HONEYMOON

‘As a matter of fact, one of our waitresses at Great-O’s is heading to the mainland for uni next month,’ the lady on the phone, Merlinda Carlyle, told Paulina when she called Fairfolk Tours. ‘If you’re interested, I’ll get Mick Greatorex to phone you, and you can work out terms.’

Paulina decided to forgo the gym that day, and get two rum and Diet Cokes after work instead, in addition to her usual trip to the bottle-O.

She got off the Cherry Hill bus smiley and starry-eyed, loving the blobby look of the trees in the twilight, the blurry people watering lawns. Her mum had bought a roast chook.

‘Guess what?’ Paulina plonked her wine on the kitchen counter. ‘I’m moving to Fairfolk Island!’

‘You’re moving where ?’

‘Fairfolk Island.’ Paulina kicked off her heels. ‘You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s this beautiful paradise island in the Pacific, between New Zealand and—’

‘I know where Fairfolk Island is! I went there on my bloody honeymoon.’

‘Oh yeah, you did, didn’t you? Ha-ha-ha. Anyways, that’s where I’m moving.’

‘Does Westpac know this?’

‘Nup.’ Paulina skipped over to the cupboard for wineglasses. ‘I’m gonna tell them to get stuffed first thing tomorrow, though. Don’t worry.’

‘Paulina!’ Judy sighed. ‘Please. Not the good glasses.’

‘It’s a celebration. Dad’d want us breaking out the good stuff.’ Paulina placed two wafer-thin crystal glasses on the counter, then got distracted by the tennis on TV. ‘Ooh, who’s he in the red shorts? I like him.’

‘Sit down.’ Judy sighed again. ‘Let me do it.’

Paulina sat eagerly, giggled as the guy let out a loud, carnal grunt.

‘Oh, he’s nice.’ A plate appeared in front of her. ‘Ugh, Mum. Why’d you get chicken? You know I’m vegetarian.’

‘Half the time you’re vegetarian, half the time you’re not. Half the time you don’t even eat.’ Judy griped. ‘Fairfolk, Paulina? What are you on about?’

‘I’m moving there.’ Paulina peeled the skin off her chicken breast, put it to the side. ‘This March. I got a job.’

‘A job? On Fairfolk Island?’

‘Yeah. Waitressing.’

‘Waitressing?’ Judy gulped her wine. ‘On Fairfolk Island ?’

‘Oi, where’s mine? I bought that wine with my own money.’

‘Eat some chicken first.’ Judy hawk-eyed Paulina as she chopped her chicken into tiny pieces, mixed it into her salad, ate a dainty mouthful. ‘More, Paulina.’

Paulina obliged. ‘So, the thing is, you keep telling me I need a change. So, I was talking to Carli today. She just came back from her honeymoon and says—’

‘I thought you said Carli was a c-u-n-t.’

‘I was joking!’ Paulina clicked her fingers for wine. Judy shook her head. Paulina forked up the last of her chicken, swallowed without tasting. Clicked again.

‘Be careful.’ Judy brought her glass. ‘Those glasses have seen more of the world than I have.’

‘Like that’s hard.’ Paulina smirked. ‘Anyways: I talked to this lady Belinda Carlisle at the Fairfolk Tours place, and she says even though it’s minimum wage, every dollar I earn is tax-free. Also, there’s loads of jobs not even advertised so really I just need to get my foot in the door. Also, they have the best beaches. Palm Beach is shithouse compared. Also, more importantly, you keep saying it’s time I moved out. So? I’m moving to Fairfolk!’

Judy clutched her temples. ‘I don’t feel good about this.’

‘Ugh! You’re such a hypocrite.’ A hot tear slid down Paulina’s cheek. ‘You’re always saying how I’ve overstayed my welcome since the womb, and you wanna turn my room into a sewing room? Well, here I am trying to be master-of-my-own-fate, captain-of-my-own-soul, and you can’t even say one nice thing!’

‘No need for Shakespearean drama, Paulina.’ Judy cringed as Paulina stomped to the kitchen for a refill. ‘Calm down. We’ve both had long days at work.’

