The Scent of Apples

by Jacquie McRae

  Charlie flicks the tailgate down and climbs up onto the deck of the ute. She puts out her hand to pull me up. Her little brothers giggle as I hitch up my skirt and clamber onto the tray.

  ‘These rude creatures are Kawharu and Tainui, and this is my not-so-rude sister Rukawai.’

  I smile at all three. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi,’ they say in unison.

  ‘The highlight of the day is getting a ride in the ute, eh Kawharu?’ Charlie ruffles the smallest one’s curly black hair.

  ‘Nah.’ A cheeky grin rests on his face. ‘Mum would find me another job if I hung around home.’

  Charlie checks the latches on the tailgate and then bangs her fist on top of the cab. ‘All good.’

  We lurch off down the street. I’m sure it’s illegal to have people rolling around in the back of a ute like this, but the kids wave out to everyone they see, like we’re on a Christmas float.

  Swamp reeds and toetoe grow along the banks of the estuary that meanders beside us as we make our way out of town. The bush-clad summit of Karioi stands proud in the background. Across a one-way bridge on the left-hand side are two big sewage ponds. Kawharu notices me looking at them.

  ‘That’s where the taniwha lives. You can’t swim in there, but you can swim in the estuary when the tide’s in.’

  ‘Yeah, if you’re not afraid of eels, eh Kawharu?’ Rukawai teases him.

  ‘I’m not afraid of eels,’ he yells back. ‘I told you, I got caught up in the duck weed, eh Charlie?’ Kawharu looks at his big sister for support, but she just smiles at him.

  Rukawai rolls her eyes and mouths whatever.

  My knuckles turn white from gripping the sides of the ute as we wind our way up a hill. Mānuka and flax bushes scratch at the side of the vehicle as we climb. The path is so narrow and windy that I pray we don’t come across another car wanting to come down.

  We park the ute in some kikuyu three-quarters of the way up the hill. Sprawled out in front of me is a view of the Whāingaroa harbour. From way out at sea, waves crash across the Bar and find resting places along the vast shoreline, all the way up to the inner sanctuary of the harbour.

  Charlie’s house perches on a flat piece of land to my left. Another small hill stands behind the house. A well-worn track twists and turns its way to the top, where headstones, some carved from stone, stand defiant against the wind.

  Charlie pulls me towards the house. A woman sits in an armchair on the porch, stripping flax. When she sees us she places it on the ground beside her. She pushes her ample frame upwards using the arms of the chair. Her lips and chin are shaded by a sprawling flat nose, but when she looks up I see her blue lips and spiral lines tattooed across her chin.

  I’ve only ever seen a moko in a picture book.

  ‘Mum, this is Libby.’ Charlie shows me off like I’m a new puppy.

  ‘Hi Mrs –’ I look at Charlie, flustered that I’m gawking like an idiot, and that I can’t remember Charlie’s surname.

  ‘Don’t Mrs me anything! It makes me feel old. I’m Hautai.’ She takes a step towards me and kisses me on the side of my cheek.

  ‘Welcome. Hope you can put up with a bit of noise and a lot of mess, Libby.’

  I smile, not knowing what to say.

  My suitcase has made it off the back of the ute, and Tainui and Kawharu are fighting over who’s going to pull it.

  ‘Never seen one with wheels before.’ They both giggle as they pull it up the path.

  ‘You two quit fighting!’ Hautai yells. ‘Charlie, show Libby where to put her stuff. She can sleep in Wetekia’s bed, because I think she’s staying in town. If the princess does come home she can bunk in with the boys.’

  Charlie has spoken about her eldest sister Wetekia. She is in her second year of a hairdressing apprenticeship. She works in Rococo, one of the top salons in Hamilton, and according to Charlie took to city life like a Christian to a bible.

  ‘She thinks she’s a bit posh for us now, but we’re hoping she’ll grow out of it.’

  I follow Charlie through a large kitchen, where two Formica tables are pushed together in the middle of the room. Family photographs line the walls of the hallway. A computer-made sign stuck to a door announces that Trespassers and Boys will be shot.

