Hine and Sonny exchanged a weary glance over their mother’s head. The revelation that Polly worked in a brothel had hit Awhi very hard and, along with everything else, was coming out of her as anger.
‘Anyway, she says she wasn’t paid,’ Sonny repeated.
‘So why did she give away my Gina?’ Awhi demanded. ‘She’s not some bit of clothing you don’t want any more!’
‘I’m not sticking up for Polly, but she did give Gina to her father,’ Sonny said, deciding not to tell his mother that Polly had said Gina wasn’t with James Murdoch.
‘She doesn’t even know that man is Gina’s father! Blimmin’ thousands of men could be Gina’s father. Millions!’
Ruth pointed out, ‘If it was millions, Mum, we wouldn’t have seen Polly in . . .’ she counted on her fingers ‘. . . 1952 at all. She’d have been too busy.’
Awhi looked at her. ‘What?’
‘It’s not funny, Ruth,’ Sonny said.
‘I know. I’m just saying.’
‘And you told her you’re going down to bring her back?’ Awhi asked.
Sonny nodded.
‘And what did she say?’
‘She told us not to interfere.’
‘Not to interfere? Not to interfere? That witch has no right to give orders about Gina. She’s an unfit mother and she’s proved that. As far as I’m concerned she’ll never be welcome in this house again, even when Gina comes back.’ Awhi’s mouth formed a grim, straight line, then she said, ‘In fact, from now on she’s dead to me. I never want to see her or hear about her again.’
*
The road trip to Napier was slow, requiring many stops to prevent the truck from over-heating, and took two days. But then, neither Allie nor Sonny had jobs now and the neighbour was feeding Mr De Valera, so they had the time. They stopped at Putaruru on the first night, making the second day a very long slog, and ate pies and cream buns from bakeries along the way, and talked and talked. Allie talked about the friends she’d lost in the Dunbar and Jones fire and how she couldn’t understand why they’d died and she hadn’t; Sonny talked (for the first time to Allie) about similar experiences he’d had fighting in South Korea; they talked about how they’d have to hurry up and find jobs when they got home as the money left over from the Indian wasn’t going to go far, especially if they had to give it to the Murdochs; and they talked about why on earth Polly had given Gina away.
‘I can’t believe she did it just for the money, if there actually was any,’ Allie said. ‘I mean, I know she’s a hard nut, but no mother sells their own little girl. She loves Gina.’
‘In her own way,’ Sonny agreed, squinting into the cracked side mirror. ‘Come on, pass if you’re going to pass.’
A car tore recklessly past, pulled in front of the truck then slowed down again to forty miles per hour — on a fifty mile per hour open road.
‘Arsehole,’ Sonny muttered. ‘I don’t think it was for money, either. I think it was for Gina. Maybe she really does think being rich and all that’s better for kids than being with family who love them. Doesn’t matter: she shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have hurt Mum like that, and she shouldn’t have ripped Gina away from everything. Poor little thing must be terrified.’
‘I know. What time do you think we’ll get there?’
‘Bloody never, at this rate.’
‘Did you believe Polly when she said James Murdoch doesn’t have Gina?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know if I believe anything Polly says any more. But he must be pretty old if he’s got grandkids. Would he want to be raising a young child at that age?’
‘Maybe it’s his wife who wanted her. Ana did suggest she’s a bit, you know.’
‘Batty? I hope not,’ Sonny said. ‘Have you got the piece of paper Ana gave us with the son’s address? And the auntie’s? They’re both in Napier, aren’t they?’
Allie checked. Yes, it was tucked safely in her handbag.
‘Maybe we should ask at the son’s house first,’ Sonny suggested. ‘See if he knows anything. We won’t have time to go all the way out to this sheep station tonight by the time we get there.’
‘Where will we stay?’
‘I don’t know. We’ll find somewhere.’
‘It’ll need to be somewhere reasonable if we’ve got Gina.’
Sonny squeezed her hand. ‘I know. Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.’
By the time they arrived in Napier it was past teatime and dark. They drove around with their map looking for Duncan Murdoch’s address. Finally they found it, a house on the hill overlooking the township and out to sea, not that they could see the ocean because the night was cloudy. Allie could smell it, though, the salt riding inland on the cool wind. The house looked modern and quite flash, with a well-laid-out garden. They parked on the street and looked at each other.
