Weeping Waters

by Nicholson, Anne Maria

  ‘That’s my Aunty Tui I was telling you about,’ Tori says quietly as they stop to listen.

  ‘What’s that song she’s singing?’

  ‘It’s part of a lament written by Te Heuheu’s brother Iwikau, who survived the landslide.’

  Even Hemi is still as the woman finishes the chant.

  As the steam blows away in a faint breeze, Frances sees three men and three women sitting on rocks near the singer, two of them dangling their feet in the hot stream. They look up without expression as Tori brings Frances to meet them then, almost as one, they stand and join Tui. Moving forward in a line, they each greet the stranger, shaking her hand and kissing her on both cheeks. They also embrace Tori and his children with warmth.

  Unused to the instant familiarity, Frances feels a little uneasy, but returns their kisses and joins them when they return to the rocks.

  ‘Although the springs are surrounded by the national park, our great chief Horonuku excluded them from the gift to New Zealand. This is where they brought the body of his father to rest after the landslide and he was placed in one of the caves here. This is also sacred to us because hundreds of years ago when our high priest Ngatoroirangi came here looking for a homeland for our people after the great canoe crossing, he nearly lost his life in the freezing cold.

  ‘The legend goes that he was crying out a prayer to the gods for warmth and light. He was answered with heat and hot water pouring out of the vents and craters of these mountains. He saw this as a sign that the people could make this their home, the mountains, the forests, lakes and desert below. So we have lived here ever since.’

  As if to echo the past, a sudden jet of steam and hot water spurts out of a nearby vent. ‘You can see our mana is still very strong here,’ one of the elders calls out, making the others laugh.

  While Tori chats to his family, Frances leads Hemi and Moana on a walk further up the mountain to take a closer look at the springs.

  ‘Do you believe all that stuff about the gods bringing warmth here?’ Moana asks Frances, searching her face closely.

  ‘I don’t disbelieve all those legends. The Native Americans have them too about the volcanoes in their traditional lands. They call Mount St Helens in America Loowit, the Lady of Smoke. Usually they have a basis in truth, a way to understand vulcanology and geology. But my world is more based on science,’ she says, choosing her words carefully.

  All around them, the sulphurous steam swirls up from holes in the rocks and the stream running down the slope. Shiny deposits of dark-grey sludge line some of the vents and every now and then there is the plopping sound of bursting bubbles of boiling mud.

  ‘These springs begin as rain and snow with all the water pouring through the holes in the ground until it finds the hot core of the volcano. Then it mixes with all the chemicals there like the sulphur and it boils up and hey presto, you have a geyser. Hey Hemi, keep away from the edge!’ The boy is about to stretch his hand over to a steaming vent. ‘That would burn your hand off. I’ll show you my magic wand.’

  Frances reaches into her pack and brings out a small bag. Opening it, she unwraps a thermometer, two bottles, some folding tongs and a thick glove. ‘Here, let’s see how hot it is.’

  The three of them crouch down as Frances puts on the glove and attaches the tongs to the thermometer. She extends the device and sticks the thermometer into the vent for a minute. ‘Abracadabra!’ she says, watching their spellbound expressions. ‘OK, let’s take a look.’

  The two children are wide-eyed as she retrieves the thermometer.

  ‘Wow, it’s over one hundred and twenty degrees—that’s hot enough to burn you up.’

  Taking the bottles, Frances fills them from the stream. ‘May as well take some work home with me,’ she says. ‘I can test this back in the laboratory and let you know what’s in it. Probably boron and ammonium sulphate and lots of other chemicals.’

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ Moana asks.

  ‘The complicated stuff at university. But I had a very good science teacher at high school in England who taught me all about the way the surface of the earth is moving all the time. The parts of the world they call the oceanic and continental plates that fold layers and layers of rock, pumice and lava. Have you ever seen anyone make jam?’

