Uncle Pike put on the jug. He held up a long sachet and shook it at Mum. ‘They have your “real” coffee here.’
She gave him a thumbs up. ‘Two please.’ My uncle grimaced as he made it.
On the screen, a photo of a policewoman, Detective Sergeant Brenda Graham, flashed up. My stomach dropped. ‘Oh no,’ I said. The ‘Brenda’ Devon had spoken about. We all went quiet and I turned up the volume. The reporter said the policewoman had arrived at the town hall carpark seconds before the bomb exploded. She had been airlifted to Dunedin Hospital, where she was in a critical condition. She’s alive.
Mum auto-hugged me and glanced at Devon, who was focused on his pony book. The reporter explained that DS Graham had been investigating the bomb threat call when it detonated, debris trapping her in her car for hours.
My uncle leaned forward. ‘She’s the one who interviewed you at Christmas.’
‘That’s right. And Detective Melon was her partner. She was really nice,’ I said. ‘I hope she’ll be okay.’
Mum nodded with a forced smile.
‘She liked you,’ Uncle Pike said. ‘I don’t think she loved us, though,’ he added to Devon.
Devon didn’t look up. ‘We kept talking to her and tried—’ He ripped the book. ‘Shit. Sorry, ponies.’
Mum squeezed down beside him on the couch and they hugged for ages. ‘It meant a lot that you were there,’ she said. ‘You really helped.’
I didn’t know what to do so I hugged them both as well. Uncle Pike came over and joined in, squashing us all. Mum laughed and pushed him off.
On TV, a reporter announced a traffic bypass was now open. We sat back up and watched as the first cars in the traffic crossed the bridge. A red line graphic snaked down Rata Street to the Bully then turned down our street.
I ran to the TV and pointed at the aerial shot. ‘Hey, that’s this place.’ Sure enough, the windows began to rattle as a sheep truck and trailer, then a logging truck, rumbled past.
‘Great,’ Uncle Pike said. ‘That’s not going to be annoying.’
‘My cue to leave and get back to work.’ Mum stood up and kissed me.
‘Lennie, we’ll have dinner ready for you when you get home tonight,’ my uncle said.
She squeezed his shoulder. ‘Perfect.’ She went and gave Devon another hug. ‘Thanks again for this morning. Take care, shock can still come on at any time.’
‘You too,’ Devon said.
I walked Mum to the door, not wanting her to leave again, and this time studying her face to remember her exactly. She had a pink crease on her cheek from her nap.
Mum frowned at me. ‘What is it?’
‘I love you,’ I said.
She held me close. ‘Love you more.’ I watched her walk down the path then I shut the door. My eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep.
Uncle Pike kissed Devon. ‘You want to rest, honey?’ he asked, as a particularly noisy car went past.
Devon slapped his thighs. ‘No, let’s get out of here. I want to see our future holiday home. Tippy?’
I nodded. We may as well go see the murder house, where another man went mad and killed innocent people and himself.
The concrete steps down to Number Four were steep. The day had turned sunny but it was still cold. Uncle Pike and I hung by the red front door while Devon fished around in his man-bag for the keys. He pulled out his black folder, causing his pashmina to fall off.
‘These are my work clothes,’ he had told me before we left. He’d also put on a swirly patterned turban with a big ruby brooch on the front of it. He reminded me of a genie. ‘Customs wouldn’t let my peacock feather in. Tippy, if you see a peacock, please let me know.’
‘Sure.’ I had given him a two thumbs up. This PA job had its benefits, I’d love to see Devon chase and pluck a peacock.
Uncle Pike sighed. Devon stooped, grabbed his purple pashmina then shoved the black folder into my uncle’s chest. ‘Thanks for helping,’ Devon said. He dove his hand back into his bag and pulled out a bunch of keys, then jingled them in front of us. ‘Found them.’
‘Afternoon,’ came a man’s voice behind me.
I turned around and squinted. The man stood in front of the sun, giving him a halo, like one of those bible angels with flowy golden hair. Uncle Pike and Devon put their hands up to shield their eyes.
‘Jack Pepper,’ the man said.
‘Excellent timing,’ Uncle Pike replied. He held out his hand. ‘Pike.’
Jack stepped down and shook his hand. ‘Good to finally press the flesh.’
