The Scent of Apples

by Jacquie McRae

‘Yeah, it’s easy to follow a thread back in time with our family, eh Charlie?’

  ‘Sure is. I got all the good stuff handed to me.’ Charlie collects our cups and puts them on the tray.

  ‘Not one bit rotten, eh Koro?’

  ‘Not one bit of modesty either.’

  ‘We better go. I promised Mum we wouldn’t be long. We might even get to catch some eels after dinner.’

  Koro pushes himself up from his chair. ‘So long as you’re not out catching boys.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’m waiting for the prince.’ Charlie leans in and kisses the side of his cheek. ‘See you in the morning.’

  ‘Yeah, and don’t be late.’

  ‘Thanks for the tea.’ I trip on the doormat as I go to leave.

  ‘Someone wants you to stay a bit longer, Libby, but I wouldn’t keep that daughter of mine waiting. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he leans in and kisses the side of my cheek.

  I wonder as I walk away if Charlie’s grandfather might be going a little senile. Who did he mean, wanted me to stay? Charlie leans on the gate to the paddock.

  ‘Sorry about the tea. We all just drink it. Mum said she remembers her grandmother serving up the same. It’s meant to keep your blood good or something.’

  ‘I’m glad you warned me.’

  We follow a trail of vegetables all the way up the hill.

  ‘Hansel and Gretel must have been worried that we wouldn’t find our way home.’

  I laugh at the mention of her brothers. ‘They’re really cute.’

  ‘Not if you have to live with them. Mum says we should hire them out to the family planning clinic. Any kids who are thinking of fooling around should be made to take the twins home for a night. Best form of contraception, she reckons.’

  ‘Your grandfather’s pretty cool too.’

  ‘Yeah. He’s always got a story to tell, and he loves a new audience. Whenever he goes down town he’s always got a gaggle of children following behind in the hope of catching one of his stories. Most of them are actually history lessons, but he wraps them up in stories where the people are all giants and pirates, grabbing at treasure.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Libby, Libby. It’s time to get up,’ Charlie whispers in my ear.

  The darkness outside hangs like a black-out curtain against the window. I wipe some crusty sleep dust from my eyes and slide my feet towards the floor. Rukawai is snuggled up and snoring on the other side of the room.

  ‘Snoring must be a family trait.’

  ‘Shh! Don’t wake her up or she’ll want to come. She’s a pain in the arse in the boat. Grab your clothes and we’ll get changed by the fire in the kitchen.’

  Instead of following Charlie out, I pull down my pyjama pants and slip into my cords, which are crumpled up on the floor beside my bed. In the dark, I pat the bed and find only two strands of hair. I tuck them into my pocket, slide a sweatshirt carefully over my pony tail and plonk my knitted beanie on top.

  The glow from the fire is the only sign of life. Charlie hands me a bit of toast with marmalade on it and then fills a thermos with boiling water. She stuffs this and a packet of Girl Guide biscuits into a duffel bag. Chucking the bag over one shoulder and through a mouth full of toast, she mumbles, ‘Let’s go catch us some fish.’

  The lights from Koro’s house twinkle below us and help us navigate our way through the paddock. I worry all the way down about falling into a hole, being trampled by a horse or walking straight into a gorse bush. I’m relieved when I hear Koro call out to us in the darkness.

  ‘Those fish will have moved to Australia by the time we get our lines in the water.’

  He kisses us both on the cheek and then hands me a sack to carry. Judging by the smell, it’s got the bait in it. Charlie disappears behind a lean-to and reappears carrying three rods.

  We take a shortcut to the river across a road and past several buildings, including a stage right on the edge of the water.

  ‘What’s this place?’

  ‘It’s the Kōkiri: a learning centre. That’s the Kōhanga Reo over there. Sometimes we have weddings and festivals here.’

  A colourful mural is painted along one wall of a long building. A vegetable garden and tree nursery is attached to the side of it. A fenced area contains a huge statue carved from sandstone and a carving painted red. A well-worn park bench sits alongside a grave decorated with flowers and small stones.

  ‘This land we’re walking on was taken from our tribe, Tainui Awhiro, by the Government during the Second World War to build a military airfield,’ Koro tells me. ‘Instead of handing it back at the end of the War like they promised, the Council took it over, and they turned into a public golf course.’

  I look at the sheep grazing on it and wonder if they’re the greenkeepers.