‘Are you worried?’ Allie asked.
‘A bit.’
‘Me too.’
Sonny kissed her cheek. ‘Come on then.’
It was Allie who knocked on the door. They heard footsteps inside, a light came on in the porch, a blurred figured appeared behind the etched glass door, then a woman opened it. She was maybe in her late thirties, pretty and pleasant-looking with dark hair and a freckled nose.
‘Hello?’
‘Evening,’ Sonny said. ‘Is this Duncan Murdoch’s house?’
The woman looked worried now. ‘Yes, Duncan’s my husband. I’m Claire Murdoch.’
‘Well, we’re sorry to barge in. You don’t know us, but my name’s Sonny Manaia and this is my wife, Allie. We’re looking for a little girl called Gina.’
Claire Murdoch’s demeanour changed completely. ‘Oh, thank God you’ve come. She’s so upset. Please, come in.’ She stepped aside and ushered them inside, shouting, ‘Duncan! Gina’s family are here!’
A man appeared, carrying Gina. The moment she saw them she burst into tears and stretched out her arms, crying, ‘Allie, Allie! Sonny!’
Allie ran to her and snatched her up, cuddling her close and rocking her and telling her everything would be all right. She noted the little girl was wearing a new flannelette nightie, a new chenille dressing gown and fluffy slippers, and that her hair was clean and brushed and she smelt of soap.
‘The poor little thing,’ the man said. ‘She’s been beside herself.’ He offered a hand to Sonny. ‘I’m Duncan Murdoch.’
Sonny shook. ‘Sonny Manaia, Gina’s uncle. This is my wife, Allie.’
Allie nodded over Gina’s head.
‘God, what a mess,’ Duncan Murdoch said, sweeping a long fringe back off his brow.
Allie couldn’t help looking at his scars. The skin on much of his face was knotted and shiny, one eye was almost closed, his nose was oddly foreshortened, and his lips looked vaguely like small, raw sausages. If she squinted he nearly looked normal, but if she stared blatantly, he didn’t. There was also a mass of scarring beneath his chin, and his hands had that same shiny skin on them.
‘Burns,’ Duncan Murdoch said brusquely. ‘I was in the RAF.’
‘Sorry for staring.’
Duncan shrugged. ‘Everyone does.’
‘We’re so sorry about your niece,’ Claire Murdoch said. ‘We had no idea Duncan’s mother and father were planning . . . what they did. They just turned up with Gina the other day, told us she’s James’s child, and that we’re to raise her as our own. It’s absurd.’
‘It’s damn well absurd, all right,’ Duncan said. ‘It’s my mother’s doing, the barmy old woman.’
‘She is not barmy, Duncan,’ Claire said, ‘she’s troubled. But we don’t want another child. We already have one whom we love very much, and who is very upset by all of this. Not that Gina isn’t a lovely little girl, she is. But she’s not ours.’
Gina reached for Sonny, who took her. ‘How’s my best Gina-ballerina?’
‘OK,’ Gina whispered.
‘Shall we take you home to Nannie tomorrow?’
Gina nodde
d, sighed, and rested her head against Sonny’s neck.
‘What were you told about her?’ Sonny asked.
Duncan said, ‘That my father met her mother, your sister I suppose, a few years ago and Gina was the result. And that when my father recently discovered this he told my mother, who wanted Gina raised in this family.’
‘Why?’ Sonny asked.
Claire looked embarrassed, though it was impossible to read Duncan’s expression. ‘I suppose because they thought they could give her a better life.’
‘Than my sister the prostitute could?’ Sonny said.
‘Something like that, yes,’ Duncan agreed. ‘Sorry.’
‘My mother was raising Gina, not my sister,’ Sonny said. ‘My mother’s a very fine, upstanding woman. She’s been shattered by this.’
‘Then why did she let Gina go?’ Claire asked.
‘She didn’t,’ Sonny said. ‘My sister took her without her knowledge and gave her to your in-laws.’
‘She didn’t exactly give her to them,’ Duncan said. ‘I’m sorry to say it seems that money changed hands.’
