‘Locking her out like that?’
‘I keep her a couple of days. After that we got to keep an eye on her … but don’t want cops, don’t want the girl pushed and pulled, no courts. None of that.’
‘Coulda been her run over.’
‘We got to watch out, all of us. Got to do better. Should’ve done better myself when Babs rang, asked why she was ringing, but I let it go. Eyes on television or something. Brains gone walkabout.’
‘It shouldn’t be them. They shouldn’t … Why them?’ But he already knew the answer to that.
‘We all let her, let Lady take her,’ Wai said. ‘That time you brought her into the house … you standing there like a wet pup, shaking, dripping all over the place, holding this baby. How long before we all understood what we’re looking at? How long before we realise Baby could only be from Ani Wainoa? Then Lady held out her arms and no one could argue with that because she was Ani Wainoa’s close relative, the elder relative. No one liked it, that’s why we sat there quiet, that’s why all that silence at first. We all knew how the lady was, how she treated her own two daughters. They were good daughters to her, Amiria and Babs, you know. Now Amiria and Babs treat this one how they were treated, hmm but not as bad.’
‘On the side of the road, clothes all paru, scratches all over, crying, dark …?’
‘Hard, hard for the girl. But also hard … to take away … to take anything away from Amiria and Babs.’
‘Them? I mean … Asleep in their beds, no worries?’
‘You two better bunk down here for the rest of the night,’ Wai said. ‘In your old room Rua.’ She left them and returned to her own bed.
He was disappointed with that, upset with Wai who didn’t seem to understand and didn’t seem to care what happened to Kid, instead seemed to be siding with Amiria and Babs.
‘I did it,’ Jase said from the top bunk. ‘Rung.’
He decided he’d talk to Arch the next day. If Wai wouldn’t have Kid maybe Arch would, or there’d be someone else, because someone had to. Had to let people know what was going on.
‘What?’
‘Rung her. Tina.’
‘If they were hitting her, if Girl was getting a hiding, getting hit, that’s different,’ Arch said the next day.
‘Nearly nine o’clock and she’s out. Locked out.’
‘Mmm, nnn. My sister had a piece of them this morning. Chewed their ears.’
‘Coulda been her run over.’
‘Well, we all got to watch out, is all.’
Is all? Arch was hopeless.
‘Have a meeting,’ he said. ‘The whole whanau. Get everyone together, tell them …’
‘They won’t interfere,’ Arch said.
‘Let everyone know what’s going on.’
‘You know they got their good points too, your aunties. Always been workers.’
Arch was hopeless just like Wai, sticking up for those two like they did no wrong.
‘Touchy,’ Arch said. ‘And … and, we all got to live here you know.’ That was Arch backing out, dropping the subject … then trying to make up for dropping it. ‘And aah, have a chat with them. My sister got her way, I got mine. Maybe … Anyway, we go and find that poor cat? Give it a decent burial.’
Hopeless.
Later, he pitched his tent in the trees at the cove, fixed up his fireplace and collected wood, needing to get himself into water. Today the surface was saw-edged, saw-coloured where the sun reached, bruised-looking under the overhangs of ledges and trees.
On the sun side, shags, like part of rock on which they perched, had their wings out drying. Further out the gulls and terns were diving and the water was churning with kahawai, which he knew would soon make their way in to where he could get a line to them.
He entered the water with his dog, swimming towards the rocks to collect bait. The kawau turned their necks, shifted their heads, ready for flight if he or the dog came too near, but there was no need to disturb them. After collecting a few paua and kuku he returned to shore where he took his backpack of gear and began making his way around the base of the hillside and cliff faces, climbing to a place from where he could drop his line and float it out.
Wet pup?
And too silly at the time to know what the trees already knew. Kutu was a pup then too, he remembered, whimpering all the way home along the tracks in the dark.
Up on the bank looking down on the water he removed the sinker from his line, baited up and tied a plastic carrybag to the trace. He dropped it over, setting it to float, the light breeze ballooning the bag and taking the line out. He fastened the end to a branch and waited. The birds were moving closer, hanging, spying down on the shoals of small fish, diving, then coming up out of the water gulping. Kahawai driving through water were eyeing the fish from their own angle, leaping and snatching and making the water boil. Eventually they would come his way.
Ten years ago he’d brought her home. Wet pup days. Then one day, about five years later, while out in the water he’d allowed the truth to come to him—rejecting it at first, and then having to accept—allowing understanding to edge its way in, the secret for life that had to be left with the trees.
Now he couldn’t be that wet pup any more. There were matters he needed to think about since it seemed no one else was going to.
When he left Arch’s place he’d called in to Pop Henry’s to see if he had any advice, but the old man wasn’t with it, wasn’t taking in what he was telling him.
‘Past it,’ Reggae had said. ‘Gone up top, but not all the time.’ It was a shock. He’d never noticed the old man loopy before.
After that he’d decided to talk to the younger ones, his cousins who had children of their own and who were all upset when he explained what had happened.
‘We hear the way they talk to her,’ Moana had said.
‘Hear the names they call her.’
‘Makimaki, nikanika, rat, cat, witch.’
‘True.’