  This room turns out to be the girls’ bedroom. Four beds are separated by chests of drawers, small tables and a large bamboo screen. The screen has clothes strewn over the top of it, like in a dancer’s dressing room.

  The walls are covered in posters of Justin Bieber, Hollie Smith, Snoop Dogg and Katchafire. Plastered on any spare wallpaper are Calf Club ribbons and school certificates.

  ‘I have to apologise for the Bieber poster. That’s Rukawai’s.’ Charlie pushes aside some coats and dresses hanging in a wardrobe.

  ‘You can hang stuff here if you want, and take my bed under the window. In the morning you get to see what the tide’s doing.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  The head of the bed has been propped up with telephone books to make the best of the view. I try sliding my suitcase under it, but it only goes halfway in. I use it as a step to get onto the bed.

  ‘Are you sure that your mum doesn’t mind having me? It looks like she’s got heaps to do already.’

  ‘She loves having people here. She wanted ten children but only got six. It’s our duty to make sure the noise level doesn’t drop below a certain decibel. You’re doing her a favour.’

  I smile at Charlie’s crazy theory.

  ‘Come on. There’s not much daylight left, and I want to take you to meet Koro. We have to climb over a couple of fences, so you might want to put some jeans on.’

  I look down at my long skirt, which I’d chosen to make a good impression. I take it off and pull on my faded brown cords or, as Mum calls them, my orchard clothes.

  *

  We go through the kitchen on our way out of the house. Hautai sits at the table, barely visible under a mountain of books, an overflowing fruit bowl and a jug of wild flowers. More petals lie on the table than are on the stems.

  ‘What mischief are you girls up to?’

  ‘I’m taking Libby to meet Koro, but we’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Can we come?’ two voices ask in unison. By the door, Tainui and Kawharu plead with their eyes. Tainui’s jeans look way too big for him, but he’s rolled up the bottom of them and walks with his legs apart to keep them up.

  ‘I have got some parsnip seedlings that need to go down to Dad, but I don’t know if you boys can be trusted to get them there without ruining them.’

  ‘We can, we promise!’ Kawharu says.

  ‘Well, you can grab me some wood before you go then.’

  ‘And you better hurry or we’ll go without you,’ Charlie yells at them. They scurry outside and reappear a minute later with an armload of wood each. They dump it by a potbelly stove in the corner of the kitchen.

  The fire is going even though it’s summer. Something that looks like onion skins but is a beetroot colour bubbles away in a tall metal pot on the top of it.

  ‘The seedlings are in a cardboard box at the side of the garage. Be careful with them, and no showing off!’ Hautai shouts out to the boys, as they disappear out the door.

  Charlie closes the ranch slider behind us. She points to a grey weatherboard house, halfway down the valley.

  ‘That’s where Koro lives.’

  The boys roly poly past us. After a few tumbles they race back up the hill and grab the box with the seedlings in.

  ‘I’d bet money that those plants don’t get there in one piece.’ Charlie shakes her head.

  I watch every one of my steps on the uneven ground.

  ‘It must be great growing up in a big family.’

  ‘Yeah, most of the time. But it can drive you nuts. You can’t even fart in our house without everyone wanting to join in.’

  We come to a fence that’s being suffocated by blackberry bushes. An old door has been plonked on top to act as a stile, and wooden planks do t
he same on the other side.

  ‘Watch out for the barbs,’ Charlie instructs me as she walks up the door.

  I imitate her outstretched arms and walk tentatively over. We wade through the dense kikuyu grass, and I’m glad that I changed into my cords as they get snagged on a gorse bush.

  I bend down to pull some bracken from my shoe, and hear a horse charging towards me. I turn and see Tainui sitting like a king on top of it. Kawharu, red-faced and panting, comes running up behind them.

  ‘You cheat!’ Kawharu yells at his brother.

  ‘You’re just a sore loser.’ Tainui’s smile stretches right across his face. He leans forward and slides off one side of the horse.

  ‘Both of those blades of grass were short,’ Kawharu says.

  ‘Nah, you chose the shortest, so I got to jump on first.’

  Tainui picks a handful of long grass and offers it to the horse. ‘Good boy, Zorro,’ he says as he pats the side of its neck. ‘Do you want to feed him?’ he asks, looking at me.

