The Birthmark

by Beth Montgomery

  ‘It’s great up here, Hector. It’s worth the climb.’

  ‘I know. It’s my special place.’

  Hector looked at her but he couldn’t catch her eye. She was totally absorbed by the view. He thought she looked so beautiful sitting with her knees drawn up under her chin, her face wet with rain.

  ‘How often have you been up here?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know. A few times. Ibu came up once. He found a metal lunchbox and a helmet, plus some broken bottles, but the climb’s too much for him now.’ He paused and looked at her again.

  ‘Hey guys, you should see what’s in here!’ Christina called from above.

  ‘She’s found the tunnel,’ Hector said, ‘come on.’

  He dropped back into the bunker and clambered through a narrow space that led back into the cliff. It was a passage that slanted upwards and was only a few metres long. Hector avoided the jagged flecks of rock that poked out along its length. The tunnel ended at the bottom of a natural basin, its sloping walls covered in ferns and saplings. Christina sat at the top of the basin wall, huddled under a tree for shelter.

  ‘The view’s even better from here!’ she shouted.

  Hector pulled himself to his feet and made for the nearest sapling. He hoisted himself up the trunk to gain a foothold on the rim of the basin. Like Christina, his head was up amongst the lowest branches of a huge bean tree. He squirmed as a large drop of water, disturbed from the leaves above, ran down his back.

  ‘Hey, Lil, you should see the view from up here. It’s like being on top of the trees.’

  ‘Yeah, you look like a monkey too.’

  Hector looked down and saw Lily’s head emerge from the small tunnel. He wondered if she’d make it all the way through, or if her arse would get stuck.

  ‘Shit, this wall scratches,’ she said as she pulled herself clear and stood up. She rubbed at her left shoulder and noticed the rip that had appeared in her T-shirt. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed, spitting into the mossy ground.

  ‘I bet the marines had meetings here,’ Christina said. Lily gave her a blank look. ‘Maybe,’ she said.

  ‘I think they all got pissed here and fell asleep,’ Hector said.

  Lily blinked up at him through the raindrops. ‘You know you sound like your grandfather—all this war stuff.’

  ‘Well, don’t you ever think about it?’ he said. He didn’t want to look at her. She was taunting him, the bitch.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘at least I never used to.’ Her voice dropped and was hard to hear over the spattering rain. She mumbled something about the sword.

  Hector let go of the tree and dropped to the floor of the basin beside her.

  ‘What did you say?’ he said.

  ‘I said I’ve only started thinking about it since we found the sword.’ She looked away from him, back towards the small entrance hole. ‘I don’t like it, Hector. I don’t want to think about it at all.’

  Hector felt helpless. He wanted to comfort her, tell her it was OK, but nothing came out of his mouth. He watched her kneel down, ready to crawl back into the tunnel.

  ‘I’m going back, it’s creepy up here,’ she said. ‘Come on, Christina.’

  Christina slid back down to the tunnel entrance. She followed Lily out the tight exit.

  Hector shrugged off a feeling of unease. He looked around the basin one last time. Something dull brown and smooth caught his eye a third of the way up the mossy wall to his right. He reached out and pulled at the half-buried object. It was another bottle just like the one Lily had found, but this one wasn’t damaged. Hector was pleased with his find. He would take it back to Ibu. Then the old man would feel that he had been part of the exploration. He tried to wipe off the black soil and moss. He peered inside the neck and saw nothing but filth.

  ‘I wonder who drank from you, long ago?’ he whispered into the neck.

  A breeze picked up, swirling around the basin like a tiny wind funnel. It seemed to whisper in answer to his question. ‘Egirow, Egirow,’ he thought it said. He shuddered as a tremor ran down his spine.

  fifteen

  Baringa District

  6 March 1943

  Alarmed, Tepu let himself slide backwards. Dirt and stones flew down on him; rocks tore at his skin. He fell with a slap against a small ledge, but he did not cry out. Ignoring the pain in his hip, he pulled himself in against the cliff face and cradled his head in his hands.

