From the Ashes

by Deborah Challinor

  Back in the kitchen Mrs Shand gave her a hard look, but Kura ignored it and went back to stacking clean cups and saucers onto the tea trolley. She was a cow, Betty Shand, and it was common knowledge she favoured the Pakeha staff in the kitchen over the Maori and Pacific Island women, but Kura did her best to keep her head down and out of her way. It was worse too now Wiki had gone, but she was friends with some of the other women so she didn’t feel too lonely. And there were always her patients on the wards: she still really enjoyed talking to them and brightening their day with a biscuit, a cup of tea and a cheery word. She filled two large teapots with tea leaves and boiling water, and headed off to do her first round.

  When she came back about an hour later Mrs Shand marched up to her. ‘Mr Price wants to see you in his office.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes, now.’

  A prickle of foreboding rippled along Kura’s arms and legs. Someone had dobbed her in for using the toilet when she wasn’t supposed to — Betty Shand herself, probably.

  Mr Price’s door was open.

  ‘Come in, Mrs Apanui. Close the door behind you. Have a seat.’

  Kura sat.

  ‘I’ve been told you used the Kitchen Staff’s cloakroom earlier today, unsupervised. Is that correct?’

  Kura nodded.

  ‘Are you aware that another theft occurred this morning?’

  Kura’s stomach plummeted. ‘No.’

  ‘Someone removed twelve pounds from Miss Duffy’s purse, which was in her handbag in her locker. Do you know anything about that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes! I’m not a thief!’

  ‘Well, I’ve asked Mrs Shand to search your belongings.’

  A tide of shame surged through Kura and she felt her face blaze red. ‘You could have just asked me! I would have shown you.’

  A knock came at the door and Betty Shand stepped in with Kura’s handbag and coat.

  ‘Well?’ Mr Price asked.

  ‘I found fourteen pounds in Mrs Apanui’s purse.’

  ‘That’s my rent money!’ Kura said. ‘I have to pay it on the way home from work.’

  ‘How do we know you didn’t steal it?’ Betty Shand said.

  ‘How do you know I did?’

  ‘Well, you know what you people are like.’

  ‘Here, now—’ Mr Price began, waving his hands about.

  Kura stood. ‘No, I don’t know, but I know what you people are like.’

  ‘Ladies, some decorum, please,’ Mr Price urged. ‘Look, Mrs Apanui, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to let you go. This morning’s events give a very unfortunate impression, which I can’t ignore. I really am sorry.’

  ‘Fine,’ Kura declared. ‘I wouldn’t keep working here if you paid me.’

  Smirking, Betty Shand said, ‘And I expect you to return your uniform, washed properly and ironed.’

  Kura thought, all right, you asked for this. She whipped off her cardigan, quickly undid the buttons of her smock, slipped out of it and, ignoring Mr Price’s horrified protestations, threw it at Mrs Shand. ‘You bloody well wash and iron it. I don’t work here any more.’

  Then, putting her cardigan back on and grabbing her coat and handbag, she marched out of the office and through the kitchen, her head held high. It wasn’t until she got outside that she started to cry big, hot tears of shame and anger, and also decided she should probably put her coat on over her slip so people wouldn’t stare. On the other hand so what if they did? She couldn’t feel any more shamed than she already was.

  A thief? She’d never stolen anything in her entire life.

  *

  ‘Quick, hide,’ Peggy said. ‘Duck down behind the counter.’

  ‘Why?’ Allie asked. Then she spotted Kathleen Lawson. ‘Oh, don’t be so mean. She’s all right.’

  ‘She’s not, she’s poisonous.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Lawson!’ Allie called.

  Kathleen waved and made a beeline for the Elizabeth Arden counter. ‘Good morning, Allie.’ Ignoring Peggy she checked her fancy watch. ‘Or should I say good afternoon, given that it’s twelve o’clock.’ Her face lit up. ‘I’ve just had the most marvellous idea. Why don’t we go out for lunch?’

  ‘No thanks, Mrs L,’ Peggy said. ‘I had a big fat meat pie at smoko. I’m full.’

  Kathleen gave her a dagger-sharp look. ‘I wasn’t speaking to you.’

