Life in the Spirit

Life in the Spirit

Enchantment

A Tale in the Spirit meaning it takes place within a virtual reality experience. That can be ever so vivid - so vivid and so life like can the interaction be, that about the only way to explain such sometimes is as an ordinary life story.

111 Ocean Road

Main Bedroom

Kitchen (very small compared to the size of the house)

The girls school

One of the families favourtite restaurants

Chapter 1 - A Man and a Woman

A twist of fate can be so deceptive. And who would have thought the young Islamic woman on her way to her first job interview, only recently turned seventeen, would within a year not only be married, and this to a Catholic, but also would give birth to a child?

On a dark rainy day the bus trip into the city seemed extra long; the traffic endless; the traffic lights ever so slow in changing to green. Chaos everywhere. Lana sat in her Islamic black with a head covering looking through the window. A dreary day. Heavy rain streaks across the windows made the view obscure. Outside open umbrellas everywhere. Cars with bright headlights everywhere. She was nervous to the point of biting on her fingernails - not that she had bit, but wanted very much to do so. Lana was late for an appointment and frequently glanced at her wrist watch. This was her first application for a job since she finished High School. Her ambition was to become a teacher of Islam to Muslim girls. She would need to attend a University to achieve this, which she planned to do, however in the meantime she needed the money. This first job she applied for was with a bank.

When the bus finally came to her stop Lana rushed to the tall building, holding her long dress up to avoid getting the edges soaking wet. She walked through the rotating glass doors and asked the receptionist where conference room 202 was. Into an elevator and along a corridor and she sat down on a leather lounge, leaning her umbrella, which she had not opened, against the lounge. She glanced at her wristwatch then at the two young attractive women and one man waiting. The two young woman sat opposite the young man who sat on his own in a single leather chair by a small table on which magazines were displayed.

"Am I the only one late?" she smiled as she glanced at the two young ladies.

"The manager is late," one of the young women explained. "Apparently he had been caught in a bad wet patch, his car stalled, had to call NRMA and they took a long time. His secretary came out before saying she did not know when he will actually be in. I don't mind. Lovely and warm in here...isn't it so dreadful outside!"

"Oh," Lana smiled, relaxing into her seat, and nodded in agreement about the weather. Her head turned to the man sitting at the far end of this lounge. A young man, older than she, good looking, busy reading a newspaper through glasses. What struck her was his long hair. It was not that fashionable anymore.

"Are you here for the interview?" a young woman asked Lana.

"I am," Lana nodded as she turned her head to the woman, "my first job interview."

"Can I ask, hope this is not rude," the other young woman asked, "if you do get this job, will you wear your Islamic outfit? And not the uniform bank tellers are given?"

"I have not thought about it," Lana smiled. "I don't wear this that often. I don't mind wearing a uniform. I was told this manager is an Arab, and a Muslim, and the reason I chose to wear this."

"If you don't mind wearing a uniform," the man spoke and Lana turned to him, "then try an air hostess. Judging by your long legs and figure, they would welcome you aboard."

She wanted to ignore that comment, feeling it was sexist, but something made her ask, "you are also applying for a bank teller's job?"

"No," the man shook his head, "and I adore that Islamic submissive tone! No, I am here for a loan writers job. I did not know this manager had asked others to be here. Never mind. I will wait. So miserable and cold outside."

"What qualifications do you need for that?" a young woman asked.

"Not much, it is basically a salesman job," the man explained. "I do have a University degree, albeit it in science with major in physics and computing, but I am confident I can get accepted. This is my first ever interview."

"Why is it a sales job?" Lana asked with a smile.

"Because...wow...you do have a lovely smile," the man closed his newspaper and put his reading glasses inside the top of his suit. "The whole concept of money, of large mortgage or business loans, and the options available, goes above peoples heads. Almost without exception a client makes a decision based on trust, rapport, those sorts of things, not good financial sense. I can talk easily, to anyone, and the reason a manager at a local bank suggested I contact this particular manager with a view of that position. Anyway, one bank or the other? Banks rip people off by huge profits but they don't cheat them intentionally. I don't have a problem with ethics and morals of such a job. In fact, banks have far more ethics and morals than, in my opinion, mortgage houses or finance brokers."

Just then the secretary came out. "I am sorry. John, that's the manager I work for, has rang saying he can not get across to the city. Police had blocked the road due to flooding. He is going back home. He asked that I schedule the interviews for tomorrow, same time. Is that all right?"

"No," the man stood up, "but we have no choice."

Lana walked to the lift behind the man, studying him. Long legs? How could he have worked that out? A lovely smile? No one ever said such things before. If he was a Muslim or Arab, he would not be game to say such things. As they waited she said, "that was an honest reply - are you sure you are a salesman type?"

"No, not sure, but they pay well and provide a car after twelve months," Darth replied. "My name is Darth. Yours?"

Lana glanced away, bit her lip, feeling a touch apprehensive. Maybe she should not have said anything. She turned and smiled. "Lana."

They stepped inside the lift. Darth hit the ground floor button.

"Lana? Lovely name. If you want this bank teller job," Darth smiled as the lift was travelling down, "then have a cup of coffee with me. You are much too nervous, its what I sense."

