That Would Be Me - serialisation of a chick lit (if you must) novel of neo colonialism and identity

THAT WOULD BE ME

Chapter Five
in which our heroine overcomes adversity to celebrate Christmas in her own way and is forced to confront her depressing, abandoned past 

Kath insisted she join her and Mort and a few friends on their 'yacht' for Christmas Day.

Therese had declined and she was worried about being seen as betraying her flatmate if she accepted the invitation. She told Kath she'd ring her back.

'You go. I hate yachts - it's not a yacht in any case, it's a launch, not very big. You end up getting sunburnt no matter what you do, how careful you are. I like my creature comforts. That Kath needs her head read. We usually go to a hotel. Mort must have got to her. I bet he's invited his business mates. Poor Kath, she didn't know what she was getting herself into. Desperate to get married. Oh well, she's done that now.'

All of this turned out to be true enough.

The best part of her day was accompanying Therese to mass in the morning. The priest was in a white robe and sandalled, the service unexpectedly informal. The congregation were invited to greet one another. When she turned around to greet someone behind her she discovered she was shaking the hand of the policewoman Robyn. Therese put a large note in the offertory. She felt ashamed of the coin she had contributed.

As they were both leaving the flat she pressed a note of equal value onto Therese to give to the mission where she was going to help serve Christmas dinner.

She headed off to the Rushcutters Bay marina where Mort was taking her and some other guests on board.

She realised she had made a mistake as she stood on the pontoon waiting for Mort's boat. Near her were some others. She guessed they might be her fellow voyagers so decided to get it over with - she went up and inquired. They were. She introduced herself.

Her heart sank when the boat pulled in. It already seemed overcrowded. Everyone else on board was at least middle-aged. Mort  all but dribbled at the sight of her - to Kath's satisfaction and rage.

The idea was to take everyone to a popular picnic spot, more or less accessible only by boat, and there to have Christmas dinner.

Eskies impeded movement about the boat. The conversation was desperately jolly. Kath was screeching, demanding laughter, ordering her guests to get into the champagne and beer.

The unloading took forever with the small rubber duck making infinite journeys back and forth to the overcrowded beach. People were ordered overboard so the eskies could be ferried.

She had not brought a swimming costume so was told not to worry, to 'skinny dip' as it was a nude beach. Male eyes swung at her when Kath demanded this with a thin overlay of levity.

Several women had tried to help Kath but she seemed to feel her responsibilities had to be borne alone. She kept casting eyes at Mort to see if he could see what difficulties she was labouring under, begging for his approval. Mort on the bridge was too busy drinking and smoking a cigar with a couple of elect males.

There appeared to be no shelter on the beach. They had not brought beach umbrellas. One of the guests suggested they try somewhere else. 'What a stupid idea! We're almost unpacked now.' Kath's eyes were demented. But she was able to turn and join in the cheering as one of the men stripped and jumped overboard.

'That's how we do things in Australia, we're down to earth. We could all swim too,' Kath said to the other women still assembled on deck, 'save Ted all that trouble of coming back and forth in the ducky.'

'You won't get me in that water,' one woman responded, 'I grew up near here, it's shark infested.'

No-one was comfortable on the beach. Two dogs dashed madly about until one of the men in their party yelled obscenities at them. Its owner paused from trying to corner it to yell back, 'It's Christmas for Christ's sake! There are kids around.'

Kath wobbled up to her, champagne bottle thrust out. 'I bet you don't get this in England.' Her eyes were now bloodshot with desperation. When Kath tried to pour champagne into her plastic flute she withdrew it so that the champagne slopped onto the sand. Kath grabbed her hand and forced champagne into the nearly full flute. 'Drink up!' she hissed. 'It's Christmas. You wouldn't be getting this in ... Look at it!' Kath gestured wildly at the vista.

She looked around. The slim curve of the beach was covered in Christmassing parties. Children dashed about here and there. A little girl clutched her fists to her eyes, crying. Some of the parties were nude, they seemed more decorous.

The sun was terrible.

'We'll go back on the boat after we've eaten. Why don't you guys go for a swim while we get the food going?'

She thought she'd better help.

