by Albert Wendt
‘Too right, bro. Too right.’ Wiping away her tears with her hands, she turns to Cheryl, winds her left arm round her and, pulling her against her side, says, ‘Ya glad to see ya handsome dad?’ Cheryl nods repeatedly, and stretches up and kisses Mere on the cheek.
‘She’s my chauffeur for the week,’ Daniel says.
‘At no pay, I hope,’ Mere jokes. Then, holding their hands tightly, she laughs as she steers them up the front steps. ‘As agreed, I’m alone. Dottie and Ralph and my mokopuna have gone to the movies.’ Dottie is her daughter, Ralph her son-in-law. ‘Dottie’s really looking forward to seeing you, Dan.’
‘And Uncle Ropata?’ Cheryl asks.
‘He shifted over Christmas to live with his latest woman, in Kaitaia, at our marae. I’m sure that won’t last and he’ll be back here soon.’ She turns and says to Daniel, ‘You know what your cousin’s like.’
‘Yeah, like Dad,’ Cheryl says. When she realises what she’s said, she presses her hand over her mouth.
‘Kids certainly know what their elders are really like!’ Mere laughs.
Once they are through the carefully restored original villa frontage and stained-glass front door and over the threshold, they are in a house that Daniel has seen being transformed with Mere’s growing prosperity. There used to be uncarpeted floors; peeling ceilings; stained and ripped wallpaper; small, dark and cramped rooms that mildewed quickly over the winter; and primitive plumbing and heating. Now the house is twice its original size. There is another floor at the top that contains Mere’s spacious and warm study, three other bedrooms and another bathroom. There is a self-contained two-bedroom flat at the back where Mere’s mother lived, and a double-car garage; and the sitting room, kitchen and three bedrooms have been enlarged. The whole house is furnished with furniture and equipment made largely in New Zealand, and throughout the house is a valuable collection of contemporary Māori and Pacific art.
‘Mum’s not here to welcome you back, Dan,’ she says, her voice breaking. ‘But I’m sure she’s watching us right now and, being a tangiweto, crying with joy that you are home again.’ He gazes across at her, and for the first time notices she is heavier in build; more weighed down at the shoulders and hips – the weight seems more emotional than physical. Deep wrinkles now radiate from around her eyes, in which she tries to retain the sparkle of curiosity and joy he has always seen there. Her once beautiful long black hair, which had always been in perfect flow, is now streaked with grey and slightly unkempt. There are other signs of encroaching age, stress and sorrow. And loneliness?
Mere is still single, though over the years she has had some long-term relationships with men. They decreased in number when she was appointed a judge and had to restrict her social and public life severely, reducing any possibility of scandal or wrongdoing.
Daniel recalls that after that holiday the Tribe enjoyed at Waioha years before, Mere flew often to Christchurch to be with Kepa, who was studying there, and that he came to Auckland also. Though Mere didn’t discuss it with them often, they observed that it was a passionate, all-consuming affair, which they all hoped would become a permanent one. She kept referring to Kepa as the ‘most fulfilling love of my life.’ After Mere completed her MA she even shifted to Christchurch to do a PhD in law, and lived with Kepa. But after a year, she was back in Auckland. When Aaron, in his usual recklessly bold way, asked after Kepa, she flicked back her head and haughtily exclaimed, ‘He’s very limited in loyalty, intelligence and imagination!’ They heard rumours that Kepa had been unfaithful to her: once, and that was it. Laura, Cherie and Langi encouraged her to talk about it, but she just sobbed and sobbed, declaring, ‘I never want to see that bastard again. I don’t ever want to hear his name again.’
After that she started a series of frantic affairs which never lasted more than a few days; sometimes they were one-night stands, in which Mere tried to drown her pain and disappointment and betrayal in a torrent of mindless sex, cannabis and alcohol. Laura shifted into her house at this time, and with Mahina wrapped her love round Mere, eventually rescuing her.
For about a year Mere was celibate, so she later boasted to Laura, and then, to their dismay, she introduced Cedric Matthews, a partner in a well-known criminal law firm, to them as her ‘first Pākehā lover’. Their dismay turned to anger, which they had to hide from her, when they found Cedric to be over-confident and arrogant: almost the epitome of everything that Mere had despised about Pākehā, and Pākehā men in particular. Mere kept Cedric away from them at that time, and rarely participated in the Tribe’s affairs. They heard she was quite happy being ‘the only brownie’ in Cedric’s circle of friends and associates: there she was free to be an individual without draining responsibilities to a family, she told Laura. Cedric and his Pākehā friends were also extremely useful in bringing business into Mere’s and Laura’s newly established law firm. That was certainly true, Laura informed them.