  Above him the Japanese hurried to the edge of the cliff. Revolver shots rang out in the darkness. Some whistled past Tepu and ricocheted off the rocks. He heard marines calling out, shouting orders at one another. Within moments a strong beam of light swept over the drop and the shooting ceased.

  Tepu prayed to his ancestors that he wouldn’t be found. But where was Tarema? Had he been shot in that first spray of wild gunfire? Tepu berated himself for bringing him here. He should have tried harder to stop Tarema.

  There was a flutter of wings. Brushing past Tepu, they ascended the cliff accompanied by shrill chirruping. Tepu dared not look up but he knew they were black noddies, swooping around the cliff face distracting the marines.

  The searchlight withdrew and the voices returned to the familiar tones of laughter and banter.

  Tepu lay there for what seemed like hours. When he could no longer hear the Japanese, he extracted himself from his hiding place. He felt his way back down the cliff. Each time he extended his leg to the right he grimaced from the pain in his hip.

  Tepu estimated he was near the end of his descent when he heard someone breathing. He pressed himself against the cliff and listened carefully. There it was again, close by to the left. Whoever it was, they were hidden by the scrub that grew at the base of the cliff.

  Tepu’s veins pulsed with fear. Was it Tarema, lying half dead on the slope? Or was it a marine, waiting to ambush him. If it were Tarema, Tepu’s indecision could mean death. If it were a marine, however, surely he would have fired by now.

  Tepu crawled towards the sound and whispered Tarema’s name.

  ‘You made it at last,’ groaned his brother.

  ‘Are you all right? Can you walk?’ Tepu said, groping towards him.

  Tarema lay inert, covered in rubble. ‘I think my ribs are broken. When I breathe it hurts. I wanted to go home but I was worried they’d shot you. I decided to lie here until dawn so I could see what happened to you.’

  Tepu gripped his brother’s arm affectionately. ‘Well we’re both alive. The black noddies saved us. The Japs thought it was only birds making a commotion.’

  Again the noddies had come to Tepu’s aid. He felt the black stone against his thigh. He was certain the stone was protecting him, keeping him alive for a special purpose. Though what that purpose was, he still wasn’t sure.

  Ring Road

  Wednesday 30 June 2004

  The rain had stopped and Lorelei wiped the seat of her scooter with the hem of her skirt. She sat heavily on the cushioned seat, balanced a plastic bag of groceries on the floor, and turned the ignition. The scooter lurched forward and she weaved it through the supermarket carpark, dodging potholes filled with brown water.

  She turned to the right, onto the open road and headed for home via Yamek and Baringa Bay. Little clouds of steam floated up from the slick black bitumen before her. There was no traffic on the road. Lorelei liked the northern part of the island because there were so few houses and the road was more scenic. She loved the rise up to Yamek and the view from the top of the hill down into Baringa Bay. The waves crashing against the pinnacles in the bay sparkled in the sunlight and the breeze was soothing against her face.

  Sometimes, on days like today and paydays, her surroundings became animated. The pinnacles looked like black giants emerging from the reef; the coconut palms stood in clusters like tall thin ladies bowing to one another and whispering. When Lorelei was a child, her family came out to the bay and went swimming or collected shellfish on the reef.

  They often went to Baringa Bay or further ar
ound to Leper Beach, where Aunt Edouwe had once lived. Lorelei’s mother, Rita, had no memory of Edouwe, her eldest sister. Rita was only six months old when the Japanese rounded up her mother and three other siblings and shipped them north to Truk in the Caroline Islands. That was during the war, when the fighting was at its worst. They spent more than two years on Truk in crowded conditions with little to eat, but at least they were with other Tevuans.

  Rita was still a small child when she returned to Tevua. No one told her much about her sister Edouwe or her grandparents—people just said they died, drowned somehow. But a lot of people died during the war, even Rita’s mother and one of her brothers. They were buried in Truk. Rita and her two surviving sisters were reunited with their father. He had been forced to work for the Japanese. They never talked about the war. The family losses were too great and too painful. Well that’s what Rita and her sisters had always said.

