I stopped drying a dish and stood there looking at the plate as I contemplated the question. I didn’t have an answer. Didn’t know what to say. But I answered anyway. The first thing that popped into my head. “Nowhere.” I said.
“Nowhere?”
I shrugged. “Not at the moment. Just taking it as it comes. I really don’t have a plan.”
“Does that bother you?”
I thought about it. “A little I guess.”
“Are you happy?”
I finished drying the plate, stacked it on a pile I had made on the dining table and then leaned against the table and looked at her.
“Happier than I was.”
“Oh, why’s that?”
She knew about the separation from my wife and the job redundancy as it had come up before in general conversation. But I had skimmed over it, brushed it off as inconsequential, and made out that I’d gotten past all that. I answered her. “I guess I’m just happier than when I first arrived that’s all...Anyway, you don’t want to hear about all my troubles. It would only bring you down.”
“Try me I’m a good listener.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to dump all this on you Hine. It’s just stuff I’m trying to sort out in my head is all.”
“Share it Keith. It’ll help, believe me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure. Go on; get it off your chest. It will help; I promise.”
“Okay I will, but tell me if I start to wear you down. I don’t want to bring a dampener on the evening.”
“I’ll tell you. Go ahead, talk.”
So I talked and I told her about my wife and our problems with conceiving and how I stuffed up by screwing my receptionist and how she found out. I told her how my life was boring and pointless; that I kept searching for a meaning to it. How I couldn’t believe that, this was all there was. I told her that I was made redundant and how I didn’t have clue what I wanted to do with my life now. That I now felt money wasn’t as important as before, that I just wanted to be happy and how I realised money wasn’t the answer. I spoke about my mother’s death and how it affected me and Dad, and I went on and on about poor old me till I thought she was going to tell me to get over it and harden up and be a man. And then I told her the truth, what was really eating away at me, what I was really feeling and I said, “Well, I just feel a bit lost at the moment. Kinda drifting... I had this great idea to come and see the old man, as if that would solve all my problems. That somehow, if I found out about him, that if I got to know him better, I’d be able to sort my own shit out... Oops, sorry for swearing Hine.”
She smiled. “That’s quite alright Keith, I hear far worse from my husband of mine. Anyway go on.”
“Well it’s been great, don’t get me wrong. And I am learning about him, he is opening up, albeit slowly, but I still feel sorta, um, I s’pose sorta empty. Yeah, empty inside.”
“Well, that’s understandable you’ve lost your wife and your job. That takes a bit of getting used to,” she reasoned.
“Yeah I know, of course it does. It’s just that I think I’ve been feeling like this my whole life. That something is missing. That I’m struggling with who I am. That I have no identity.”
“Something was missing from your life Keith and you know what it was.”
I nodded my head and sniffed. I knew the answer straight away. “It was my father.”
“Yes it was... Was Keith. Not anymore. He’s right out there. In the flesh. And he loves you very, very much. He needs you as much as you need him. You must let the barriers fall and embrace each other. Rebuild your family. He wants it as much as you do; he just doesn’t know how to ask.”
Tears welled in my eyes and I began to blub. It was probably the booze. Maybe. Anyway, Hine came to me and put her arms around my shoulders and I let loose with my grief. “There, there,” she said as she patted my back. “Let it out. Let it all out,” she soothed. And when the tears began to ease she clasped my face in her hands and lifted it up off my chest and said, “Look at me Keith.” I stared into her brown eyes, her caring face, as she said, “This is just the beginning. I have had the same conversation with Jack before you arrived and earlier this evening when you were away talking with Bill. Both of you grew up without knowing your fathers and both of you have been affected by this. Now it is time to look for strength in each other. Let the past go and look forward to the future as father and son and as friends.” I nodded and she continued. “This is a healing time now, and when your visit is over, when you return to your other life, as you know you must, you will know exactly what you want in life and you will fight for it. You will take it with both hands and you will be better for it. You will be your own man Keith. The son of Jack Delaney but not the same as Jack Delaney. You will have your own identity. Believe me!”