  I look up at this huge black mass of muscles and flesh. I imagine it trampling me to death. I shake my head.

  ‘He won’t hurt you.’

  I breathe in the horse’s earthy smell, mingled with sweat. He looks at me and blinks his long eyelashes. Something in that small gesture makes me change my mind.

  ‘OK.’ I bend down and pick some grass, all the time keeping an eye on the horse.

  ‘Keep your hand flat and hold it up to his mouth. He’ll take it from you.’

  I do as I’m told, and the horse’s velvety lips graze over my palm. ‘Good boy, Zorro.’

  ‘You can have a ride if you want,’ Tainui says.

  ‘Oh, no thanks.’

  Kawharu picks some grass for the horse to eat. He still looks pissed off at having to carry the box, but his whole face changes when a man wearing dark overalls appears in the paddock.

  ‘Hi Koro,’ Kawharu yells out, and races towards him. ‘I brought you some plants.’

  ‘I thought I heard thunder rumbling down the hill, and came to have a look, but it’s just you two.’ He hugs both the boys and then Charlie.

  A look passes between them that I recognise. That ability to speak without using words is so familiar, and yet it seems like a lifetime ago since I used it. Tears spring to my eyes.

  ‘Koro, this is my friend Libby.’

  He reaches out his hand to mine: judging by the calloused skin, those hands have done their fair share of hard work. His fingers are warm as he grips rather than shakes my hand.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Libby.’

  ‘And you.’

  I turn away a little, conscious of the tears still resting in my eyes. For some strange reason, I feel that Koro can see right inside of me, into places where I store all my secrets. Places I’d rather keep hidden.

  His dark green eyes are piercing, but have a softness about them. His thinning grey hair is swept back into a small pony tail, which rests at the nape of his neck. His body is lean, strong muscles covered by brown leathery looking skin.

  He opens a gate from the paddock into his back garden. At first glance it’s hard to see the difference. Rambling weeds and overgrown pathways spread out before me. But a few more steps in and I spy vegetables in various stages of growth dotted all around me.

  Tomato vines now past their best rest upon a climbing frame made from old fence battens with wire wrapped around it. Tangled beans cling to another creation. Blood red nasturtiums have claimed one corner, reaching up and spilling over the fence. Thyme and marjoram poke their heads out from various cracks in the ground.

  ‘Kawharu, empty out those seedlings over by the shed and we’ll fill the box with some veggies for your mum.’

  Kawharu screws up his nose, no doubt picturing the journey back up the hill carrying more precious cargo, but then he smiles a toothy grin and heads off with the box of plants.

  ‘Tainui, you can go inside and put the kettle on for us.’

  The paths are made of crushed sea shells, and they crunch beneath my feet as I follow Charlie and Koro around the maze.

  ‘So, Libby. I hear you and Charlie were in jail together?’

  ‘We were.’ I laugh. ‘She escaped though.’

  His house and garden are separated from the paddock by a hedge made from the biggest flax bushes I’ve ever seen. I’m used to orderly rows of shelter belts and trees, but this hedge looks like five people have headed off in five different directions to make the hedge. The holes where the flax doesn’t quite meet up are plugged up with other seemingly random plants. A mānuka tree cosies up with variegated flax, whose new leaves have reverted back to dark green.

  ‘I definitely had a veggie garden here this morning,’ Koro jokes, as he pushes aside some borage. A rake and a metal grubber that looks home-made lean on an old oil drum. A cut-out circle of plywood serves as a lid on top. Sliding this to one side, Koro dips a bucket in and half fills it with some black liquid.

  I gag at the smell of rotting fish. A blush creeps over my face.

  ‘Don’t worry, Libby. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t like my blend of fertiliser. I always have a brew going. Threatening to put those boys in here is the only thing that keeps them in line. The plants love it though.’

  We wander around the garden. Every now and then, Koro bends down and parts some weeds and vegetables materialise. He appears to mumble just before he pulls up a plant, and then pours a bit of liquid back into the hole where the plant was.

