The Man From Ti Kouka

by Rosalie Henaghan

  Her own intelligence told her that she had to ask him if he was married, but it had still shocked her when he had admitted it, with a laughing scorn for her naivety and innocence.

  The experience had hurt. Trudi had given her heart and she felt as though it had been crushed. The whirr of a fishing line brought her back to the present, and with a wry grin she wondered if she should now be thanking Stewart. If it hadn’t been for him she would never have buried herself so much in her work.

  ‘So there was someone. Do you still judge all by the one man?’

  ‘No. Only the dangerous ones.’ Trudi spoke without thinking.

  ‘You don’t look a coward,’ he observed.

  ‘Looks can deceive.’ She spoke without bitterness, she realised, and the knowledge cheered her. ‘I’ve a challenging job, I have a satisfying life. Just this past year, we’ve increased sales, built up the part-time staff, put in a new lounge and now we are looking at export orders.’

  ‘Quite the model factory!’

  ‘Far from it. But at least we’ve made a start. Even the outside looks different now. I love gardening, but there isn’t room at the fiat. At the factory there was a long strip of ground where things were dumped. We had it cleared and instant lawn put down and flowers planted, even a tree. It’s much nicer sitting out there than in the staff room.’

  ‘You’ll be running the whole place soon,’ Dan Johnson observed.

  ‘I do frequently,’ laughed Trudi. ‘That’s why I wanted to find a place without telephones.’

  ‘Bell Bay should be a change. How much work did you bring?’

  ‘I’ve been talking too much. As a matter of fact just plans for a new distribution method.’

  They both laughed then and Trudi thought that she had never spent such a vigil before.

  ‘Watch yourself,’ he warned, ‘or you might find you leave part of your heart with the Rangitira.’

  She knew he had turned towards her and she stood up abruptly. For an instant she thought the man was about to kiss her and she was oddly breathless at his closeness. Swiftly she moved back, aware of the sudden dancing of her heart. However, he merely bent to the creel beside him and she guessed she had been mistaken.

  ‘The wind has changed,’ he remarked.

  ‘You’re right. I’d better get back to the tent—it’s probably stopped flapping. Goodnight.’

  Inwardly pleased with her outward calm, Trudi set off down the beach.

  Dan Johnson did not offer to walk with her back to the tent. Scudding clouds racing across the moon meant that the sand was flooded alternately with light and dark like an old movie. Once Trudi glanced back and she saw his silhouette again as he stood staring out to sea. He reminded her of the Rangitira, now almost fully exposed by the waves. A stray thought niggled at her as she wondered if fishermen went surf casting when the tide was on its way out. Yet he couldn’t have known she would appear. She shivered suddenly despite the warmth, thinking that Dan Johnson was too attractive, too dangerously male.

  The sun was well up when she woke. She saw that Maria had disappeared and she glanced out of the tent. Maria was dressed and was carrying sticks and driftwood to their fireplace. Lazily Trudi yawned, then glanced instinctively out to the beach. She frowned, wondering what was missing, then realised that the Rangitira was gone. For a moment, she marvelled, then laughed at her own stupidity. The tides would have changed and covered the rock. The dancing water much calmer than before, the sun shining on the white cliffs making them shimmer, and the birdsong from the bush all delighted her. She wished that she could spend all her holiday in this idyllic setting, then remembered that Maria had to return to her husband the next day.

  At the back of her mind the thought formed that she could stay on by herself. The spot was a secluded one, the few other campers sufficiently desirous of their own privacy to appreciate her own, and she had everything she needed. She could buy more supplies for herself at the shops when she dropped Maria, she decided. If a storm arose she could shelter in the car and if it remained wet she could easily pack up and return to the flat.

  The heat in the tent was becoming unbearable and she felt sticky. Remembering the cold showers was enough to make her postpone them, but the aroma of breakfast sent her helter-skelter towards the white concrete structure. Contrary to expectations the toilet block was clean, and Trudi even found herself appreciating the icy water as it sprayed over her body. She dressed and made her way to the tent where Maria was in the act of serving the breakfast.