Kath seemed unable to let anyone assist. 'Get those oysters in the shade, they'll go off. Mort paid a ... No, we'll have the turkey later. Where's the cocktail sauce for the prawns? Put the bread and butter ... '

There was no shade. The champagne was warm. The men stood around drinking beer, one was leering contemplatively.

Behind the beach the bush shimmered, in front of it the water shimmered. It was not yet noon. Relief seemed everywhere about them and unobtainable. She could feel the sun burning her forearms. Why hadn't she listened to Therese?

She had to have something to drink. She approached the knot of her party, gathered on the industry of Kath but they were ignoring their hostess’ labours, guiltily or righteously superfluous to them. The women turned away from her. The men seemed to turn in a bunch to leer at her.

'Isn't this lovely?' she said to the kindest looking woman near her.

'Yes. It must be very different ... I hope you're not homesick, are you?'

'Not at all.' She considered for a moment that this was only too true. She'd made up her mind to ring her family in front of Therese tonight to prove something or another. She looked around again and the scene resolved her deep discomfort with this party of middle aged harridans and their leering, pompous spouses. The bush screened the back of the beach, rising shadowy green to a canopy below which white branches twisted and silvery white trunks streamed with pink grey ribbons of shedding bark. Pleasure craft gambolled on the harbour, a huge Manly ferry paraded by. As soon as she could, she would go for a walk in the bush. There were shallow wide stone steps up towards a dressing shed. There would be a tap. That must be the way out. She would escape. There must be a car park just up there somewhere, She had noticed they hadn't gone very far from the city, Manly was over there. She could catch a cab to Manly Wharf. Probably someone, Australians being what they were, would give her a lift. She would be out of here soon. She would lie on her bed all afternoon. She would make her phone call in front of Therese and go out as planned with Michiyo and Cal.

'Where did you get that frock? I be that's an import.'

She turned, pleased, to the woman in crisp white shorts and an evidently new blouse. She was very tanned and had a yachting cap with a blue and gold badge on the front perched on top of a bush of pepper and salt hair. She had heard some of her dry, whimsical remarks as they had throbbed their way and had determined to get to know her. 'Of course. St Tropez.'

'You must have plenty of money.'

'Oh I do.'

The woman turned away.

The women seemed to be exchanging satisfied looks. They turned away again. She suddenly hated them. They were blowzy cows tricked out in the most absurd taste. Look at that one! My god, in shorts.

'Here love, try this.' A man thrust an oyster shell beneath her nose. She had never eaten an oyster. It looked vile.

'No thanks. But I'd like a prawn.'

'I bet you would,' one of the men growled.

There were guffaws.

She was resolved. She was getting away from this. But when she was ready. She was thirsty and she wanted to try some of that food. She went forward and took the biggest prawn from the mess of them held by a platter. It spiked her with its feelers as she broke its head off. She pried its shell away from underneath.'

'Here, put the shells in this,' a man proffered a plastic plate, 'You'd better use a knife to run down its back. Got a knife for deveining the prawns, Kath?''

'Find it yourself, I've had this.'

He found her a knife and showed her how to take the vein out. 'Now give it a wash in the harbour.'

It was delicious. She attacked another.

Most of the others were guzzling oysters.

'Want some cocktail sauce?' Kath was at her side with a plastic bottle. She spurted some on a plate for her.

'Have you got any juice?'

'Juice?'

'Yes, like orange, or ... Any soft drink would do, I'm really thirsty.'

Kath suggested a beer.

She smeared some pâté on a biscuit.

Mort thrust a rag of flapping turkey skin towards her mouth. She bit at it and the men cheered. She let it fall from her mouth onto the sand and deliberately helped herself to another prawn. She found the knife and slit right along its back before carefully dragging the vein out. She rinsed the prawn in the sea and eating it headed up the beach towards the dressing sheds.

'Where are you going?' Kath yelled.

She felt thirstier than she had ever felt before in her life. She turned the tap over the wash stand on and stooped to drink. The water was warm and tasted metallic.

She headed straight on up past the dressing sheds and there was a track.

She proceeded up its shallow broad steps marked by sandstone edges. She was feeling better and better as she left the beach behind. She looked around. She was in the bush. It was still and very warm, as she had always imagined it would be. This was Australia. It was Christmas Day. She thought she had read a children's book with a bush Christmas in it. It was just like this. She was swept by joy. She felt so at home here, in this still solitude. She knew she belonged here. She was meant to be here. This feeling was proof.