  ‘I have,’ Hemi interrupts. ‘My grandmother makes it. Plum jam and sometimes strawberry. I like that best.’ He grins at her.

  ‘Well, have you seen what happens when you boil up the fruit and the sugar together? As you stir the mixture and it gets hotter and hotter, little solid bubbles rise to the top. The more it cooks, the more hot pulp rises. Then, as it cools down you can see a skin forming on top.’

  ‘Yeah, I remember that,’ Moana says. ‘I got into trouble once for poking it with a spoon and trying to peel it off.’ She giggles shyly, her hand in front of her mouth.

  ‘As that skin sets or coagulates, a new hot layer comes up beneath that and pushes the cooler layer aside and sometimes it forces it to slide under and melt. The skin keeps forming over and over again and each time the new layers push up, they make the old ones slide back under. And that’s what happens to the lava and how it forms into layers of rock that keep moving.’

  As Frances and the girl move away from the intense heat and sit together waiting for the samples to cool, Hemi runs back to join his father.

  ‘Mum’s gone away,’ Moana tells Frances quietly, as though she has been guessing her unasked questions.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘To Auckland. She comes and sees us sometimes but not very much.’

  ‘Are you sad about that?’

  ‘Yes, I miss her and I think Dad does too. But I love staying at my grandmother’s place and Dad’s always having us over. So it’s not too bad. Are you married?’

  ‘No.’ Frances still feels odd thinking of herself as single after years of being committed to a relationship. Then she looks at Moana and adds, ‘I almost was. But no, I’m not.’

  Moana smiles at her but says nothing more.

  When they rejoin the group, Tori beckons Frances over. ‘Aunty Tui would like to talk to you. I’ve told her a little of your story.’

  The two women kiss each other once more and marvel at their shared name.

  ‘I have a tui which comes to sing to me every morning,’ the older woman tells Frances. She mimics the sound three times over and gives a little laugh.

  As Frances tells her about her mother being on the train at Tangiwai and the woman who took her into her house and helped her, Tui nods her head in recognition.

  ‘That would be my Aunty Tui. She died last year just a few days before she turned eighty. She lived in the forestry camp for many years and then when her children were grown up, she and her husband moved to a town further north. He died many years ago now. She told me about the terrible train accident and all the people who were looking for their loved ones. We also lost one of our cousins, Rawiri. Aunty Tui was a grand old lady. Like another grandmother to me.’

  They sit together quietly, each thinking of their lost ones.

  ‘Are your parents still alive?’ Tui asks.

  ‘My father died a few years ago. My mother is still alive. She lives very quietly back in England. She never recovered from losing her baby.’

  Tui looks directly into Frances’ eyes. ‘Of course she wouldn’t, would she? Have you recovered, though?’

  ‘It happened long before I was born. But I think I inherited the sadness.’

  ‘That’s not unusual. For us Maori, the dead are never far from our thoughts. But we draw strength from them. They don’t want us to keep mourning. Perhaps it’s time for you to let her go.’

  It is the second time that someone has seemed to understand her loss for her sister yet challenged her grief. Frances feels both stirred up and relieved, as if she can start to let go of an uncomfortable emotion that has gripped her all her life.

  ‘Did the accident affect the way you think of the mountains?’ Frances
asks.

  ‘No,’ Tui answers swiftly. ‘We knew something bad would happen there. It was predicted for many years. There was a lot of fear when we heard the Queen was coming from England. A white heron was sighted after the announcement and some of the old people saw this as a sign of great sorrow to come. They used to talk about it on the marae, in our meeting house.

  ‘Tangiwai means weeping waters. Or it can also mean a place of deluging water. It has always been a place where you have to be careful. When the Pakeha built bridges there across the path of the volcano a long time ago, my ancestors knew there would be trouble. What are you expecting the volcano to do, stop being a volcano?’

  ‘Are you frightened it will happen again?’

  ‘We live with the mountains. We don’t live in fear but we live in respect. It will happen again sometime. It always does.’