"And how will having a coffee with you make me less nervous? This is my first job interview." Lana said as the lift stopped and they stepped outside.

"Another reason to have a coffee with me," Darth said. "I will give you some tips."

Lana took a good look at this young man. Did he not say this was his first interview too? Lana was sure he said so. She decided not to remind him. He did strike her as trustworthy. He also seemed to have an easy manner, perhaps something she might want to imitate at her interview. In any case it was ever so cold and awful outside. “All right, I will have a coffee with you, in that cafe?" she pointed to a nearby cafe.

Inside the café it was warm and busy. They sat down. A waitress gave them a menu.

"Just two coffees, mine a cappuccino please," Darth said.

"Mine too." Lana smiled at the waitress.

"You do have a lovely smile," Darth leant forward. "Seriously, with your figure, not that I can see much with that heavy black gown, and your face, your smile, you would be great as an airline hostess and they pay top money. Better than a bank teller."

Lana lowered her eyes. Was this man rude? Arrogant? Sure of himself? Or did he mean what he said. She lifted her eyes. "I am a Muslim."

"I am a Catholic," Darth put his hand to out, "nice to meet you."

She took his hand, briefly, studying him, and smiled. There was something about him that was confusing. "Do you do this often? Is that what it is?" she narrowed her eyes. "You invite girls for coffee?"

"You are the first young woman I have ever invited on...on...kind of a date I guess," Darth replied.

"Date?" Lana became embarrassed and glanced about. A girl had brought two cappuccinos and was placing them on the table.

"Why do you want to be a bank teller?" Darth sipped his coffee. "Seriously? It is probably a boring job and I don't think it pays well. With your looks, your smile, your lovely big eyes – not to mention that submissive tone! - you can find many jobs."

Lana lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. She decided this man was seriously confusing her. "I don't want to be a bank teller all my life," Lana sipped her coffee, and turned her face aside when she saw a Muslim couple walk into the café. "But I do need the money and because it is not such a popular job, tedious I guess, I felt I had a fair chance at getting it. And I do believe in some strong Islamic values, such as modesty. I do not like the idea of wearing a...sexy...airline hostess uniform."

"They are not that sexy, at least not when you fly QANTAS, maybe some American airlines might be." Darth shook his head.

The way he did this made Lana smile. "You have a sense of humour. Maybe you would make a reasonable salesman."

"I will soon know," Darth leant forward. "I would love to take you on a date. Say the theater, and later dinner...or vice versa."

Lana was looking at his eyes, her own eyes narrowed. "I am a Muslim," she found herself saying.

"You are lovely woman and I am sure I could get to like you," Darth replied, "and we may be working together soon."

Lana put her cup on the plate. She firmed her eyes on his and said softly, "no, I meant, I believe in....in...no sex before marriage...this is why I stressed the Muslim part."

"Me too, I am a Catholic," Darth nodded.

For a moment she felt like tearing at her hair. Instead she lowered her eyes. Was he serious! Was he making sport of her being a Muslim? Her first impression was that he was such a smooth talker. She lifted her eyes and shook her head. "I don't believe you."

Darth leant and said softly, "yes, well, that is an advantage a woman has over a man...a man can know if his wife is...is...you know...a virgin...but a woman can't."

"You are embarrassing me." Lana turned her head aside.

"I didn't start talking about sex." Darth protested, “and I have to go to a barber later and loose this surfing long hair, and am delaying that as much as I can. I meant to do it this morning before the interview but the rain was so horrendous. My plan was to get to the city early and find a barber - but the trains were ever so late but the time I was in the city I had to rush to the appointment. But, to get back on the subject, my position of no sex before marriage is not based on my Catholic belief system, but a personal choice. I seriously believe two people who are virgins, and marry or make love before they marry, have a fantastic chance of making a life-long commitment.”

Lana felt hot. For a moment she wondered if she ought to leave right then. She barely heard the man say, "and if you don't accept my offer of a date, I will loose all my confidence. Isn't charity an Islamic virtue? If you cause me to loose confidence, and I don't get this job tomorrow, this may rest on your conscience for the rest of your life."

Lana closed her eyes, then relaxed and smiled. Then, against all her good sense, against all her better judgment, against all that was the true Islamic woman in her, she found herself saying, "all right, if you are game, then I am. But how are we to organize this? You can't call my house. If my father or mother answers I will hear no end of it. Give me your number and...well...say this Friday...you get the tickets...I will pay you half later...and I will give you a ring on Friday afternoon."

"That's a sale!" Darth smiled and put his hand out. Lana laughed. She shook his hand. Darth took out a note from his briefcase, and a pen, and handed it over. "Sign on the dotted line."

Lana puzzled.

"Write my telephone number in your own handwriting in case your mother comes across it." Darth explained.

That Friday evening they met outside Theatre Royal. They were to see a remake of the Rocky Horror Show. Lana wore her Islamic black and had a white handbag. Darth wore a suit and a tie.

"Hi, did you get that job?" Darth asked first. "When I came in the following morning no one was waiting. The manager asked me to come into his office straight away. We spent half an hour talking about cricket! I am not a great fan of cricket but managed to bluff my way around that conversations. Then he gave me the job!"

"No, I missed out, but I am happy for you." Lana shook her head. "I made the mistake of saying, when he asked what did I think about being a bank teller, that it is probably a mundane job. My mistake. How do you feel now that you have work?"

