She’d vacated the house, taking everything she wanted and locking the car away in a friend’s garage, because she knew her husband had a spare set of keys and would be looking for it.
Maina hadn’t always been a shop assistant. She was trained in office management, had knowledge of the tourist industry and travel and had held down some good jobs prior to marrying this Joe Fingers. It was because of having to uproot and move from place to place that her career and travel plans had been interrupted. She enjoyed her work at DEKA, but was looking out for a position where she could continue with what she’d started out to do. Now she was pleased to be back living with her father and close to her children and had already made up her mind that she was staying put, and that she wasn’t ever again going to be a party to any scam, or be supported in any way by crook money.
Not long after their arrival in the city, PC had talked his way onto several committees and had been taken on as a kaumatua in a health project, for which he received a retainer. This work didn’t take all his time so it gave him plenty of spare hours to look round for some new venture. He’d always seen opportunities and had good ideas, which in the early days he would outline to Maina with great enthusiasm.
Maina had picked up on those ideas when they first met and had been able to commit them to paper and come up with impressive information leaflets and brochures, for which work he’d led her to understand she’d be paid. She accompanied him to evening and weekend meetings where he introduced her to clients as his business associate, but the operation had ended for clients once money had been taken in, that is, prior to delivery of goods or service.
Instead of a payout he married her and they’d absconded together, though she hadn’t realised that they were absconding. Whatever they were doing they were doing it in a beautiful car and she was having a great time speeding about the country living in flash hotels all over the place with this great, new, flash husband. Choice. Every few days she’d send postcards to her father and children telling them what a good time and a great life she was having.
After they’d been on the road for three weeks she’d found herself in a new city looking for a new job. There was no money, nothing in the bank to pay the rent with, so they’d had to sell the car.
It took her a few more years to realise how deeply her husband believed he was entitled to other people’s money in exchange for pieces of paper, along with eloquence in any setting, in either or both of his two languages. She’d supported him even after realising what a rip-off he was, because she liked him. Most people did. She loved him actually.
But she had standards. Though still wanting to be his wife there came a time when she wouldn’t be his business associate any longer. She insisted on moving into low-rent houses and always paid for everything with money she’d earned herself. He’d had no problem finding other skilled and attractive new associates who would work without being paid and who would go through their own marriage and partnership break-ups in order to enjoy the high life with him for a while.
There came a time too when she didn’t want to be his wife any longer, and in anticipation had made a couple of good moves on her own behalf, such as registering the car in her name and making sure she always had access to computer files and data. He wasn’t at all unhappy about this because he trusted her—or trusted that he’d always be irresistible to her and that therefore she would always remain attached. She’d left him and gone to her father’s on previous occasions but had always returned to him, so it was days before he realised she’d gone for good this time.
He didn’t mind too much at first, but he realised once he found the files gone and that the mail had been redirected, that he’d been done over.
At that point he could’ve done a runner with the seven grand worth of deposits, but decided he should stand his ground for a while, attend the meeting he’d been told by Wai he’d better attend and see if he could salvage anything.
So those who knew him best were right. He had plenty of neck. He came.
It was a warm day, juicy from previous rain, so that in the end even those who had thought it all a waste of time were pleased to leave the work they’d been doing to sit out on the marae for an hour or so in the shade of trees, looking out over rollers free-wheeling in, unbreaking until right on shore. They knew there could be a bit of excitement with Wai in the mood she was in, determined to get those deposits off this relation of theirs, determined she was going to make breakfast of him.
He came accompanied by his new associate who was unaware that, though he had other irons in the fire, this particular iron of business was now non-operational as far as his involvement went.
The new assistant was small with a little, pinkish face and clipped-back, brown hair—pretty and pleasant looking—who laughed every time everyone else laughed even though she knew little of what was going on and nothing of what was being said. She was dressed in a tight fawn jacket and a small skirt, suitable for sitting behind a desk in a quiet office but not for sitting on old seats of rigged-up beach logs out on a marae atea. Not suitable either for an afternoon in the sun. She carried a case containing an electronic notebook and though she didn’t get a chance to use it, it wasn’t long before she was named for it.
In other words, when people looked across the marae atea to the gate where the two were waiting to be called in, someone standing behind the kaikaranga said in a not-too-quiet whisper, ‘He’s brought his laptop with him.’ This caused the kaikaranga to choke on the first syllable of her call, which is very bad form indeed.
As the two proceeded on to the marae there were some gathered who were getting a good look at him for the first time. From what they’d heard they could’ve been expecting to see someone shifty or seedy looking, old and falling apart from the weight of sins, maybe someone anxious and uneasy, given the circumstances.
They could have been surprised and would have been impressed by this straight-backed, good-looking man walking towards them. His skin was an even, dark brown, the jumpy hair, dyed black, had been sculpted up round the back and sides of his head and shaped high and flat across the top. At fifty-nine, which was sixteen years older than Maina, he was fit and muscular looking, as though he worked at heaving bricks. He had his swank under control.
