Suzanne looks into Julia’s eyes. ‘You know – before I died. I didn’t want to have died and not experienced it.’
‘You’re not going to die,’ says Julia. ‘Not for many, many years.’
Suzanne smiles a small, sad smile. It’s an unconvinced smile.
‘And so?’ asks Julia.
‘And so?’ echoes Suzanne.
‘And so, what was it like?’
‘What was it like? I’m wondering what all the fuss is about.’
After a long pause, she continues.
‘You know ... what you told me ... about the films you were in. You weren’t making that up, were you?’
‘No,’ Julia says softly. ‘I wasn’t making it up. It’s true.’
She’s not sure where this is leading.
‘So you’ve done it a lot more than me. What’s it been like for you?’
‘Overrated,’ says Julia.
She takes her arm off Suzanne’s shoulder. She looks away.
‘There’s something else I need to tell you, Suzanne,’ Julia says. ‘I don’t know where to start with this really but when I was young ... my father –’
‘I know that,’ Suzanne blurts out.
‘You know? How do you know?’
‘Especially when you told me about the films. It was like everything – the way you are, what happened ... what happened between you and me ... it all made sense. Everything fell into place.’
‘But –’
‘When you met me, you thought I was an innocent in the world.’
Julia is so stunned she can only nod.
‘I was a virgin, Julia. That didn’t necessarily make me innocent. I had a lot of time while I was in that attic to think. To think about the world. To think about evil. I came to realise how blessed I was – that the childhood I had had was not the one that many people have. Once I unlocked that door into the world of evil, I saw it was a bottomless pit – that there was no end to the bad things that people could do. I’m sorry – I’m talking too much. You go on.’
‘Before ... before it happened ... before the first time – I can remember so clearly, I was just a happy little kid. You know, you’re born and of course you don’t remember the first few years but then suddenly you’re aware and you’re in the world. And everything just is. Your parents, the house where you live, your room, the bed you sleep in. Everything. And meals appear and people give you presents and it’s not so much that you take it for granted, although I suppose you do. It’s that it just all seems to be right and it makes up the world. Your world. And every day you do things and there seem to be no restrictions or limits.
‘When you go to school, the first restrictions happen. But even then – you’ve got all that time outside of school. And the holidays. So you put up with school – it’s a bit of an inconvenience. But you still have all that time to live your life and be in the world that seems to be just there for your entertainment. Do you know what I’m talking about? Does this make sense?’
Suzanne nods, her eyes soft, the sides of her mouth turned up in the gentlest of smiles. ‘That’s just what it was like for me.’
‘And so then, he did this to me. It doesn’t matter how or when or how old I was. Just that I was a kid. And it changed everything. Everything.’
Suzanne takes the nearest one of Julia’s hands in both of hers. Julia looks down at her other hand. It seems so alone. Just like her. Just like everything, all her life, she has been alone. She passes the other hand across and Suzanne takes that too, holding them both as though she were cupping a pair of birds.
‘I had thought ... I’m sure every kid thinks it – that I was beautiful. In fact, you don’t really even think it. It’s just another one of those things that you take for granted. It just is. Everyone else is and you are. Sure, people might call you names or do nasty things to you but their faces, their bodies – they’re just part of all the wonderfulness of the world. But after that, after that first time, I knew I wasn’t beautiful. If somebody could do that to me, then how could I be?’
Suzanne squeezes Julia’s hands.
‘And after that I was different from everybody else. I carried around this terrible secret. I used to imagine it like a black goblin on my back. Grinning. Laughing. And the worst part ... you know what the worst part was?’
Suzanne’s eyes ask the question. What? What was the worst part?
‘The worst part was that I knew I was to blame.’
‘No, Julia. No.’
Julia continues. She is starting to feel tears coming. She looks down at the dismal colour of the blanket they are sitting on. She takes her hands out of Suzanne’s.
‘I thought there was something about me...’
She bangs her hands on the mattress.
‘Or something I had done...’
She bangs them again. With each piece of the sentence she bangs them.
‘That had made him do this. I didn’t know what it was. I couldn’t even begin to work out what it was. Only that there was something ... something...’
Julia looks up into Suzanne’s face. Julia’s eyes are full of tears so that Suzanne’s face is not at all clear.
‘I still don’t know. I still don’t know what that something was that made him do that to me.’
‘Oh, Julia, come here to me, my sweet girl.’
Suzanne takes Julia in her arms and holds her as the tears finally start to flow freely. Suzanne rocks her gently and whispers to her. ‘My sweet child. My dear, sweet child.’
Julia doesn’t know how long they are like this. Eventually she eases herself away from Suzanne and wipes her eyes with her hands.
‘You know none of this was your fault,’ says Suzanne.
Julia nods a perfunctory nod. She’s stopped crying now.
‘So you can see – those films I made. They made complete sense. It was the only career for somebody like me. If it was all right for him to do it, it was all right for anybody and everybody to do it.’
Julia is finished. She has said everything she wanted to say. She feels like she has vomited. But it has been good vomiting. The vomiting after food poisoning. Something very bad inside her has come out.
