Song of the Sound

by Jeff Gulvin

  ‘No, she was pleased about you giving them your half of the house. That was good of you. Bree’s a sweet wee girl and she’s going to need her own space. I wonder who’s going to look after her while the mother’s in Dusky?’

  ‘There’s always someone needing dollars. Her mother will work it out.’

  ‘She’s a bright child. Very English: it’ll be interesting to see how she fits in at school.’

  John-Cody stood up. ‘I figure I better get down to the pub and apologize personally.’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘Thanks, Alex. I don’t know what I’d have done without you this past year.’

  ‘More work maybe.’

  He screwed up his face. ‘You think?’

  ‘I don’t know, but talking of which…’She crooked her index finger at him and led the way to the inner office, where she indicated the board on the wall. John-Cody stared at the dates, locations and numbers.

  ‘Charters?’

  ‘We’re coming into the season. What’re you going to do — sit on your butt all summer?’

  He stared at the bookings, the numbers of guests and the costs. He had run barely a handful of charters since Mahina died and they had been the few scientific studies they were committed to. The idea of tourists on the boat suddenly appalled him.

  ‘I’m not sure I can do it any more, Alex.’

  ‘Then sell to Ned Pole.’

  John-Cody stared wide-eyed at her.

  ‘He’s trying to make a living.’ She shook her head at him. ‘Boss, you’re the most knowledgeable man in Fiordland, but everything you know you learned from Mahina. You can’t let her down now she’s dead.’

  ‘What about crew?’ His lips were dry and cracked.

  ‘Jonah, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ Again he looked at the dates. ‘Next week.’

  ‘Dusky and Preservation Inlet: it’s as good a time to start up again as any. I’ve had new leaflets printed and they’re working. Our web site is buzzing; most of it’s referred business from previous clients. Between the two of you, you created a network of people who actually give a damn. You can’t stop now.’ She laughed then. ‘Besides, this is the first season where we’ll make a profit. It’d be a real shame to pass up that opportunity.’

  John-Cody rubbed his chin with a palm. ‘Does that mean you’re here for the duration?’

  ‘I’m here just as long as you want me. I’ll never have Mahina’s system, but I did spend twenty years in business. I think I can handle things. You just drive the boat, eh? Leave the rest to me.’

  John-Cody was trembling; he was not at all sure he could go on. Right now he felt weak, vulnerable, lost. ‘We’ll talk about it,’ he said. ‘Can you lock up?’

  ‘Don’t I always?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He was at the door when she called him back. ‘Where are you sleeping tonight?’

  He looked at the couch. ‘There, I guess.’

  ‘And tomorrow? I’m not having you sleeping in my office every night.’

  ‘I’ll probably go back over the hill.’

  ‘If you do you’ll have to come back to organize the stores for next week’s charter.’

  John-Cody rolled his eyes skywards. ‘You’ll be the death of me, Alex.’

  ‘Somehow I don’t think so.’

  Libby and Bree ate dinner in the restaurant. They ordered steak and chips and served themselves from the salad bar. The restaurant was busy, but they got a table in the window and watched the sun setting over the Hunter Mountains. Next door, the bar was pretty raucous. Libby had to go through to get herself a drink when she could not catch the barman’s eye from the restaurant side and she picked her way between the assortment of fanners and tunnel diggers in mucky jeans and gumboots. They smiled and winked and exchanged glances. Libby had been through it a hundred times before, though southern man, from what she’d seen so far, was way out there on the edge of things. She bought a beer and as she turned she saw a particularly tall man wearing an ankle-length stockman’s coat watching her from where he stood by the pool table. He wore an Akubra cowboy hat high on his head, and his tanned face was gnarled like old wood. He lifted his pint glass. Libby nodded to him, thought no more about it and went back to the restaurant.

  No sooner had she sat down than the man appeared in the doorway, spied them and came over. He stood for a moment at their table. Libby looked up at him and he smiled. He was very tall, well over six feet and slim, and he wore square-toed cowboy boots that made him look like something out of the old west. She noticed a scimitar-shaped scar at his left eye.

  ‘You must be Dr Bass, the scientist.’ His accent was Australian, friendly but harsher than those of the New Zealanders she had spoken to.