  ‘Do you think we should try to stop it happening by doing some work at the Crater Lake?’

  Tui guffaws. ‘No, of course not. You can’t stop a volcano. There’s always a reason these things happen. Whether it’s an eruption or a flood.’

  Taking Frances’ hand, she leads her back to the others before adding, ‘There’s always a meaning. It’s not for you to interfere.’

  ‘But don’t you want warnings of when it might happen?’

  ‘We’ll know when it’s going to happen.’

  ‘How?’

  Tui looks at her for a few seconds and then shakes her head slowly. ‘We just know.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Frances, a group of us are going to the pub tonight. I thought you might like to come.’

  Sam’s invitation takes her by surprise and before she can think of an excuse she has agreed to go. They have just completed a long day of data analysis in the laboratory and he seems to be trying hard to compensate for his previous behaviour.

  ‘Watch yourself, Frances, Sam has some pretty disreputable friends,’ Theo laughs.

  ‘Why don’t you come along and look after me then,’ she suggests, hoping he will agree.

  ‘I’d love to but…well, you know how it is. I don’t like leaving Sue alone at night and she’s not keen on the pub herself.’

  ‘Talking of disreputable, did I see you having coffee with that Carmody guy who was at the meeting?’ Frances asks, looking directly at Sam as they leave the office.

  ‘Me? I don’t think so,’ he says uncertainly.

  ‘I’m sure I saw him with you at a café in town the other week,’ she persists.

  ‘Oh, that could be right. Now I remember—I was having a coffee and he sat down to have a chat. Just a coincidence, that’s all. Don’t look so worried,’ he adds when he sees her eyes widen.

  ‘I’m not. Just thought it was odd, that’s all.’

  She accompanies Sam two blocks towards the pub in the main street. Loud rock music greets them as they push through into the biggest bar.

  ‘Sam, over here!’

  He takes Frances’ hand and leads her through thronging groups of people who, from their loud conversations and singing, sound as though they have been drinking for some hours. Sitting on a group of bar stools around an elevated table covered in empty and half-full glasses of beer and wine are three men and two women in their late twenties and early thirties.

  ‘Hi there, Sam. How’re you going? Who’s this then?’

  Sam has his arm around Frances in a possessive way that makes her feel extremely uncomfortable. She slips away from him and offers her hand to the man who greeted them.

  ‘Frances Nelson, I’ve recently arrived in Taupo.’

  ‘I’m Aaron Priestley. We’ve heard all about you already from Sam.’

  Sam grins sheepishly, then introduces her to the others.

  ‘We’ve all known each other for years—since I arrived in Taupo,’ Aaron says. ‘We meet here far too often. Glad you could join us.’ As he pulls a stool over for her he asks, ‘How’s the crater situation? Heard the Maoris are causing trouble as usual.’

  Frances feels them all looking at her for her answer. ‘It’s a very divisive issue,’ she says. ‘Everything’s being negotiated at the moment. I don’t think it’s straightforward at all. Everyone’s entitled to have a say and it is a sacred area for the Maori. They feel their relationship to the land so deeply.’

  The men at the table laugh at her response. ‘Easy to tell you’re new around here. You’ll learn, love, that no matter how many concessions we make, they’ll just want more and more—more land, more money, more rights until there’ll be nothing left for any of us. We’ll be strangers in our own country,’ Aaron says. ‘And make no mistake, it’s just as much our country. Drinks?’ He moves to the bar and returns with a beer for Sam and a glass of white wine for Frances.

  At first, she wishes she could leave but as the conversation moves on to other subjects, she starts to relax and enjoy their company. The two women are high-school teachers and tell her stories about their pupils and the town and some of the local gossip.

  When one of them goes to the bar, her friend, Tania, leans over to Frances.

  ‘Tess used to go out with your Sam before he was married,’ she whispers. ‘Then she discovered she preferred women and came out. He wasn’t very impressed!’