"Not so sure that's good. There are three months of formal training to do with loans, finances, budgets, legal rules and obligations. Then I have to pass all these tests. Not just some tests! I have manual after manual with rules and laws and who knows what. I think it may be easier to pass medical exams! Let's go inside. Our seats are at the back." Darth replied.

They walked up steps and turned, looking for their door which was explained on the ticket. Darth put his arm around her waist briefly as they walked around a bend. Lana felt a shiver. No one had done that before. She was not sure if she liked it. She gave him a glance. They went through their doors and were escorted to seats at the back. No one else sat near their seats as yet.

Listen," Lana said softly after she made sure no one could hear. "I wore this dress of mine on purpose. I don't always wear it. I am a more modern Muslim - but I wore it to remind you that I am a Muslim."

"Are we going to talk about sex again?" Darth asked.

Lana turned aside, feeling hot and bothered, annoyed but suppressing a smile. She turned her head to him and tried to put on a serious tone but found it hard, "no thank you."

"How can I forget you are a Muslim," Darth smiled. "Give me a hint - how many dates would a young Muslim woman have to go on before she kissed a man?"

Lana turned aside and took a deep breath. This man was seriously confusing her again! She turned to him. "Listen!" She said firmly. "I rather enjoy your company - except for these questions! How many dates! It does not work like that with Muslims. In traditional Islamic countries it might be rare to find a woman who married for love. Chances are most Muslim girls only kiss a boy when they are ready for marriage."

"Really," Darth winked and leant and gave her a kiss, "works like that for true Catholic males too."

Lana had closed her eyes as his lips came nearer. She knew what he was about to do. A part of her was trying to turn her head away - but the rest of her body refused to move. For the first time in her life had she experienced such an effect - her soul, her reason, these aspects of her being wanted to move her head aside but her body refused to comply.

"I don't believe you!" Lana said a touch too loud and glanced around because others were now moving close to their seats. "Are you trying to tell me...or hint to me...that you have never kissed a girl before?"

"Once, when I was about fifteen...but I did not like it."

"Once?" Lana puzzled. This she could not accept. The young man was far too good looking.

The lights went out. They remained silent during the first session. Then intermission and lights came on and they walked outside the main theatre.

"Would you like a drink? Champagne perhaps?" Darth asked.

"No.” Lana shook her head. "We are having dinner later...but before we do," she grabbed his hand and led him to a corner then let go of his hand and faced him.

“Listen, mister, you are being very forward. I am not used to this - and what do you mean saying you only ever kissed a girl once? I don't believe you," she shook her head as she whispered, a look of hurt in her eyes.

"Did I say once?" Darth glanced about to see how close anyone else was. "There was this other girl who gave me a kiss. I had a car, an old one, a bomb, still have the same one, and she left school to work in a factory. One day she asked me to pick her up after work. I did not mind. I arrived at the factory. She said she wanted to come back home with me to talk. Naive me, it was on the way, my mother was at work and she knew that, so we went home. When inside she did start to kiss and then took her top off. I had to tell her that wasn't me. Then, at University, I did have this girlfriend. And yes we used to kiss. Then, again, she began to make things difficult, like the first girl, she wanted sex, but that was not me, so we parted."

Lana was looking at Darth. She could see sincerity in his eyes - but this seemed ever so hard to believe. She gulped and lowered her head. "You don't need to worry, I am a Muslim." She said without lifting her eyes.

"You said we are not to talk about sex again." Darth smiled.

"Damm you!" she found herself thumping him on the chest with a clenched fist then pressing closer, looking into his eyes, and being ever so close to him, "don't make me laugh, enough stop it."

A siren. The second half of the performance was to begin. It turned to be as entertaining as the first session. When it was over they walked outside as they talked about how positive the performance had been.

"Where are we eating?" Lana asked.

"Around the corner...uhm...well," Darth stopped, looking concerned.

"What?"

"Well....I did not know this beforehand...I made the booking...then someone told me when I mentioned the name of this restaurant that its a Jewish cuisine," Darth said.

"Oh? You don't like Jewish? You want Italian or something?" Lana said.

"No - I don't know what Jewish cuisine is - and how I love that submissive flow of yours! - I was worried you might have a problem...being a Muslim...and all that continual conflict between Muslims and Jews over Palestine," Darth replied as they started to walk again.

"I am an Australian Muslim, born in Australia," Lana explained. "My parents are from a Middle Eastern country but they are not...not...anti-Jews. Where were you born? You have a touch, such a small touch, of an accent?"

"Me, Russia." Darth replied. "I was small when we left, have no memory, except one I think, of Russia."

"Russia?" Lana puzzled. "How come you are a Catholic? Aren't Russians Orthodox Christians?"

"I was born there," Darth replied. "In the same town as my mother. When she was born it was Poland. When I was born it had been taken over by the Russians. Poles are almost 100% Catholic. If you and I had a child born in that same town today, they would not be Poles or Russians but Ukrainians. The town again has changed hands".

“That’s funny.” Lana mused.

At this time of night the city of Sydney was busy and alive with groups, singles, police sirens often enough or police cars flashing past with blue lights on the roof. Before they walked inside the eating place Darth took her hand. Lana turned to him.