She searched my face, looking for recognition of understanding. Tears were now pooling in her eyes as she released my face and placed her hands on my shoulders. She smiled. I smiled back. “Thankyou Hinemoa,” I whispered and then I kissed her cheek.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
T
hings were different after that evening at the Hokianga’s. Dad and I were more at ease with each other. Hine had a way with words that had affected both of us. She had effectively banged our heads together, made us see sense. We never spoke to each other about our conversations we had with her, or even the one I had with Bill, but we both knew that after that night, our relationship had become stronger. We were comfortable around each other now, where before there was a definite awkwardness. We discussed all sorts of things about our lives, not specifics, not long winded stories, but feelings and thoughts and dreams. We fished and we hunted. I caught fish. I learnt how to rig my lines. I learnt how to play a fish, how to land it, gut it, fillet it and cook it. I shot rabbits and possums. I learnt how to load a rifle, to aim, to shoot. I learnt about the safety needed around firearms and how to clean a rifle and how to store it. I skinned and gutted the animals, cooked and ate the rabbits. I went for a shot up the back on the quad by myself, while dad set the cray pots. I shot a porker, a good eating pig and was proud as punch when I drove into the driveway and my father greeted me with a ‘thumbs up’ sign and a cold beer. We collected mussels off the rocks. I learnt how to snorkel and dived for pauas and even got a couple of crays that way. Dad dragged out his old spear gun and explained how to use it. I managed to spear several butterfish and a couple of moki before the weather changed and it became too cold and murky for diving. I did more than my share of work around the farm. I chopped wood, felled trees with a chainsaw, brought in the cattle and sheep for drenching. Even learnt how to crutch the sheep. I repaired fences and learnt to use tools I had never seen or heard of before, like wire strainers and fencing pliers. We killed a couple of wethers for the freezer and I learnt how to butcher an animal properly. And I wanted to do these things and I enjoyed every minute of it. We continued seeing the Hokianga’s most Fridays, either at our place or theirs and I made sure that Hine didn’t have to do the work, all the time. I often cooked the meals myself and did the general running around after the others, although she did insist on helping me, most of the time. We went into town on a couple of occasions - a round trip of three hours - to get supplies. We visited the local pub where we caught up with a couple of old barflies Dad knew, and who ‘just about lived there’, he reckoned. I got cell phone coverage when I was in town and I rang Carole, my wife, just to see how she was and to let her know I was alright. She sounded pleased to hear from me and told me two things that made me smile and gave me hope. And I told her I would see her soon; that we needed to finalise things; that we couldn’t just drift along; that we both had lives to live. And she agreed, said that we needed to move on and bury the past and sort out this separation. And they were good days with my father. Happy times. And it seemed like it was only yesterday since I’d arrived at his place. But it wasn�
��t. And when I turned around one day and glanced at the calendar on the kitchen wall, I saw that it was now the thirtieth of April and well over a month had passed since I had first arrived. And I knew that soon I’d be leaving. That I must go. That I couldn’t stay forever.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was a cold dismal day and the rain pattered against the roof and windows and the wind howled outside. We tucked into bowls of hot porridge with milk and melted brown sugar for breakfast as we sat at the kitchen table. The jug finished boiling and switched itself off. I got up and went to make the tea for us both. I stood there gazing out the window while the teabags soaked in the cups, watching as seagulls struggled with the weather, the wind taking them on an uncontrolled flight, buffeting their bodies this way and that. I lifted the bags out of the cups, added the milk and gave them a quick stir. Heading back to the table I said, “I think it might be time to cut a track, Dad.”
He looked up from his porridge. “’Cut a track’? Whatta you mean ‘cut a track’.”
“Head back home Dad, back to the city. Time I sorted a few things out.”
“Oh.” He sipped his tea while I had the last mouthful of my porridge. He asked, “When?”
“Next day or so. I’ll check the car over today. Haven’t used it in a while.”
“Yeah might pay to. Battery’s probably flat.”
We sat there in silence. Just thinking. Not uncomfortable anymore. I sipped my tea and then put down my cup, interlaced my fingers and with palms facing out stretched out my arms till my bones cracked. Dad cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I want to finish my story. Tell you the rest. Get it out of the way.”
I shook my head. “Nah, you don’t have to Dad. It’s not necessary. You can just leave the story as it is. Like you said, it’s history, why worry about the past.”
“No, I want to tell you. I need to tell you. Before it’s too late.”
I was worried. “Whatta you mean, too late? Why are you talking like that for? You’re okay aren’t you? You’re not going to die on me are you Dad?”
“Of course not ya silly bugger. Fit as a fiddle me. No, I’ve just been thinking about it and I feel you should know.” He grinned. “I’ve led a bloody interesting life you know!” He added.
I grinned back. “I know you have Dad and I’d actually be rapt to hear about the rest of your life. So as long as you’re happy about it. So if you’re sure, go ahead, don’t let me stop you.”
“Yeah, well, just remember not everything I’ve done was that bloody amazing. There’s a lot of boring parts to my life, much the same as anyone.”
I smiled. “Just stick to the highlights then.”
“I intend to, although they won’t be all highlights as such. Make us another cuppa while I try and remember where I was up to.”
I got up and filled the jug again. I said, “You were still trapping with Wiremu and still visiting Konosu. Things were supposedly better at home but I get the feeling you’re not that happy with Doug and Grandma having a relationship.”
“Ah, you have been listening... Alright, so here we go. Back to Putumu...”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PUTUMU
WINTER 1945
J
ack and Wiremu were on their trapping line. They had set them the night before and had just about finished clearing them.
“You seem happier today, Jack,” said Wiremu.
“Yep, all good. Feel alot better after talking yesterday and getting it all out in the open.”
The boy’s were onto their last possum having skinned twenty-two already.
“Jeez that’s a good haul. We’ll have to try here again next weekend,” said Wiremu.
“Yeah it is. So what’s our total for the weekend?”
“Um, twenty-two today, twelve yesterday and twenty the day before, um, hold on, it’s...fifty-four.”
“Fifty-five.”
“Fifty-five? How’d you get Fifty-five?”