  ‘In the late sixties they had plans to extend the golf course right across grounds where our ancestors were buried, as well as disturbing our taniwhas. Lucky we had Eva Rickard on our side.’ He nods towards the grave site. ‘Some people used to call her the wicked witch of the west, but she just laughed. She didn’t care what people called her: it was all about righting a wrong. After all sorts of battles, including people being arrested for trespassing on their own land, it was finally given back. Now a heap more people get to use it.’

  ‘She sounds like an amazing lady.’

  ‘Yeah, she was.’

  I can’t imagine how fast Koro must have walked on two good legs, because I have to run every now and then just to keep up. Finally we reach the estuary. Hidden among some raupō is an old rowboat. Koro hauls it from the reeds like it’s made from cardboard and places it in the water, while I stand by gawking.

  ‘Jump in,’ Charlie says, as the back of the boat drifts towards me.

  I place the bait sack on the middle seat. I lose my footing as I clamber over the side, and feel like an idiot as I pick myself up from the bottom of the boat.

  ‘Keen to catch your first fish, eh Libby?’ Koro teases.

  Charlie pushes us off the bank before jumping in. The water laps against the side of the boat, and the sky begins to lighten as Koro rows us up the estuary. As the stream opens up to the inner harbour, the sun appears above the horizon.

  Koro stops rowing, and we float with the current.

  No one says anything for a few minutes, and we bob along on top of the sea.

  ‘Here should be good, Charlie.’

  Charlie throws an anchor over the side of the boat, rocking it in the process. I panic, and my hands fly up to my head. I pull down hard on my beanie.

  Koro holds a rod between his legs. He takes a pilchard from the sack and threads it onto a line with two hooks and a sinker. He weaves the nylon around the bait, and when he passes me the rod it looks like the fish is swimming in mid-air.

  I didn’t see Charlie put her bait on, but she’s already peering over the side of the boat at her line in the water.

  ‘Is this a left-handed fishing rod?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, and if you turn it up the other way so the reel is under the rod, it’s a right-handed one.’

  I laugh at my own stupidity, and flip it the other way. Before my line has had a chance to hit the bottom, I feel a big tug. The tip of the rod arches over.

  ‘God, what do I do now? Here. Someone take it.’ I offer my rod to both of them.

  ‘You’re fine. Just relax. Breathe in, breathe out. Now pull your rod in towards you, and then wind up as you lower it back down. You have to let the fish run with the line for a little bit and then wind him in slowly when he stops for a rest. Be gentle. That’s all you ever have to do.’

  Something in Koro’s voice makes me think he’s talking about something more than fishing, but I’m too flustered to dwell on it. I concentrate on pulling up and winding down.

  ‘I see it,’ I yell. A silvery thing swims just below the surface. Charlie leans over and scoops a net under it.

  ‘A snapper,’ she says.

  Koro reaches in and grabs the f
ish around its belly. He gently removes the hook from its mouth.

  ‘Do you want to kiss it before I throw it back?’

  I look at it as it wiggles in his hand. ‘Isn’t it big enough to keep?’

  ‘Yeah it is, but it’s good to throw your first one back. Sort of like an offering to the gods.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Koro brings the fish up to his face and I think he’s going to kiss it for me, but he says something and then passes it to me. I’m sure that fish winks at me as I place it upright in the water. It squirms out of my hands.

  ‘That feels good. I might let my next one go as well.’

  Koro’s chuckle comes from deep within his belly. ‘You might have a bit of competition for the next one.’ He nods his head towards Charlie, whose rod is bent over towards the water.

  I bait my own rod, but instead of floating in mid-air, my bait hangs like a lifeless marionette. Then I throw my line way out to sea, but throw myself off balance as well.

  Charlie puts out her hand to stop my fall but tumbles onto the side of the boat that Koro and I are on. The boat pitches over to this side and, for a moment, hesitates, before dumping us in the sea.

  The freezing cold water and the shock of what’s happened squeeze my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. I thrash around in the water, and then I hear Charlie call out to me.

  ‘Libby?’

  ‘I’m OK,’ I say, waving my arms overhead as if this proves it, ‘Where’s Koro?’

  ‘He’s not answering me. I can’t see him.’

  I can hear the fear in her voice.

  I swim towards her and the upturned boat. When we come around to the other side, I see Koro floating on his back just a few metres away. We both swim towards him.

