Monsoon by Di Morrissey Page A

anxious and brought home to him how much he loved and wanted to protect the girl he thought of as his ‘little bird’.
    Uncle lowered his head and clasped his hands. ‘Kevin, I speak for Thu’s father as he is not with us and she wants you to know . . . everything.’
    â€˜What’s to know? I’ll take her just as she is, Uncle,’ said Kevin vehemently.
    Slowly, not looking at Kevin directly, Uncle told him about the attack – he could not use the word rape – that Thu had suffered on the boat when they escaped. He finished by saying softly, ‘For some men in our country, she would not be a good wife.’
    â€˜Bullshit! ’Scuse me, Uncle.’ Kevin’s anger and pain over the incident flared again. ‘Poor Thu. She’s already told me. But I love her and that’s all that matters.’
    Uncle felt a smile breaking out and he reached for Kevin’s beefy hand. ‘You are a good man, Kevin. Thu is a lucky woman.’
    Kevin’s face broke into a huge grin. ‘Bugger me. I’m the lucky one! So it’s all right, we can start planning the big day? Nuptial mass, the full works!’
    Uncle nodded and called for Aunty to bring the best rice wine. The men toasted each other and by the time Thu arrived home from work, her future husband and Uncle were flushed and very jovial.
    It was a formal wedding. Thu wore a crinoline of lace and a small tiara. Kevin was in a tux with a red bow tie and cummerbund. The reception was at a Vietnamese restaurant with Vietnamese food, Australian beer, and an Italian crooner and his band.
    Nine months later Anna was born.
    They settled in a house in Budge Street, Maroubra, and within a month Kevin had met Phil Donaldson after the owner of the car yard where Phil worked began to employ Kevin as a mechanic. Discovering they lived in the same street, the men began to socialise. Initially Thu was shy and simply put food in front of the men as they talked cars on the back patio. But when Phil’s wife, Patricia, discovered they had little girls the same age, she insisted they have family get-togethers. And so an enduring friendship was born.
    Sandy followed Kim into a large airy building near the port of Hai Phong and was surprised to find they were in a kind of floating, open-air model farm with tanks in the centre. Water was sluicing through the tanks and monitoring equipment was mounted on one platform where a man was dipping a net into the water and dropping small shrimp into plastic tubs.
    â€˜This is an odd place for a shrimp farm, isn’t it?’ commented Sandy. ‘Who owns this one?’
    â€˜It’s a trial model. You know I’ve been involved in research into shrimp farm practices, well, now some solutions are happening.’
    â€˜It’s been an environmental disaster for Vietnam, hasn’t it?’ said Sandy. ‘Even though it’s a booming industry.’
    Kim shrugged. ‘Yeah, a big export for the big guys, but at a huge environmental cost to the country. Hopefully projects like this will lead to more sustainable aquaculture management. The head of the research institution involved has come over from France.’
    He went to a glass partitioned office where two men were talking, rapped on the door and both were waved inside.
    â€˜Hello, Professor Truyen,’ said Kim.
    The professor smiled and extended his hand.
    â€˜This is my associate from HOPE, Sandy Donaldson,’ said Kim introducing her to the visiting Vietnamese professor.
    The professor turned to the man at the desk. ‘Kim, this is our French director, Doctor Petiere.’
    â€˜Please, Jean-Claude. Delighted to meet you, and Miss Donaldson.’ His French accent, debonair looks and warm smile oozed Gallic charm.
    â€˜Call me Sandy.’ She smiled, shaking his hand.
    Professor Truyen excused himself saying, ‘Jean-Claude will show you where our operation is up to.’
    â€˜So,