‘Hold him still, please, Rathbone,’ she said as she stepped onto the mounting block. ‘I can’t get on if he’s jumping all over the place.’
Rathbone gripped the horse’s bridle, staring determinedly at his boots.
As Tamar placed her left foot in the stirrup and energetically swung her right leg over the horse’s back, a low, soft, ripping noise could be heard. Tamar froze, becoming suddenly aware of a light breeze playing over her buttocks.
She got slowly down again, careful to keep her backside facing away from Rathbone, who had frozen in his tracks. ‘Jeannie?’ Tamar asked quietly. ‘Did you make these trousers?’
As she looked at her sister-in-law, she was appalled to see she was crying, her hands over her face and her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
Tamar thought, oh God, this must be the last straw. ‘Jeannie, I’m so sorry. I’ll get changed straightaway. The last thing I want to do is embarrass you.’
Jeannie removed her hands from her face, threw her head back, and brayed with hysterical laughter. Tamar stood stunned. ‘That,’ said Jeannie, ‘was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.’
Years later when she looked back, Tamar recognised the incident for what it was — the starting point of their lifelong friendship.
Part Two
Joseph
1887–1902
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
August 1887
Tamar had been living at Kenmore for almost eight months when Andrew took her into Napier to select new bedroom furniture, insisting Tamar should have something more feminine.
They were walking down Munroe Street when they passed a Maori woman leading a small boy. Tamar glanced at the well-dressed pair briefly, then stopped when something suddenly registered deep within her. The child had green eyes. She turned and saw them standing in the dusty street, staring back at her.
Her heart leapt wildly as she walked towards them. The woman stared directly at Tamar, an odd and not altogether friendly look on her strangely familiar face.
‘Excuse me,’ Tamar said, her pulse still racing. ‘May I ask the name of your child?’
The woman hesitated, unable to ignore the striking resemblance between the boy and this Pakeha woman, then replied reluctantly in excellent English, ‘He is Kahurangi-o-te-po Kepa.’ She rolled her eyes as the child yanked energetically on her hand, adding, ‘He is also known as Joseph.’
Tamar squatted in front of the child, ‘Hello, little man,’ she said softly, then looked up at her husband, her eyes swimming in tears.
‘I think I’ve found him, Andrew.’
The boy, suddenly shy, hid his face in the woman’s skirts.
Tamar said to her, ‘My name is Tamar Murdoch. Are you Mereana?’
‘Yes.’ The woman hesitated again while she extricated the boy from her skirts, smoothing his hair gently as he leaned against her thigh, all the while keeping his small hand tightly within hers. ‘Have you come to take him back?’ she asked, her eyes reflecting fear and the beginnings of a deep sadness.
Tamar looked at the distress on the other woman’s face, and the bewilderment on that of the little boy. She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and stood up. ‘No.’ She blinked hard and turned to Andrew. ‘May I have one of your cards?’
She waited while he found a business card and handed it to her.
‘May I give this to Mereana?’ she asked quietly. Both women watched as half-formed shadows of fear, then resignation, chased each other across his face before he nodded.
Tamar turned back to the Maori woman. ‘This is my husband, Andrew Murdoch. We live at Kenmore Station. Can you please give this to Kepa? There are things we need to discuss.’
Mereana nodded. ‘Haere mai, tama iti,’ she murmured to the child, then glanced at Tamar. ‘I will tell Kepa we met.’ She gave a small smile that failed to reach her eyes. ‘Good morning to you both.’
Tamar watched as they walked away. The little boy turned around and stared curiously, then they rounded a corner and were lost from view. Tamar took Andrew’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before they walked on, both lost in their own thoughts.
Later, taking tea in their hotel, they talked about what had happened.
‘Do you think Kepa will contact you?’
Tamar shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I haven’t seen him for several years. He’s written once or twice, about the child, but nothing else.’
‘He looks like you.’
‘Kahurangi? I thought he looked like his father.’
‘He has your eyes and nose.’
‘Well, that’s a relief. I understand Kepa comes from a long line of very beaky people.’
Andrew laughed, then added more seriously, ‘But you want to see Kepa?’
‘I don’t honestly know. I want to see my son, very much, and if I have to go through Kepa to do it, I will.’
Andrew had heard this note of stubborn determination before. ‘What will you do if he doesn’t contact you?’
‘I haven’t really thought about it. Today has come as a shock to me; remember I haven’t seen my son since he was born.’
Andrew leaned forward and took her hand. ‘Of course, my love, I understand. It must have been very strange, seeing him walking down the street.’
Tamar poured herself a second cup of tea and sat staring at the pretty, patterned teapot for several minutes. ‘It hurt me, Andrew. In my heart. All those years and somebody else has been bringing him up. He doesn’t even know who I am.’
‘Perhaps not, but that woman did. She didn’t seem too happy.’
‘Mereana is Kepa’s sister and has mothered him since he was born. How would you feel if you suddenly bumped into your foster child’s real mother?’
‘Frightened, probably. Worried I was going to lose my child.’
‘Exactly. So what am I going to do? I want a relationship with my son, desperately, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.’