‘Ugh! You! The thing with you is, you’re only happy if I’m miserable.’ Paulina emptied the last of the bottle into her glass, scrabbled in her gym bag for the second bottle. ‘You were ecstatic when I told you me and Vinnie were broken up! You love having me here, washing my sheets, making me eat meat. Mum, you know I’m vegetarian—’

‘Careful.’

‘You just want me to be miserable with you. Well, too bad. I’m gonna have the best life on Fairfolk and there’s nothing you can do!’

‘Careful.’

‘Whoops! He-he-he.’ Paulina licked up the wine that had sploshed on her hand, then slit her eyes at Judy. ‘Excuse me, mother? Fuck you.’

‘Oh, come off it!’ Judy yelled as Paulina stormed out, bottle in hand.

In the privacy of her bedroom, Paulina cried hysterically. After that, she scrawled in her diary and, after that, turned on the TV and giggled at the tennis players making sex noises. A little while later came her mum’s soft knock.

‘Piss off!’

‘Just let me in for a minute,’ Judy pleaded. ‘Let’s just talk.’

Paulina opened the door warily, and there was her mum, looking so daggy in her PJs, photo album tucked under one arm and holding a bowl of choc-ripple ice-cream.

‘I thought you might like to see some pictures,’ Judy said. ‘Since you’re so serious about this.’

As it turned out, the waitressing job fell through.

‘There’s been a fire at Great-O’s,’ Merlinda Carlyle told Paulina, three weeks before she was due to leave. ‘The whole place is gutted. They’ll be out of commission for a while. I’ll let you know if something else comes up.’

‘Oh, geez,’ Paulina said, absolutely gutted herself. ‘Keep me in mind, hey.’

When a week passed without any news, Paulina called Fairfolk Tours. ‘Nothing,’ Merlinda said. ‘Unless — do you have a forklift licence?’

‘Nah, not really. Don’t you have anything in the finance area? Banking? Sales?’

‘It’s not a good time for retail.’ Merlinda sighed. ‘I’ll let you know.’

Merlinda never called and didn’t answer the messages Paulina left. ‘This Merlinda Carlyle’s a lying bitch!’ Paulina told anyone who’d listen — which, now she’d quit her job, was mostly just the housewives at the Cherry Hill Fitness Centre and her smug cow of a mum.

‘Why don’t you cancel your flight, while you still can,’ Judy suggested, fifty times a day. ‘You can work with me at the Student Help Desk till Fairfolk gets its act together.’

‘I’d rather scrub toilets, thanks.’

Five days before Paulina’s departure, Merlinda finally phoned back.

‘I’m sorry. You seem very eager. But high season’s winding down; I don’t expect there’ll be much till Mutiny Day in August. Why don’t you call back then, if you’re still keen.’

‘Merlinda.’ Paulina clawed at her eyes. ‘Help me out. I’ll do anything! I’ll scrub toilets. I have to get out of this city, it’s killing me.’

‘Oh, really? I quite like Sydney. I can’t wait to get over there for the Olympics.’

‘Merlinda!’ Paulina took a deep breath. ‘I dunno if I ever told you this, but my parents honeymooned on Fairfolk Island? All my life, I’ve been hearing how it’s the prettiest place on earth, then my dad got cancer and made me promise I’d go there with my own husband someday? Only, I met the most perfect guy, but he broke my heart, Merlinda. I’ll never love again. Then the other week I was sitting in my office I had this epiphany, like: you don’t have to wait around for the life you want, Paulina. It’s the new millennium; you’re an independent woman. So I said to myself—’

‘Okay,’ Merlinda interrupted. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Look: this is strictly under the table, okay?’ Merlinda groaned. ‘My dad’s been a bit dotty since Mum passed, and god knows I’d rather not be putting out any fires at his place. I hope to inherit it someday! Why don’t you go stay with him? Meals and board and a small allowance, and maybe you can help out here at Fairfolk Tours now and then.’

‘Small allowance?’ Paulina said meekly.

‘Fifty dollars a week. Tax-free.’

Paulina bit her fist.

‘Alright.’

