part of a traditional initiation ritual. The wigs were shaped like upturned canoes, decorated with shells and everlasting daisies.
Julian is in the foreground, his long patrician nose shining with light sweat, his blue eyes squinting under the noon sun. It is the only photograph I have of him where he is not wearing glasses. Without them he looks softer somehow, more vulnerable. But what really stands out for me, behind his shy expression, is the innate and immoveable stoicism that not even the most trying experiences would alter.
•••
It was not long before Julian and I began to talk about a future together. This was not just giddy love on my part; clearly Julian felt exactly the same way as I did. It was as though I was already a part of him and he a part of me.
One night I went out with him alone, leaving my father happily ensconced at home with a good book. Later, I rang to let him know I would not be coming back.
‘I see,’ he said wryly. ‘Developments are afoot.’
•••
My father had observed the blossoming of our relationship with kind, uncritical eyes. He may have had misgivings about the age difference between us, but if so he did not express them and was delighted when, towards the end of his visit (which had stretched into several weeks), Julian formally asked him, with some irony, for my hand in marriage over a long lunch to which I was deliberately not invited.
After arriving home in the UK my father penned a rare letter.
I’m glad you and Julian are growing closer together – I have a strong affection for him. Possibly because I see in him the brother that I would have liked to have had.
I cannot imagine a more exhilarating, exciting, entertaining, or interesting seven weeks in my life. Without everyone I metin PNG, there would have been no sublime experience. Thank you so much, both of you, for everything you did.
He could not resist a parting shot, however:
PS Julian, I think Lucy is faking her orgasms.
A few weeks later I fell quite ill. I was constantly nauseous and could barely touch any food; even the smell of alcohol made me vomit. My body felt like porcelain as I moved around the house, aching, vague and preoccupied.
When I saw the doctor, I regaled her with a list of symptoms: constant nausea, unexplained tiredness, light-headedness.
‘Your last period?’ she asked.
I couldn’t remember. They were irregular at best.
‘Is it possible you are pregnant?’
I stared at her.
‘I can do a test now, if you like,’ she said briskly.
A few moments later she came back into the room.
‘It’s all very straightforward,’ she said. ‘Congratulations. The test is positive.’
•••
I left the surgery feeling dazed.
Although Julian and I were now almost inseparable, I wondered how he would react. We had discussed havingchildren, but I think we both imagined this would happen later rather than sooner. I rang his office and asked him to meet me for lunch in a downtown café.
I sat near an open window, ordered a soft drink and kept breathing deeply. Out in the port I could see large container ships, rusting and ugly, against a hopeful sky. A sickly smell of copra drifted through the air.
Julian arrived and apologised for being late. He had barely sat down before I blurted out my news. He took my hand and kissed it.
‘That’s marvellous, darling,’ he said. ‘Well, we should get married as soon as we can. I’ll organise everything.’
•••
Looking back, it still amazes me how quickly my life changed in a matter of weeks, how I had gone from staunch independence to a deep level of connection and commitment in such a short space of time. This transition took place without any hesitation.
Before the wedding, Julian decided we should fly to Korea so that I could meet his second son, Charlie, who was studying at university in Seoul. I had met his other boys, Oliver, Henry and Edward, when they had come home on holidays. We had managed to negotiate these
Julian is in the foreground, his long patrician nose shining with light sweat, his blue eyes squinting under the noon sun. It is the only photograph I have of him where he is not wearing glasses. Without them he looks softer somehow, more vulnerable. But what really stands out for me, behind his shy expression, is the innate and immoveable stoicism that not even the most trying experiences would alter.
•••
It was not long before Julian and I began to talk about a future together. This was not just giddy love on my part; clearly Julian felt exactly the same way as I did. It was as though I was already a part of him and he a part of me.
One night I went out with him alone, leaving my father happily ensconced at home with a good book. Later, I rang to let him know I would not be coming back.
‘I see,’ he said wryly. ‘Developments are afoot.’
•••
My father had observed the blossoming of our relationship with kind, uncritical eyes. He may have had misgivings about the age difference between us, but if so he did not express them and was delighted when, towards the end of his visit (which had stretched into several weeks), Julian formally asked him, with some irony, for my hand in marriage over a long lunch to which I was deliberately not invited.
After arriving home in the UK my father penned a rare letter.
I’m glad you and Julian are growing closer together – I have a strong affection for him. Possibly because I see in him the brother that I would have liked to have had.
I cannot imagine a more exhilarating, exciting, entertaining, or interesting seven weeks in my life. Without everyone I metin PNG, there would have been no sublime experience. Thank you so much, both of you, for everything you did.
He could not resist a parting shot, however:
PS Julian, I think Lucy is faking her orgasms.
A few weeks later I fell quite ill. I was constantly nauseous and could barely touch any food; even the smell of alcohol made me vomit. My body felt like porcelain as I moved around the house, aching, vague and preoccupied.
When I saw the doctor, I regaled her with a list of symptoms: constant nausea, unexplained tiredness, light-headedness.
‘Your last period?’ she asked.
I couldn’t remember. They were irregular at best.
‘Is it possible you are pregnant?’
I stared at her.
‘I can do a test now, if you like,’ she said briskly.
A few moments later she came back into the room.
‘It’s all very straightforward,’ she said. ‘Congratulations. The test is positive.’
•••
I left the surgery feeling dazed.
Although Julian and I were now almost inseparable, I wondered how he would react. We had discussed havingchildren, but I think we both imagined this would happen later rather than sooner. I rang his office and asked him to meet me for lunch in a downtown café.
I sat near an open window, ordered a soft drink and kept breathing deeply. Out in the port I could see large container ships, rusting and ugly, against a hopeful sky. A sickly smell of copra drifted through the air.
Julian arrived and apologised for being late. He had barely sat down before I blurted out my news. He took my hand and kissed it.
‘That’s marvellous, darling,’ he said. ‘Well, we should get married as soon as we can. I’ll organise everything.’
•••
Looking back, it still amazes me how quickly my life changed in a matter of weeks, how I had gone from staunch independence to a deep level of connection and commitment in such a short space of time. This transition took place without any hesitation.
Before the wedding, Julian decided we should fly to Korea so that I could meet his second son, Charlie, who was studying at university in Seoul. I had met his other boys, Oliver, Henry and Edward, when they had come home on holidays. We had managed to negotiate these
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