Andrew was silent for a minute. ‘Would it make a difference, do you think, if we had children of our own?’
‘Not to me. I’m sorry, Andrew, but he will always be my first-born.’
‘There are no signs of that happening yet?’ Andrew asked hopefully.
‘A child? We’ve only been married a matter of months, Andrew. Give it time.’
‘Aye, but we’ve been … very active … I rather thought …’ He tailed off.
Tamar smiled. ‘These things happen when they happen. Sometimes it can take ages, and at other times it happens just like that, and at the most inopportune time.’
She of all people should know.
Tamar received a message from Kepa a week later. She showed it to Andrew who, although not altogether happy about it, agreed he should come to Kenmore.
‘Might as well get it over with’ was all he said.
Tamar, aware her husband was uncomfortable with the idea, asked Andrew to be at home when Kepa came. He was, and was cheered by the fact Kepa brought a woman with him who turned out to be his wife.
Tamar, on the other hand, felt a stab of jealousy. Parehuia and Kepa had been married for a year. She was very attractive, Tamar couldn’t help noticing. As for Kepa, he had the same disturbing effect on her he had always had. Tamar wondered when his magnetism would no longer have any power over her, and hoped it would be soon; she felt guilty and confused at still having such feelings.
Feeling slightly flustered she welcomed the couple into the parlour and disappeared to make tea. Over refreshments, Kepa described their son’s progress.
‘He has a European name, Joseph, as well as his Maori name. Te Kanene thought it would allow him to mix with both Maori and Pakeha with greater ease. Do you like Joseph as a name?’
‘Yes, I do. Who chose it?’
‘I did,’ said Kepa. ‘When he was two years old. Our family prefers his traditional name, however.’
‘And which does he prefer?’
‘He likes Joseph. He will not answer to anything else now, whakatete bo
y.’
‘Then I shall call him Joseph,’ declared Tamar.
Her son, it seemed, had recently begun his formal education at a native school and was doing very well. ‘He speaks Maori fluently,’ said Kepa proudly. ‘He has always spoken some English and is improving every day. His English reading is going very well too, I understand. I have hopes he may attend Te Aute College when he is old enough.’
Tamar was pleased to hear this. Te Aute was a prestigious school near Napier established for furthering the education of promising Maori boys. If her son was bright enough to do well there, he would be assured of a good start in life.
‘Who will pay for his education?’ she asked.
‘Primary schooling is free as you know, and the trust fund you set up after he was born will provide more than enough for his further education. Unless you had something else in mind?’
‘No, not at all. That’s exactly what I intended.’
‘Good,’ said Kepa, brushing crumbs off his trousers and resting his strong hands on his knees. ‘No doubt you would like to become acquainted with our son? That is really what I came to talk about.’
Parehuia’s full lips compressed slightly at Kepa’s intimate reference to the child who would forever connect him to this Pakeha woman. She knew Tamar had been her husband’s first love, and was even more conscious of how he still felt about her, although she knew he thought he’d kept this hidden. But Kepa was married to her now, under European law no less, and as long as he did nothing about his feelings for Tamar, no one would be harmed. Parehuia knew she could satisfy Kepa as a lover and companion, and the child they were expecting would help keep him from straying.
Tamar cleared her throat nervously. ‘Does he know I’m his real mother?’
To her surprise, Kepa replied, ‘Yes. I told him years ago I am his natural father and his real mother is a Pakeha woman living somewhere else. Then, after Mereana told me what had happened, I sat down with him and explained who you are.’
‘And what did he say?’ asked Tamar, careful not to sound too eager.
‘Well, it was dinner time and he asked if he could have something more to eat.’
‘Oh.’
‘But afterwards he wanted to know if he would now have three mothers. He already has Mereana, then when Parehuia and I married she became a sort of stepmother. And now he will have you. I think he is a little confused, but then he is only six years old. However, he asked to meet you. He said he thought you were a very pretty lady.’
Tamar smiled.
Kepa continued, ‘Mereana has not said anything but I suspect she fears you will claim your son. She is upset, as she loves the boy very much. Do you want him back?’
Tamar had thought about nothing else for the past week, during which her maternal desires had battled fiercely with her conscience.
Andrew awaited his wife’s answer with interest. Tamar had not discussed the issue of reclaiming the child, and because they were so open with each other he took that to be an indication she was not seriously considering the possibility. But he was aware her son’s sudden reappearance in her life had caused her considerable emotional chaos.
Tamar fiddled with her sleeve while she thought about what she wanted to say. Finding her son had been almost as traumatic as losing him, but she had to voice her decision, for her own sake as much as everyone else’s. She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I want to claim him, Kepa, but I’m not going to. Mereana has been his mother, she cares for him as she would her own son, and I don’t want to hurt either of them by insisting he live with me. However, now I have seen him I have no intention of losing contact. What I would like is an arrangement where I spend some time with him each month. He will remain with Mereana until he is of an age to decide himself, but I would like to share in decisions regarding his upbringing, and I will continue putting money into the trust fund for him.’