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t know why you’d think that.’

  ‘He certainly gives that impression. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to imply anything. It’s just that he’s talked a bit about you and we thought…sorry.’

  ‘What happened to his wife?’ Frances asks, thinking she has discovered the fount of all local gossip.

  ‘Anna. She disappeared. One week she was with him, the next gone. Then we heard she’d run off with one of the timber workers from the next town. A Maori guy. Sam was really destroyed by that.’

  ‘What’s all the whispering about, girls?’ Sam interrupts them.

  ‘Just hearing a few local stories,’ Frances looks at him apologetically, feeling caught out. ‘Let me buy a round of drinks.’

  As she places her order she sees a familiar reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Tori Maddison is sitting with an attractive Maori woman at a table near the door. They are drinking together and as she turns around she sees him lean over and kiss her on the cheek. Frances has the same gnawing feeling in her stomach she had when she saw Damon with the woman at the conference. Unsteadily, she returns to the table with the tray of drinks.

  Frances feels foolish. She knows Tori owes her nothing. There is no relationship between them and she thinks how ridiculous she was to think that there could be: a woman with her background from the other side of the world and a man with a proud heritage he has no intention of compromising.

  Sam moves closer and again puts his arm around her. This time she doesn’t resist but leans into him and quickly drinks the entire glass of wine.

  ‘Frances.’ She turns to see Tori standing next to her. He is smiling but looks at her shyly.

  ‘Hello,’ she says in a voice that sounds strange even to her.

  ‘Who invited you?’ Sam sneers. ‘This is a private party.’ He has been drinking quickly and his face is flushed.

  Tori backs away, his eyes narrowing, hard and hurting. He turns and walks quickly towards the door, beckoning the woman at the table to follow.

  ‘Good riddance,’ Sam says while the men join his laughter. The women glance and grimace at Frances, who pulls away from Sam’s embrace.

  ‘I’ve got to call the States tonight and we have an early start. Thanks for the drinks. Good to meet you all.’

  Before Sam can react, she has crossed the bar and walked into the night. At first she strides quickly, heart thudding. Then she starts to run, the tears trickling down her face. The night air is as cold as a steel knife.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Why the rush, Tori?’ Mata has to run to try to catch her brother as he charges down the street. He doesn’t answer so she streaks up to him and tries to link her arm in his. He shakes her away and she c
an see from the grim set of his face that he is extremely angry. When they reach his car she quickly jumps into the front seat as he starts the engine.

  ‘What the hell is eating you?’ Mata yells at him. ‘Have I said something to upset you? I was only telling you about Cheryl because I think you need to know.’

  Tori quickly pulls out into the traffic and accelerates hard. ‘I’ll drop you back at Mum’s,’ he says quietly.

  Neither of them speak for a few minutes and then Tori bursts out laughing.

  ‘What? Why are you laughing, you idiot?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sis. It’s nothing to do with you or Cheryl for that matter. Funny you said that though, because I don’t think anyone else has upset me as much as her before tonight. I must be moving on, as the shrinks say.’

  ‘I think you’re bloody mad. Who then?’

  ‘Those fucking scientists. Back there in the pub.’

  ‘You mean Sam Hawks?’

  ‘Yeah. And there’s a new one. A woman. Thought she was different but I guess I was wrong.’

  ‘Is she the one the kids were telling me about? Didn’t you take her up the mountain?’

  Tori is silent until Mata prods him hard in the ribs.

  ‘Fancy her, do you? Normally you wouldn’t give a damn what that arsehole Hawks says to you. What did she say?’

  ‘Nothing really. It’s just that she’s obviously tied up with him. And you know he’s mixing with Carmody so I have an awful feeling I might have been conned. You know we’ve got a fight on our hand with the bulldozer thing. I think Theo Rush has his heart in the right place but I have a feeling the power is shifting away from him.’

  Mata looks across to her brother and reaches across to stroke his shoulder.