  ‘Tremendous! I feel hungry, fancy eating such a huge breakfast.’ The bacon, tomatoes and toast were a far cry from her usual meal as she dived out to work, but she enjoyed them immensely.

  ‘You were a real sleepyhead this morning, Trudi. Couldn’t you sleep last night?’ asked Maria.

  ‘No! You didn’t help, going to sleep straight away!’ Trudi chuckled. ‘I sat there tossing and getting hotter, so I went for a walk along the beach. It was beautiful. I must have sat for hours.’

  She scooped up the last piece of toast, appreciating the wood smoked flavour it had. For some reason she didn’t want to tell Maria about the quiet vigil she had shared with Dan Johnson. As she cleaned up the dishes she noticed a family set off from one of the caravans towards the beach. They waved a casual salute and she waved back. Another family group joined the first and set off for the small bay.

  Maria and Trudi tidied their tent and washed out their clothes, pegging them on their temporary line. They prepared a large bottle of drink and put fruit in their pockets, then set off for the line of bush behind the camping grounds. The stile must have been set up years before and the girls clambered over it. Surprisingly, a well defined track opened before them and they followed it, finding themselves in scrubby bush. Manuka, with its dainty white and pink starred blooms, edged the path and beside the purple leaves of the native akeake provided a natural beauty that contrasted with the green of the lacebark and lemonwood. Imperceptibly the vegetation changed and the trees grew much larger, even the manuka growing to twice the size of the earlier four-foot bushes. The floor was a riot of tangled vines and ferns, and the tiny natural watercourse, dried now by the heat of summer, provided the only other pathway. Occasionally the girls saw clumps of taller trees until they came out on to a natural grassland. Here the skyline was clear as the limestone cliffs reared ahead, decorated only with the topknot of cabbage trees.

  On one side the bush spread back towards more hills, but the open grassland leading up to the top of the cliffs held definite appeal for Trudi.

  ‘Hey, let’s stop here and eat, Trudi. Up there it will be like an oven.’

  ‘I guess you’re right.’ Reluctantly she sat under a tree and handed the heavy bottle to Maria, then munched noisily on an apple.

  ‘Mm, these first-of-the-season apples are lovely.’ She smiled at Maria. ‘Isn’t that view magnificent, you can see for miles.’

  ‘I must tell John. Even if we came up for the day.’ The little bay below them was partially hidden but she could see their tent and one of the caravans. It revealed a sweep of the coastline and through a gap in the hills Trudi saw a shining expanse of roof. She knew it would be one of the workers’ bungalows for the Ti Kouka estate and wondered briefly what it would mean to live in such an isolated place. She had loved the look of the homestead and the beauty that surrounded it. Even as she looked she saw a man on horseback, riding along the hill to the side of the house, and she spent some time wondering what glinted as he moved. Maria finally guessed it was binoculars, and Trudi felt indignant that they should be spied upon until she recollected that the use of the binoculars could save many a long mile of riding.

  ‘You know, I think it’s that nice man we met at the stream; the hunk!’ Maria exclaimed, and waved gladly.

  Trudi pulled her sister’s arm down and then was furious with herself. Dan Johnson would undoubtedly have seen them and had probably already identified them. She poked out her tongue saucily, to let him know she was
not one of the mindless ones, then was horrified at her own childishness. Thinking guiltily that he couldn’t possibly have seen at the distance, she scrambled back into the bush, instinctively hiding from the figure.

  ‘Let’s go back. As you said, it’s far too hot to climb further and the water should be cool.’

  Ignoring the beautiful scenery, the dainty ferns and the flowering bushes, Trudi fled down the bush track. Maria raced after her and both were breathless when they finally reached the stile, and Trudi leant on it, gasping.

  ‘You look about sixteen,’ laughed Maria. ‘If the staff could see you now!’

  Trudi knew her sister was right. She felt ridiculously carefree and lighthearted.

