him.

  ‘We are all the ears,’ said Philippe.

  Marlon reached under the table and picked up his bag. ‘As you know, our friend Pukz is a curious lad, and he found something a few months back. Something he has shared with me. I have hesitated to act on it until now but I can’t think of a better time, especially as I need each of you involved if this is to succeed. A mining expert, a government official and perhaps a financial backer,’ he added, nodding at Philippe, Ernest and Miles in turn.

  ‘If what is to succeed?’ asked Felicity.

  ‘An expedition.’ Marlon took the clay gourd out of his bag and placed it on the table, opening the lid. ‘It seems there truly are riches to be found in Shangri-La.’

  They stared into the gourd as Marlon’s meaning began to descend.

  ‘Is that…?’

  ‘Oil,’ Marlon confirmed.

  That had the group’s full attention, especially Philippe’s.

  ‘Where did he find it?’

  ‘About three days’ walk into uncharted parts, he said, deep into the valley. His party were afraid of it,’ Marlon told them, nodding at the gourd, ‘said it looked like the earth was bleeding black blood – but Pukz collected some and brought it back anyway. Then when he saw me checking the oil in the engine one day, he ran and got this to show me.’

  That explained those ambiguous comments near the plane, Junie realised.

  ‘Any idea how much?’ Felicity asked, her excitement palpable as Marlon handed Philippe the sample.

  ‘No, just that it sits in a flat area near a bend in the river. Like a wound, Pukz said, or that was the best translation I could figure out.’

  ‘Seems the valley holds more than a few secrets,’ Eliza said, looking at Junie while Philippe passed the sample along to Ernest.

  ‘Well, if there is potential for mining, then I owe it to the people of New Guinea and Australia to investigate,’ he announced. ‘Who knows? Could have a positive effect on the economy. My duties would prevent me from actually going myself but I’m sure I can get government approval for an expedition.’

  ‘I would be willing to help form a party. Of course we’ll need a geologist,’ Philippe said.

  ‘I feel I must remind you before we go any further that this part of the country is untouched and unmapped, and the natives reputedly very war-like. I have no idea how they may react to us.’

  There was silence as the others reflected on Marlon’s words.

  ‘Can you get help from your contacts at Wamena?’ Philippe asked.

  ‘Some,’ Marlon said. ‘I’m confident Pukz will oblige – that man has no fear. My friend Joseph will be invaluable too – he’s an excellent tracker and grew up in the jungle. Who else? A few carriers, I suppose, and a medic –’

  ‘An armed escort?’ Felicity suggested.

  ‘I don’t think it would do well to appear like we’re invading, but we will need to be armed, yes.’

  Miles nodded at the gourd, making up his mind. ‘Well I, for one, won’t be going on this bloody expedition of yours, however I would be willing to finance it,’ he said. ‘But top secret all right? Not a word of this outside this room. And we’ll need a contract drawn up.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I can help with that,’ Junie said.

  ‘No, we’ll get a barrister,’ Miles said, dismissing her offer.

  Ernest nodded. ‘I’ll get Smythe down at the embassy to take care of it.’

  ‘So is it official? Are we in?’ Philippe asked, hand in the air, and one by one, each man raised his.

  ‘An expedition into the jungles of New Guinea to search for black gold,’ Eliza announced dramatically. ‘You know, boys, I think I’m actually excited for you.’

  ‘I’m excited for all of us,’ said Felicity, giggling.

  ‘To treasure hunting!’ said Philippe.

  Marlon toasted but he was watching Junie. Yes, to treasure hunting, she said to him silently. In whatever form that took down in the valleys of Shangri-La.

  Perhaps it was the wine wearing off, or more likely the number of issues playing on her mind, but Junie couldn’t sleep. What she wouldn’t give to be able to go on that expedition herself, but of course it was out of the question. She wondered if Marlon would have revealed his secret today if it was his only motivation for going down the valley, or if he would have waited. She knew something was bothering him about this trip, more than just the dangers.

  Tossing aside the sheets she gave up on sleep and went in search of some hot milk in the kitchen.

  ‘Stay,’ she said to Digger, patting his sleepy head as he looked at her questioningly.

  The clock chimed one and she realised she had forgotten to tell Ernest he’d had a call from the embassy to say that his meeting time had changed for tomorrow. Damn, she thought, chances were she’d sleep in and forget to tell him in the morning. She headed to his office, where he’d likely be asleep in his chair.

  ‘It may all work in our favour,’ she heard a voice say from inside the room and she was surprised to hear it was Eliza’s. At one in the morning? she thought, confused, but for some reason Junie didn’t push the slightly ajar door and enter. She
looked through the crack instead.

  ‘Overnight as a one-off was all right but this seems extreme. She could be there for weeks.’

  ‘Only one week, by the sounds of things, and John is there and his staff. And with the men heading up there anyway it is a perfect opportunity for her to visit the clinic,’ Eliza said, ‘and the publicity continues. A win-win, I’d say.’

  Ernest stood and walked over to the window. ‘I suppose I could send a bodyguard or something.’

  ‘I doubt that’s necessary. You’ve met them – they’re a friendly people.’

  ‘It’s not only the natives I worry about,’ he grunted into his scotch.

  ‘Don’t be jealous, darling. It doesn’t suit you,’ Eliza said, lighting a cigarette. ‘Besides the men will be off in the jungle most of the time. Focus on what I’m saying. It’s good for your image: caring ambassador’s wife continues her work with the natives and all that rot.’

  Junie smiled. Eliza was getting her as close as she could to that expedition, which was something at least. She was a true friend.

  ‘And what exactly are you getting out of this, vixen?’ Ernest asked, his words freezing Junie’s hand as she went to push open the door.

  She watched in shock as Eliza slipped onto the desk and pulled Ernest in between her legs.

  ‘You to myself, of course.’

  ‘Always the bad girl,’ he said, unbuttoning his shirt.

  ‘Guess that’s why I can’t resist such a bad man.’

  Junie walked the halls in a daze, finding her way back to the bedroom and laying on the coverlet. Some part of her wondered if they used her bed when they had their trysts. At least someone was having sex in it, she thought, then began to cry.

  She sobbed for a long time, hugging her legs like a child, the grief wrenching from her. Not for her marriage or Ernest. Not even for the betrayal. She cried because Katie had been right all along. Eliza had never been Junie’s friend; it had always been about what she could get out of her. Keeping the enemy close so you could blind her from the truth. Offering her friendship because it made it easier to keep her lover – they were always in the same place.