‘There’s something else I don’t want you to forget as well. If anything had happened to Rosie I would have fucking killed you.’
29.
Kaikoura, 2005
It’s a clear day, all blues and lemons and the cicadas have already started up. She hears the roof crack as the iron expands in the heat. She walks up the track for breakfast.
Aline smiles at her, ‘Sleep well?’
‘Yes I did.’
She hasn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch and she’s ravenous. She has eggs, juice, toast and apricot jam and coffee.
‘Any plans for today?’
‘Think I’ll just look around.’
There’s a wire fence surrounding a scattering of classrooms, an administration block and a gym situated on a vast green area. She can’t see any students or any other cars for that matter, which seems strange. Maybe there’s a holiday break. Or maybe classes start later in the day.
She walks towards the area signposted Reception and tries the door. Locked. She presses her face against the glass door. There’s nobody inside and the place is silent, though she can see books and equipment piled on the long desk. Her phone rings.
Minna. She hesitates a moment before she answers. ‘Yes?’
‘What’s going on?’
‘There’s nothing going on.’
‘I tried to phone you at the flat and the number’s been cut off, then I tried you at the clinic and they said you’re on leave. Where are you?’
‘I’m having a holiday.’
‘Don’t give me that, Steph. I know you. You don’t take off from work and give up your flat unless something’s up.’
‘I wanted a holiday. I wanted to move flats. Is that okay?’
‘You could’ve let me know.’
‘Why do you need to know?’
‘I am your mother.’
‘Yeah, right. Look, I’m quite busy right now and—’
‘Tell me where you are.’
‘I said. On holiday.’
‘This hasn’t got anything to do with Ed Black has it?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘It has, hasn’t it? Steph, what the hell are you up to?’
She hangs up, switches off the phone. Minna never phones, never sees her, then she’s all over her like a Rottweiler. I am your mother. It’s almost laughable.
She walks slowly around towards the back of the building. There’s a For Lease sign plastered on the large window beside a side door. She looks for a noticeboard: perhaps the college has relocated somewhere else. There’s a ladder beside one of the prefab buildings, a man on the roof.
‘Hi,’ she calls.
He comes over to the edge.
‘I’m looking for the college. Has it been moved?’
‘Closed last month. Ran out of money.’
‘Were you working for them?’
‘Yeah. The caretaker. Was, that is. No job as from the end of this week.’
‘Do you know how I can contact the director?’
‘You from the newspaper?’
‘No. I’ve got a friend that used to work here. I wanted to look him up while I’m in town. Ed, Edward Black. Do you know him?’
He shakes his head.
‘Who could I ask?’
‘Not a clue.’
By late afternoon she’s no further ahead. She’s found the local high school, asked at reception I’m trying to find someone who used to teach at the Sports Academy, do you know who I could contact? and been given names and numbers to call. She sits outside the school punching the numbers in, gets either an answering service or no answer. She finally speaks to a teacher, Jenny Hargreaves, but she was employed there only during the past year. No, she doesn’t know anyone named Edward Black, never heard the name even. No, she doesn’t know anyone she could contact. Such a piss-off, gave up my job, moved all the way here, then the place fell apart. Bloody shonky. Wished to God I’d never had anything to do with it, should have seen from day one it was a no-go.
She goes to the local library and finds back copies of the Kaikoura Press. Reads through the details local learning institution, financial difficulties, loss to area. She looks closely at the photographs. No Ed Black among the faces.
She drives back towards Aline‘s. He’s most likely left town, could have left ages ago, could be anywhere. Think. Think. What does she do now? Where should she try next?
What does she know about paedophiles? They can be successful, educated, middle-class. Most of the time they’re not recognised because they’re like everyone else, liked by everyone else; they’re not seedy-looking men hiding in the bushes wearing grubby raincoats.
Better if they were. Better if they were recognisable. They’re manipulative, good at lying, and they’re educators, social workers, the people who are admired because they give their time to children. They coach sports, supervise music and drama and art, take kids away on camps. Most of the time sex predators are invited into homes and if and when they’re found out, nobody can believe it. My God, it can’t be true, I know him, he’s my friend, he’s such a great guy.