  ‘I can’t I’m afraid,’ Allie said, feeling acutely embarrassed. ‘I only have forty-five minutes.’

  Kathleen appeared to think for a moment. ‘Well, why don’t we grab a bite to eat in The Cedar Room upstairs? That will save us looking for a restaurant or a cafe.’

  Allie felt herself going red. That would be even worse. ‘I don’t think we’re allowed to mix with our customers socially, especially not, you know, in the store.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’ Kathleen asked. ‘Besides I’m very good friends with George Holmes and I’m sure he won’t mind. Really, you’ll enjoy yourself. My shout.’

  Allie struggled to recall who George Holmes might be, then realised Kathleen meant Mr Holmes, Smith and Caughey’s manager. ‘Well, if you think it’ll be all right.’

  ‘Of course it will.’

  Allie glanced at Peggy, who eyed her back impassively, but Allie could tell she didn’t approve. But, really, Peggy wasn’t her keeper. ‘All right. Thank you. Can I meet you there? I just need to get my bag on the way.’

  When Allie arrived at The Cedar Room, Kathleen waved to her from a table next to a window. Sitting down, Allie felt quite pleased to be sharing a table with the most stylish woman in the room. She wondered what the other women having lunch might be thinking.

  She said, ‘I’ve never eaten in here before. Well, just sandwiches when we’re doing a show.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ Kathleen sounded amazed. ‘Why ever not?’

  Because it’s too expensive. ‘I usually bring my own lunch to work.’

  ‘It’s rather modern in terms of decor, isn’t it?’

  Allie hadn’t thought about it. ‘It is, yes.’

  Kathleen opened a menu. ‘What would you like? Something hot or would you prefer something a little less substantial? I’m thinking of a salad, myself. And perhaps a Cona coffee. I adore Cona.’

  Allie had a quick look. ‘I think I’d like a club sandwich, thank you. And a cup of tea, please.’

  ‘You don’t drink coffee?’

  ‘I’d rather have tea during the day.’

  Kathleen ordered, then said, ‘While we’re waiting I thought you might like to look at these.’ From her bag she took a small sheaf of brochures and handed them to Allie.

  ‘Er, thank you.’ A bit mystified, she shuffled through them. They were for Kelvinator and Frigidaire refrigerators, a Shacklock electric oven, a Kelvinator fully automatic washing machine and matching clothes dryer, and a Sunbeam Mixmaster electric cake mixer.

  ‘For your new home!’ Kathleen said brightly. ‘I know you’re short of time today but perhaps next time we could go to Farmers and have a look at their range. I know they’re not exactly a luxury store, but they do have a marvellous appliance department.’

  Now Allie really was uncomfortable. Squashing recollections of the tantrum she’d thrown in front of Sonny about wanting a refrigerator, she said, ‘But I can’t afford to buy anything like this. We’re saving.’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing, Allison. You see, at Farmers you can arrange a hire-purchase agreement. All you need to do is pay a small deposit, commit to weekly payments, and you can have anything you like right then and there!’

  Allie knew all about hire-purchase. Her parents had never bought anything on the never-never because they disapproved of it, and she knew Sonny wouldn’t agree to it, either. He said hire-purchase was for idiots because in the long run, due to fees and interest payments on the principal, you ended up forking out twice as much. ‘Aren’t there interest payments, though?’

  ‘We
ll, I expect there might be a little bit of interest in there somewhere, but surely it’s worth it to have all these lovely modern appliances? Think of the time and effort you’ll save around the house!’

  Allie decided she could get away with being a bit cheeky. ‘Do you have any hire-purchase agreements?’

  ‘Do I?’ Kathleen gave a little tinkling laugh. ‘Well, hardly. I don’t need hire purchase. I always pay cash no matter what I buy.’

  ‘I think we’d rather pay cash too. I know Sonny would.’

  When the waitress arrived with their meals Allie saw it was Pauline, but her sister didn’t acknowledge her so Allie kept quiet herself.

  ‘But you can’t pay cash, can you?’ Kathleen went on. ‘And you’ll never be in a position to, married to someone like your husband.’

  Allie started to interrupt but Kathleen flicked up a manicured and be-ringed hand.