‘But don’t talk like that in front of Aunty Wai and them.’
‘Stuck down at that Post Office everyday after school cleaning up.’
‘Standing on a box morning and night doing all their dishes …’
‘While those two shower and powder themselves … ’
‘Watch television, burn their oils, massage their faces.’
‘I’d have her.’ Moana had said. ‘I could ask. No harm asking.’ But he knew that there was really nothing the younger ones could do.
The birds and the fish had come in close and it wasn’t long before the floating hook was taken. The fish broke water as it went for the bait, and as he took hold of the line he felt it plunging and rising, tearing away, leaping and turning, while he held hard, steadying himself against the bank and dragging the line in.
So who was he now that he couldn’t be that wet pup any more, and what could he do? Could he now be who he’d taken five years to realise that he was?
The fish, as he brought it in, flipped up silver and green, and smacked down onto the water again. He pulled it slapping over the rocks, up the side of the bank where he sat, and removing it from the hook, heaved it into the sack.
The full dog? What the trees knew? The secret for life?
Rebaiting the hook he floated the line out again.
Or who?
And what to do?
Sometimes he thought of going away, leaving this place where it seemed he’d always be a child. Home from hospital he’d thought of it, wanting to save himself from all the over-the-top care that people thought he needed, not only Aunty Wai and Uncle Morehu, Uncle Arch and Pop Henry, Nan Tini and their families, but the whole whanau including Babs and Amiria with their puddings and cakes. People cooking for him, walking for him, deciding for him, almost seeing and hearing for him, telling him things he already knew.
Even a wet pup didn’t need that.
But he hadn’t gone because this had always been the place for him. He’d moved to the old house instead wh
ich had given him his physical life, he thought, let him do things for himself.
Or was that all humbug really? Kidding himself, because instead of being some kind of outer island, he’d found himself still attached.
What to do?
Hold hard, if you want to bring home fish. Now, more than ever he knew he would never go.
And now he knew he would have to give up the old place, return to the front into one of the empty houses so he could keep watch. Lose his space? But what was that anyway? Sorting out to do.
There were six good ones in the bag by the time the fish moved away and he climbed down into the water to swim his catch ashore. Salt stung his hands which had been cut by the line, and once back in water the fish went wild in the bag.
The tide was down and he knew that if he hurried with the cleaning of the fish he’d be able to go out through the blowhole to deliver them, then return before the tide came up again.
Home with fish, not with answers.
Tomorrow he’d go out to the cray holes to look for octopus for bait, and later in the week he’d go with Arch to deep water to fish for hapuku for the Friday night fundraising dinner.
Life as usual but nothing was the same.
Chapter Fifteen
That voice of hers … world stop turning … sun stop burning, as he went along the side of the house and round to the back door followed by Jase carrying the pillow and duvet … only dream that matters has come true, steel string uke going for it, In dis life, I was lo-ved by you.
‘Come in, come in,’ Maina said, out of breath as though she’d been walking tracks, crossing creeks, climbing, dancing.
‘Just dropping these.’
‘No, no, come in.’
‘And we got to go, pick up a karaoke …’ but she was holding the door wide, waving them in. ‘I was just thinking of you, all you out there. I’ve been ringing. There’s something, something you all got to know.’
She took them through to the lounge, moving folders from the settee so they could sit. ‘I wanted to come, talk to Wai, Archie, or someone, but I’m stuck here without a car. I’ve been phoning, but anyway here you are. Get you something, a can?’
‘OK, thanks.’
‘Not me,’ Jase said. ‘Banned substance.’
‘Ah, Mormon or diabetic?’
‘Not Mormon.’
‘Come in handy these diabetics,’ Rua said. ‘Driving us drinkers all over the place. Even if they do go to sleep, end us up in sand.’
‘Coffee then.’
She returned from the kitchen with the beer and coffee, biscuits in a plastic container and turned the CD off. ‘This stuff on the answerphone got me thinking,’ she said. ‘Then home by myself all week I started snooping round and a few cogs started clicking. Have a listen.’ She played the phone tape back then set it on forward.
He listened to a man’s voice giving name and details, then to a message about a late deposit that was in the post. This was followed by similar messages from people wanting to book sites. Didn’t know what it was all about, but thought he and Jase should be on their way. They had to get round to Eddie’s to pick up the sounds then get home to set it up before eight. Also he knew Jase was wanting to get back because Bones and Remelda were bringing Tina with them to the dinner. Jase all jumpy. The tape came to an end.
‘Then all this,’ she said. She was showing them long envelopes, some with foreign stamps. ‘Cheques I reckon.’ He didn’t know why she was telling them all this or what it had to do with them and didn’t want to ask. ‘So I had a hunt around,’ she said. ‘Not that he hides anything. I mean, I mean I didn’t have to look far. Letters, ads, photos—for the Internet I suppose. He knows I won’t help him any more, so he does a lot of it himself, well … in the meantime. There’s always someone who’ll come to the rescue and do stuff for him. What he’s done here is set himself up as an agent for the new millennium—an agency providing campsites for all these tourists who want to be first in the world to put their eyeballs on the sun on the first of January 2000. But he’s got no land you know, not even under his big toenails.’