She swirled around with her hands in the air.

The climb was beginning to get steep and the track ran into another at right angles. She didn't hesitate, she just knew where to go.

The track meandered and rose, sank again. The bush thinned out. She was winding along a coastal track through strange low gorse and thorn bushes. Cliffs fell to the harbour on one side of her, a steep impenetrable hill of grey green and olive rose on the other. Things rustled and scrambled at her approach. She thought she would soon be able to see Rushcutters Bay across the Harbour. She had obviously taken the path away from Manly but she was enjoying this even though she was getting burned. It must end soon.

It didn't. Her thirst was becoming terrible. She was lost. She waved at a boat for help. If it came in she would plunge down the cliff somehow and they would take her off and probably drop her off near home. Or would they ring for help? Why hadn't she brought her phone?

The track seemed to be closing in on her, thorns scratched at her bare legs. This was ridiculous, she should turn, she could even go back to Kath and Mort's party. But it must lead somewhere and she had been on it so long she must be near wherever it went.

Rocks heaved their back out of the heath like whales. She noticed tiny yellow flowers amongst the serrated hard leaves of a strange little bush which sprang up in stalks; pink stars flustered amongst softer grey leaves, the pink was so bright. Stretching up and before her, the heath land now revealed patches of brooding colours - brown and purple reds emerged from what had seemed a uniform sage. The rocks were blotched with papery lichen, some of them seemed to sparkle, they were silvery really when you looked at them. A stunted tree like a fir struggled out of the waves of hard little shrubs. A huge black snake vanished from a rock in front of her with a flash of the reddest red. It must have been a mirage, or something. It had been so quick and silent but she couldn't go on. It had been huge and so black and red. It might come back or there might be more. She dare not sit down. She was afraid to go back. She forced herself to take a small step on. Then she couldn't move. She would have to stand there. She was afraid to wave to a boat in case that attracted the snake's attention, if there had been a snake. Someone must notice her; they would come in close to the cliff to see if she needed help. Their boat would toss on the waves near the shore and she would scream for help. They might send a helicopter and winch her up. She would thank them and have a bath when she got back, it would be very hot on her sunburned skin. She wondered where she and Michiyo and Cal would go tonight. She would wear her pink silk. She must get some decent jewellery to go with it. She would lift it. She could not move. What could she do? If she screamed and screamed it might frighten the snake away and someone would hear. It might startle the snake into attacking. Even though it had vanished in a blood red bright flick, it had looked aggressive. She had to sit down, she was starting to get dizzy. She could not move, her knees locked at the sight of the narrowness of the path. If she could only sit down, she could lie along the path and roll sideways into the bush, it must be cooler down there. Even if the snake did bite her she would only be frightened for a while and then she would die peacefully, like Cleopatra. The bite wouldn't hurt much, it would be like an injection with two needles. All this would be over. Her mother might come out to Australia to weep over the body. It would do her mother good, she would have something to talk about and make herself special for the rest of her days. Her mother would be the talk of the terrace. She would meet Therese. Her mother could use her money for the air fare and funeral. She wanted to be buried in Australia. Would they find Lyntie and invite him? He would be jealous that she had found her way into the real Australia while he could only act as if he were expert at it. He might have gone back.

The steep hill seemed to have a declivity in it and then a shallow oval containing a particularly brooding shade of green. 'A pool,' she thought, 'I will force my way up to it and there will be a pool with clear water. I will lap it like an animal.'

A man with a beard appeared. His broad hairy brown chest was crossed with the red straps of a back pack, a bottle of water bounced in a sling against his hips.

'Hello,' he said.

'Merry Christmas.'

'Yes. Merry Christmas.'

'Isn't this beautiful?' She waved expansively at the Harbour and the hill.

He nodded appreciatively.

'I am just waiting for a snake to go away. I frightened it. So I am giving it a few minutes to get away.'

'A snake?' He looked very pleased. 'Where?'

She realised he was a backpacker. 'It's gone. But it's better to let them move right away in case they get alarmed ... just in case. It doesn't happen often.'

They stood respectfully.

'I would like to see it.'

'Unfortunately, it's gone. May I have some of your water?'