Allie blurted, ‘How much?’
‘I believe something in the order of three thousand pounds.’
Dismayed, Allie glanced at Sonny, saw the terrible hurt in his eyes and almost couldn’t bear it. She knew he’d privately been hoping Polly hadn’t taken any money, and now he knew without doubt she had. How bloody awful for him.
Sonny blew out his cheeks. ‘God. Well, we can’t pay it back. We just don’t have it.’
‘I don’t see why you should,’ Duncan said. ‘That’s between my parents and your sister, isn’t it? And frankly, if my mother and father have been graceless enough to actually purchase a child, then they deserve to lose their money.’
Allie noted that Duncan and Claire weren’t making any unpleasant comments about Polly selling Gina. How kind they were.
A girl appeared then, about ten years old. She hung back behind her father, who drew her forwards, a hand on her shoulder. Her hair was the same bright bronze as his, tied in a long plait down her back, and she had her mother’s pretty features.
‘This is our daughter, Lorraine,’ Duncan said. ‘Lorraine, this is Mr and Mrs Manaia, Gina’s aunt and uncle. They’ve come to take her home.’
The girl’s face lit up in a smile. ‘Tonight?’
‘Lorraine,’ Claire said, a hint of warning in her voice. ‘I’m sorry, but she hasn’t adjusted to having another child in the house.’
I’m not surprised, Allie thought. ‘It’s a bit late tonight. We’ll be driving back tomorrow, though.’
‘Well, we’d better be off,’ Sonny said. ‘Thanks very much for being so understanding.’
‘Where are you staying?’ Claire asked.
‘Don’t know yet. We only just got into town.’
‘Look, why don’t you stay here?’ Duncan suggested. ‘You can have the room Gina’s sleeping in. It’ll be less disruptive for her, and you can get away first thing in the morning.’
Allie felt a little prickle of unease. What if it was a trick? What if James and Lucy Murdoch turned up later tonight or in the morning? What if Duncan Murdoch got in touch with a lawyer or something?
‘It’s not a trick,’ Claire said.
Allie blinked at her, dismayed that her thoughts were so transparent.
‘We feel awful this has happened,’ Claire went on. ‘She was foisted on us, lovely little thing that she is, just to fulfil some need that my mother-in-law has, and it’s been a disaster. She’s been desperately unhappy and we couldn’t even take her back to Auckland because Duncan’s parents wouldn’t tell us where she lives, and Gina doesn’t know her address.’
‘She did tell us Kitty Street, but we couldn’t find that on a street map,’ Duncan said. ‘My Uncle Thomas is a lawyer, well, he’s retired now, and he was going to try and track down where she’d come from if we couldn’t force it out of my parents, but obviously we don’t need to do that now.’
Claire lowered her voice to a whisper, ‘So as you can see we really don’t want her,’ then raised it again, ‘but I mean that in the nicest possible way. God, this is so awkward. Duncan, your bloody parents!’
‘Are Gran and Grandpa in trouble?’ Lorraine asked.
‘They most certainly are,’ Duncan said.
‘So you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like to,’ Claire said.
Allie and Sonny exchanged a glance. They were both exhausted from tension and the very long drive, and Gina had fallen asleep in Sonny’s arms.
‘Thank you,’ Allie said.
*
Everyone awoke early in the Murdoch household. Duncan was due at work, Lorraine was off to school, and the Manaias had to hit the road. After a huge breakfast, Sonny loaded their overnight things into the truck along with a bag of clothing and bits and pieces Claire had bought for Gina. Allie offered to pay for them but Claire waved her off, saying she’d enjoyed shopping for a little girl again. Then Sonny put Gina on the seat between himself and Allie, turned the key and was rewarded with an ominously flat ‘click’.
‘Shit. The battery’s gone flat.’
Sonny and Allie both got out again. The Murdochs, waiting to wave goodbye, came over.
‘Trouble?’ Duncan asked.
‘Flat battery,’ Sonny said.
‘You hop in, we’ll push.’
While Allie, Claire and Duncan went to the back of the truck, Sonny turned the ignition on, pulled out the choke, put the gearstick into second, his foot on the clutch and yelled, ‘OK, ready!’
