can get him out, well, that’s for you to decide. We will help you so far but no more. We are not soldiers, we are not heroes, we just try to make a living. This is your war, not ours. You want to be Rambo, fine, go ahead, but me, I’m just a simple boy who doesn’t want trouble.’
‘I’m just a simple girl who doesn’t want trouble either. But when people come to my farm and kill my parents and then, as if that isn’t enough, they come back and kidnap my little brother — ’
He held up his hands. ‘All right, all right, I know these are not good things, but in war bad things happen, OK? We better get you some breakfast. I’m a good cook. You tell me what you want, I make it for you.’
I grinned. ‘I didn’t expect someone to be cooking breakfast for me.’
‘Ah, that’s life, huh? Always surprises. You like toast? Eggs?’
CHAPTER 11
Although the stir-crazy feelings I got in this narrow little building were nothing compared to the feelings I’d had in the hay bales, they were still pretty bad. Toddy had gone out nearly four hours earlier, saying not to move till he came back, but at the same time, if a kid with a Fremantle Dockers shirt could walk around this town, surely I could? If I’d brought my Bulldogs top I’d have worn that, cos that’s got to be better than a Dockers top any day, but I didn’t know how aware these people were of the subtleties of football. To be honest I don’t care much about it myself but it had given me a warm and fuzzy feeling to see that purple and green and red, and the white anchor.
I decided to give Toddy the full four hours but when he still hadn’t turned up after four hours and five minutes, I wrote him a note saying 2.05 pm. I figured I’d better not put any details about who I was, or where I was going, in case the wrong person found the note. Then I took a deep breath and went downstairs and through the back door into the courtyard.
A narrow alley got me into the street and as soon as I came into the bright sunlight I did my best to look relaxed and at home, like I walked down this street every second day of my life. Oh yeah, this was Wirrawee, this was Stratton, this is just me everyone, don’t take any notice, it’s just little old Ellie, I mean Paula, off for a stroll.
It worked for about a millisecond.
I turned right, walked about three steps, looked up and around, and nearly panicked. There wasn’t a single other foreigner on the street but there sure were a lot of people who looked right at home. Once upon a time I would have been right at home in this town too, and not so long ago either, but it didn’t seem to count any more.
I forced myself to keep walking, but at the same time wished I were back in the middle of the haystack. My senses felt overwhelmed. The eyes were copping it, through the sight of hundreds of people, all obviously different to me. When we’d arrived the street had been quite calm and peaceful, but things had warmed up now, and the crowds were out and about. My ears copped it from the voices all around me, which sounded harsh and high- pitched, and which talked so fast that I felt like I was in a washing machine of sound. The conversations were punctuated every twenty seconds by a long blast or a series of bips from a car horn, as taxis and cars and motorbikes argued for priority. My nose copped it from a strange, slightly mouldy smell, which could have been a sewerage pipe gone wrong, or could have been just the typical lunch fragrances drifting from the restaurants.
I didn’t know, and in my narrow life I didn’t have enough to compare it with.
At least my sense of taste and my sense of touch were getting off pretty lightly, although people bumped into each other much more than I was used to. The first few times it happened to me I apologised, but no-one else seemed to bother, so I gave up.
People certainly looked at me, but not with the piercing stare of the girl on the motorbike. They glanced, looked away, and then often looked back, not suspiciously I thought, or hoped, but more like they were asking themselves, ‘Hmm, who’s she? Haven’t seen her before.’
Of course that was not the kind of look I wanted to attract. I felt myself going red every time it happened, which meant that I stayed red most of the time, as it happened so often.
My mind was in too much turmoil for me to think. Instead I ploughed on, not yet ready to form opinions as to whether I should keep going or cross the road or go back or jump up on one of the cafe tables on the footpath and dance an Irish jig.
I made myself walk to the end of the block, and cross over at the intersection, then come back on the other side. It took all that time for my heart to beat a little slower, and for my breathing to get a bit steadier. I still felt as though I were the centre of attention, and I wasn’t wrong about that. But so far nothing horrible had happened, and the attention still seemed to be curious, not threatening.
Then something horrible did happen. I was coming towards the open doors of what looked like a supermarket, and I was slowing down, thinking I’d have a look in there, and maybe even try to find the nerve to go in and buy something. Jeremy had said everyone loved American dollars, and I could use them at street stalls even. I thought it would be good for my confidence to go in and get some chewing gum or Pepsi or bananas, anything that was universal and uncomplicated and noncontroversial. Asking what size bottles Absolut vodka came in, for example, wasn’t on my agenda.
As I came to a stop, feeling the money in my pockets with one hand, wondering if I should take the plunge, a couple of young guys in uniform suddenly appeared at my right elbow. I think they had been leaning against the wall of the building, but they had been blocked from my view by a woman selling cigarettes and matches from a little trolley. One of the men clicked his fingers at me and held out his hand. I’d been warned by Jeremy that this might happen, and it was the signal to produce my ID. I let go of the money and fumbled in my other pocket, dragged out my mother’s wallet and showed him the cards that Toddy had already inspected.
There’s something about people in uniform. I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t just apply to cops and soldiers. With me, it applies to anyone umpiring a game or behind the counter of a shop or driving a bus. I guess it’s one of the reasons companies issue uniforms to their employees. It immediately gives them authority, and makes people like me nervous. I didn’t actually need a lot more to be nervous about. I had enough stuff on my list already. So even though I’d practised in my mind many times, before I left home and during the truck ride and while I was upstairs at Toddy’s place, how I’d handle a situation like this, I couldn’t stay cool and calm and casual while these guys looked me over. I know I went red again; I found it impossible to look at either of them, and my head dropped a little, like I knew I was guilty and was willing to come along quietly to whatever cell they had reserved for me.
They didn’t say a word. One of them, the one who snapped his fingers, just seemed to be reading the data, and very slowly at that. The other one read it as well, over his friend’s shoulder. Around us the pedestrian traffic continued to move, parting like a river does around a rock, but if I was getting curious glances before, I was getting a hundred times more of them now. I suppose when people see someone being stopped or questioned, they immediately assume the person’s committed a couple of murders at least. A lot of time passed. Seemed like years. Another five minutes and I would have reached menopause. The first soldier said something, but I couldn’t understand it. I croaked, ‘What?’ and glanced up at him, our eyes meeting for the first time. I went even redder. He didn’t look much older than me, but he looked very smart, although that could have just been his dark glasses.
‘Where you live, Paula?’ he said.
I understood then why some people confess everything so easily when they get arrested. In answer to his question, I was almost ready to sob, ‘I’m not Paula, you know I’m not, I’m Ellie, and I’m probably on your ten- most-wanted list for all the damage I did during the war and all the soldiers I killed.’
Instead, I found enough sense to croak again, giving him Paula’s address.
The only thought I could summon to my brain was the word ‘Gavin’ and I kept trying to say that to myself to remember why I was here and that I was on the side of good things, positive things, nice things like saving someone who deserved a break for once in his young life. The soldier looked so sceptical when I said my address that I wondered if he knew something I didn’t, like that the house had been pulled down or my street had been wiped out in an earthquake. I had an insane impulse to run, and would have, if I’d been able to think of anywhere to go. As it was I had to push my feet into the ground to make myself stay, and squeeze my fingernails hard into the palm of my hand.