  ‘That’s right.’ She shook his hand when he offered it.

  ‘Nehemiah Pole.’ He smiled again and winked at Bree. ‘My mates call me Ned.’ He sat in a vacant chair without being invited and rested his elbows on the table. ‘And what’s your name, little lady?’

  Bree went red, looked at her mother and swallowed a mouthful of chips. ‘Bree,’ she said quietly.

  Libby laid her fork down and looked sideways at Pole: she could smell the wax in his coat, thick in her throat like linseed.

  ‘What can I do for you, Mr Pole?’

  ‘Oh, I’m just saying hello. I see Alex dropped you here instead of Gib’s place.’ He twisted his mouth down at the corners. ‘I figure the homestay’s not ready yet, eh? Gib’s lost the plot lately, poor bloke. Not his fault of course, but there you go.’ He sat back. ‘I came over because I reckon you’re going to need a boat while you’re here.’

  ‘You knew I was coming then?’

  ‘Everyone knew you were coming, Dr Bass. DoC put a moratorium on marine mammal viewing permits while you carry out your research.’

  ‘In Dusky Sound?’

  ‘In any of the sounds. Nobody can get a permit while you’re here.’

  Libby pursed her lips and nodded. ‘That makes sense.’

  ‘Not if you’re running a tour boat,’ he said ruefully. ‘But that’s another story. I thought I’d let you know I can lease you a boat if you want something to get you around. I reckon you’ll be basing yourself at the Supper Cove hut, up at the head of the sound there.’

  ‘To tell you the truth I’ve not thought about it. I’ve got other things to figure out first.’

  ‘Like school, eh?’ Pole smiled across the table, showing white teeth. ‘You’ll be just fine, Bree. They’re a good bunch of kids in Te Anau.’ He looked at Libby again and fished in his pocket for a card. ‘Anyway, give me a call when you want the boat. I can get you a tow to Dusky if you need it.’

  Libby took the card. ‘Thanks but I think I’ve already got that bit organized,’

  ‘With Gibbs? You be careful—’ He broke off. ‘Ignore me, I shouldn’t be saying that.’

  ‘Saying what exactly?’

  Pole stood up. ‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ He turned to go, then paused and smiled again only this time his eyes were cold. ‘Ask him why the Kori’s got a roller-reefing jib.’ He tipped his hat, then sauntered across the restaurant once more.

  Bree wrinkled her nose at her mother. ‘What’s a roller-reefing jib?’

  ‘A jib is a sail, darling. Apart from that I couldn’t tell you.’

  John-Cody walked into the Beehive and nodded to a couple of farmers he knew. AJ, the ginger-headed barman, was serving and he poured him a pint of beer.

  ‘Have you got that scientist next door?’ John-Cody asked.

  ‘He most certainly has.’

  John-Cody recognized Pole’s voice from behind him. He had seen him leaning over a pool cue when he walked in. Slowly he turned and looked up at him. A good three inches taller, Pole at fifty-two was still at his fighting weight: the big man in the Te Anau basin. During nine years of shooting deer from helicopters he had gained the reputation of being invincible. When sons and husbands and brothers were dropping in such numbers that Te Anau was dubbed ‘Widow C
ity’, Pole was shooting deer, making big bucks and surviving. Twice he was in a chopper when it had to auto-rotate because the engine gave out and twice he walked away from the wreck. He lost four pilots and two fellow shooters but each time he had survived. People began to think he bore a charmed life. Mahina thought it much more likely that he had a pact with the devil. As far as John-Cody knew, Pole had been brought up in Cairns, Australia. He was a veteran of the Australian Special Air Service and particularly proud of his Vietnam War record.

  ‘Listen, mate. I heard you had a bad day and I feel for you,’ Pole said quietly. ‘But you could give a place a bad name. Nobody’s more sorry about Mahina than I am, but you can’t go letting people down. This is a tourist town, word gets around and people get tarred with the same brush. You either do it properly or make way for somebody else.’

  John-Cody looked him in the eye, wrinkled pockets of flesh redder than the tan of his face. ‘You know what, Ned? I don’t need a lecture from you.’

  ‘I reckon not. But somebody’s got to say something. You’re lucky that woman’s as accommodating as she is.’