"Listen," he said, "before we go inside...when can we go on another date?"

Lana lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. She walked to the wall and leant back, studying the man. She pointed with her finger to her wedding hand. "Don't you understand. I am a Muslim. We don't go on dates."

"If you were older, I might consider this as a proposal of a marriage," Darth smiled and stepped closer, "but you are...twenty?"

"Not even, just over seventeen," Lana became a touch shy and shook her head, turned aside.

Darth took a step back. "Seventeen? Seventeen? I thought you were much older. I was trying to compliment you by saying your age less than what I thought you were. I felt you were certainly over twenty-one. Seventeen! That's like...like...you are still a child."

"Well, I am not over twenty," Lana said. "Still want to date again?"

"Eh, forget convention, all right, I accept." Darth took her hand and whisked her inside the restaurant.

They ordered their meal. Lana kept studying this young man. Was he for real? Did he like her that much that even when she had deliberately worn her Islamic dress, he failed to see it? They gave their order and waited, getting to know one another. At one point Darth again asked about another date.

"All right, let me play along," Lana smiled. "Where should we go for our...next date...I use the word loosely....you are…intriguing me." What she stopped herself from saying was "confusing me".

"Given you are only seventeen," Darth leant, "what time do you have to be back home?"

Lana looked hard at him. She tossed the white napkin on the table, a napkin she had carefully placed on her lap. She stood, took his hand, marched him outside, pushed him against the wall and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a most passionate kiss that lasted a long time. Afterwards she lapsed her head on his shoulder, suddenly no longer sure what she had just done - or what she wanted to do.

"Wow...is that what a real woman kisses like?" Darth said.

"Oh, come on, let's go and eat," she gave him a look, took his hand, and holding his hand they walked inside.

A fine meal and they talked freely and easily. Lana could sense he felt a touch uncomfortable knowing she was only seventeen. She deliberately changed topics to the most mature topic that came to mind. One impression she formed of this young man who talked ever so easily and well was that he was brilliant! No wonder he got that job! Brilliant not in an academic way that overpowered and put a woman off, no, in a subtle and calm way. It was not surprising the bank wanted him on their team - she would too, if she was looking for salesman!

Chapter 2 - An Eventful Saturday

A Saturday afternoon. The girls set up a stall outside their beach house. A carnival on the beach was in full swing. Ocean Road had been closed off by the local council. Only residents, or delivery trucks, could drive inside the barricades. People everywhere - on the sand and on the road. Colourful stands everywhere - on the beach and along the footpaths. A gay atmosphere. There was a shortage of cool drink stalls and the girls stall proved popular. Just after lunch a truck had delivered four large aluminium barrels with lemonade. The girls were explained how to put a hose in place when ready, which they soon did and set about serving. Queues formed. Eighteen year old Sara was at the far table. The tables were covered in plastic with colourful patterns. Sixteen year old Lisa next to her, then seventeen year old Elisha, and twelve year old Harla on the table closest to their driveway. Kara, a seven year old with a pretty oriental dress, was most happy assisting Sara. Omar, the four year old, helped Harla now and then, or would run off and play with his younger sibling. Sam, twelve months, was content sitting on the green lawn near his mother who was sitting on the edge of a white brick wall part of their outer land boundary.

Then chaos! Elisha's hose, that had a trigger on one end which was pressed to pour lemonade, came out of the barrel. The lemonade was streaming in all directions. At first the leak was small then bursts of energised lemonade covered Elisha. She stood there, turned to the barrel, hands stretched out trying to block the jet. The barrel became unstable, rolling from side to side, the jet became a stream, then onto its side spraying Lisa on the other table. Sara had walked backward yelling at her sisters not to go near the barrel. Kara, though so young also rather quick to appreciate the best course of action, walked to the front of the stalls and was asking everyone to step back. Harla and Omar by this time were outside any possible range of the streams of lemonade. Lana was looking at this uncertain what to do. Sam had lifted his head and was keenly watching. Many in the crowd were bemused. Kara was now gently pushing some of the younger girls with their big sisters back. The jets became stronger and scattered wildly. The barrel had ended up on its side and rolling back and forth and its jet spraying right over the table and onto the crowd. There were so many people on the road that to move out of the way of the jets coming from many directions, proved impossible.

Lana had sat where she had been told. For a woman who had given birth to seven children, her physical looks and figure were immaculate. Her age impossible to say. She could pass for a woman in her late twenties! Her breasts a touch larger than average and ever so shapely. Her hips a touch narrow. Her legs exceptionally long and silk-smooth – only Harla alone inherited these even though all the girls had shapely female legs. The girls knew their mother would draw curious males, and the very reason they selected what their mother was to wear and where she would sit. Lana wore a light sleeveless top and a light summer skirt that went half way down her lower legs when she was standing. She had long jet black hair. At first the girls had selected a top for their mother that she had meant to bring back because what was packaged was the wrong size, a top she had never worn, a top that would expose most of her breasts. "I do not mind helping you and looking like a model. I do object looking like a hussy.” Lana told Sara and Elisha plainly when they became insistent.

The display of the streaming lemonade, and the young girl directly in the line of fire, was an added attraction. No one noticed their father in his white car moving toward the house.