  The perfection of the spot with the wise old Rangitira held her in its grip. They splashed about in the sheltered curve of the beach. It was fun, and afterwards while Maria lay soaking up the sun, Trudi went back to the campsite and began preparing dinner. The steak had thawed and would barbecue well, and she peeled a few potatoes and opened a packet of dried mixed vegetables. The heat of the day had made the peaches she had bought look decidedly messy, so she salvaged the best and stewed them, then burnt the rubbish. She was surprised how late it was; at home she could guess the time with a reasonable accuracy, but here all the guidelines were different.

  Looking up at the trees they had reached that morning, she saw the horseman had reached the site where they had stopped for lunch. She watched idly as he swung off the horse and then stooped to pick up something that glinted in the sun. In sudden humiliation Trudi realised it must have been the bottle she had carted up there for drinks. Her cheeks flamed as she knew the damage such a bottle could do if it broke. Miserably she crawled into the tent to hide, imagining the lashing scorn of the man at the creek. Instinctively she knew it was Dan Johnson.

  The smoke of the campfire reminded her that she could not abandon their meat, so she crept out again. To her relief the horseman was gone, and she was just wondering about calling Maria when she returned. The flavour of the food they agreed was delicious and afterwards they made a bigger pile of driftwood ready for the next morning’s campfire. Maria went off to talk to one of the families and Trudi lay back enjoying the peace.

  A four-wheeled-drive vehicle roared noisily into the camp, completely shattering the silence. To her disgust the vehicle made unerringly for their campfire and pulled up beside their car. The bronzed muscular figure who stepped from it was familiar.

  ‘Good evening. I’m returning the bottle you left by the trees at the top of the ridge.’

  His eyes seemed to hold the frost of Antarctica in them. Trudi took the half full bottle and apologised. She would have found it missing at washing up time and retrieved it the next morning, she explained weakly.

  ‘I understood you were leaving tomorrow?’

  ‘We were, but I’d like to ask the owners about staying on. Could you tell me if we should ask at the homestead?’

  ‘How long do you intend to stay?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. It really depends on the weather—if it stays like this it might be for a fortnight, if it rains, earlier.’

  ‘Afraid you’ll melt?’

  ‘Definitely not. I have no intention of putting myself in a state of being uncomfortable.’

  To her surprise he smiled. ‘I’ll pass it on. There’ll be no need for you to make a special trip.’

  Trudi was sincerely glad to see Maria trotting up with her arms full of firewood.

  ‘So you’re the worker in the family!’ observed Dan Johnson.

  ‘Hardly! My sister leaves me for dead!’ Maria’s gay laugh rang out as she corrected him. ‘How super of you to visit us. Would you like a cup of tea? With the fire on it won’t take long. My husband says there’s nothing quite like billy tea, and I think he’s right.’

  ‘No, thank you, I just stopped for a moment.’ He turned and looked searchingly at Trudi. ‘Sleep well.’ With a casual wave he was in the truck and reversing it expertly. It made Trudi feel rather better when she saw him emptying and burning the refuse from the drums around the camp, and the horridness of the job made her even feel a little sorry for him. Idly she supposed he was used to such messy work and it was probably he who kept the showers and toilets clean. Trudi stowed the bottle with her name neatly plastered on the base into the car. Whereas before she had felt supremely contented, now she was as restless as she had been the evening before.

  ‘Let’s go for a walk along the beach, Maria,’ she suggested.

  ‘I’ve just come back, remember!’

  Trudi sat down again. She didn’t want to walk along the beach on her own while that hunk, as Maria had called him, was in the camp. Her feelings annoyed her. Dan Johnson was obviously the most junior employee at the farm, yet he rode around looking as if he was the king of the earth. The strange antagonism that flared so easily between them had been evident in the reproof over the bottle.

  She recalled that he had neither begged her to stay nor pleaded with her to remain, yet his taunting over the possibility of her melting had been calculated. He had even appreciated the coolness of her reply. Even his knowing glance and that apparently innocent ‘Sleep well’ had held the sense of a challenge. Trudi thrust another log on to the fire and stared at the flames firing blue-green for a moment, then turning to orange and red.