Paulina moved to Fairfolk carrying as much liquor as she could in her 65-litre backpack — and more in her 30-kilo suitcase, and also bags of duty-free. ‘Bloody hell, Paulina, you’re going to Fairfolk, not the Prohibition era!’ Judy complained as they packed the car for the airport, and again while unpacking it, and again when messing around with the luggage trolleys. Then it turned out they were in the wrong terminal — domestic instead of international — and Paulina cried, and Judy laughed at her. When they finally got in line for the flight to Fairfolk, Paulina was happy to see it was shorter than all the others — but dismayed seeing the other passengers.

‘Mum, they’re all ancient.’

‘I told you. Newlyweds and nearly-deads.’ Judy smirked. ‘I guess wedding season’s over.’

They argued again after going through security check. ‘I’m almost twenty-eight! I can have a beer for breakfast if I want!’

‘No, Paulina.’

‘Last drink together! Live a little, Mum.’

‘I’m having a coffee, and so are you.’ Judy looked concerned. ‘Honestly, you worry me. How do you expect to hold down a job over there if you’re drinking round the clock?’

That hurt, bad. Stiff-backed, Paulina walked to the counter, told the girl:

‘Two flat whites. But make mine skinny, alright?’

The girl nodded, got out two coffee cups and a texta. ‘My name’s Milica,’ Paulina volunteered. ‘Need me to spell it? M-I-L-I—’

Judy sighed loudly at Paulina’s back. Smirking, Paulina swished her ponytail in Judy’s direction. ‘She’s Ljubica. I’ll spell that too, when you’re ready.’

Shaking her head, Judy stormed off to find a table. The coffees took ages, tasted like shit. ‘This tastes like shit!’ Paulina proclaimed, loud enough for the girl to hear.

Judy sipped fastidiously. ‘Are you trying to make me not miss you? Because it’s working.’

‘You’re the one who took the day off to drive me — Susan from the gym would’ve done it.’ Paulina tried her coffee again. ‘Blergh! I’m gonna buy some magazines.’

Of course, her mum still cried at boarding-time. ‘Call me as soon as you get there!’

‘I’ll try. Not sure if this old man’s place has a phone, to be honest.’

‘If he’s creepy … Paulina. Don’t even stay one night. I mean it. I don’t care if you have to go to a hotel, I’ll pay. Trust your gut, okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah. Okay.’

‘Love you. Gawd, I love you.’ Judy sobbed. ‘Finally — quiet time!’

‘Yep. Whole house full of yarn. Love ya.’ Paulina hoisted her duty-free bag onto her shoulder, blew kisses over it. ‘Bye! Stop crying. You’re embarrassing me. Bye!’

On board, there were so many empty seats, Paulina got a whole row to herself. She got out her magazines and Discman. The flight attendant told her off for stretching out before take-off, and Paulina said, ‘Sorry!’ to her face and, ‘Bitch,’ to her arse. At take-off, her hands gripped the armrests, white with fear. She was happy above the clouds, shoes off, magazine in her lap — especially when bar service started.

‘Rum and Coke,’ she told the flight attendant. ‘But make it Diet, okay?’

‘Diet!’ A white-haired lady across the aisle teased her. ‘You young girls!’

‘Ha-ha!’ Paulina giggled. ‘You’re funny!’

‘Excuse me, but you’re so pretty, my husband and I were wondering—’ The lady lowered her voice, like she was asking for a threesome. ‘Are you an actual Fairfolk Islander?’

‘Uh … yep? Sure am!’

‘You’re a descendant?’

‘Descendant?’

‘Of the Mutiny on HMS Fortuna! Gideon King and his swashbuckling men and their beautiful Polynesian wives!’

What the fuck! Paulina giggled. ‘Yep. That’s me.’

‘Oh! How exciting! Bob, did you hear—? Oh, he’s snoozing.’ The lady lowered her voice another octave. ‘May I ask — your surname?’

‘Novak!’

‘Novak?’ The lady screwed up her face. ‘That sounds … Slavic.’