A large car, owned by his bank, but not big enough for all of them and their true car a Toyota Van in the garage. Ordinarily from the time Darth turned the corner then turned into their driveway would have taken a few seconds. With the crowd, Darth had been trying to move forward for ten minutes. On Saturdays Darth rarely worked. This Saturday a client in a nearby town insisted.

Darth managed to drive more quickly because everyone was stepping away from that side of the road. It was almost impossible to do this because of the crowd, but somehow a clean path formed and he moved closer to his driveway and turned into it. He had already observed the event. At first alarmed, he too became a touch amused. Harla, though still small and petite, had inherited her mother's long slim legs and Darth had seen her turn ever so quick and quick as a flash run far to the side, with Omar in pursuit. No boy Harla's age could catch her. Her own sisters could not catch her. She was quickly a distance away and stopped and turned. Omar had to catch up. Harla was looking at the disaster with much concern. Omar was clearly amused, or not sure if he ought to be amused or whether he ought not, and frequently glancing at his sister to gauge her reaction.

Omar’s amusement may have been due to something else. Harla had worn a white top and a dark blue light summer skirt, not particularly long. As she turned ever so quickly, Omar might have caught a glimpse of her panties. He was at that age in which catching a sight of any of his sisters panties was most amusing. Sara probably wore the shortest dresses in summer and would shake her finger at Omar if she sat down near him and his head began to lower to spy. Now and then Harla would tease. “Guess, Omar, what colour panties am I wearing?” He was surprisingly right often, so much so Lisa would sometimes say, “you have to keep an eye on him. I don’t know he does that.” Curiously, only Kara’s panties had no interest for Omar?

As Darth pulled the car into the driveway Lana's brain was snapping into gear. She called Harla and told her to go inside and fetch dish drying towels. Harla rushed off. Omar came to take his father's hand as he was stepping out of the car. Darth was looking at the scene with Omar trying to explain what happened. Kara had managed to keep the customers well clear, she standing like a policeman in front of the tables and shaking her head at anyone who might want to draw closer. That made Darth smile. Lana picked up Sam from the manicured lawn, walked to her husband, handed Sam to him, gave Darth a kiss, then took the dish towels Harla had found.

Elisha was walking past them to the house. She was soaked! From her hair to her summer dress. "You are sweet enough you know." Darth said softly as Elisha walked past looking ever so distraught.

"Funny!" She snapped - unusual for Elisha to snap. "And dad and Omar stay outside because I need to take a shower in the basement and have no clothes, so I will have to run naked upstairs."

Omar laughed. He let go off his father's hand and rushed after his sister, yelling, "I want to watch."

"Go away!" Elisha turned her head and dismissed him with her hand. He stopped, giggled, then rushed back to stand by his father. “Sara lets me watch dad.” Omar explained with a smile.

Sam was in his father's arms. Small enough to be held by one arm. Curiously looking at what his mother was doing. Lana and Lisa and Sara were cleaning the tables. Harla was handing out new cloths as the used ones became wet. Harla would first give a new cloth, then take the dripping cloth with two fingers, hold it a distance, walk to the far table and let go, so a pile was building. To understand why Harla did this, one needed to understand Harla. From a young age she had a passion for being clean. She would have a shower in the morning and evening without fail, and often on weekends in summer even in between. She would take three times as long as anyone else to wash her hands after she went to the toilet. She was the only one of the girls who had three school skirts part of her school uniform – and the only one who might manage with one for a week! When she assisted washing up after meals, she would put on white plastic gloves and take twice as long as anyone cleaning each plate. All the daughters enjoyed helping their mother prepare meals. Lana might ask Lisa or Sara or Elisha, "your hands clean?" Not a question she ever asked Harla! Harla also had big endearing eyes and a personality to match. From a young age boys wanted to play with her at school. She often took to running away, laughing. No boy ever caught her unless she wanted him to catch her. There was something endearing about Harla, something that attracted boys who wanted to play with her and sit next to her at lunch time. Adults took to Harla too.

When the tables were clean the girls served lemonade again. Lana picked up the wet towels and walked to her husband and took Sam. "Help them, love, do something about that barrel. I am sure Sam needs a change." Lana continued to the house as Elisha was coming down the front steps. She took the wet towels from her mother.

Darth made his way to the barrel. He rolled it to the foothpath. Elisha and Harla stepped out of the way. What was he supposed to do? The barrel had much lemonade. A waste to throw it down the drain? On the other hand they had no clean bottles into which to put the lemonade. There were bottles in the recycle bin, but even if he used these, even if he spent a long time boiling each one, it was unlikely his daughters would have anything to do with lemonade in recycled bottles.

As he was pondering, Lana came down to see if the girls needed assistance.

"What do I do with the lemonade?" Darth asked.

"Throw it down the drain." Lana replied quietly.

Darth rolled the barrel to the drain down the street and poured out the content. Not as much lemonade as he had thought. The outside of the barrel was ever so sticky! His hands were ever so sticky. He rolled the barrel to the driveway, up the incline, and into the basement where he straightened it, then washed his hands in the small bathroom downstairs. A bathroom usually used only after the girls had been swimming. As he was washing Omar ran inside. "Dad, another one!"