  The kettle whistles out to us in the garden. With our arms laden with beetroot, basil and tomatoes we go inside. The weatherboards on his tiny house look like they have sunburn. The paint has blistered, showing the history of all the colours the house has been.

  Inside, the air smells like bacon and lavender mixed together. I see where the bacon smell comes from as Koro drops some freshly picked silver beet into a pot on top of a pot belly.

  ‘It’s a bit hot in here,’ he says, as he opens a window and lets in a cool ocean breeze.

  For the first time I notice that Koro has a limp. One leg is quite a bit shorter than the other. It must have been disguised by the weeds in the garden.

  ‘A shark got me.’ Koro winks at me as he leaves the room.

  ‘I didn’t ask him a question,’ I whisper to Charlie. ‘He must have caught me staring.’

  ‘Nah, that’s just what he does. When I was little, he told me that he wasn’t really human. He said he had been given bat hearing and eagle eyes. I believed him. Now, I just know he knows stuff.’

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘He always says 101, but I’m not really sure. When he brings the tea out, it’ll taste funny, but try and drink some. It’s good for you and he likes it when we drink it.’

  Tainui and Kawharu race through the lounge from the back of the house.

  ‘It’s my turn to ride him. I carried the box most of the way down, so you should carry it back!’ Kawharu yells.

  Tainui stands with his legs apart, and his hands rest on his bony hips.

  ‘I would if you weren’t being such a big baby.’

  ‘Why don’t you let Zorro choose?’ Charlie says. ‘Stand in the paddock and whoever he comes to gets the first ride.’

  Kawharu races out the door and Tainui goes into the kitchen. He comes back a second later, stuffing a carrot into his jean pocket.

  Koro returns, carrying a tray with three cups and a teapot hidden beneath a rainbow-coloured tea cosy. Charlie pushes aside some books on the coffee table so he can set the tray down.

  He pours us each a cup and sinks down into an armchair.

  Charlie looks across at me and motions with her eyes for me to drink up. I take a small sip, and am grateful for Charlie’s warning. The tea is the bitterest thing I’ve ever tasted.

  ‘It’s a bit hot yet,’ I say, balancing the cup on my knee.

  ‘Mmmm, and disgusting too,’ Koro says, ‘but you’ll get used to it. It’s all part of the punishment when you visit me. Charlie w
ould have only grown to four foot if she hadn’t drunk my tea.’

  ‘Sure, Koro.’

  ‘So, what’s the plan for your weekend, girls?’

  ‘Maybe fishing: Libby’s never been.’

  ‘Never been fishing in Whāingaroa, you mean?’

  ‘No, never been fishing.’

  Koro’s face couldn’t have registered more surprise if Charlie had told him I’d been raised by a pack of wolves.

  ‘Well, we’d better get that sorted. The moon and tides are perfect tomorrow morning. We’ll go then. Imagine, never having fished.’ He takes a slurp of his tea and shakes his head in disbelief.

  ‘So where’s home, Libby?’

  With all the people missing from our house, it seems like a big stretch of the truth to call our house a home, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

  ‘On an orchard, just north of Hamilton.’

  ‘Oh, what sort of orchard?’

  ‘We grow cider apples.’ I take another small sip of my tea, and it’s not as bad as the first.

  ‘Must be fun to grow up on an orchard.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s OK.’ I shift in my chair, to get away from a spring digging into my back and an uncomfortable feeling inside me. The stuffing is coming out from the left-hand side of the chair. When I move, the creases and folds mould around me, like the chair is trying to swallow me up.

  ‘Suppose you have to help out heaps?’

  ‘I used to.’ I look down at my tea cup and then at the walls. They’re covered with framed photographs of people who must be relatives. One in an oval wooden frame stands out. A dome glass front encases an elderly couple. The serious look of the man’s double-breasted suit jacket is offset by the smiling lines etched around his eyes. The woman who sits alongside him looks like the sort of person who has fought many battles, and won most.

  ‘They’re my parents.’ Koro unnerves me again by answering a question I never asked.

  ‘You look a lot like her,’ I say, taking another sip.

  He grins at me, and I’m unsure if it’s because I’m drinking his foul-tasting tea or in reference to his parents.