Nothing had ever tasted so good. The bottle sparkled before her eyes as she gulped and she wondered where she should steal the jewellery. It was all she could do to not drink the lot. 'Oh sorry,' she said, professing surprise she had drunk so much, 'I must have been thirsty.'

'That is O K.'

'I think we can go on now.'

'Are you walking to the Spit too?'

'Yes.'

'Perhaps we walk together?'

'She made room for him to pass and followed behind. She knew she had been saved by God, that unknowing he was an angel sent. She would never doubt again.

Soon the bushes thinned out, the rose and joined another, broad and easy. Then there were trees again.

'You want to rest here?'

She told him that her name was Shelley, she had always lived in Sydney. She came from Wahroonga on the North Shore. She had left a family Christmas at the beach because she had to get back to meet friends for a party but really she had wanted to get away and walk along this track because she used to walk here with her best friend who was now in England.

His name was Olaf. He was missing his friends too, he had left them in Vietnam where they were doing some work helping some villagers put in tanks.

It was soon apparent they found one another attractive.

Olaf shared some dried fruit and the rest of his water.

They moved off the track into some trees and began kissing.

Olaf sat on a rock and pulled her to him.

All she was aware of was the hair on his chest and his smell - sweat and sun block.

'Is this O K?' he asked.

She put her arms around him and pushed forward between his legs.

He pulled her t-shirt off and undid her bras.

She undid his belt and unbuttoned his shorts.

He smiled and stood up to wriggle out of them.

She looked down and saw his stout hairy legs ending in hairy socks and hiking boots. She laughed and slipped her hands into his briefs and caressed his buttocks. They were hairy too, they felt wonderful. She ran her hands softly over them.

'That is really good,' he said.

She peeled his underpants down. As he manoeuvred them clumsily over his huge boots, almost falling. She steadied him. 'All right?' And pushed him back down on the rock. His cock rose up against his stomach, it was thick. She knelt down and flicked at it with her tongue. 'I am the spirit of that snake,' she thought. Then she licked his cock. Soon it tasted fragrant and heady. 'The taste of basic cock must be universal,' she thought.

He pulled her up and undid her shorts, ran his hand down and placed it over her pussy and began teasing her lips with a finger.

She smiled and pushed forward into him so that his finger rode into her. She caressed his hips and the top of his buttocks. 'This is the best Christmas.' And she laughed for it.

He held her back to look at her. 'Are you O K?'

'Yes. I'm having a really good time.' She snuffed him in and the dry bush and the sea air off the Harbour.

They held each other and then were together, rocking.  He stood up and moved her around onto the rock. She lay back with her legs around him, her feet held against his bum as it clenched and rocked.

She was examining him, his sexiness, when she suddenly came in a dazzling burst of light. Then she was aware of him, struggling to finish. She watched. It seemed to be such an effort for him, almost painful. She felt sorry for him. He was so sweet and such a sexy beast. She ran the soles of her feet over his bum.

'Ohht, ohh.' And he sighed.

As they walked on he reached out to hold her hand and when the track allowed it he put his arm around her shoulder.

They passed in front of a house, then another and along a narrow beach lined with houses. Someone offered them champagne from a lawn. Olaf looked at her and they were on the lawn, sipping champagne and admiring the view. They were invited in and given smoked salmon and turkey. She played at being bashfully in love and dumb.

Someone had to leave, did they want a lift? Olaf still wanted to walk to the Spit.

She smiled and asked how far it was.

Apparently it wasn't all that far. They were welcome to stay if they wanted to, someone would give them a lift later.

They were given a slab of Christmas cake and waved good-bye to.

As they strolled down the beach they heard - 'Weren't they heavenly?' 'You could say she was.' 'So was he, why'd he have to go and put his shirt on?' 'Why'd she?'

Olaf smiled at her and slipped his hand into hers again.

She stayed bashful and dumb.

They caught a bus into town at the Spit. By Martin Place Olaf was realising she intended to go her own way, he asked if he could come with her.

She sadly told him she was going to her grandmother's - first - and ... She sadly shook her head.

He was staying at Bondi, would she come over for coffee? Or they could go to a movie.

She made a date for the day after Boxing Day.

He gave her a loving good-bye kiss.

Therese was just in herself. 'You're early. How was it?'