‘Yep!’ Paulina beamed. ‘See, my mum’s an Islander. Only, she married a Slav, so Novak’s my name? But we’re totally descendants of that other guy, King. Yep.’

‘Oh!’ The lady clapped her hands. ‘Slavic and Fairfolk! How exotic!’

‘He-he-he.’ Paulina sipped her rum and Coke. ‘You’re funny.’

Then she slipped her headphones back on, before she got in too deep.

The flight took three hours. She only got scared twice: when the ceiling of the plane shook, and when she accidentally flushed the toilet with her back and had to get up fast so her intestines wouldn’t get sucked into the sky. She wasn’t too scared when the plane started descending: the sea was so gorgeous and glittery, then out of nowhere these green-green cliffs, and creepy old buildings, and loads of pine trees, so dark green they looked black.

‘Cows!’ Paulina squealed. ‘Aw, baby cows!’

‘Has it been a long time?’ her friend across the aisle asked. ‘Since you were here?’

Not this shit again! ‘Yeah, yonks!’

There were people on the tarmac, some holding signs. Paulina saw her name on a sign and felt excited — and then scared shitless. It had just occurred to her how small an island could be.

The person with the sign wasn’t Merlinda Carlyle, like Paulina expected. It was a chick called ‘Kymbalee’. That’s how it was spelled, on her name tag. Paulina tried to be polite.

‘Kymbalee! Is that how youse spell “Kimberley” here?’

‘Oh … no. My mum just wanted to give me something different.’ Kymbalee looked embarrassed. ‘You can just call me “Kymba”.’

‘Kimba, the White Lion!’ Paulina sang.

‘Just “Kymba” is fine. Kymba with a “Y”.’

‘Kimba, the White Lion!’

Kymba turned bright red. Paulina tried harder to be polite.

‘You don’t have to help with my bags. They’re heavy, hey.’

‘It’s my job.’ Kymba’s face turned redder when she felt how heavy Paulina’s backpack was. ‘It must be hard, deciding what to bring.’

‘Not really. I made sure to pack lots of booze, but. I heard it’s way expensive here. And Merlinda’s pretty stingy, no offence. Where is she, anyways?’

‘Oh, Auntie Merlinda thought it’d be nice for you to meet a young person.’

Paulina didn’t realise those two were related. She also didn’t realise Kymba, with her chubby body and granny glasses, was young. Paulina reminded herself to be polite.

‘Here’s my car. Merlinda thought it might also be nice if I, um, gave you a tour before taking you to Merle’s. Um, I don’t have to though. I mean, if you’re … tired?’

‘Tour!’ Paulina skipped to the car. ‘Thanks, Kymba-lee!’

‘Just Kymba is fine. Really, I prefer Kymba.’

‘Ooo, Kymba, forgot to tell ya.’ Paulina slipped into the suicide-seat. ‘Scariest thing happened on the plane! When I sat down to piss, yeah? I accidentally pressed the flush with my back, and it flushed while I was sitting! It was soooo scary.’

‘Oh, no.’ Kymba, behind the wheel, finally cracked a smile. ‘That is scary.’

‘I know, right? Almost lost my intestines! Then there was this lady across the aisle; she was off her rocker, hey. Asked if I was part Polynesian and if I was related to some guy Gilligan King? I told her yeah and she loved it.’

‘Oh.’ Kymba lost her smile. ‘I mean, you probably shouldn’t … do that. King’s a big name here. It might upset some people, if a mainlander pretends — also, it’s “Gideon”, not “Gilligan”. You mean you’ve never heard of the mutiny on the Fortuna?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one she said.’

Even so, Kymba told her this long story. Paulina sort of listened, sort of just stared out the window at the thickets of palms, splashy-bright flowers, cows, whose cows? When Kymba finished, Paulina whistled. ‘Geez, those sailors must’ve been horny, chucking their captain overboard and kidnapping those Polynesian chicks like that. Why didn’t they just bugger each other?’

‘Well, anyway.’ Kymba smiled tightly. ‘That’s some Fairfolk history.’