This time Sara's barrel had developed a problem. Unlike Elisha's, or possibly because the barrel was less full, the lemonade was spilling from the top but not shooting out. Darth walked past Lisa who was looking nervously at the barrel. She had worn a light yellow summer dress. Parts of it had been drenched with lemonade that had dried. Lisa had decided to soldier on and continue serving.

"You must be sticky." Darth smiled as he walked past.

"I am." Lisa turned to her father and nodded.

Darth and Sara set about examining her barrel. Kara was standing near with arms open wide like a policeman stopping anyone coming closer. Sara whispered, "I made Lisa carry on, she is the main attraction."

"I see." Darth smiled as he glanced at Kara looking rather cute and special and ever so determined to ensure “public safety”. Kara noticed, rushed to her dad, grabbed him around a leg and gave him a kiss, “I missed you!”, then rushed back to her spot to protect the “public” from the barrel.

Lisa had inherited a recessive gene which made her long hair light blond, with a light curl throughout. Her eyes were sky blue. Her face had fine features like her mother's, and was soft, most attractive. At eleven the eyes of boys her age began to turn as she walked along. At fourteen Lana had to take Lisa aside and explain that Lisa was a touch too beautiful and that could bring problems to a young girl and to never walk back from school alone. At fifteen she had a lovely soft feminine figure. The way she spoke was also unique - soft tone, so feminine, with a depth of something mysterious, something so "royal" or "dignified" that compelled a person to listen or do as she asked. Not a forceful tone of any kind, not a “posh” tone, a rather soft sweet flow.

All their children had turned out ever so well. Sara and Elisha were a touch more practical than Lisa or Harla. Lisa had that elusive beauty from such an early age. Harla had that enchanting aura. Kara at her young age was still positively cute. Sara and Elisha were very attractive but because of the way their sister Lisa looked, they considered themselves as having missed out. Elisha especially sometimes suggested she was the ugly duck of the family. Certainly not true! She was elegant and pretty just like Sara. Harla was a touch too young to compare herself in looks to her sisters, but Harla had as much if not more natural confidence than Lisa. That endearing, enchanting, quality about Harla, this Harla realised she had at an early age. Her big eyes could speak on their own without any words needing to be said. Her facial features acted in perfect harmony with her eyes conveying exactly and precisely what she wanted to know or ask or say. Sometimes when walking along with her mother while shopping, Lana was compelled to talk to Harla, answering questions she could read on Harla’s face, without Harla saying anything - just regularly glancing at her mother. Sometimes Lana would stop, lean, and whisper to Harla to talk else people will think her mother is insane and talking to herself.

"All right, mum." This was Harla's usual reply with a nod and she would start to talk.

Sara was the organiser. She was exact and precise in this, and when she planned something it would turn out well and exactly how she planned. Sara has not anticipated these incidents - who could? – and now as she walked back with Darth rolling the barrel up the incline, Sara was saying softly. "Dad, two hours ago I had to empty our money boxes. They were full. I could not help myself and counted. We have made 150 dollars each profit by that time. Wow! Wonder what it will be when we close."

"That's excellent." Darth replied. "With this heat, you could have charged double."

"I know!" Sara said. "I decided on the correct price which we advertised on the posters at the front of the table. The moment I saw the crowd come, I closed my eyes thinking to myself "fifty cents more I should have added to the price."

The girls began to pack. There was still lemonade in the barrels but the girls were now seriously concerned how safe the barrels were, or if one might even explode. Harla helped her father empty and roll the remaining barrels while the girls packed and folded the tables. Omar was among them, also helping the best he could. He wanted to be busy so one or another of his sisters gave him a mission which he diligently set about doing, finished, then came back asking "what else can I do?"

They were rolling the barrel up the slope. Harla and her father. Each time that part of the barrel came that looked sticky or dirty, Harla would let go and wait until the barrel rolled more then again put her hands to push.

Inside Lana was preparing their evening meal. Sam was in his high chair having demanded food and was pushing a very ripe soft banana into his mouth.

"You look ridiculous!" Lana laughed. Sam's cheeks had more banana on them than the inside of his mouth. He had found his mother's amusement to his liking. He was chuckling as he so pushed more and more of the banana into his mouth.

"Don't you dare come up like that!" Lana headed for the internal stairs. She heard footsteps and knew it was Lisa. "Have a shower downstairs, love. You are sticky. And your thongs!"

"Oh." Lisa hesitated, then asked her mother to bring down clean clothes.

The others came upstairs. Harla rushing off to the nearest of the three bathrooms to wash her hands. When she returned she headed for the kitchen and sat herself down on a chair, her legs folded under her, in front of a bowl with a light cream mixture. She paused, dipped her finger in, and licked her finger.

Sara and Elisha were downstairs again with dish towels with which they wanted to clean up the barrels. Sara was not keen on small ants finding the sticky barrels and venturing inside. Sara was cleaning very efficiently while Elisha not so well, her eyes curious to spot small ants.

Lisa finished her shower at much the same time as her father. They walked into the kitchen at much the same time. Darth, seeing Harla ready to dip her finger into a bowl again, reached and picked her up. She laughed and pressed against him. Harla was still light enough to be picked up in this way. She was small enough too for a twelve year old. She was not that light that Darth could hold her for too long, and also no longer a child and not allowing her father to hold her like this for too long.