“You didn’t count this one, you numbskull.”
“Aw yeah, you’re right, twenty-three today...Still, it’s bugger all when you compare it to what my uncle caught in one day.”
“Oh yeah, what did he catch in one day?” Jack asked with a smile.
“Seven hundred and eighty-three.”
“Seven hundred and eighty-three possums, in one day? I don’t believe it,” said Jack as he shook his head.
“Well, the thing is, they weren’t all possums you see. He caught just about everything you could imagine that day. He caught possums but he also caught cats and rats and dogs and a pig, a cow, a deer, a couple of people and a tiger.”
“What? All that and a tiger! How did he catch a tiger? There’s no tiger’s in New Zealand.”
“It escaped from a zoo.”
“I think your uncle is pulling your leg.”
“Doubt it. He explained it all to me, it makes sense it does. I’ll tell ya how it happened... The cats and rats are easy, eh? I mean we’ve caught rats in the traps before, happens all the time. The way my uncle set his traps is that he sets them in twos or more. He catches a rat in the first trap; the cat is attracted by the rat, sneaks up on it and gets caught in the second trap. Simple.”
“Yeah okay, but what about the rest; the dogs, the pig, the deer, the cow, the people and the tiger? Explain that.”
“Well, this is where it does get complicated but I’ll see if I can remember it right... Okay, here goes. There were two dogs chasing this pig, a massive boar it was, easily five hundred pounds, with huge tusks and it’s running away, flat out. The next minute, it steps into a trap with one foot, then it steps into another trap with another foot, and then another, and another, until all its feet are trapped and it comes to a screaming halt. We’ll the dogs are following so close behind that they can’t stop in time, so they try and jump over the pig you see, so they don’t crash into it and hurt themselves. Well they jump, and they’re flying over this pig and they’ve almost made it, when this pig lifts his head real high, screaming in pain by now, as you would with all your feet in traps, and the dogs hit the damn thing and both of them get stabbed by those huge sharp tusks. Kills them outright it does and they’re just stuck there on the end of them. Well, the pig tries to shake them off but he can’t ‘cause they’re curved you see and they just hold the dogs like a hook holds a fish. And that’s how my uncle found them. Two dogs and a boar all stuck together in his traps. Crazy eh?”
“Crazy alright.” Said Jack as he rolled his eyes. “What about the others, how did they get caught?”
“Okay. The lion escapes from the zoo you see...”
“Lion? You said tiger.”
“Lion, tiger what’s the difference?”
“I dunno... What’s the difference between a horse and a zebra?”
“Eh? Stripes I s’pose.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, whatever. This tiger escapes from the zoo and heads for the bush of course. Anyway, he was real hungry and he sniffed out this deer. A massive stag it was, huge bloody thing as big as horse, as big as Phar Lap even! And it had a great rack of antlers, at least a thirty pointer my uncle said. Anyway, this tiger was stalking this deer and this deer was running and it got its hoof caught in one of these traps...”
“What, and this little gin trap stopped a huge stag?”
“Nooo. Let me finish. Listen to the whole story before you ask stupid questions alright!” Said Wiremu a little testily. He continued. “Okay, so this stag got its foot caught in one of my uncle’s traps and it just carried on with it, didn’t care too much about it really, just broke the chain and carried on running away from this lio..., tiger. But it did slow him down a bit you see, and the tiger eventually caught up. Well, the stag turned and faced this tiger and there was this huge scrap; the stag was charging the tiger with its antlers and the tiger was trying to claw the stag and bite it and things. And it went on for ages a
nd ages, this huge battle and then as the tiger got a bit tired he didn’t move fast enough and the deer poked out one of his eyes with its antlers. Well, this got the tiger really mad and he lunged for the deer and got it around the throat with his teeth. And he held on tight, while the deer tried to shake him off, but he was a goner ‘cause there was heaps of blood and the tiger was cutting off its air and everything. Anyway, the poor thing eventually collapsed and died. Well the tiger was absolutely buggered now...”
“And blind in one eye!”
“And blind in one eye, but also really hungry as anyone would be after that. But he was buggered first, so he sat down and you wouldn’t believe it, but his tail ended up in another one of my uncles traps for goodness sake!.” Wiremu held up his hands as if to say, isn’t life crazy? Before he continued. “Anyway, the tiger swung his whole body around real quick with pain and fright to see what it was and as he did he poked the other eye out on the stag’s antlers. Now he was completely blind and really pissed off but still really hungry. So he forgot about the trap on his tail for a bit, and went to work on feeding his face. He chomped down on that deer not seeing what he was doing of course, ‘cause he was totally blind, and ended up swallowing the gin trap that was attached to the deer’s foot. Well this caused him to choke and the thing got stuck in his gut and he eventually died from it. And that’s how my uncle found them, that poor tiger and the stag, dead, all because of the traps.” Wiremu shook his head as if to say, there’s no justice in this world. Then he added, “It’s not all bad though, he got some good big skins off them both.”
“Sounds like a load of crap to me,” said Jack.
“What? How can you say that? If you don’t believe me, ask my uncle.”
Fathers Page 22