Man of perfect feet.
‘So where’s this land, these sites he’s getting in deposits for, for all these campers? I opened a few more folders. Found these.’
She was showing them photos of the sun rising, waves rolling in on beaches, patterned sand, trees, flax in bloom, gulls in coloured skies. ‘Here’s your place,’ she said, and she was right about that. There was their beach at dawn with the waves riding in catching coloured light. There was their meeting house, the big paddocks beside it, hills and trees behind. ‘Yours, and others all up and down the coast. Already advertised. Money coming in already. Here look, a grid showing tent and caravan sites, list of highlights.’
Well it was true there was something going on, more than he could take in at the moment, and more than he had time for.
‘I know him, know what he’ll do,’ she said. ‘He’ll do the rounds, persuading marae groups to lease land to his agency, just for the millennium spree. But won’t tell what he’ll really be charging for a site. People round these parts aren’t used to city prices, tourist prices, don’t realise the money value of a Year 2000 sunrise. He’ll lie to you, rip you all off.’
It was all a bit too much especially when he hadn’t been listening properly, and although he didn’t know what this was all about he didn’t think his aunties and uncles would be fooled.
‘I think ah, Wai, Archie and them are …’ On to him, he wanted to say.
‘They won’t know what he’s raking off,’ she said.
‘I think they … don’t think they’ll go for it.’
‘And he could … he could go ahead anyway without you all knowing. Get deposits and abscond. Won’t be the first time, and … all these mad-as-hell millennium campers’ll come waving their receipts under your noses threatening court. He’ll be gone. You got to warn them.’
She was really spilling it on her old man. All this to get back at him? But he didn’t think so. She was watching them from under a deep frown, really wanting them to understand that this was something serious.
‘Better if you tell them,’ he said. ‘I mean … you know what it’s all about.’
‘It’s got to be soon. I’ve been ringing ever since I got home from work but couldn’t get hold of Wai or Arch, or Cass, or anyone.’
‘All down the marquee working.’
‘Ah, well … See, what I was thinking … I want to get this stuff to them, get it out of the house and into their hands before he gets home later tonight. Haven’t seen him since the wedding, or heard from him. Don’t even feel like speaking to him, even seeing him really. Not since I found all this, and don’t know about the rest of it, all the other places up and down the coast, but at least this … at least you …’
‘We could take it, give it to Wai.’
‘Good.’ The frown ironed itself, her face creased, lips parted on the rocks of teeth with smoke easing through.
‘Or you could come with us now if you want to talk to them,’ he said. ‘You could bring the stuff, come to the dinner.’
‘Dinner?’
‘Fundraiser. Eight o’clock. We got to get the music set up.’
‘I had a real good time … But I was haurangi then, or something.’
‘Well, you could be again.’
‘Ha, you.’
‘Or maybe not. Bit of a dry do. A bottle of wine on a table might be it.’
‘Anyway I suppose they’ll be too busy for all this.’
‘Stay over if you want, and see the aunties and uncles tomorrow. Still camping out, me. Don’t need my house.’
‘I couldn’t stay but I could come to the dinner. I could bring the stuff, tell them a bit about it and leave it for them to look at.’
But when she came from the bedroom dressed for the dinner he noticed she had a bag with her. ‘Well why not?’ she said. ‘Just in case there’s no one to run me home, and there might be a chance
to talk tomorrow. Just get what I need out of the folders, and a bit of bread and stuff. Don’t forget smokes, don’t forget walking shoes, don’t forget torch. Did you find your torch?’
‘On the blink it is … And, all right if we take a few of these?’ he asked, holding up a handful of tapes.
‘Help yourself,’ she said. ‘I haven’t … I wanted to ask about little Kiri.’
Chapter Sixteen
A quarter of a century on from when Ngarua crossed the inlet, followed by supporters and everyone’s dogs, there were three sisters who were her direct descendants. They were named Ruahine, Tunia and Harinia, who came to be known in their later lives as Nanny Ru, Nanny Blind and Lady Sadie.
There were three brothers too, who despite their patience, their importance to the family and the fact that the youngest lived long enough to have children, don’t need to be named.
It was the father of these three daughters and three sons who first built the falling–down house in the trees that Rua was now giving up for the Friday night so that Maina could arrange a meeting that would put her husband’s pot on, and, she hoped, teach the no-good crook a lesson.
The father of the three daughters was a sullen man, who in spite of having a great deal of land, far more than anyone else in his family, decided to build his house apart from the homes of his relatives in order to keep his wife away from the front places and therefore from the society of his brothers, sisters and cousins, who in his opinion were far too fun-loving. Even when first built it was a mean house made of corrugated iron, odd pieces of timber and manuka brush. The falling-down house of today was far more substantial.
He was the eldest in his family and all the responsibility of this had made him brutish. Being a seasonal worker he was often away from home, and though he was a hard-working man he never brought money home, spending it instead on drinking and betting and cards.
His wife, in his absence, had gardens to tend, a house to patch up, water to carry, wood to chop, babies to give birth to and to look after. What the man didn’t know was that she also had a life of her own, and that in spite of him she enjoyed herself.
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