Devon growled in the background. My uncle ignored him and introduced me to Jack, the builder renovating Number Four.
I shook his rough hand as he gave me a huge smile. My cheeks burned and my tummy fluttered. Butterflies? I dropped my hand and searched the garden for a place to hide.
‘And, of course, this is Devon, my partner and co-homeowner,’ Uncle Pike said.
Jack shook Devon’s hand. ‘Great to meet you at long last.’
‘How do you do?’ Devon said, in a strangely formal voice.
‘Good, thanks, Devon.’ Jack grinned. ‘I like your hat.’
Devon sniffed. ‘It’s a turban.’
‘Ah, right … of course. Terrible business, what happened this morning.’ Jack shook his head. ‘And Will was such a nice guy.’
‘Just horrible,’ Devon said, again in that weird posh voice.
I glanced at Uncle Pike who was looking at Devon, worried. Was this the shock that Mum talked about?
‘Absolutely,’ my uncle said. ‘Those poor people. It just doesn’t make sense.’ He put his arm on Devon’s back, who flinched. ‘Jack, make us fall in love.’
Jack laughed, a friendly angel. ‘Can’t wait to show you what we’ve done so far.’
As we went inside, I checked behind the front door. The hole in the wall, from Duncan Nunn slamming the door open repeatedly, had been plastered over and a new doorstop added. Even from here the place looked so different from what I remembered. The hallway’s walls were now painted white and the old carpet had been ripped up, leaving wide wooden floorboards. The ceilings seemed much higher and the place already looked a thousand times better.
Jack patted the wall. ‘Undercoat on the walls. The sparky’s gone and done the rewiring.’
‘I’m impressed,’ my uncle said.
‘He’s also put in the track lighting you requested, so the ceilings are good to go.’
Above me were new lights, a rail with spotlights, like they might have in an art gallery.
Devon glanced over at the hallway on our right. It was then I realised the door that had led to the garage was gone—it was now a smooth wall. He lifted his hand as if to shield his face from it anyway. I patted his back and he flinched again.
Uncle Pike frowned at Devon, his brow furrowed, until he noticed me watching him. He gave me a small smile.
Devon kept his shield-hand up and smiled too, except it wasn’t a smile. ‘Let me be perfectly clear. I do not do overhead lighting. Remove.’
Jack glanced at Uncle Pike, who shrugged. ‘Put it on my tab.’
Devon stiffened then opened the door to the master bedroom. It smelled of paint, but it wasn’t musty like last time. The walls had been painted white and the worn olive-green carpet had gone.
Jack scratched his head and followed Devon in. ‘When I ripped up the carpet I found some rot, so I cut those boards out and replaced them. Also, there were a couple of leaks in the roof, which have been sorted.’
‘Okay, built-in robes are happening when?’ Devon asked.
‘Supposed to be Wednesday next week,’ Jack said. ‘But with the bombing … I’m waiting to hear back.’
‘Great … well, not great about the bombing, but you know what I mean. Thank you,’ Devon said. ‘Now—’ he pulled out a blue marker and drew a big ‘X’ on two of the walls. ‘—“X” is where the silk wallpaper’s going. The rest is white. Got that?’
‘Feature wall.’ Jack nodded
and wrote it down.
Devon crossed his arms. ‘Jackie, don’t ever use the “F” word. And don’t mix the walls up, otherwise we may as well burn the house down.’
Jack laughed. ‘Good to know.’
‘I’ve never seen Devon all business like this,’ I whispered to Uncle Pike. ‘But is it also because it’s his first time back since, you know, he found the head?’ I nodded towards the hallway. ‘Jack plastered over the garage door.’
My uncle sighed. ‘I know. But this is also designer-mode; it’s like she becomes possessed,’ he whispered. ‘But she gets shit done. Although this is next level, even for her.’ Uncle Pike banged the wall by the door. ‘How are we going getting an ensuite next door?’
Jack pulled at the corner of his eyebrow. ‘I wanted to double-check you’re sure about losing the fourth bedroom?’
‘Definitely okay with that,’ Uncle Pike said. ‘We have Tippy’s room and a spare. If it’s a choice between extra guests or an ensuite, well …’
I loved that I had my own room. I snuck away to take a look at it across the hall. Cute. It had high ceilings and even a fireplace. ‘Bye room,’ I whispered and re-joined them in the fourth bedroom slash new ensuite.