For a long time neither of them says anything. But there is nothing awkward about the silence. Rather, Julia feels a great closeness to Suzanne. As if reading her thoughts, Suzanne says, ‘I’m glad you told me.’
‘I’m glad I told you too. It’s been inside me for too long.’
Somebody shouts that lights out will be in fifteen minutes. Tonight, for some reason, the queue for the bathroom isn’t so long. The two girls go to the toilet, wash, and brush their teeth. They return to their bunk and climb back up. Julia notices all these little activities as though they were happening for the first time. It is a strange feeling – as though she has never carried out these rituals a thousand times before.
They climb into bed. The weather is warm enough now that there is no longer any need for winter’s spooning. They lie face to face. They are both smiling. A tiny smile of happiness on Suzanne’s face. Julia feels her own to be weary. The lights go out. They move more closely together until they are embracing. They intertwine their legs.
And this is how they fall asleep.
37
Julia and Suzanne are stuck. They are stuck and they are arguing.
The story has ground to a halt. Suzanne explains that she thought she had done a really smart thing by having Birkita get into the bull Roman’s family but now she doesn’t see how it helped. Julia doesn’t either. It’s made the whole revenge thing much more complicated.
Julia has an even worse feeling. She thinks that they might have taken a wrong turning a long way back – maybe even as far back as the whole lupanar business and now they have ended up in a cul-de-sac. She fears they will have to redo months of work and throw away what could be a hundred pages or more. She knows she wouldn’t have the strength for that. She’s desperate to save what they have.
She says that i
t’s all about what kind of ending they want – that that’s where they should be starting from. Are they going for a happy ending? Suzanne says she doesn’t know – it depends on what unfolds. Julia doesn’t agree. They should fix the ending and then ‘join up the dots’. And it should be a happy ending, Julia says. There’s enough horror and grimness around them. As she says it, she wonders if ‘grimness’ is a word.
The characters mightn’t allow that to happen, Suzanne says.
‘Damn the characters,’ replies Julia, ‘They’ll do what we tell them to do.’
‘That’s just the thing,’ says Suzanne. ‘They won’t. Not now. Not now that we’ve come this far with them.’
And this remark stops Julia in her tracks. Suzanne’s right – they won’t. The characters are doing whatever they want now.
Julia tries another approach.
‘So what do the characters want then?’ she asks.
‘Birkita wants revenge and to find some happiness. I think she also wants not to be alone any more – to find a new family in some way.’
‘Maybe she needs to become pregnant then,’ says Julia.
‘Maybe,’ says Suzanne.
It is the first sign of agreement they have had since they started this discussion.
‘And Galena wants safety for herself and her girls,’ Suzanne finishes.
‘She could get that now,’ says Julia. ‘Birkita, Galena and the girls flee when the bull Roman is off drinking with his friends. Birkita burns the farm. Revenge, happiness, safety.’
‘Or,’ Julia continues. ‘She cuts off the bull Roman’s penis while he sleeps, then they flee.’
Suzanne starts to giggle at this.
‘That’d be revenge all right,’ she says.
‘Well maybe not,’ says Julia. ‘But we could finish it now. We’re very close.’
‘We’re not,’ says Suzanne. ‘We’re not very close at all.’
‘Why not?’
‘We have to build up the tension to some incredible climax.’
‘We’ve already done that,’ says Julia. ‘Look at what Birkita’s been through.’
‘Yes, but that has to be nothing compared to what she has to go through next.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘I am. I am serious.’
Julia just wants to be done with the whole thing. To have it finished and then the war finished and just have a proper meal. One meal. Just one – with four courses – an appetizer, main course, dessert and cheese. And some wine. If she could just have that, she would die happy.
‘It’ll do,’ she says. ‘What we’ve done will do.’
The shocked look that appears on Suzanne’s face is as though Julia has just slapped her. That expression turns to outrage.
‘Don’t ever ... ever ... say that again,’ she says. ‘Not about our book.’
They started this discussion as soon as they got up this morning. It continued over breakfast. They have been on their way to work for the last few minutes of it. Now they both go silent and stay like that for the rest of the way. Adolf gives them separate assignments and they don’t see each other until evening when they are handing back their tools. It has been a warm day and Julia stinks of sweat and is weak from hunger. She salivates at the thought of food.
‘Cut off his penis while he sleeps,’ says Suzanne as they walk back to the barracks. ‘I’d like to cut off Adolf’s penis while he sleeps.’
Julia has just about enough energy to laugh.
‘If you like I’ll write the next chapter,’ says Suzanne.
‘That would be good,’ says Julia. ‘I don’t think I have the strength for it right now.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
The Farm Again (Suzanne)
Birkita learned from Galena that the bull Roman’s name was Lucius, but Birkita continued to think of him as the bull Roman. He had quite a large amount of land – all of it stolen from the Iceni – so there was plenty of work to be done. He was also a man who liked order. She had to admit that he cultivated the land well. His fields were neat, the rows of crops straight, his schedule for care and maintenance unbending. He also liked routine so that twice a week, without fail, he would go into Venta to drink with his friends. Galena said she dreaded those nights the most. Then, invariably, he would come home drunk and angry. She almost always got beatings on those nights.