  John-Cody held his gaze. ‘I’m here now.’

  ‘Yep, you are.’ Pole took a black cigar from his pocket. ‘But for how much longer? Your heart’s not in it, Gib. You know it’s not. Get out while the going’s good. You know our offer stands.’

  John-Cody took tobacco from his pouch and rolled a cigarette. He always felt awkward in Pole’s presence. After what had happened between them, the fact that Pole had never openly blamed him when so many others did made it harder to dislike the man. If he analysed it objectively he didn’t dislike him. Pole was all right as a human being, though there had always been a sense of testiness between them, even before the accident: just rivalry perhaps, two personalities each as strong as the other but on different sides of the game.

  Pole lit his cigarette for him and snapped out the match. ‘Think on, mate, eh.’

  ‘I’m not going to sell you my boat or the wharf. You know I’m not, Ned. Not now, not ever.’

  Pole leaned on one of the tall tables. ‘Never say never, mate. You don’t know how things can change. Besides, you’ll see sense in the end. You’re getting in the way of people’s jobs. Progress, Gib, progress.’

  ‘Is that what you call it?’

  ‘It’s our livelihood, mate: tourism. You and me and everyone else round here. Think on that. The offer’s a fair one, and you know we’re good for the money.’ He chinked glasses and went back to the pool table.

  John-Cody could see a woman and a girl he didn’t recognize eating dessert at a window table in the restaurant. Beyond them the sun was down, the lake gloomy and laced with shadows. He’d let them finish before he went over to apologize. Pole was right, he should have been here or at least he shouldn’t have forgotten, but he had had his head up his butt for a year now and today was the worst of all. He smoked the cigarette and his hand trembled slightly.

  He studied his guests through the hatch. The woman faced him: he couldn’t place her age, late twenties maybe. She was very attractive, jet black hair, dark eyes and a dark tan to her skin. She wore a T-shirt and jeans and from this angle she looked trim and fit. Her daughter was sitting with her back to him so he could not see her face, but she was skinny with blond hair. Must take after the father, he thought. He crushed out his cigarette and went through.

  Libby saw him coming, a tallish man trimly built with a battered face and grey eyes. His hair hung to his shoulders and it looked as though it had been cut with an open razor. He wore a denim shirt rolled back at the cuffs, jeans and lace-up boots. She couldn’t take her eyes off his haircut. He stopped at their table and smiled, eyes bunched and twinkling in the lamplight.

  ‘Dr Bass?’

  Libby nodded.

  ‘John-Cody Gibbs: I am so sorry.’

  Libby moved back in her chair to make room for him. John-Cody sat down and looked at Bree. ‘You must be Bree. It’s very nice to meet you.’

  Bree smiled at him. ‘I met your dog. She’s lovely.’

  ‘So Alex told me. Apparently she’s pining for you already.’ Bree’s face fell and he laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I told Sierra she’d see you tomorrow.’ He winked at Libby then looked back at Bree. ‘Now tell me something,’ he said, leaning on his elbows. ‘How did you get such a pretty name?’

  Bree went a little red and she sat on her hands, looking down at her plate.

  ‘It’s actually Breezy,’ Libby said for her.

  Bree looked up. ‘That’s what I was christened.’

  ‘You weren’t actually christened, Bree.’

  ‘Well, it’s what’s written on my birth certificate then.’ Bree smiled at John-Cody again. ‘It’s because I breezed into life.’

  ‘Is that so?’ John-Cody glanced at Libby.

  ‘Thirty-three minutes from first contraction to birth,’ Libby told him. ‘It was the easiest half hour of my life.’

  John-Cody laughed and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m paying for the motel tonight. I’ve already spoken to the owners and they’ll bill me. So don’t worry about it.’

  ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

  ‘My pleasure, I’m the one that screwed up.’ He smiled and got up. ‘Anyway, I’ll leave you in peace. Any time you like, tomorrow the place will be ready and yours is the first door as you look at it.’

  ‘Can I explore the garden?’ Bree asked him.

  ‘Bree, you can make it your own.’

  ‘It looks fantastic.’

  ‘It’s pretty wild. I’ve not done a whole lot to it just lately.’

