An outing
Festival day. Lilli stood in the f lickering rain, under her blue umbrella, her piece of summer sky, gazing at the statue of the diving woman. The bonnet, instead of being tied under her chin, had been left open by the sculptor, the right side of it draped regally across to the left shoulder. The cement woman’s eyes were closed, allowing herself to be contemplated. There was a suggestion of breath around her mouth, as if she were about to whistle softly. Her left arm was bent so that the hand came into alignment with the central axis of the body. Three fingers were outstretched, with the thumb and forefinger curved into a circle, like the hands of a monk in meditation. Her strong right arm lifted skywards, holding a torch with a frosted globe. She stood steadfast, torch raised, heart open, impervious to the weather she endured, unwavering in rain, wind or sun.
Lilli stood in the rain, absorbing the diving woman’s strength. She could do it, she reminded herself. Lilli would be just another tourist. She’d find a quiet spot and watch. Everyone would be too busy to notice her. Walk down to the terminal, purchase a ticket, get on the ferry.
Lilli crossed the highway and made her way along the esplanade, past the row of shrubs alternating with benches for sitting and enjoying the view, the pearl museum walkway, the large blue and white aquarium bordered with palm trees and planter boxes of salt-tolerant f lowers.
A few metres further on she took a side street and came to the local ferry terminal. She folded her umbrella, shaking drops of rain off it, then waited at the entrance for a moment before realising that the glass door did not open automatically. The louvres of the windows under the eaves were angled for ventilation but still it was fuggy in the terminal, the air damp and stale, a smell of wet fur and coffee.
The terminal was as crowded as a busy railway station. Apart from a few old men sitting on the benches against the wall, it seemed to be full of tourists—small-brimmed hats, cameras and daypacks. A couple of small children were on the f loor moving toy dinosaurs around.
Lilli went to the ticket booth. ‘Coming back today?’ asked the woman without looking up. She seemed familiar, from the island, one of the mothers from Violet’s generation.
‘Ah, I’m not sure.’
‘It’s full fare if you don’t return on the same day.’
‘Yes, all right. Full fare.’ Lilli slid the correct change under the glass. She didn’t have to decide now how long she wanted to stay.
The woman scooped the money up and replaced it with two tickets.
Lilli bought a bottle of iced tea from the vending machine and went outside into fresher air. Across the street, on the water’s edge, were the covered walkways leading onto the pontoons which served as piers for the local island ferries. She could see a boat approaching but it was still too far away to tell if it was heading for these piers.
A car pulled up beside the terminal. Two men emerged from the back seat, and one from the front. The driver remained at the wheel. The men were all wearing crisp black trousers and shirts with no ties. Two of the shirts buttoned up at the wrist while the third, a tasteful white with a thin black check that looked as if it might have been purchased in the city, had sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows. The owner of this shirt said something to the driver then waved him off. The three started walking towards the pier.
The boat was getting closer, turning into this part of the bay. Lilli looked at her watch. Another twelve minutes before the island ferry was due. Perhaps this was an extra one, to cope with the festival visitors. As Lilli crossed the street towards the pier the same car returned. This time the driver got out, held an umbrella over his two passengers and accompanied them to the covered walkway.
Lilli was caught between the two packs of men, and worse, when the driver walked back to the car with the umbrella, she was able to see that in the second group of passengers was the man in the suit.
He recognised Lilli immediately but quickly looked away. She stepped back, found herself pushed up against the railing, as the men converged. The man in the suit’s companion introduced him to the others. The man with the checked shirt was the mayor of Boat Harbour.
Their attention was diverted by the arrival of the ferry. Lilli looked towards the terminal but no-one came out. Something was wrong. ‘Is this the ferry for the festival?’ she asked the attendant putting the gangway into position. When he lifted his head Lilli could see that it was the same boy, grown into a man and dressed today in a smart nautical cap and white uniform, who had been on the ferry that had taken Lilli away.
He stood there looking at Lilli, trying to place her. ‘Special service,’ he said eventually, his eyes lingering.
The mayor came forward. ‘I’m sure there is room for one more.’ He stood aside to let her on first. Lilli remained pressed against the railing. A special ferry taking a party of VIPs to the festival. Lilli couldn’t go with them. It wasn’t only because of the man in the suit. She couldn’t arrive on the island with VIPs, be swept up in all that fanfare.
‘Thank you. I am waiting for someone,’ she managed to say.
They filed on board. The attendant pulled up the gangway, released the rope from the mooring. The engines started revving, churning white water.
The men stood on deck, with the mayor pointing out features of the bay. As the ferry edged away from the jetty the man in the suit turned back, showed his triumphant, grinning face to Lilli.
She could feel herself unravelling. Lilli left the dockside area, hurried back past the aquarium and the pearl museum. She did not even glance at the diving woman statue but kept going till she was back in the safe haven of the hotel.