When they noticed Mere was lightening and straightening her hair and ridding her vocabulary and way of speaking of Māori and PI expressions and accent, Aaron broke ranks, during a Sunday lunch at Mere’s home, and accused her of becoming an ‘Auntie Tom’. They were astounded when she didn’t react angrily: she merely looked with forgiving pity at Aaron, and, caressing the side of his face, said, ‘So what, brother? At least for a while I’m free of the burden of being Māori.’
‘How can you be free when the Man, the Pākehā, who has put that burden on us, is your – your …’ Aaron attacked.
‘That’s enough!’ Mahina intervened.
‘That’s right,’ Laura chorused.
After that incident, they didn’t see Mere and Cedric together again in public for about six months, then she invited them to a cocktail party held by Cedric’s law firm in the lounge of a well-known restaurant-café.
Aaron and Mahina refused to attend. The others went with apprehension, expecting her to announce her engagement to Cedric. As soon as they walked in, they realised they were the only Polynesians there, but Cedric in particular was welcoming, and after a while they started enjoying the party, and observed that Mere had made herself the centre of attention, Cedric and his friends all competing to please her.
They were surprised when Mere appeared with a birthday cake with one large candle in the middle of it, and, while the candle gleamed, announced it was Cedric’s fiftieth birthday. She embraced Cedric and kissed him on the forehead, while everyone cheered and clapped and hooted. They sang a raucous ‘Happy birthday’. ‘Blow it out, darling,’ Mere encouraged Cedric. With one large blow, he snuffed out the flame, and hugged her into his side. When Daniel glanced at Mere and caught the still gaze in her eyes, the thought slid into his attention: It’s over. And it was.
A day later, while the Tribe was having dinner at her house, she declared, ‘I’m sorry I went away for a while, but I’m back now. Cedric is past tense.’
After Cedric, there was a long period when Mere was without lovers, during which she and Laura concentrated on building up their firm’s reputation. They made lots of money from their rich clients, mainly Pākehā, and acted for free for their poor clients, mainly Polynesian. It was only fair that you get your wealthy clients to pay for their poorer sisters and brothers, Laura and Mere profferred. They represented Mere’s iwi in their Waitangi Tribunal claims. In the process they became well known and respected in the law profession, courts and community.
Mere became more discreet in her affairs, though occasionally she allowed the Tribe to meet some of her men: mainly respected professionals, who, like her, valued anonymity.
Even Laura, who worked with Mere, was wonderfully surprised when Mere invited the Tribe to her home for finger food and drinks before a Silver Ferns–Australia test, and announced she was six months pregnant, and it was going to be a girl. ‘She refuses to tell me who the father is,’ Mahina objected. In a loud chorus, the others insisted that she divulge who the father was.
High with happiness, Mere absolutely refused to do so. What if the child later insisted on it? they asked. She would tell her daughter when she was eighteen, Mere said. And when Dottie was that age, she did so, but Dottie to this day refuses to let anyone else know.
Speculation as to Dottie’s father has continued, and Mere keeps answering: ‘Dottie’s father is not important. Never was, and never will be.’ Only one observation is irrefutable: Dottie’s father is Polynesian.
‘You know where everything is, darling,’ Mere tells Cheryl. ‘Dottie has prepared some kai and drinks for tonight. It’s in the dining room. You get your dad a beer, and a small whiskey for your thirsty auntie. When your uncles and mother get here in about half an hour, you look after them. We’re having the meeting in my study. I’ve cleaned and prepared it for that.’ As Cheryl turns to go to the dining room, Mere adds, ‘If you and your dad want to sleep here tonight – and I hope you do – we’ve cleaned up Mum’s flat for you to use.’
‘Thanks, Auntie,’ Cheryl replies.
‘And put lots of water in my whiskey. Judges aren’t supposed to be alcoholics.’ When Cheryl is out of the room, she turns to Daniel. ‘Why did you want us to meet before the others come?’ she asks.