Later, Kymba added. ‘Just so you know, I’m a descendant.My surname’s “King”. Actually, “Burney-King” now. I married an Englishman—’

‘You’re part Polynesian? No way!’

‘I know, I don’t look it.’ Kymba sighed. ‘A lot of us don’t. A lot of us are named “King” here. Lots of things are named after Gideon King. It’s a big name. I don’t personally mind … but some people take it very seriously. Our tourist trade sort of depends on it.’

After that, Kymba drove her into town. It was so bloody small and ordinary-looking, like the main strip of a seaside village where people came to die.

Next was ‘King’s Lookout’. Paulina liked how the ocean looked, spread out into eternity like a sparkly blue blanket. But it scared her, too. She could see the island’s edges.

Next was ‘King’s Pier’.

‘Geez, I see what you mean about all the Gideon Kings,’ Paulina said uneasily.

‘It’s a big name.’ As they hopped out of the car, Kymba added brightly: ‘Anyway, you chose a good day to come. The supply ship’s arriving.’

‘Supply ship?’

‘It’s very exciting. It only happens every month or so.’

There were some people standing around on the pier already, mostly old. Kymba pointed out a big ship on the horizon, then some smaller boats rippling towards it.

‘Our men go out on the lighters to get the supplies. Because of the reef and the cliffs, big ships can’t come any closer.’ Kymba spoke with great passion. ‘All large freight comes in this way. Building supplies. Livestock. Cars!’

The boats moved slower than snails. A tour bus full of old people pulled up to watch, oohing and ahhing and taking photos. Paulina was chilled to the bone.

‘No offence,’ she said, very politely. ‘But is this what youse do for fun here?’

Some exciting things happened later, though. The first was when they passed a restaurant with a sign in the shape of a great white shark, jaws wide open.

‘That’s Great-O’s. The Great-O White Shark Grill,’ Kymba said. ‘They had a big fire last month. They’ve had to shut down for repairs.’

‘Ohh, Great-O’s!’ Paulina’s heart swelled. ‘That’s my great white whale!’

‘Great white shark,’ Kymba corrected her. ‘It’s a shark.’

‘It’s my great white whale.’ Paulina clutched her heart. ‘Like, the thing I want but can’t have? Oh, I love it!’

‘They had a big fire,’ Kymba repeated. ‘They’ll be closed for a long time.’

The other exciting thing was when Kymba took her to the bowls club for something to eat. ‘Nah, I’m full of plane food.’ Paulina poked her tummy. ‘Let’s get beers.’

They had to walk past a table full of blokes in hi-vis to get to the bar. The blokes were, miracle of miracles, not old. They all checked Paulina out.

She leaned over the bar extra-sexy, back arched and singlet crawling up to reveal a stretch of skin. When her beer came, she tasted the foam and glanced over her shoulder.

‘Whew! New mainie in town,’ one bloke said, and all his mates laughed.

Kymba steered her toward the door. ‘It’s nicer outside.’

The only blokes outside were old coots playing bowls. But the sun was nice, roasting Paulina’s ponytail against her nape. She pulled up her trakkies, stretched her legs on a chair, glanced at the tinted-glass windows. ‘What’s a “mainie”?’

‘Oh. It’s not exactly a nice word,’ Kymba said delicately. ‘It comes from “mainlander”, as in mainland Australian. But it can mean … lots of things.’

‘Like … sexy things?’

Kymba sighed. ‘Look. Can I give you some advice?’ She had that mum-look, which told Paulina she was getting advice, either way. ‘Don’t get involved with any Island men. At least until you know who everyone is. Other mainlanders, that’s fine. But try not to get involved with Islanders.’

‘All them in there are Islanders?’

‘Yeah, and they’re all married. They’ll act like they’re not, if they see you as a “mainie”. Then when it all hits the fan, they’ll pretend it was all you, and you’ll get the blame, and a reputation. A lot of girls have gone home in tears.’

Paulina didn’t want to go home in tears, not yet.

‘Thanks, Kymba,’ she said sweetly. ‘You’re a really good friend, hey.’

Still, Paulina folded and unfolded her legs, smiled towards the glass every now and then. No harm in being looked at.