  As a child Lorelei would wade along the reef with her mother and aunties. They would hunt amongst the shallow water for tasty ebon and octopus. If they found anything delicious Rita would prise the seafood from the rocks, put it in a small basin and give thanks to God. Then she would say a silent prayer over the reef in the direction of Leper Beach. It was for their lost Aunt Edouwe, Rita would say. Lorelei even suspected her mother cried as she prayed, but she always wiped her wet hands across her face and Lorelei never knew if it was tears or sea water.

  The sad moments were brief because Eldon would always be with them, still too young to go out with the men and their nets. He never failed to find a velvet black sea slug, force it to disembowel itself, then throw it at his sisters. Gertrude and Eide wouldn’t flinch, but Lorelei ran screaming up the beach hounded by the laughter of her siblings. She had hated sea slugs ever since.

  Just past the Baringa restaurant Lorelei turned her head and caught sight of movement near the old car wrecks. Teenagers hanging around as usual.

  Lily? Was that her? What was she doing there with that white girl and that brat of a kid, Hector? They were at the jeep though, must be with his crazy grandfather. Lorelei had half a mind to turn back but thought better of it. She’d deal with Lily when they were at home, she’d make her see reason. The stupid girl thought she wouldn’t be spotted eh? Shit girl, what does she think she’s doing, going round with that thief? You can’t wander around with a boy in broad daylight, what would people think? They’d all call you a trut. Why, oh why didn’t Lily stay home and study? Why did she always go off on her own and skip school? She was never home. Lorelei’s mouth twisted. She was pissed off now. Such a short burst of happiness and now Lily had gone and spoilt it all.

  At home, she bolted down a few beers and waited for Lily to return. No one else was home. She played patience and smoked while she waited, looking up all the time at the wall clock. Lorelei had always admired the clock, one of her most prized possessions. The love heart shape was rimmed with a thick gold casing, so beautiful and shiny. It was a pity it hung against the wall smeared with mould. Lorelei fancied she was a bit like the clock: bright and special, in tatty surroundings.

  Time dawdled and still Lily hadn’t returned. The sound of a car pulling up out the front jolted Lorelei back to the present. A horn tooted.

  ‘Lorelei! You there?’ came Daphne’s voice.

  Lorelei waddled over to the kitchen door and made her way outside. A rusty sedan idled under the fig tree. The driver was Eide’s sister-in-law, Ruby, and in the back sat Lily and the white girl.

  Daphne called to her from the passenger seat, ‘You coming with us? Eide’s real sick. She’s flying out tomorrow. We’re going to the hospital to see her now.’ She gestured to the back seat, ‘We’ve got Lil with us.’

  All her fury drained at the sight of them. There was no way she was going to tell her daughter off now, not with her sister so sick and hospital visits on everyone’s mind. Lily had fooled her again. Lorelei snorted and wiped at her face.

  sixteen

  Yamek District

  11 March 1943

  A Tevuan Elder visited the camp one evening just as the air cooled and the sun was low in the sky.

  ‘The Tevuan Chief has given instructions,’ he said, ‘all girls of marriageable age in Tevua must get married. It’s his plan, to make sure girls are protected, that they each have a man providing for them.’

  ‘How will they marry when we must keep to the curfew and there is so little food?’ one of the camp residents asked.

  ‘There will be no feast. If couples are willing, then the boy will go and stay with her at her home. The union will be recognised. Every girl who has reached womanhood is encouraged to find a husband.’

  What about Edouwe? thought Tepu. She must have been his age or older. She would be forced to marry. If only she would marry him, Tepu, and not some other boy. The idea of her with someone else made his stomach knot. No, he would ask Edouwe. But how would he find time alone with her? Even before the war, custom demanded a chaperone. He needed to gauge her feelings. If she refused his offer he would surely die inside. But if he didn’t move quickly, he would probably miss out.

  Tevua International Airport

  Mawendo District

  Thursday 1 July 2004

  ‘What time’s the flight?’ Amos asked Lily.

  They sat together in the parked Landrover waiting for Decima and her family to arrive. They’d left Lorelei sleeping at home. She’d been up all night at the hospital with her sister, Eide, so that the rest of the family could get some sleep before the flight out.

  Amos sat behind the steering wheel with a can of beer lodged between his fat thighs and a cloud of cigarette smoke wafting about his face.