He doesn’t hesitate, knowing that Mere doesn’t tolerate what she calls ‘oblique around-the-point discussions,’ unless they are poetic and focused on the language itself. ‘I need your help with Aaron’s tangi and his will,’ he admits. And Aaron, whose presence (and death) they have been avoiding, is around them like a heavy cloak that they want to wear yet know they have to be wary of. You love him, all of him, but you have to be alert always to what Keith once described as ‘the dark side of Aaron’s aroha’, and Mere detailed as ‘his inexplicable desire to harm and destroy what he succeeds in creating.’
‘Aaron won’t leave us alone, even though he’s kicked the bucket,’ she declares, and breaks into sobbing that mounts quickly in ferocity. He is kneeling before her, and she flings her arms around his head and holds him tightly to her chest as he sobs too. ‘He’s even more present now that he’s gone,’ she whispers.
And that presence is even more demanding of their attention when Paul, Keith and Laura arrive. In greeting one another, they weep in one another’s arms, with Daniel and Laura avoiding each other. They eventually shift into Mere’s study, where, over the years, they have normally met whenever there is a crisis or affair that involves the whole Tribe.
Aaron is inescapable as they sit round the large comfortable room, under walls that display photographs of Mere’s family and the Tribe covering a period of about forty years, starting with black and white ones featuring the five-year-old members of Miss Baystall’s class, with Aaron in the back row at the edge with that arrogant glint in his eyes, and ending with large brilliant summer Sunday photographs of the Tribe (without Laura) and their families and friends in Aaron’s backyard, enjoying Daniel’s farewell barbecue before he left for Hawai‘i. Just above Mere’s head is a large colour portrait of Aaron in an intricately carved wooden frame. He is wearing his black Malcolm X cap, and his face is distorted into a grotesque half-blurred smile because it is pushed up against the camera lens. Throughout their meeting they will avoid looking at that one.
‘On your behalf,’ Mere begins, ‘I’d like to welcome Tanielu back to our tūrangawaewae.’ Paul and Keith smile and nod; Laura continues gazing up at the photos. ‘And congratulate him on his magnificent tan!’
‘Yeah, Dan, you’re gleaming like Duke Kahanamoku,’ Keith interjects.
‘Bet you can’t surf like him though,’ Paul choruses. Daniel catches Laura looking at him. She glances away.
This banter, which usually happens at the start of their gatherings, continues for a while, Daniel the object of their joking. He disguises the fact he is observing Laura, who he senses is watching him as she relaxes more. Throughout his time in Honolulu she has been everywhere in his life, even in his dreams – for how do you erase and escape someone who has been at the centre of twenty-eight years of your everyday life and memories?
As usual it is Mere who opens their meeting. ‘How did you first find out about his death?’ she asks Daniel.
‘One of Aaron’s “associates” rang me about it,’ he replies. ‘Then of course you rang, and Keith and Paul rang.’
‘Who was the “associate”?’ Mere asks.
‘I didn’t ask for his name,’ he replies.
‘Must’ve been the one who rang me at home the morning Aaron was found in K Road,’ Laura speaks for the first time. ‘He wanted to know where you were.’ She is actually talking directly to him.
‘How much do you know about Aaron’s death?’ Mere asks Daniel.
‘A little – mainly from the man who rang me, and from Aaron’s lawyer.’
Mere then relates for him what happened, and she does it quickly and succinctly, so as to keep away the sorrow that is enveloping them all, again. She’d contacted the senior detective in charge of the case, and from his information and facts gathered from Keith, Paul, Laura and others, she learned that on Friday night at about midnight a car had stopped in front of some prostitutes who were sitting on a bench on K Road. The back door had been flung open, and Aaron had been pushed out onto the pavement, then the car had sped off again. ‘Why that particular location?’ she asks, rhetorically. They all wait. ‘The police discovered that Aaron had an apartment on the top floor of the building in front of which the women were sitting.’
‘But he had only his home in Wellington Street,’ Keith insists. Mere glances at Daniel.
‘I talked with Katherine Mills, his lawyer, today,’ Daniel starts carefully. ‘Our brother has a lot of property we didn’t know about.’