When Archie got up to make the welcome speech he said the equivalent of: Greetings, indeed, greetings. We all welcome you with open arms and open hearts. He paid his respects to the dead after which he recited PC’s genealogy for the information of everyone, and gave a little of the history re the boy with shop bread, shoes, teddy-boy outfits and how they nearly drowned him. Even those who believed this whole meeting to be a waste of time were pleased they’d come along for a bit of entertainment.
Arch warmly welcomed the new business associate, then spoke of the intention of the meeting in general terms. But as he concluded he became more specific and told PC he was there so they could turn his pockets inside out, turn him upside down and shake him, do him over. Good laughs for all including PC and the associate. And so welcome to you on this beautiful day, welcome, welcome, indeed welcome was how Arch concluded his greetings.
After the formalities were over they moved into the meeting house and during the course of the afternoon PC had it explained to him what had been done with the information that Maina had given them and where they were up to with preparations. This was all by way of warm-up. After that had gone on long enough they came to the main reason for the meeting.
What they wanted was the seven grand worth of deposits that he had pocketed.
He wasn’t giving it.
‘Just think of it as payment for the work I did,’ he said when it was his turn to speak. ‘It was a lot of work getting site plans out of local council, making the grid, setting up promotions, advertising on the Net, keeping it secret. And there were expenses too. I’ll tell you what, I could send you an invoice and you could write it all off, paid. You’d be getting a bargain.’
‘But who did all that work anywa
y?’ someone asked. ‘You or your associate?’
‘Ideas,’ he said, ‘are the most important ingredient in any new venture. Unless someone has the idea, nothing happens. People pay good money for ideas.’
‘Not these people.’
‘And I could do more for you,’ he said without even one drop of sweat running off him. ‘I can offer experience, expertise …’
‘And an opportunity to get your hands on …’
They were brown polished-looking hands that placed themselves palm upwards in different spaces about him as he spoke. They flew up sometimes, flew out sometimes, sometimes up and out. Or they rested, lightly knuckled, on hips, or came together quite close to his chin or to his heart, though nothing was too overdone. Anyway it was his face people were all most interested in, and his lit eyes. He seemed to be having a good time.
There were some, as they listened, who came to believe he could be useful, mainly the ones who didn’t know him. They liked his clothes and his teeth. It was true he had ideas and experience, and they needed every bit of help they could get. Even some of those who knew him well began to wonder if he should be given a chance.
‘To what?’ Wai asked. ‘A chance to what? No. There’s help we can use, there’s help we can do without.’ Then she said, ‘He’s in, I’m out.’
No one wanted that. OK, out with him. But to return to the matter of seven thousand dollars, what if they went to the police? ‘I’m not illegal enough,’ PC said with teeth, but not too overdone. ‘You’d have a job pinning anything on me. Besides it would cost you money to take me to court … anyway you’re too busy. You wouldn’t have time.’
All of this talk was being sent up to the rafters on fits and blasts of laughter, looping up and around and hanging there. ‘I mean give us a break, you’re going to make sixty thousand clear if you do it right, jeepers have a heart. I could’ve got off with most of that after giving you your cut if I hadn’t trained my dear ex to be so smart. I mean you’ve probably got your fifteen thousand dollar millennium venture grant from the Runanga for setting up, that is for your toilets and tank and site preparation. You’re probably going to provide food, have stalls, hangis etcetera, that you’ll charge good prices for. You’ll do sixty or seventy, eighty if you do it right. You got a free work force. No, no, gimme a break. You don’t need to strip me down, my wife already did a good job of that. You’ve got my wife working for you and she’s one of the best. I reckon you should pay me another seven. I’ll send an invoice.’
This was all attaching to the rafters and fattening them, and it was also attaching to Wai’s ears. There was plenty of useful information in that lot, and a few good ideas too. So even Wai seemed to be chilling out, had a few teeth showing there, couldn’t help it. She knew it had gone as far as it could and that they weren’t going to get toenail out of him.
‘So when are you leaving town?’ Wai asked in recognition that the discussions were over and to get a last crack at him.
‘When I get me a seven thousand dollar car, ha, ha.’
And because the time had now come for his waiata he stepped across and took the guitar from Jase and began to sing ‘Release Me’, which was yet another reason for rafters holding their sides.
Release him?
Let him go?
Haa, OK. At least they’d given him a bit of going over, a run for his money—this Joe Fingers, this tangata whai haere panekoti.
Or had they?
Well at least they’d all had a good time, and anyway there was one thing their crook relation wasn’t going to get away with, not if Cass had anything to do with it. They could see Cass having a word in the ear of the business assistant, giving her the message to take herself off, release herself from this no-good crook.
Let him love again?
Doubt it, or not this time. Cass was actually walking Business Assistant out the door to make a getaway. Ha, good one. Good day.
As PC took the song up a chord they all joined in.
Chapter Twenty-five
There was no one round when he and Kid arrived home ahead of a carrier bringing furniture and a fridge from the furniture mart, but on going into the house he found it had been cleaned. All the floors, walls, cupboards and benches had been washed down ready for his arrival.