"Why are you cooking, mum?" Lisa looked at the vegetables on the table. "So many stalls out there...so many food stalls...exotic food stalls...even Islamic ones, mum."

"What is an Islamic food stall?" Lana awakened to this possibility, and glanced over the vegetables she had placed on the kitchen table but had not as yet peeled or cut.

"No idea. Saw a man with a sign on his back walking past." Lisa shrugged. "Islamic Holy Food stall down by the wharf."

"Holy food? In this....but to eat out is a good idea." Lana glanced at her husband, the two communicating with their eyes. Darth had put Harla down who had set about finding something to wipe Sam's cheeks with. All the dish towels were gone, these had been brought down to wipe away the lemonade, and Harla was looking through the kitchen draws trying to find something.

"I have some dry ones, washed, in the laundry." Lana said to Harla. "Small white square towels, just to wipe Sam's hands and face."

Harla turned and rushed off. Harla was also fond of "rushing off.” Darth had to move out of her way as she flew past. “She should have been born the wind.”

Half and hour later the family was forging their way through the crowds to the far end of the beach where there was a wharf. This was the place food stalls usually set up. With darkness came lights, many, colourful. Background music played from groups and musicians who sat on the beach with crowds gathering around them. The steamy hot day became a cool evening with a light fog. The colourful lights developed an aura. Sam was fascinated. His eyes would focus and settle on such a light, and remain fixed on it as they walked past, his small head turning continually until it no longer could turn and then he would turn right around, fix on another light, and this would continue.

"May I have an ice-cream please, dad?" Harla turned to her father, stepped in front to face him, put her hands out to receive money, then remembered, "wait, I have my own money.” She rushed off to where her elder sisters were lagging behind and stopping at stalls. Sara had brought the money they would need to buy food for all. The girls insisted, since Darth refused to accept money for the initial outlay that Lana had paid for the barrels, that the very least they could do was to pay for their dinner. Harla insisted she have some of "her money.” Sara took out her wallet from her handbag and ten dollars. "You still have 190 dollars, all right, we all have, after this meal is paid, 200 dollars each."

"Wow!" Harla inspected the note. “I am rich!” She rushed off for Omar to bring him with her to the ice-cream vendor.

"Actually, love, tell Harla and Omar to walk ahead." Lana said to her husband as her eyes followed her children. "I forgot to bring a dry towel to wipe Sam after food. Only have some tissues on me."

Darth walked to Harla and Omar now taking into their hands a rather large ice-cream cone. "Listen," he leant and said quietly, "we only have a few tissues to wipe Sam's mouth. We need to save these after his meal. We want you to walk ahead, we will keep an eye on you, so Sam doesn't see you eating because he will start screaming that he wants a lick."

"All right." Harla licked her huge chocolate ice-cream top. Omar, sensing the importance of this assignment, glanced in Sam’s direction then nodded. She and Omar set off. Harla keeping a most careful eye on her younger brother. Now and then glancing behind, while hiding her ice-cream well in front, to see how far ahead they were and if Sam could see.

Perhaps half an hour later, it seemed that long, they were on the wharf. Lisa and Sara went to the wharf to see that their, not such a small one either, boat was safely anchored in its mooring. Satisfied nothing was amiss, they returned.

The ice-cream Harla had, had not satisfied. She turned to Sara. "When are we eating, Sara?"

"Am I your mother? Pest." Sara turned to her elder sisters.

Sara's reason for her rather harsh reply came from the fact that Harla was as easy-going as any of her sisters - except when she was hungry. Then she became irritable and snappy and demanding. From an early age this was evident. Lana and Darth had taken Harla to a doctor when young, thinking to check if perhaps their child had diabetes and the reason she demands to be satisfied as quickly as possible when hungry. The doctor found nothing unusual, persuaded the parents it was Harla's personality. Sometimes Darth took one of the girls with him when going to see a client in the major town along the coast. An hour’s drive. During such times if Harla was with him and they passed a road house, and Harla mentioned she was hungry, Darth would pull over and turn the car around and buy her a sandwich. She would eat and chat and be as lovely and charming a companion as before. With any other daughter, he would ask them to wait, but not with Harla. If Harla said she was hungry, a window of only about ten minutes existed before her personality began to alter.

"Mum!" Harla turned sharply to her mother.

"Sara, girls, please, make up your mind. You know what Harla is like." Lana pleaded with Sara.

"Chinese?" The girls looked at their parents.

"Lovely." Lana agreed and looked to see where they could sit, "over there, quick, love, the people are leaving."

Darth moved off quickly to reserve one of the outdoor settings on this wharf. With the huge crowd, he was only one of about twenty men heading for this table. He was first, and the girls and Lana came around and sat down. Sara and Elisha took down the orders, ignoring Harla's curt reply of "anything!" Elisha knew what food Harla enjoyed and decided to order one of those.

Ten minutes later, the family listening to a soft tune played by a musician nearby, Sara and Elisha, by this time Lisa went to assist, were bringing their packed dinner. The first to be served was Harla who quickly opened her container and dug her plastic fork right in. Omar was next to be served. While not as obvious, he was a touch like Harla and became silent and different when hungry.