Before the others can ask Daniel for more information, Mere continues. ‘Aaron was badly wounded.’ She pauses, and swallows back her tears. ‘Shot twice after he’d been – tortured.’ She stops again, breathing heavily, trying not to choke. Then, looking up, she continues. ‘An ambulance and the police arrived quickly, and he was rushed to hospital. But he – he died on the way there. The police have kept me informed, in detail, about their investigations. Apart from a couple of misdemeanours when he was boy, Aaron has no other police record’. She pauses and, taking a deep breath, admits, ‘You know the first thing I thought when Laura rang to tell me about Aaron’s death? “When the police discover my connection to Aaron, how the hell is that going to affect my job and standing as a judge?” I was so scared I hyperventilated, and later I spewed out my guts. I put my status and job and all that bullshit ahead of the love I have for him.’ She stops, and they wait for her to regain her composure. ‘Right now the police are following two fairly hopeful leads. One to do with a new tourist resort project in Rotorua Aaron was involved with. They have discovered that a major shareholder in it is has Yakuza connections in Japan. The other is the connections Aaron had with some of the leading producers and distributors of marijuana in the country. Now that we know he left a will, that may throw more light on what happened.’ Again she looks at Daniel.
Daniel debates for a moment and then decides. ‘I think we should also follow some of his so-called associates,’ he suggests. ‘For instance, Feau and Bonzy who have always been in his life. His lawyer and his will point towards them.’
Most of the others agree. ‘Strange how Aaron continued his connections with them,’ Laura added.
‘Bloody weird, bloody compulsive,’ Paul says. ‘Two of the biggest criminals in Auckland.’
‘But why would they – they want Aaron out of the way?’ Keith asks.
‘Must’ve been something bloody important,’ Paul says.
‘Did Aaron ever talk about Feau and Bonzy?’ Mele asks.
‘Yes, on and off over the years,’ Paul replies. ‘Enough for me to know that they were working together.’
The whole episode in Aaron’s home, with Arthur and Martha again clogs Daniel’s att
ention, and he wants to veer away from that. ‘Aaron was quite wealthy, but as you know he lived frugally,’ he says
‘He was generous with all of us and our children, but he lived simply,’ Laura adds.
‘The money, the wealth, wasn’t the incentive,’ Mere reflects. ‘It was the process, the ways, the deals he loved putting together.’
‘And some of those with Feau and Bonzy went wrong,’ Paul says. ‘And we have to find out.’
‘And do something about,’ Keith says.
‘I bet you Aaron has already set up a plan for that,’ Mere says, refusing to look at them.
‘I’m not allowed to reveal what is in his will all at one time,’ Daniel insists on distracting them ‘First, he wants us to implement his wishes about his tangi and burial. Once we do that successfully, I am then to reveal to you what he wants done with his estate.’
‘Typical of Aaron,’ Keith guffaws. ‘Games and trickery, all the way.’
‘So let’s have the next stage of the game!’ Laura demands. Daniel glances at Mere. She nods.
‘He wants to be cremated at Purewa Cemetery,’ Daniel continues.
‘What’s so tricky about that?’ Paul asks.
‘He does not want a Christian burial.’ Daniel stops and, gazing at Paul, says, ‘He wants our rangatahi to organise and conduct his service the way they want to, and we are not to interfere in that.’
Laura is laughing on and off. ‘And then what?’ she asks.
‘He wants one of his nephews and nieces to give his eulogy.’ He goes on to explain some of Aaron’s wishes about his tangi.
‘It’s straightforward but absolutely demanding – typical of Aaron,’ Laura says. ‘So we have to organise our children, our rangatahi, to organise their loving uncle’s tangi.’
‘What does he want done with his golden ashes?’ Cherie asks.
‘I’m not allowed to reveal that yet,’ Daniel answers. ‘We have to wait until his tangi is over.’
Soon after that, Cheryl brings in the food and drinks, and Daniel and Paul help her serve it. The others congratulate Cheryl on her new promotion, and Keith remarks that it is the fastest promotion any of their children has ever had. ‘Must have been because of my brains,’ Cheryl comments, and when they laugh, she adds, ‘I put on my Uncle Aaron act: you know, the one where, dressed in his flash suit, he goes into his very British accent?’ She assumes the pose: left hand in her suit pocket, other one holding a Havana cigar, chin lifted in a superior way. Strutting round the room, she declares, ‘I say, mate, how much is this – this poor excuse for a hotel?’ She stops and swivels on her heels, and then, gazing down at an imaginary hotel manager, says, ‘I want to buy fifty-one percent of this establishment, sir!’ She pauses. ‘What do mean you don’t want my investment?’ She screws her face up in surprise. Then, lowering her face right down, she growls, ‘Mate, ya don’t have a say in the matter. I own ya already!’ And she laughs, in Aaron’s deep haughty manner. The others clap.