  ‘Maria, I think I’ll stay at Bell Bay tomorrow,’ she decided.

  ‘Trudi, you can’t!’

  ‘Why not? It’s a beautiful place, it’s isolated, yet there are respectable families around. I’d be a great deal safer here than at any hotel in town.’

  ‘But on your own, Trudi.’

  ‘Listen, Maria, I’m a perfectly capable person. The tent is no problem, we’ve already proved that,’ she carried on, seeing her sister’s stormy face. ‘I can cope with the fire, and the food situation I can rectify at that general store not far from the junction. The bus from Picton will pass through about four, I’d guess. You’ll still be in Christchurch in time.’

  ‘So long as I can meet John’s plane. I wonder how he’s getting on. I miss him.’

  Seeing the expression on her sister’s face, Trudi turned away. Briefly she wondered if she would ever love a man the way her sister loved her John, then dismissed the thought as ridiculous. As she had told Dan Johnson, she was a career girl, she had no intention of being a slave for any man. Dan Johnson might have a magnetism she found attractive, but there the matter ended. She would keep right away from him in the time at Bell Bay.

  The first step was to stop thinking about him, but later as she lay in her sleeping bag she found his penetrating eyes and bronzed body invading her rest. She wriggled in the folds, reminding herself that even paradise had a serpent.

  In the morning they went for an early swim at the little bay and then made breakfast.

  ‘Pity John can’t join you here,’ remarked Trudi, ‘we’re becoming quite proficient with our fire.’

  ‘I wish he could. Perhaps next year for our holidays John and I could come here. He’d love the bush and the beach. He’s not going to believe how good we are with our cooking. I can never get the tomatoes to taste like this at home. Wood smoke has a definite flavour.’

  ‘Shall we go into the bush again or laze on the beach?’

  ‘Just laze is my vote. I want to improve my tan.’ Maria looked smugly at her golden limbs.

  ‘I think I might have a look for driftwood shapes while you snooze. I noticed some really odd ones earlier.’

  ‘Well, if you see that gorgeous man ask him about the bus times,’ said Maria somnolently. ‘Ah, this is the life!’

  Privately Trudi hoped she wouldn’t see the tall figure of Dan Johnson. The man had invaded her dreams and she had no desire to see him when awake. Deliberately she walked to the small cove where some of the other campers welcomed her. They conversed, idly exchanging details, and finding one lady was a mine of local information, Trudi obtained the afternoon bus times. As she sauntered down to the Bell Bay
site she picked up small white pebbles and odd tiny pieces of wood for decoration.

  ‘Treasure-hunting?’ asked Maria. ‘While you were away some bellbirds started singing in the bush. It sounded beautiful, just like tinkling chimes. I suppose I’d better pack my gear.’

  ‘I’ve found the bus times for you. It fits in well with meeting John.’

  As Trudi waved her sister off in the large coach to Christchurch she replaced her sunhat on a jaunty angle and went into the corner store. The shopkeeper was evidently accustomed to supplying odd bits and pieces and Trudi had roughed out a list earlier. With arms fully laden she was glad of the shopkeeper’s assistance with some of the goods. She certainly wouldn’t starve, she thought, as she drove back to the now familiar track. As she went past Ti Kouka she slowed automatically, but there was no sign of the junior employee who had so disturbed her. She could hardly blame Ti Kouka for the hard muscles and arrogance of Dan Johnson and her own reaction to him.

  Deliberately she looked away and concentrated on her driving. Slowing to ford the stream that meandered across the road, she guessed that in winter time it would carry more than a torrent across the beach to the sea. Probably one would have to have a four-wheel-drive vehicle to negotiate it then. Trudi winced as one of the large boulders rocked against and scraped the bottom of her precious car. Obviously the county grader had long since given up the struggle to keep up with this stretch of the road.