"Mine is all vegetables, mum." Lisa said.

"Vegetarians," Elisha was eating a spring roll, dunking it in soy sauce, "so I heard, uhm," she hesitated, glanced at Omar sitting next to her eating his spring roll and looking with big eyes at his sister, and she leant and said softly, "if you eat only vegetables, Omar, and not meat, your pooh will not be so smelly."

Omar was looking at his sister, hesitated, then shook his head in the negative and replied matter of fact, "mine is smelly anyway."

That made everyone laugh except Sara. "Can we talk about something else please?"

Lisa, sitting next to Harla biting into her meal, turned to Harla. "Maybe that is why you have so many showers, Harla, yours is so bad you need to shower to wash away the smell off your body."

Harla looked with big eyes at Lisa. For a while no one knew what her reaction would be, then Harla covered her mouth with her hand and started laughing, and shaking her head in the negative. The way she did that made others laugh. Even Sam laughed seeing the others laughing. Sam was sitting on his mother's lap and Lana was feeding him fried rice.

"Now that you are eating, you are your delightful self again." Lana smiled at Harla.

"That's true." Harla nodded and put her fork in. She was also not the kind of personality to leave anything on her plate - not even a grain of rice. If they had meat with sauce, Harla would clean the plate with a piece of bread. She wasn't obsessive. She didn't always go that far, sometimes leaving pieces of food, but this was rare. Of all the dinner plates after eating, it would be extremely rare for Harla's plate not to be the cleanest. Sometimes so clean it could be mistaken for not having been used. Usually only when she had a mild tummy ache or was not feeling well, that was the only time she might play with her food or leave some. Omar was turning out much like his sister, even taking to cleaning his plate with a tongue. Because he was only four neither Darth or Lana worried about this. It was Sara and Elisha who tried to make Omar stop, telling him that he was not a dog.

There wasn't much that annoyed Harla, except for those times she was hungry. There was another thing. From an early age Lisa had an affinity with her father few men would ever experience with a daughter. For example, if Darth came home late, while the family was already eating, and felt too tired to eat, and instead he would lay down on the sofa, it was not out of character for Lisa to leave her meal, come out of the kitchen, take her father's shoes off, tell him ever so softly to rest as long as he likes and would he like a cup of tea? As Harla grew older, this annoyed Harla some, she being as possessive in that sense of her father as Lisa. Once when Lisa did that, and left the kitchen table to go to the lounge to her father, and all could hear her soft soothing ever so loving sweet tone, sitting at the table in the kitchen Harla turned to her mother. "Mum, dad married the wrong woman."

“Yes.” Lana mused and ruffled Harla’s hair. “If we were young again and Lisa was as she is, yes, I would have had serious competition.”

The girls smiled. Sara musing, “no, mum, in that situation, no woman, not even you, would stand a chance against the power of Lisa’s love and dedication.”

The one thing about a larger family that stood out to their friends, was that often someone would do something or say something that entertained. Meal times especially were happy times. They would sit around eating, talking, laughing. Time would pass. They were content being together.

When cooking Lana often wore Islamic black. Such covered her long hair nicely. The girls went to a Catholic High School but each was told to express the Islamic heritage if they wanted. Only Elisha took to this naturally, sometimes wearing Islamic white. Harla was most reluctant. Sometimes when it was important to Lana, Harla had to be talked into this or even threatened with some minor punishment. For a young Muslim woman not even eighteen to fall pregnant and then to explain to her traditional parents she was pregnant and was going to marry a Catholic, was not an easy thing. So, before she did, Lana and Darth carefully worked out how they would bring up their children. Lana wanted to work out all the details before she told her parents. If Darth wanted to go to a Catholic service, she would come with their children. Conversely, Lana banned him from going to any Islamic services – because Darth had a rather low opinion of Muslim men and could not stop himself, could easily be led into a fiery exchange. A mild man, but also very assertive when it was important, and while his fiery exchange was hardly fiery, to a Muslim it could come across as such. Lana noticed this the first time they came across her two male cousins. Before long there was a “battle royala” on, with Lana shaking her head. This is why her husband was banned from knowing too much about Muslims. In all their years of what truly was contentment, Darth never broke this agreement. Lana also managed to decorate their house in such a way that, on a sublime level, it gave him the impression of a Muslim house.

Darth was not much of a church goer but now and then he had the urge. Of course like any Catholic he would never miss Easter or Christmas. Four days later the family was walking into the local Catholic Church. A Christmas service. Elisha was wearing Islamic white. She had forgotten they were going to a Catholic service and had put on her Islamic whites. Lana told her to change - but they were already late - the price to pay for having so many daughters! - and seats were hard to find and they had Omar and Sam too, and Darth said that it did not matter and he sometimes saw Hindus or Buddhists at the service. They managed to find seats. Elisha was sitting next to her father, feeling a touch silly with her Islamic whites. She noticed a rosary someone left behind at the front, and took it, rolling the beads in her hands as was the custom.

“You did not look out of place before, not really, but you do now.” Darth mused watching her count the beads on her lap in her hands. “We could paint some blue stripes, then they will think you are a Missionary of Charity.”

Elisha ignored, busy doing the right thing as she understood.

“They taught us at school how to do that.” Harla leant forward and nodded and explained.