  ‘I think it leaves at one o’clock,’ Lily said. She wished it wasn’t going at all. Lily hated the airport. It was one of the hottest places on the island because the tarmac reflected the morning glare back into the atmosphere. By midday the heat stole your every breath and tears of sweat rolled down your face. But worse than that were the goodbyes. A lot of people never came back, especially teachers and sick relatives.

  She wished her mother would fly away forever. She wished it were Lorelei, half dead on the aeroplane, flying to Melbourne. The stupid bitch thought she loved Hector. Dumb shit Hector, as if she would run off into the forest and screw him! As if she would screw anyone. Except maybe one day. One day she might. Her thoughts drifted to Jonah.

  Jonah, Jonah, Jonah—would he be there today? She couldn’t think straight. Too much was going through her mind: Jonah’s invitation, her mother’s threats, Decima going away, Eldon always hanging around the house, and the ghost. Don’t leave me, Decima, she thought. How can I be safe without you? She shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable, but the heat and anxiety made her feel sick.

  ‘It’s too hot in here,’ she said, opening the door of the Landrover with a creak. ‘I’m going over to the departure lounge.’

  Amos snorted and opened his door as well. ‘I’ll be over at The Jade Horse,’ he said pointing to the nearest restaurant. ‘Come and get me when you’re ready to go home.’

  Lily dropped from the Landrover and scuffed over to the shade outside the lounge area. She slid her purple hand into the small of her back and leant against the wall. The red bricks were cool against her arms.

  Within minutes a parade of passengers walked past. Chinese men with enormous matching suitcases rushed through the doors. An old European man in a suit hobbled along, raking his fingers through his thin yellowed hair. His sharp nose looked lumpy and raw from the sun. Some barefooted Gilbertese women padded past, wearing smocking blouses and colourful lava lavas. Strands of black hair, which refused to be pulled back neatly, framed their chiselled features. A Chinese woman and her baby followed. No arse—why did some women have no arse? Eventually a green sedan pulled into the front carpark. As Decima’s family tumbled out, Lily wandered over to help. She picked up the nearest striped canvas bag and lugged it towards the airport doors while Decima babbled away in her ear.

/>   ‘I can’t wait to go. The last time I went to Australia I was ten. I bet it’s different now.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go,’ said Lily.

  ‘I know, but don’t worry, I’ll bring you back a present. Something special, something blue. You still like blue, don’t you?’

  ‘Or some magazines,’ Lily said, thinking of her special blue box. There were always pictures of hands in magazines: hands with rings, hands holding drinks, hands of celebrities, beautiful hands. Lily smiled and nudged her friend.

  Decima’s younger sisters brushed past them, racing for the air-conditioned haven of the check-in area. They were both dressed in brand new clothes and looked so clean their skin almost shone.

  ‘Where’s your mum?’ Lily asked Decima.

  ‘They’re bringing her from the hospital by ambulance.’ ‘Is she any better?’

  Decima looked at her impassively. ‘I think, I hope…’ ‘She’ll be fine. You’ll be with her.’ Lily’s voice sounded flat and she wished she hadn’t asked. She sighed and squeezed Decima’s hand.

  Decima tried to smile but Lily sensed she would cry instead. She let her walk off towards the check-in counter.

  Later, as they sat together waiting for the boarding call, private fears overwhelmed them both. Lily had no idea how to comfort her friend; she had no words to say but empty ones. They hugged their goodbyes at the departure doors gave each other a feeble high-five. They both knew they mustn’t cry.

  After the plane faded into the sky, Lily walked up the steps onto the balcony at The Jade Horse. It was the best Chinese restaurant on the island because it had air conditioning, toilets, décor, music and, best of all from Amos’s point of view, beer. The balcony was a shady oasis that filtered out the harsh rays from the runway. Lily hesitated while her eyes adjusted to the shadows. Sweat trickled down her neck and the back of her knees.

  Amos was drinking with a couple of friends. Some plastic meal containers and a big plate of half-eaten rice littered the table in front of them. As Lily came closer she saw a fly crawling on the remnants of the mound of rice. Amos brushed it away. They still hadn’t noticed her. Dumb drunk bastards.