Like Ed Black they’re nice guys who come into your house full of charm. Kids like them. Mostly they like them, though Beth never did, Stephanie never did. What was it she didn’t like? Was it because she sensed something going on between him and Minna? Or was it something sinister, something threatening she instinctively felt? Was it something about the way he looked at the girls at school who were small and childlike? A bit funny in the bed department. If she’s right about him he’ll be employed somewhere related to children, she’s sure of that. Though according to the information she had from the Ministry of Education he’s no longer within mainstream schooling.
But how to find him? Phoning around is all that she can think of. She goes into the cottage, turns on her computer. Tries to pull up the Telecom White Pages website but the server’s down. Christ. Whatever she does, whatever she tries, it doesn’t work.
She goes over to the house, taps on the glass door. Aline looks up and smiles, beckons her in. The ironing board’s up, a full washing basket beside it and the kitchen smells of the apples bubbling on the stove and cinnamon and clean, dry laundry. The radio’s on. An old Beatle’s song. ‘Penny Lane’. The sun beams in.
Why don’t you just leave it? Go home. Make a life for yourself. Sun coming into the kitchen, a good job, maybe a good man. Leave this and go home.
‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’
‘Perfect. Aline, could I borrow a phone book?’
‘Of course. Do you want to use the phone? I haven’t got one connected at the cottage but you’re welcome to use the one in the hall.’
‘It’s fine. I’ll use my cell. If I could—’
‘Take that one off the shelf. I’ve got two so there’s no hurry to bring it back.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ve boiled the kettle. How about a cup of tea and a muffin, fresh out of the oven?’
‘I’d love to, it’s just that I need to call someone right away.’
‘Take one with you and have it later. Date and cinnamon.’
She’s handing her a muffin wrapped in a paper napkin and she takes it, feels the warmth in her hand, smells the sweetness.
‘Are you coming over for dinner tonight? There’s only two or three in.’
‘Well—’
‘I’ve got a casserole on. Casserole and mash. There’s plenty. Around six?’
‘Okay, that would be great.’
By five-thirty she’s rung every Black, every school and sports facility, every private learning institution listed in the region. Who? No, sorry.
Nobody knows him, nobody has even heard of Edward Black. If he’s still in the area, he’s either working in some other industry or not working at all and, unless he’s unlisted in the phone directory, he’s changed his name. It’s senseless; no point in staying on. Apart from the clip in the Westport News there’s nothing to link him with Kaikoura, and anyway he may never have come
here, could have changed his mind, and there’s no way she can find that out other than standing on a street corner with the photocopy she made of the photograph and asking anyone passing by. She imagines their glances of incredulity as she stops them have you seen this man?
And now she has to go over to the house. She wanted to refuse but there she was with that muffin in her hand and Aline altogether too sweet and nice to say no to and, as a result, she has to chat and be polite with strangers and she’s never been good at that, hates it in fact have you been to see the whales? No? Oh, they’re lovely, lovely trip, you are going aren’t you while you’re here, you mustn’t miss it. Nice weather. Nice weather.
Oh, fuck it.
But Aline is welcoming and the living room is cosy with a fire on still a bit chilly in the evenings and there’s a succulent smell of wine and garlic and slowly cooking meat. She’s introduced to Bill and Marnie we’ve got the campervan outside, thought we’d have a break from it for a night or two, gets a bit cramped, you know. From New Plymouth, retired last year, never done the South Island, not properly, where are you from, Stephanie, isn’t it? Oh, we’ve been down your way. Lovely. Lovely part of the country. Cold though. And there’s Janosch from Germany who sits on the sofa, smiling abstractedly my English is unclear and Angela from Sydney on a working holiday who’s heading down towards Christchurch looking for work.