'You were right.' And she burst into tears. She told Therese it was because she was so sunburnt.

'You are too, look at your neck. Didn't you ... I asked Kath to keep an eye on you.' Therese shook her head in savage disgust.

Then the phone went.

'She's here. She's very sunburnt Kath, I asked you - ' Therese held the phone out to her.

She shook her head and ran sobbing to her room.

Therese knocked gently and entered.

'It was awful. I was getting burnt and I was too shy to get changed and go for a swim, the men ... '

'Did any of them lay a hand on you?'

'No. No. They just ... made comments and the women went along with it.'

'Did Kath?'

She nodded through her tears.

Therese rose impressively from the bed. 'You have a shower. We'll put some tomato on that sunburn, it's the only thing for it.'

After the shower and the laying on of many slices of the Tom Thumb tomatoes she slept.

She woke to the ringing of the phone.

'Yes. She's here.'

...

'She's sunburnt, naturally.'

...

'Well no wonder.'

...

'What went on, Kath? What went on exactly? She's a sensible girl, there must have been a reason.'

...

'So you should be.'

...

'I mean Kath, you were the hostess. She's a young girl. From overseas. I don't know what went on but I do know she's sunburnt and came in in a state. She's not the type to tell tales out of school but she did say she didn't like the behaviour of the men. It doesn't take a lot to come to certain conclusions, does it Kath? A pretty young thing from another country, not knowing what was going on amongst a lot of bastards ogling and make comments. I wouldn't have let her go if I'd thought ... Naturally I thought you'd keep an eye on the proceedings. I don't know what's happened to you Kath but you know one thing, I've got no time for women who don't look after one of their own when the men are molesting.'

...

'There are many ways of molesting, Kath, as you know only too well. If you'll think of old Mr Kitchener and his ways. If we hadn't all stuck together on that one he would have got away with it. In any case he did, for years. I'll probably never know what went on exactly but I've got a pretty good idea and I'll tell you what, I'm disgusted.'

...

'No you can't talk to her, she's sleeping.'

..

'No I won't get her to ring you later, she's upset enough.'

...

'Why would she run away from a Christmas party in the middle of nowhere and come home in a state then Kath? Wake up to yourself woman, people don't do things for no reason.'

...

'I'm glad she did! They deserved their Christmas spoiled. And you can tell that Mort from me I'm thinking of having the police onto him. They can't get away with things like that these days.'

The phone was slammed down.

She thought she'd better deal with this now. She got up.

'That was Kath,' Therese said after she'd sat in front of the T V. 'I gave her a piece of my mind. She wanted you to ring her back but I told her not to hold her breath. I don’t know what she’s become. She never used to be like that, was all for women's rights when that came in, called herself Ms and all that.' She took a deep draught of her gin and tonic. 'How are you feeling?'

She said she felt much better, the tomatoes had done wonders.

They watched the children's film in silence for a while. It splashed about the screen in fascinatingly artificial colours. Then she rose and got herself a whisky. She doubled what she usually poured into the glass.

After she was settled in front of the T V again Therese said, 'Thank you for the necklace dear, it's too much. But I'll always treasure it. I'll put it in my will for you. It'll suit you too, especially when you're older. We'll never get another one like that.'

It was lapis lazuli. She had agonised over a suitable gift for Therese, finally rejecting the idea of a scarf as too obvious. She had gone into a very established jewellery shop and made herself familiar with the place and the assistant as she tried on pearls, then as if whimsically, decided she needed colour for summer. The lapis necklace had been very much more expensive than a scarf but not much in comparison with the pearls. She would never wear it herself. 'Oh look at the gold clasp,' she had exclaimed to the assistant, 'isn't it awful?' She had caressed the necklace. 'The blue is lovely. I'll take it! It'll do for the beach over Christmas. You need something bright, don't you?'

She told Therese she was going to ring her family.

First she rang Cal and confirmed their meeting with Michiyo.

'You got me up.' Lainie said, 'it's only ... eight. Oh, here's my mother, she must've been in the loo.' There was a silence then Lainie came back on again, 'Oh, thank you for the Australian bracelet. I don't know where I'll wear it, it's very modern. Did you get our parcel?'

Her mother's tones ameliorated the disgust she felt for her sister's accent.