All done, so he went off down to the marae where he knew they they’d all be working. It was a long time since he’d gone there on two feet—not even a limp according to Clarrie, the limb fitter at the Centre, wheeling about, eyeing up this angle, that angle.
An office had been set up in the wharenui. A few old tables had been brought in for a computer, telephone and other office equipment.
‘Paper, paper,’ Wai said. ‘Not my thing, paper. My office? All up here,’ tapping her head.
‘Maina helped us with all this,’ Cass said. ‘Mmm, it’s Maina who got all this up and running,’ planting her eyes hard into him.
‘Trained Eva up,’ Wai said. ‘Set up a system and Eva doing most of the computer stuff now she’s finished at Polytech for the year.’
‘Left her job,’ Cass said, ‘Maina, to look after her father and help us out. She brings the old man with her when she comes, Hani Silver. Hard case.’
‘So we got all this in here in the meantime, crossing our fingers we don’t have to move it … So don’t anyone die,’ Wai said raising her voice from the conversation they were having to include those around, ‘otherwise we got to shift all this stuff out. You all keep healthy ’til mid January, you hear.’
‘Yourself,’ Arch said, ‘you and your triple bypass. Keep going like this your ticker’ll do for you. You making us shift all this. You face up out there on the veranda.’
‘Not ’til I see this dining room up. Nice roof. All having the hakari for me in a nice wharekai after you put me under. Nice windows. Nothing out in tents, no cooking in the rain. Out of the heat, out of the cold, all gas and refrigeration. No melted jellies and no fly blows.’
Over at the paddocks the existing ablution block had been renovated and extended and a new block was being built on the far side. There was groundwork being done for two new water tanks to be installed.
‘Then we need a few good downpours to fill ’em,’ Archie said, ‘or we be buying water in … And, ah, give you a day or two, Son, and we could do with another builder round the place, someone knows which end of the hammer.’
‘Got our stuff coming this afternoon, carrier on its way, and first thing tomorrow got to go and have a talk with the lawyer. After that … ’
‘Plenty time, when you ready.’
‘Get the beds and stuff into the house, later go and get our fish. Thinking of fish while I’m away and thinking how the weather must be warming up … Anyway before all that, before I go to the lawyer got to go and have a talk to those Aunties, see if I can talk them round.’
‘Ahh, we been missing our fish. Too busy. Atawhai’s nephews come with a few fish one day. But mmm … don’t know about those two, Brad and Horomona. Out a lot in their uncle’s boat but …’
So what was that supposed to mean? Arch with something on his mind but then changing the subject.
‘We come wit’ you when you go have your korero with Babs and Amiria,’ Arch said. ‘Humbug those two.’
Pop Henry was there sitting on a chair under a sun umbrella his old face lit up by all the energy around. The carrier was arriving and Kid was coming up from the beach with Kutu.
Home in water, into the channels where fish moved about feeding in the stir of full tide—moki in and out of the dark places and maumau rising in bunches and dropping again, red and blue among the boulders and anemones the colours of gardens. Moving in close he pointed the tip of his spear to the gills of a large moki, loosing the spring then thrusting upwards to take the weight of the fish.
From the rocks, as he climbed out to put the moki in the bag, he could see that Kid, Georgie and Hinewai were doing well pulling in maumau on his handline. Two more big moki and whatever the kids got would be
enough for them to carry home along the tracks.
There was still enough daylight left when they’d cleaned the fish so he left the kids on shore and put the spear gun down by the limb instructing it to keep guard. ‘Ha, ha, ha,’ the kids clutched their speared, leg-stealing hearts and fell down dead in the shingle.
He went into the water again exploring the bases of the rocks and the crevasses before breaking out of the channel and heading for the deep, swimming like he had gills, small fish churning the surface about him. On to the far cray rocks where only the tips showed above the high water, he came across crays that had been lured from their holes, their pale undersides spotting the water that had already begun to darken.
On the far side of the rocks he discovered the buoys, and when he went down saw that the pots were already full—too deep and too heavy for him to be able to do anything on his own.
It was already too late to get help and by the time the tide went down it would be too dark to see. All he could do was speak up tomorrow when Brad and Horomona came with the crays, knowing the brothers would only bring a few of the fish not wanting anyone to know how many they really had, or to know they’d been setting pots in the cove.
Other things to do before that. Get Kid and her cousins home, then after tea go and see The Aunties. School in the morning for his daughter, and into the city for him, to meet Heke Norman. And while he was in the city there were a few more things he needed to get for the house, but he’d have to go easy on the spending. The stay in Wellington had eaten into his compo.
More, at the moment, than water, but there’d always be water.
Chapter Twenty-six
‘Well, where is she?’ Amiria asked after he’d greeted them, given them their fish and talked for a while about the leg and the millennium. The two were preparing for one of their meetings. Chairs and cushions were ready in the lounge and one of the oil burners had been lit, giving off an essence of he didn’t know what. They were in the kitchen with their knives and chopping boards.
Dogside Story Page 16