Aline hands Stephanie a generous glass of sauvignon blanc. Bill and Marnie have been to the vineyards it’s our last night so we’re shouting and the chair Stephanie sits on is wide and comfortable, and it’s pleasant enough listening to them all go into raptures over the view over the sea, the seals on the rocks, the cafés, being faintly amused by Jonasch’s attempts to contribute to the conversation, to engage Angela, who’s blonde, tanned and pretty, in conversation.
A man stands in the doorway, his hair gleaming with damp and his face slightly ruddy, as if he’s just scrubbed it. Tall and thick-set, he almost fills the door-frame.
Aline walks over to him and touches his arm. ‘Marnie, Bill, Angela, Jonasch and Stephanie over in the chair. This is Dan.’
He smiles as he glances around the room. He looks at Stephanie then his eyes move back to her. ‘You’re over in the cottage, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did I give you a scare last night?’
He turns towards Aline. ‘I brought those Aussies back, it was quite late.’
‘You did a bit,’ Stephanie says.
‘Did we wake you up? If I’d known someone was in the cottage I’d have tried to keep the noise down.’
‘The wind woke me,’ Stephanie says, ‘and the door blew open.’
‘Then I come along and frighten the living daylights out of you.’
‘It wasn’t that bad.’
‘Everyone ready for dinner?’ Aline asks.
They follow her into the dining room. Stephanie sits down, Dan beside her. Aline puts mashed potatoes and steaming vegetables and the casserole on the table. ‘Help yourselves everyone.’
She’s actually having a good time. Better than sitting alone out there. Much better, in fact. She spoons meat and vegetables onto her plate.
‘Dan lives just up the road,’ Aline says. ‘He does hunting tours.’
‘Hunting tours?’ Stephanie says.
‘Yep,’ he says.
‘I don’t know anything about hunting.’
He’s grinning. ‘From the look on your face I’d say you don’t want to know about it either.’
‘Well—’
He’s looking directly at her. His face is serious but his eyes are amused. ‘Yeah, I know. Killing animals. It’s disgustingly barbaric.’
‘I’ve got to be honest, I don’t like the idea of shooting animals. I saw something on TV a while ago that I thought was unspeakably awful. It was a documentary about hunting and tourists were shooting at deer out of helicopters. These big, strong men going after animals using helicopters and guns. Hardly equal.’
‘Animals have to be culled. If we didn’t do that around here the land would be wrecked. You have to do it. There’s no choice. Imagine what it’d be like if we didn’t keep possums and rabbits under control.’
‘Yes, but shooting deer seems terrible. They’re so beautiful.’
‘They might be beautiful but if they’re not kept under control they’ll wreck the bush.’
‘You’re probably right but I just don’t like the idea of killing anything. I hate the idea of, well, of consciously setting out to stalk an animal then kill it.’
‘You like to eat meat but you don’t want to know how it got there? You want it all tidied up and wrapped in plastic?’
‘I don’t want to have to go out and shoot it.’
He laughs.
‘Maybe this is a gender thing,’ she says. ‘Maybe it’s a case of women tidying up the caves and looking after the babies and men going out after the dinner.’
He shrugs. ‘I take women out hunting. Some of them are fairly ruthless. I think hunting’s a basic instinct. When you’re out there it’s you against the animal you’re stalking. You get out in the valleys, up the mountains and it’s tough going. You’ve got to contend with whatever the weather’s doing and it’s the animal’s own environment. Animals are clever, crafty. Hunting’s a lot more equal than you think.’
‘Must be tough leaning out of a heated truck or helicopter with a rifle.’
‘I don’t do that. What I do are five or so day treks. Most of the time we drive a way and then it’s all on foot carrying packs. There’s no luxury lodge, no guaranteed deer at the end of it. It’s your plain, basic hunt. If the people who come to me want luxury and no effort, I tell them they’ll have to go somewhere else.’
‘How did you get into hunting?’
‘I’ve been doing it all my life. My grandfather took me rabbit shooting when I was a kid. I love it. Pure and simple, I love it.’
‘This has always been your job?’
‘No. Went off to university, did a degree, went travelling. Came back. Had to.’
‘Had to? ’
‘Had to.’