  ‘No, please, let me speak, Allison. It’s time someone did.’ She leant aside as Pauline placed her pot of Cona on the table. ‘He may well be charming and good-looking, but everyone knows that Maori men, and women for that matter, do not generally make responsible employees, therefore they’re unable to earn a decent amount of money and get on in life. It’s a fact. So as long as you’re shackled to him you’ll never have the things you want. That you deserve.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is, Allison.’

  ‘You don’t even know my husband.’

  Pauline set down Allie’s club sandwich with a clatter and strode off.

  ‘What a damned rude waitress,’ Kathleen remarked. ‘I’ve a good mind to report her. I don’t need to know your husband, Allison; I know what people like him are like. I should. I have a great pile of them on one side of my family, I’m sorry to say.’

  Allie didn’t want her sandwich any more, and neither did she want to be sitting here with Kathleen Lawson. ‘Is this why you invited me to lunch? To tell me my husband’s useless?’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘Because that’s what you’ve just done.’

  Kathleen pulled off her gloves, picked up a fork and stabbed a piece of cucumber out of her salad. ‘Well, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, but I thought it needed saying. Anyway, you didn’t let me finish.’

  Allie knew she should get up and go, but she didn’t. She waited.

  ‘I was going to say you need to be firm with your husband. If you want something you need to make that clear. I’m firm with my husband, and I don’t want for anything. I have a lovely home, plenty of money, three beautiful happy children, and a very attentive husband, and it’s because I’m firm about what I want. You should take a leaf out of my book, that’s all I’m saying. If you want a refrigerator, you make him buy you one.’

  ‘I don’t think he’d appreciate me throwing my weight around,’ Allie said. Though when she had, he’d accepted it with his usual patience and good humour.

  Sometimes she thought she didn’t deserve Sonny. So why was she sitting here listening to Mrs Lawson run him down? Because Kathleen Lawson was glamorous and sophisticated and she thought a bit of that might rub off on her? But she wasn’t Mrs Lawson, not by a long shot. Really, she didn’t understand half of what was going on in her own head any more.

  ‘I’m not saying that, I’m saying be firm.’ Kathleen reached across the table and patted Allie’s hand. ‘I’m just trying to help, dear.’

  *

  Allie, Donna and Pauline sat in a tearoom on Karangahape Road eating cream cakes. It was well past seven o’clock on a Friday evening, and raining, but the street was still busy because of late-night shopping. It was the first time since the previous year they’d managed to spend time together, just the three of them, they were all that busy now.

  ‘How’re your insides?’ Allie asked Donna. ‘Back to normal?’

  ‘Not really. It’s been a month now and there’s been nothing. I expect it’ll take a while.’

  ‘I can’t believe how dumb you were, getting caught,’ Pauline said.

  ‘Neither can I,’ Donna agreed.

  ‘And you’ve heard nothing from the bloke?’ Allie asked.

  Donna shook her head. ‘Not likely to, either. And I’m happy with that. Let’s just say I’ve learnt a good lesson.’

  Allie picked a sponge wing off her butterfly cake. ‘Which is?’

  ‘Don’t trust men.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh.’

  ‘All right then: only trust men on my terms.’

  ‘I trust my man,’ Pauline said.

  Allie said, ‘Your man’s a boy.’

  ‘No, he’s definitely a man.’

  ‘You be careful,’ Allie warned, pointing a finger at Pauline.

  ‘Don’t worry. We’re not dumb.’

  ‘So you are sleeping with him?’ Donna asked.

  ‘Yes. So?’

  ‘God, Pauline, I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘’Course.’

  ‘Well, I thought I did too, and I’m supposed to be a student nurse.’

  ‘Well, that says more about you than me, doesn’t it?’ Pauline said. ‘Anyway, don’t worry about it. We’re good.’

  ‘You know, it’s not really fair, is it?’ Allie said. ‘I’d love another baby and you had to get rid of one.’ She glanced at Donna to gauge her response.

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry. It isn’t fair.’

  ‘Sonny and I would have taken it.’

  Donna looked guilty, and sad. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to carry on with my training if I’d had it. I was selfish, I know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Anyway, she’s not a baby factory,’ Pauline said, and took a huge bite out of a cream horn, scattering pastry everywhere.

