The move was not on a whim. I was fully informed by clients that Perth had a great economy, mostly thanks to the mining industry. Miners are renowned for having a high income equalled only by their sex drive. I also learnt from extensive research that Perth had much cheaper housing than the Gold Coast. I even had a client phone half-a-dozen personal ads from The West Australian newspaper he had stolen from the Qantas Club to find out the going rate in Perth for a sex worker. They were making considerably more than I was. That clinched the deal.
The night before I left, my brothers went to a concert that, they said, ‘may never come to the coast again’. My dad spent the evening locked in his office because of far too much paperwork. I have no idea where Mum was—I hadn’t seen or heard from her since she left my house. On the other hand, I spent the night being consoled by a Life Line volunteer on one of those 1800 support numbers.
I was scared to go into the great unknown but equally scared to stay. The only thing that dragged me onto that plane was the thought of my precious Poppy being taken away from me. With all my heart and soul I loved her.
29
Perth—My New Home
We arrived in Perth just before the Easter long weekend. For the first night, I had an apartment booked and paid for. I had $27 in cash, none in the bank. But I had already arranged to have an ad appear in The West Australian so that I could start taking calls straight away.
From the moment I got off the plane my phone started ringing. We reached our apartment at ten pm. I put Poppy to bed and by 10.49 I had my face made-up, a sexy dress on and a client knocking on my front door. He gave me enough to pay for two more nights’ accommodation. I had brought with me a loaf of bread, two-minute noodles, cheese slices and some apples. I didn’t eat for three days trying to conserve the food for Poppy. We had no one to call, no money to do anything but we went to parks and stayed up late cuddling in front of the TV. For some unknown reason I felt safer and more content 6000 kilometres away from my dreaded family than I did in the knowledge that they were a short drive down the road.
Within a week I had found a day care centre for Poppy so that I could work only days again. I had employed a girl to sit with me for security and to answer the phone. I had moved into my own apartment, had all the phones connected and my house set up just the way I like it. I was loving Perth. I was charging a lot more than I had on the Gold Coast and was twice as busy.
My first official step in my new town was to register with the Western Australian Police vice squad. I had been warned that if I didn’t register and was caught working I could be fined and would have a record, so I fronted up on a Tuesday morning to register. I took pride in my outfit, as I didn’t want to look like a drug-dependent hooker.
I had no idea how to go about registering so I walked into the police station and spoke to the receptionist. To my embarrassment she took one look at me and said, ‘I’ll get someone from vice to come and get you. Take a seat. By the way, what shall I call you, love?’
I wasn’t sure what to say, should I give my real name or my working name? I decided it was probably not a good idea to start lying to the police. ‘Annika Cleeve,’ I replied very quickly with a heavy accent hoping that she didn’t quite get it.
‘OK, Annika, they shouldn’t be long, take a seat, love.’
I looked around for a vacant seat. Most of the seats were occupied by awful looking women, some of whom were not even wearing shoes. There were a few available but none that I would want to sit in. I busied myself with reading the police notices on the walls. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long until I was called by a nice-looking plain-clothes officer. She introduced herself but for the life of me I didn’t take her name in, I was far too nervous and frightened.
I knew that the police provided a commendable service to the community but in my experience they were also a power to reckon with. In the past, the police were of no help to me except to compound my shame and now those feelings were flooding back tenfold.
Good-looking Constable What’s-Her-Name directed me to a desk. She was very polite yet very official and cold. She appeared to be the only female in the room. I could feel every male pair of eyes boring holes in my skull, but I dare not look around.
‘Annika, we’re here to help you, but you have to deserve our help. I’m going to take down your personal information, your work details and also take a photograph to keep on record. If for any reason these details change we ask that you contact us. So, let’s begin. What’s your full name and date of birth? This will require you to provide ID for verification.’
I was so stunned I didn’t know what to say. For what felt like the longest time I sat in silence. Her fingers were poised impatiently over the keyboard.
‘Am I allowed to ask a few questions? I’m sorry, this is all just so new to me, and I’m just a little surprised.’
With an air of annoyance she took her hands away from the typewriter. ‘What do you want to ask?’