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Her name is Emilie, she will be in Kyrgyzstan soon

1 March 2007, it could be 8.43pm… Emilie sits with a few co-workers in a small courtyard bar just a few streets away from her inner-city house. The co-worker to her right is Filipino. The co-worker to her left is Indian. Emilie is Sydney-Australian.

Sydney University educated Emilie looks smart. She wears her dark hair pulled straight back into a short pony-tail, and her late-20s face is free of flashy make-up. She is wearing a designer white shirt and very slim, dark pants. Her eyes constantly watch and absorb all which goes on around her. Her humour is extremely dry.

But she is not the bookish kind of university-educated smart girl. Her white designer shirt is slightly see-through, and her Andie McDowell grin is broad and fairly present. She has the easy confidence of the kind of girl who has always been popular with both boys and girls throughout her life.

Emilie smiles as the co-worker from China and the co-worker from Taiwan arrive. Drinks are emptied, and the girls move on to find somewhere to eat. They decide on the kind of well-let restaurant/bar that these girls would probably not choose on any other night, or with any other people.

The group settle into a booth and order wine and food. Emilie finds herself sitting at the head of the table, and casts an amused eye around the table. Her big, dancing eyes seem to hold new thoughts and ideas, which she does not offer out loud.

The large diamond ring on her wedding finger is noticed and commented on. She laughs and fiddles with the set of three rocks. It has been on her ring finger for a number of years but she still seems to find the concept of The Rock amusing.

“It was His idea,” she says in the way of an explanation. “I gave him the ultimatum, and when it came shopping around for the ring he wanted to go big. He wanted five stones, as his mother had five. But in the end we settled for three.”

Her big grin widens even further, ready to laugh, when it is suggested that her big three-rock ring would be more likely found on a booby and blonde trophy wife rather than a classy chemical engineer and consultant.

“My husband is a money trader,” she says with a deep laugh, then points out the large rocks in either ear. “In his world it says that things are going well.”

Her dry wit and deadpan comments are used to effect when talking about her ex-lawyer husband who she met years ago while working in London. He was once her boss, the only fact she has revealed about herself so far that has caused her even a smidge of embarrassment.

She downplays her blissful life to her mostly single-girl companions, joking about his current preference for comfy corduroy pants over his once penchant for snappy suits. But, no-one is fooled. They all know it is unlikely that this well-educated girl with the Andie MacDowell smile and the smart-girl consulting job would hitch herself to anyone less than savvy. 

Her smart-girl consulting job will for a short while take her away from her inner-city home and husband to Kyrgyzstan. She was part of a small team which won a pitch for a tricky project for the telecoms regulator.

“Isn’t that where the Borat film is based,” asks one of her co-workers. 

“That’s Kazakhstan, not Kyrgyzstan,” she smiles wryly at being asked the question for the third time that night.

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