One evening, after he had left, Galena came out of the farmhouse carrying grain for the chickens. Birkita had finished eating her food and sat against the wall of the barn, in the setting sun, her eyes closed. Colours swam before her eyes. A dark pink that boiled up to red. Then it changed into hundreds of tiny turquoise and dark green triangles. Wasn’t the body an amazing thing? Especially the eyes. They did so much – not just seeing but they were part of a person’s beauty. And they told you all kinds of things about the person themselves. When she heard Galena talking to the chickens, Birkita opened her eyes.
‘You’re alone for the evening,’ called Birkita.
‘For a few hours anyway,’ Galena said wearily.
She upended the bowl to empty out the last of the chicken feed and then came over and sat down with a loud sigh, next to Birkita. She was surprised – Galena had never done this before. The bruise on her face had almost faded away but her lip was cut from a more recent beating.
Galena closed her eyes and looked up at the sun, bathing her face. Birkita studied her. She could almost see the tension draining out of Galena’s face, so that it softened and became beautiful again, framed in the glossy black hair.
‘He’ll kill you if you stay with him,’ said Birkita. ‘You know that, don’t you? Eventually.’
Without opening her eyes, Galena said, ‘Yes, I know that.’
The unasked question hung in the air. It was a while before Galena answered it.
‘But by then maybe my two girls will be able to fend for themselves.’
‘What makes you think they’d be safe?’ asked Birkita. ‘The Romans kill children.’
Galena’s eyes flipped open. She looked into Birkita’s.
‘That was during the rebellion. They wouldn’t do it now. He wouldn’t do it. Maybe he doesn’t love them but he’s kind to them. He often brings them back little presents from his nights in town.’
‘And what about the presents he brings you? I hear him. I hear the two of you. What he’s doing to you.’
‘I told you – he gets angry that I’m not pregnant. I’ve been thinking lately that maybe I should let it happen. The only thing is ... if it turned out to be another girl ... he wouldn’t be happy about that. But maybe for nine months it would mean that he wouldn’t beat me. Not too much anyway.’ Galena closes her eyes again and returns her face to the sun.
‘You could escape,’ said Birkita.
‘How? Where to? Don’t be silly. He’d find me and then he’d kill me for sure. For making a fool of him in front of his friends.’
‘I could help you. We could go, the four of us. You, me, your girls.’
As she said this, Birkita wondered how much this was about her own vengeance and how much was about saving Galena.
‘What ... why would you do that?’ Galena asked. ‘Why would you want to help me? Why put yourself in danger like that?’
‘I have my reasons,’ said Birkita. ‘I hate the Romans.’
‘We all hate the Romans. But they’re here to stay. We may as well get used to it.’
‘We could go to a place where he would never find us.’
‘Like where?’
‘Gaul.’
Galena opens her eyes again. They are big and blue.
‘Across the sea. Are you crazy?’
‘I’m from there’ – the lie was easy – ‘It’s not too different from here.’
‘He’d come after us. He’d never stop until he found us. And then ... his revenge would be terrible.’
Birkita had hoped she wouldn’t have to say what she says next.
‘We could kill him. I ... I woul
d kill him. Burn the farmhouse with him inside. Pretend it was an accident.’
‘The Romans would never believe us. They’d say we did it. They’d crucify us – all of us. Even the girls.’
Birkita has a momentary, ghastly vision. She gives it one more try.
‘Kill him, burn the farmhouse and flee all in the same night.’
‘You’re mad, Birkita. They’d come after us. We’d all die. Stop talking like this.’
Without another word, Galena gets up, picks up her bowl and walks away.
38
‘You don’t have to write this chapter, Julia,’ Suzanne says. ‘I can write it.’
‘No. No. I want to ... I have to.’
Chapter Twenty-nine
The Farm at Night (Julia)
The sound of the barn door squealing open woke Birkita. She heard soft footsteps. For a few moments she thought she was back in the lupanar and Antonius or Cassius had come into her cubicle. But then her senses cleared and she remembered where she was. It was very dark with just some small squares of starlight where the windows were. Her knife was under her pillow. She reached in, took it in her hand and turned onto her back. She held the knife under her blanket.
The bull Roman was standing over her. She could smell him. Sweat and stale wine and urine.
‘You’re awake,’ he said.
His voice didn’t sound in the least drunk and suddenly, Birkita was very afraid.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
‘I just wanted to renew an old acquaintance,’ he said.
‘What old acquaintance?’
‘Oh, come now. Don’t play games with me. I knew that first time you came into the yard that I’d seen you before. It just took me a while to work it out. And then this evening, it came to me. A few of us were talking about the old times and then I remembered. I never forget a face. I always get them in the end. Yours just took me more time than most.
‘That village ... you had this sort of underground cave. The dog gave you away. You were the sister of the fellow we crucified. A real warrior. You, I mean – not your brother.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t you, indeed?’ Well, it doesn’t matter – because I just wanted to welcome you to the family. I think we’re going to be very happy here, the five of us together.’
The Paradise Ghetto Page 27