  Allie checked her watch. ‘What time’s our appointment?’

  Donna said, ‘Eight o’clock. Eat up.’

  ‘Wait on,’ Pauline said, her voice muffled by pastry. ‘This is yum.’

  They were off to have their cards read by a woman recommended by a student nurse friend of Donna’s. Apparently she was spot on with her predictions.

  Allie shovelled down the rest of her butterfly cake, then they walked along Karangahape Road, getting wet trying to share one umbrella, towards Hopetoun Street and the address Donna had been given.

  Pauline said, ‘What’s her name, this woman?’

  ‘Arabella Fortune,’ Donna replied, avoiding a puddle.

  ‘Sounds made up to me. Fortune sounds dodgy, ’specially with her being a fortune-teller. And nobody gets called Arabella these days.’

  Allie said, ‘She might be ninety years old.’

  ‘True,’ Pauline agreed. ‘What do you want to find out?’

  Whether I’ll ever have another baby, and if I’m really going mad, Allie thought. ‘I don’t know. Just what the future holds for me, I suppose. What about you?’

  ‘If I’ll marry Johnny.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t realise it was that serious. Don’t you think you’re a bit young for marriage?’

  ‘It is that serious, and no, I’m not too young. I love him and he loves me.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Donna said. ‘You’re only seventeen.’

  ‘Allie wasn’t much older when she married Sonny.’

  ‘I was almost twenty-one. That’s a bit older.’

  ‘Anyway I didn’t say I wanted to marry him tomorrow,’ Pauline said.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ Allie asked Donna.

  Pauline said, ‘You want to know if you’ll get married, don’t you?’

  ‘I bloody well do not! Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? Christ, you can be annoying.’

  ‘I try.’

  ‘Well?’ Allie prompted.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Donna said. ‘Same as you, I suppose. Whatever the cards say.’

  Pauline said, ‘They’d better say something good. A quid a pop’s a hell of a lot to find out we’re going to die or something.’

  ‘I don’t think she’d tel
l us if the cards said that,’ Allie remarked.

  Pauline snorted. ‘It’s probably all made up anyway.’

  Donna turned on her sister. ‘Do you have to be so contrary?’

  ‘I’m not being contrary. You’re just hearing everything I say contrarily.’ Pauline frowned. ‘Is that a word?’

  Allie had just about had enough. ‘Stop it, you two. Leave her alone, Donna, and Pauline, stop being a bitch.’

  They walked along in silence until Donna said, ‘I think this is it.’

  They were outside a small, ordinary-looking house set close to the street. On closer inspection a hand-painted sign next to the front door read Arabella Fortune: Scrying, and Tarot Cards Read; Futures Revealed. Once they’d crowded onto the little verandah out of the rain, Donna knocked.

  The door was answered by possibly the most striking woman Allie had ever seen. Probably not even thirty, she was pretty, with very long hair so starkly blonde it was white. Even her eyebrows and lashes were white, her skin really was as pale as alabaster, and her eyes were an extremely faded blue. But most remarkable, and shocking, were the red, green, blue and black tattoos that completely covered her upper arms to her elbows, and, below her skirt, the top half of her calves. Allie had never seen tattoos on a woman, ever.

  No one said anything. Allie realised they must look idiotic standing there with their mouths open, so she said, ‘Hello, are you Arabella Fortune? We have an appointment.’

  Arabella Fortune looked amused. ‘Donna? Yes, come in.’

  ‘No, she’s Donna. I’m Allie. This is Pauline.’

  Arabella ushered them inside and seated them at a round table in what appeared to be her sitting room, which looked perfectly normal except for the stuffed animals. There were a white ferret, a domestic cat, a rabbit, a small fox, a squirrel, and several birds including one Allie thought might be a raven. They were quite bizarre and she tried not to look at them.

  ‘We’re a bit wet, sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Well, it is raining,’ Arabella remarked.

  ‘We thought you’d be older,’ Donna said, then looked embarrassed.

  ‘A lot of people say that. Now, are you happy with the Major Arcana, or would you prefer the Minor Arcana as well?’