Kepa smiled in relieved approval. He had not been looking forward to telling Mereana she was about to lose Joseph, and Te Kanene, who had considerable influence over whanau affairs, was steadfastly insisting the child would be better off in a Maori community. Kepa’s father, Te Roroa, was extremely fond of his little mokopuna, and would have bitterly resisted any attempt to take him away. And he himself would have been devastated; his son was precious to him and he made a point of spending as much time with him as possible. He would have missed him dreadfully, despite the impending birth of a new child.
Parehuia also smiled, in admiration more than anything else. She knew her sister-in-law would have been shattered to lose Joseph. What this Pakeha woman was about to do was noble and compassionate, and demonstrated she was more than just a pretty face above a shapely body. This pleased Parehuia. Somehow it made the fact Kepa had fallen in love with Tamar considerably easier to live with.
Andrew was quietly pleased: he could see Tamar had put everything that had been on her mind in order. He’d had his own doubts about raising his wife’s illegitimate part-Maori child, especially when that child’s handsome and virile father would probably visit regularly. Andrew had real and considerable respect for the Maori race, but he suspected he could well have found such a situation intolerable. The sooner he and Tamar started their own family, the better.
Tamar herself was experiencing a relieved sense of having done the right thing, but she could not help thinking about what it would have been like having her son grow up with her. Still, she would see him regularly and share in his life as much as she could, and that would have to do for now, providing the arrangement worked out as planned.
It did. Mereana was so grateful Tamar had chosen not to reclaim Joseph she went out of her way to make his visits successful. Kepa had said Tamar could be trusted, and Mereana soon found this to be true. At first she had been concerned that Tamar might try to tempt Joseph with promises of a privileged Pakeha life, but there was never any evidence of that.
With her own money Tamar purchased a small but comfortable cottage in Napier to be used whenever she and Andrew, or Jeannie and Lachlan, came into town, and when she was spending time with her son. Mereana would deliver the boy to the cottage, stay for tea with Tamar, then leave them together. When it was time for him to return home, either Mereana or, more rarely, Kepa would collect him, or on occasion Tamar and Andrew would take him back to his village.
Tamar looked forward to her visits with Joseph immensely. The first time he had been a little over-awed and Tamar had invited Mereana to stay overnight, but then Joseph had decided he was too big for that and insisted he would be fine by himself. After two or three visits he was considerably more at ease, and they found they got on very well, although they received some sideways looks when they were out together. There had initially been a question about what Joseph would call Tamar, and she had been especially pleased when, after learning that Cornish children often called their mothers ‘Mam’, Joseph decided that’s what he would call her.
Tamar helped him with his English reading and he attempted to teach her to speak Maori, which she picked up relatively easily, although Joseph insisted she never quite got the accent right. Tamar also taught him about the Cornish side of his heritage, his family tree, what Cornwall was like, and what sort of people his grandparents and aunt had been. As well, she talked openly about her relationship with his father, and what had happened after he had been born. He was a delightful child, very bright, inquisitive, sometimes cheeky and at others quite introspective. Tamar soon realised he thought deeply about many things, and she went to considerable lengths not to fob off his endless questions with fatuous answers.
A year after his visits began, Tamar told him he would have a new half-brother or -sister the following year.
‘Just like Huriana is your half-sister,’ she explained. Huriana was Kepa and Parehuia’s child, born some months earlier.
Joseph thought for a minute then asked, ‘So, if Huriana is my half-sister, and this new baby is to be my half-sister or -brother, what relationship will they have to each othe
r?’
Tamar thought, he looks so like his father. His beautiful father. She shook her head slightly as if to dislodge the traitorous thought. ‘I really don’t know, Joseph,’ she answered. ‘Where do you get these difficult questions?’
Joseph shrugged. ‘Is Uncle Andrew pleased about your baby?’
‘Oh yes, he’s delighted. It’s his baby too.’
‘I know that,’ replied Joseph. ‘I know all about that sort of thing.’
‘Oh? Do you really?’ asked Tamar, intrigued.
‘Of course. Our kuri had puppies. They came out of her tara and I made Mama tell me how they got in there.’
‘Is that right?’ said Tamar, trying very hard not to smile. Lucky Mereana.
‘Yes, except Mama said it takes longer to make babies than it does to make puppies. When will your baby be here?’
‘Oh, around February, I expect.’
Joseph’s small face creased into a frown. ‘Huriana smells.’
‘Most babies do.’
‘Did I?’
Tamar leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘I don’t know, little man. I didn’t have you long enough to find out.’
Joseph looked thoughtful. ‘Did you feel pouri when I was taken away?’
‘Sad? Yes, very. I thought I’d lost you forever.’
‘Was it the same when Papa went away?’
‘When he went away where?’ Tamar replied, wondering what her son was getting at.
‘After he made me,’ said Joseph, as if Tamar were being deliberately obtuse. ‘Mama says there has to be a mama and a papa to make a baby, and Papa made me, but then he went away and you were by yourself. Did you feel sad?’
Tamar thought, how do you explain something like this to a little boy? ‘It was a very difficult time, Joseph.’
He ploughed relentlessly on. ‘And why weren’t you and Papa married?’
‘I already had a husband.’
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