At first a snail could have passed them but then they picked up speed, the truck crested the top of the hill and sailed down, Sonny let out the clutch, the truck lurched (making Gina laugh), the engine rotated and fired, Sonny pushed the clutch back in and revved the accelerator like mad. When the engine was running more or less smoothly he turned around and drove back up the hill to collect Allie.
‘Thanks, mate, thanks, Claire,’ he said to the Murdochs. ‘Come and see us if you’re ever in Auckland.’
‘Ditto next time you’re back this way,’ Duncan said.
Then Sonny waved out the window and they roared off in a cloud of grey smoke.
*
Awhi wept and wept when Sonny carried Gina into the kitchen at Kitemoana Street, falling on the child, cuddling her and covering her with kisses.
‘Is she all right?’ she wailed. ‘Have they hurt her?’
‘She’s fine, Mum. They were nice people,’ Sonny said.
But Awhi couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hear him, taking off Gina’s cardigan and removing her dress.
‘Mum, stop that. She was very well treated. They were really decent.’
‘People who buy babies are never decent!’
Sonny took Gina off his mother, making the little girl cry, and gave her to Allie to dress again.
‘Look, Mum, settle down. You’re upsetting her. Just calm down and listen. And you two—’ this to Hine and Ruth ‘—stop standing there gawking like the two ugly sisters. Put the kettle on.’
‘No need to be rude!’ Ruth said.
‘She wasn’t with James and Lucy Murdoch; she was with their son, Duncan, and his wife and daughter. They looked after her really well and bought her new clothes and fed her properly and everything. They didn’t do anything wrong at all.’
Awhi blew her nose loudly. ‘Except for stealing her.’
‘They had nothing to do with that. That was Duncan’s mother and father. Apparently his mother’s a bit cracked.’
‘Like your sister.’
Sonny sighed. ‘Yes, like Polly.’
‘Your sister’s a blimmin’ lunatic. She’s evil.’
‘Stop saying that, Mum,’ Ruth said, fetching cups and saucers while Hine set the teapot on the table.
Gina had stopped crying now and was wriggling to be put down.
‘Give her back to me,’ Awhi demanded.
‘Only if you stop inspecting her,’ Sonny said. ‘She�
��s fine.’
Allie put Gina down and she immediately pulled on her trouser leg. ‘Outside! Swings!’
‘No, love, it’s raining.’
So Gina climbed onto Awhi’s lap and this time her nannie just cuddled her.
‘So why did the son have her if the old people took her?’ Hine asked.
‘Apparently they wanted her raised in the family because James Murdoch is her father, but I’m guessing they’re a bit old and that’s why they gave her to Duncan,’ Sonny said. ‘At least, James Murdoch’s supposed to be her father.’
‘I always wondered who her father was,’ Ruth said.
Hine said, ‘What do you mean, supposed to be?’
‘Well, she didn’t look anything like Duncan Murdoch.’
Allie stared at her husband. He must be very tired. ‘Sonny, he was completely covered in scars. How could you tell what he looked like?’
‘No, I mean his hair and the colour of his skin where he hadn’t been burnt. And the shape of his head. And Lorraine as well. Gina’s nothing like them.’
‘But she’d be a mix of Polly and a Pakeha man, so, well . . . Oh, I don’t know.’
‘But Gina’s dark,’ Sonny said flatly. ‘I don’t see much Pakeha in her at all.’
Nobody said anything for a minute, then Gina let out a whistly snore.
‘She’s tired out,’ Awhi said, standing carefully to avoid waking the little girl. ‘I’m putting her to bed.’ At the doorway she turned and said quietly, ‘Thank you. Thank you for bringing her back to me.’
Allie and Sonny headed for home.
On the way Sonny said, ‘Bugger it, I’m going to tell Polly we brought Gina back.’
They detoured to Ligaro Place, parked the truck and knocked on the door. It was answered by a girl wearing black trousers and a baggy black jumper.
Sonny asked, ‘Is Polly in?’
‘Polly’s gone.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Moved out, a few days ago.’
‘For good?’
‘I suppose. All her stuff’s gone.’
‘D’you know where she went?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Who knows, with Polly?’
Part Three
Chapter Seventeen
From the Ashes Page 29