‘Dessert?’ Aline asks brightly. ‘There’s apple crumble. Ice cream. Fresh fruit salad. You’ll have apple crumble won’t you, Dan?’
‘Thanks, Aline. Great meal.’
Everyone is nodding delicious, wonderful, thanks, Aline.
‘What’s Rosie up to tonight?’ Aline passes a plate to Dan.
‘She’s over at the Calder’s place. She and Milly are doing a school project together. That’s the official story anyway.’
He turns to Stephanie. ‘Rosie’s my daughter. Eight years old last week. Milly’s her best friend.’
Aline brings in a pot of coffee. They’re back to whales now, and fishing trips and how Marnie was looking forward to the hot pools at Hanmer but the place was so crowded that in the end she didn’t bother.
Dan stands up. ‘I have to be off. Got to pick Rosie up. Thanks for dinner.’
‘Oh Dan, there’s a booking for next week. I’ve got it written down somewhere in the kitchen. I’ll show you before you go.’
Dan follows her towards the door. ‘Nice to meet you all.’ He turns to Stephanie. ‘Are you staying long?’
She feels her face turn slightly warm. Stupid. Why is she blushing? ‘I’m not sure,’ she says.
‘Might see you before you leave.’
She’s lying wakeful in the dark he’s not your type, not at all your type, you’re losing your mind. Running away. Running after someone, you’re not even sure where he is, and now you’ve met a hunter. A hunter. For God’s sake, Stephanie, get a grip.
Anyway he can’t be single; he’s got a young daughter living with him. Even so, there’s a tune in her head, running over and over. Minna taught her the song way way back when she was very little I used to sing it all the time, drove your gran mad.
She and Minna. They used to sing it together, loud and giggling, linking hands, dancing in the kitchen.
<
br /> I wanna cave man I wanna brave man.
I wanna brave man I wanna cave man.
She burrows deep underneath the duvet, smiling.
30.
She wakes after nine and goes across to the house for breakfast. Aline’s sitting in a chair beside the window with a pot of tea beside her.
‘Never get sick of the view,’ she says, ‘It’s always changing. Everyone’s gone. I’m taking a breather before the next lot get here. I can do you some eggs if you like.’
‘Fruit and cereal are fine.’
‘Cup of tea? Fresh made.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Lovely people, weren’t they? Bill and Marnie. Janosch and Angela as well. You meet such lovely people doing this. One of the best things I ever did was setting up the B&B.’
‘Have you been doing it long?’
‘Almost four years. Not long after Don passed away. Didn’t know what to do with myself, I was that down. I had a wee job in the office at the high school and that was fine when he was around, a bit of extra but not very fulfilling if you know what I mean.’
‘You worked at the local high school?’
‘Yes. In the office. Filing, photocopying a bit of reception work, that sort of thing.’
‘I knew someone that came here to teach at the Outdoor Sports College. He was a family friend. Edward Black. Do you know him?’
‘Can’t say I do, dear. Is he still here in town?’
‘I’m not sure. I was hoping to catch up with him.’
‘I knew some of the teachers over at the sports place but I don’t recognise that name. There was a job in the office over there not long after Don went and I thought of applying for it, a change, you know, but it wasn’t what I wanted. All my friends were saying you’ve got a big house there, Aline, it’s far too big for you now, you need to get out and get yourself a nice little unit. Funny how other people always know what’s best for you, eh?’
‘I think you’re right about that.’
‘All I knew is I didn’t want to leave it. Not my garden and the view and everything. We built this place, brought up the family here. I’d just lost Don and I didn’t want to lose this as well. So I thought, right, Aline, not much use sitting round feeling sorry for yourself, what are you going to do? Don and me used to stay at a lot of B&Bs over the years and the idea came to me, right out of the blue. I had to get the en suites put in and there was a bit of rigmarole from the council with starting up but I did it all on my own and I’m proud of myself. When Don was alive I was always fairly timid, did what I was told if you know what I mean. He’d never have believed I could have got this up and running.’
Hunting BLind: It's Every Family's Deepest Fear Page 21