Placing the newspaper on the seat beside her, she leant her forehead against the cool surface of the window and stared below—to the blue waters of the ocean. The plane passed low over a tiny island surrounded by a translucent reef, a dazzling mix of ochre and green silhouettes dancing beneath the surface, where dugout canoes and fishing boats trawled amongst the coral. In the distance, the never-ending Owen Stanley Ranges soared one upon another to mingle with the clouds. To Merryn they appeared almost mystical as the early morning light poured a halo of shining amber across their spectrum. Then the plane dropped altitude again as Moresby’s airport came into sight, a large corrugated iron shed standing in a dust bowl, its shiny roof a beacon. Surrounding the airstrip was the parched, khaki earth and dry savanna grasslands. It looked as though everything was badly sun burnt, and the lack of vegetation only added to the bareness of the view. What Merryn saw below her was in stark contrast to the lush tropical rainforest she had envisaged.
She braced against the seat in front as the plane skidded down the runway, screeched, and came to a halt. After a moment, the airhostess opened the door. Hot humid air filled the cabin, and it took only a second for Merryn’s makeup to melt and her straight hair to become soggy. Even the airhostess’s tight curls seemed to sag in an instant. It was a heat Merryn had never experienced before. She had read about it, of course, but never envisaged anything like this. She stood to get her bag from the locker above.
‘You forget what it’s like,’ said a gravel y v l oice behind her.
Turning around, she almost bumped head first into the man with the bulging eyes and smelled his sweat. He coughed from his feet up, and it was obvious he’d eaten a peppermint to disguise the whisky and cigarettes.
‘Think you’d remember,’ he said, stepping back to give her some room. ‘You don’t. Not until they open that bloody door. Then it comes back to you. Wonder how the hell you survive, but somehow you get used to it again.’
Merryn smiled and wiped her top lip. ‘Thank God for that.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. They came away clammy.
He noticed the sweating. ‘Your first time then?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Thought so...’
‘Oh! How can you tell?’
‘Reckoned you seemed...well...sort of anxious. Not looking forward to coming back to this place, then guessed it was your first time.’ He gave a hesitant smile. ‘Anyone meeting you?’
Merryn noticed he made little attempt to hide the hunger in his voice.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘A friend...in the army. He’s stationed at Karu Barracks.’ Yet as soon as she spoke, she regretted having disclosed so much.
‘The army, eh?’
Merryn nodded. ‘He’s with the Pacific Islands Regiment.’ She stood in silence, shifting from one foot to the other. After a moment, she decided not to elaborate any further.
He glanced at her bare ring finger. ‘You know him pretty well?’
Merryn raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’
He read the bafflement in her eyes. ‘Nothing. A bloke being curious, that’s all. At any rate, good to see you’ve a friend here. Moresby can be a bugger of a place at first. Mind you, most of the Aussie expats are kinda tame,’ he winked his right eye, ‘even those serving in the queen’s forces!’
Merryn smiled. ‘Well, that’s good to know.’
He lifted a liver-spotted hand, placing a large straw hat on his balding head. ‘You staying long?’ he asked.
Merryn shrugged. ‘Not sure...depends...on work and things.’
She stretched up for her bag, but even in her heels, she had trouble reaching.
‘Here...let me.’ He reached up and grabbed her red leather carryall from the small compartment, laying it on the seat. ‘By the way, name’s Ernie...Ernie Morris...from Tapini up in the highlands. However,’ he went on cheerfully, opening another locker to haul his own bag down, ‘I’m in Moresby most weeks.’
Merryn hesitated for a moment. Under normal circumstances, she would have held out her hand and given him a huge smile— introduced herself. But this wasn’t normal circumstances. He seemed a nice enough guy, but once she’d told him who she was, there’d be no stopping him. Next he’d want to know her life story. Where she came from? Who or what had brought her to Moresby? Was it the bloke meeting her?
She lifted her eyes to meet his. ‘Pleased to meet you, Ernie.’
Ignoring his searching look, she leant down and picked up her bag.
‘Need a hand?’
‘No thanks,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m fine.’ She gave him a half smile. ‘You never know then. Maybe I’ll see you around...when you’re in town sometime.’
Ernie looked a bit put out but managed a grin. ‘Yeah, you never can tell. After all, it ain’t such a big place.’
He left her then, having been around long enough to know a brush off when he saw one. Moving down the aisle, he squeezed his large frame between the seats. Now feeling guilty, Merryn called out after him and held up her carryall. ‘Thanks again, Ernie, and...hey...I’ll keep an eye out for you.’
He turned and grinned back, his parched skin crinkling in the corners of his devilish eyes. Making a mock bow, he tilted his hat. ‘Well, young lady, reckon I’ll be looking forward to that.’
Merryn saw him framed against the light seeping through the small windows—the mottled face with the five o’clock shadow, the brown shorts reaching just above his fleshy knees, the floral shirt loose enough to cover his ample stomach, and the big straw hat. She had a feeling that somewhere inside that body was a good-looking bloke grappling for a way out. She watched him weave between the other passengers and then lost sight of him.
Merryn stood back to let the remainder of the passengers pass. She was the last to leave the plane—usually was—for what was the point in rushing when it meant having to wait by the baggage trailer for one’s luggage? But today she had a different reason for holding back.
The humidity hit her in the face when she walked down the gangway, like stepping into a sauna. She gulped for air. None came. Although the sky was overcast and looked as though it may rain, she suspected it would not, for it was the dry season. She stopped for a moment and glanced towards the terminal, droplets of sweat running down her forehead and on to her jaw. Lots of people were waiting, waving, and calling out.
Jake wasn’t one of them.
Jake watched the T.A.A. plane circle overhead and followed it in as it landed. He opened the car door, levered his long frame out of the backseat, and walked around to the driver’s side. The scorching wind crackled the parched Kikuyu grass on the verge of the road, sending a spiral of dust high into the air, a small speck of which caught him in the eye. Carefully, he pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket, using the corner to dislodge it.
‘Yu stopim hai, Phillip... I