Jack was scribbling notes.
Devon strode over to a wall and slapped it. ‘So we’ve ordered the encaustic tiles.’
‘I’ve got a tiler on standby,’ Jack said. ‘Ready for when they arrive.’
‘Bless.’ Devon walked to the far corner and gestured. ‘Bath, double shower. Easy!’ He walked back to the hallway, patting his turban. ‘Let’s talk about the kitchen tomorrow; I’m exhausted. Time for a drink.’
‘What about the spare room?’ Jack said.
Devon kept walking to the front room and waved a hand above his head.‘Black ceilings, white walls. Same, same.’ We followed him to the living room. It was bigger and had more light than I remembered.
Opposite us were big sash windows with a view across Riverstone, like ours at home, except looking back the other way across town, over rooftops of houses and shops on the flat to the green floodbanks along the Clutha River, snaking its way through the valley and under Riverstone Bridge. Across the river were the hills where Mum and I lived. I made a mental note to bring my binoculars next time. With them, I reckoned you’d be able to see inside our home and the Browns’.
‘Undercoat and some plastering in here,’ Jack said, walking into the middle of the room. ‘We’ve pulled down those kitchen walls for the open plan.’ Ah. I looked around the room and noticed the marks on the floor where the walls had been. The place was so much better already.
Jack continued. ‘I’ve left the kitchen sink in for you until the new one comes.’
Uncle Pike smiled at Jack. ‘Thank you. I didn’t think it was physically possible to paint over the old skin-coloured walls without going mad. Tell me, Jack, were you ever scared?’
He laughed. ‘Not once those dungeon sconces came off.’
Devon shuddered. ‘Faux wrought iron … I still have flashbacks.’
I went over to the windows. Below us, through the branches of macrocarpas, were the roof and grounds of the old hospital. A helicopter circling above Main Street, down by the bridge, caught my eye. From here, it looked like the town hall had had an ugly bite taken out of it. Wisps of grey smoke rose out of the burnt jagged hole. You could make out the blast and its path of destruction, with the damage surrounding the town hall much worse and then fanning out as the debris fell. I still couldn’t believe what had happened.
‘What do you think, darling?’ Uncle Pike said, holding Devon’s hand. ‘Should we knock out these windows and put in French doors and a wraparound deck.’
‘Really?’ Devon said. ‘We can do that?’
Jack laughed. ‘You don’t make it easy for me, do you?’ His phone rang. ‘Sorry, just one sec.’ He answered it and walked into the hallway.
Devon rolled his eyes. ‘So rude.’
‘Shh,’ Uncle Pike said.
Devon glared at him. ‘Did you just shh me? Did you just—’
‘They’ve released the other name,’ Jack said, coming back into the room quickly. ‘From the bombing.’ Part of me didn’t want to know. I couldn’t lose any more people.
‘It’s the councillor’s wife, Raewyn Dalrymple.’ Jack looked down at his phone as if it had answers.
For a second I stopped breathing. A local person had killed another local person, and nearly two others, and blown himself up. Why? My throat suddenly felt super dry. I pulled out some plastic cups from my backpack, which I’d brought along just in case, and put them on the kitchen bench. I filled one up from the cold tap, then sculled the water and refilled my cup. ‘Why were they there in the middle of the night?’ I asked.
‘No idea why Mrs D was there,’ Jack said. ‘But she and Will were next-door neighbours.’
Uncle Pike and Devon swallowed me in a huge hug. Why did this have to happen?
‘Bloody monster,’ Jack said. ‘You just never know …’
‘No, you don’t,’ my uncle said, his voice deeper with my ear pressed against his chest. Jack had gone from calling Mr Tulips a nice guy to a bloody monster. Could someone be both?
‘I’m okay,’ I said, from the middle of the hug.
Devon let go and held my arm. ‘Are you sure?’
I gave him the best smile I could then pointed to his black folder. ‘Are you going to show Jack?’
He squeezed my bicep. ‘Best P.A. ever.’ He turned to Jack. ‘We still haven’t finished with you.’ Devon flipped through the folder. ‘Welcome to my vision.’
I smiled. It felt good to have a break again from all the sadness.