  ‘Where will you be living?’ Bree asked him. ‘In the bit that we were meant to have?’

  John-Cody lifted his eyebrows. ‘I live on the boat pretty much these days. I’ll show you some time.’ He looked at Libby then. ‘Anything you want to talk about — I’ll be around tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you: and it’s very kind of you to give us your half of the house.’ She smiled at him and shook hands. He touched an index finger to his temple then pointed it at Bree. ‘Take it easy, Breezy.’

  They both watched him go then looked across the table at each other. ‘What a terrible haircut,’ Libby said.

  ‘Yes, but he was very nice. Men never know how to cut their hair properly, Mum. You know that.’

  Libby laughed.

  ‘The other man was all right, too,’ Bree went on. ‘What a name though: imagine calling someone Nehemiah.’

  ‘Yes,’ Libby said. ‘It’s almost as bad as calling them Breezy.’

  FOUR

  NED POLE LEFT THE bar and climbed into his twin-cab Mitsubishi. He sat for a moment, watching the shadows spread across the lake and thinking about the scientist and her daughter. He had spoken at length with both the council and the Department of Conservation when her appointment was published in the newspapers. His backers had got wind of it and had been on the phone right away, demanding to know how it would affect their plans. His wife was in the US at the time and he told them not to worry, that it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had appeased them for a while, but they had reminded him of what he already knew: he needed this deal much more than they did. They could go elsewhere and do something similar; he had his Australian debts to pay off before he was made bankrupt. They reminded him that John-Cody Gibbs had been the last submitter in opposition and what they didn’t need now was another one.

  He started the engine and revved it for a moment, before grinding in first gear and pulling out onto the road for Te Anau. Tom Blanch drove by in his beaten-up Triumph and Pole nodded to him. Why couldn’t Gibbs have just stayed fishing with Blanch instead of getting off on the environmental kick?

  He drove slowly home. There was much on his mind tonight. The fishing boats were doing all right and his one tour boat was attracting customers although he did not have a marine mammal viewing permit. Even without one he still approached the seals and dolphins. A couple of times Gibbs had witnes
sed him doing so, but he seemed less inclined to have a go about it than he used to be. Mahina’s death had changed things for him.

  Mahina’s death had changed everything and yet Pole didn’t feel the sense of freedom he’d thought that he would. She haunted the recesses of his mind as she’d always done. He looked at the crucifix dangling from the rear-view mirror and rebuked himself all over again. She had been beautiful though and he had coveted her like he coveted no other. He thought of his first marriage: the birth of his son and his wife’s attitude after. For a long moment the world rolled by unseen and he drove with one hand on the wheel, his mind lost in long and distant shadows.

  He snapped out of the reverie and again considered his position. He wanted the Korimako and her wharf so he could get people into the floating lodges by sea. If he could procure those two things then his application for Dusky would be pretty much complete.

  He turned off the main road just south of Te Anau and nosed up the winding drive that led to his fifteen-acre spread. Jane was in the States and would not be home till the weekend, which pleased him in one way, but it also gave him a lot of time to kick his heels and think. She had left him with pretty much the same ultimatum as his backers and she had more of a point. Thinking of her brought on thoughts of his father and he shook those thoughts away.

  Parking the car, he walked towards the house, pausing as Barrio whinnied at him from the top paddock. Pole stood at the fence for a moment and watched him tossing his great black head and pawing the ground into furrows. Barrio had been Eli’s horse, a present from Ned on his twenty-first birthday. He saw Eli’s face in his mind and closed his eyes tightly. Jane had never known him: they had met and married some time after his death. He looked again at Barrio, a stallion in his prime and barely ridden in five long years.

  The house smelled of tanned leather: Jane complained about it, but Pole told her that was the man she had met and married. That was the man her American friends were so keen on. He’d had a gun in his hand since he was five years old, when his father took him pig hunting for the first time in the hills west of Cairns. Pole recalled the sheer delight on the old man’s face when he shot that first pig and dipped his hands in blood as he gutted and cleaned the carcass. He was a good shot, the best: a sniper in Vietnam, ensuring a certain amount of safety for the unit he was attached to. When he moved to New Zealand, primarily for the deer hunting, it was not long before every helicopter crew in the Te Anau basin was vying for his services.