Jack gave him a serious nod. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘So butch,’ Devon said.‘Okay, hallway, spare room, front room and bathroom are white cotton chalk, ultra-flat. No shiny-shiny, please.’
Jack wrote it down using his builder’s pencil on a paper receipt he found in his pocket.
‘Floor sanding, stain and enamel for the doors and trim we’ve already discussed,’ Devon said. ‘But can you do all of that after we leave?’
‘Of course.’
‘Good, otherwise it’s too fumy-slash-annoyment.’
‘Tippy, have you chosen a colour for your room?’ Uncle Pike asked.
I wondered if my bedroom was haunted by the murdered Ronsdales. I’d love to see a ghost, but only if it was one of the kids, not their murdery dad. ‘I was thinking black,’ I said.
Devon gasped.
Jack scratched his head. ‘Really?’
‘Love it!’ Devon said. ‘So, like a reverse?’
I nodded. ‘It will look cool.’
‘So proud,’ my uncle said.
‘Tippy and I will give you the exact shade,’ Devon said.
‘But it’s black?’ Jack said.
Devon and I both laughed and Jack looked confused.
‘Adorable,’ Devon said. ‘Like the ceilings.’
‘But I’ve done the ceilings,’ Jack said.
‘Well, now you’ve done Tippy’s ceiling, isn’t that good?’ Devon left a dazed Jack and walked ahead down the hallway. ‘The rest of the ceilings are black. Ultra-flat, again I will give you the shade.’
‘Black?’ Jack said.
Devon snapped his fingers over his head without turning around. ‘Keep up, Jackers,’ he called out.
‘What about that drink then?’ Uncle Pike called after them.
Jack put his pencil behind his ear. ‘Sure, just one though. I’m driving.’
‘So is she,’ Devon yelled.
From my backpack I pulled out a bottle of their duty-free single malt whisky which, as PA, I had thought they might need it. My uncle applauded me. ‘Inspired, Tippy Chan, inspired.’
I took a bow as he poured out three drinks. ‘Sorry, Tippy,’ he said. ‘We need to remember lemonade for next time.’
‘Do you mean like this?’ I smiled and lifted up a can I’d brought from home.
&nbs
p; Uncle Pike tipped an imaginary hat. ‘That’s my girl.’
We raised our drinks in a toast.
‘To Number Four,’ Uncle Pike said and took a sip.
‘What no ganbei-masters?’ I said. Ganbei-masters was a drinking game my uncle and Dad had played a lot, which involved making a toast and then sculling.
‘Good idea, Tippy. Ganbei-masters!’ Uncle Pike and Devon sculled their drink.
Jack shrugged and did the same. His face went bright red and he choked. I giggled. I liked Jack.
My uncle slapped him on the back. ‘That’s the spirit.’
Devon kissed Uncle Pike on the lips, a real big smooch which went on for a long time. I looked at Jack and he smiled at me and raised his eyebrows.
‘Um, hello?’ I said. ‘Awkward.’
Jack grinned and put down his plastic cup. ‘Well, I’ll be off then.’
Uncle Pike pulled back and growled at Devon who stroked my uncle’s snowy beard. ‘Thanks, Jack,’ Uncle Pike said. ‘You’ve done a great job.’
‘All good, guys. I’m just glad you like it.’
‘Yes, thank you, thank you,’ Devon said, and waved him away like the Queen.
Jack gave him a hearty slap on the back.
‘Ow,’ Devon mouthed silently to me.
Uncle Pike clapped his hands. ‘Right, tomorrow we’ll borrow some of that furniture from under your house, Tippy, so we’ve got somewhere to sit and make a cup of tea.’
‘That’d be handy for smoko,’ Jack said. We followed him out and said goodbye, hanging around on the street to watch him drive away.
‘Have you talked to your grandma?’ Uncle Pike asked me. ‘This whole bombing thing has probably freaked her out.’
I shook my head. ‘I’ll call her at home.’ I hoped she wasn’t worried. Yesterday was the first time I’d seen NaiNai for ages. I realised how much I had missed her.
Beside me Uncle Pike kicked at the mailbox post with the toe of his boot. ‘Four is unlucky in Chinese,’ he said, staring at the number on the mailbox. ‘Your dad taught me that, Tippy.’ I nodded. I also remembered ‘Lucky eight’ had been one of Dad’s sayings.
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