  Relief floods through me when I see one arm fluttering like a turtle. Charlie throws her arms around his neck, and almost takes him under again.

  ‘I’m good.’ Koro’s voice is little more than a whisper. The pain etched on his face tells us that something is wrong.

  A bone sticks out just below his left elbow.

  ‘Shit, Koro. I think you’ve broken a bone.’ It’s the first time I’ve seen or heard Charlie unsure.

  He nods his head.

  I surprise myself by taking charge. ‘We’ll be your arms and swim you back to shore. Can you grab my sweatshirt?’

  Again he nods.

  Koro rests his broken arm on his stomach, and Charlie and I push and pull him towards shore.

  ‘What about the dinghy?’ he whispers.

  ‘Bugger the dinghy,’ Charlie says.

  The water feels heavy as I struggle through it. I’m happy when I can feel the sand beneath my feet. I follow Charlie’s lead and put my hand under Koro’s armpit.

  He winces in pain as we drag him away from the water’s edge. His lips have blood on them where he’s bitten down on them.

  I collapse on the sand beside him, drained from my effort.

  ‘Libby, I’ll run and get Tama and the truck. You stay here.’

  I don’t get a chance to reply before she’s off running up the riverbank.

  ‘It’s only a broken bone, Libby. I’ll be alright.’ Koro’s face is pale and he doesn’t look in very good shape. He tries to sit up but crumples back down in a heap.

  ‘I think you better stay lying down.’ I push some sand and leaves into a pile behind his head. ‘Is that any better?’

  He nods with his eyes closed. I don’t think it is.

  Out at sea the boat floats on top of the water. The incoming tide is pushing it closer to the shoreline. Without thinking I’m back in the water, swimming towards it. A rope floats in front of me: it’s tied to the bow of the boat. I loop the rope around my middle and swim back to shore. Only two metres from the shore, I don’t think I can swim any further when a random wave helps me in.

  Exhausted, I lie on the bank, my lower half submerged in the water, with the rope still tied around my waist. I push a strand of wet hair back from my face and my hands glide over my head. My heart skips a beat.

  My hat is gone and my hair has come loose from its pony tail. A feeling similar to being dumped in the icy cold water grips me. I try to untie myself, but the wet rope has pulled tight and my hands shake with panic.

  Ooogah, oogah! rings through the air. My heart pumps faster. Tama’s bright red ute barrels towards us. Charlie leaps from the back as soon as it stops and runs to Koro.

  ‘You OK, Koro?’

  He mumbles something but I don’t hear what he says, because the sound of my heart is thumping in my ears.

  ‘You saved the boat,’ Charlie beams at me, as she places a blanket over Koro’s shoulders.

  Tama and a girl who looks like an older version of Charlie all turn to look at me. I sit at the water’s edge, unable to move, humiliation and shame dripping off me. My bald spots are on show for the entire world to see. I wish I’d drowned.

  Charlie grabs another blanket from the truck and brings it to me. She wraps it around me and squeezes me tight. She kneels down in the sand in front of me and starts untying the knot.

  ‘You must be exhausted as well, Libby. Let’s get you home.’

  The girl comes down and drags the boat further up the beach.

  ‘Hi, I’m Wetekia. You must be Libby.’

  I nod and look at the ground, wanting it to open and swallow me up.

  Between us all, we manage to manoeuvre Koro into the back of the ute onto a mattress. He makes a small sound as Wetekia lifts up his broken arm and places a pillow underneath it.

  Tama produces a bottle of whisky from behind the driver’s seat, takes the lid off and holds the bottle up to Koro’s lips. His face brightens as he guzzles, but most of the whisky ends up on him.

  I climb into the back of the ute and cloak myself with the blanket. I keep my head down and don’t say a word as we bump across the paddock.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘You stupid old fool. I told you to slow down,’ Hautai yells from the porch. ‘Now look what’s happened. Bring him in, Tama, and put him on the window seat. Tainui, Kawharu, run down and get Amelia. Grab Uncle Joe as well. Libby, you’d better get in the shower.’

  In the bathroom, with the door closed and the water running, I can still hear raised voices.

  ‘I’ve managed 101 years without seeing a doctor. I’m not about to start now.’

  ‘Well how many times have you had a bone sticking out of your skin? No amount of cod liver is going to fix this. At least let a doctor have a look.’

  ‘I don’t need someone to tell me it’s broken: we can see that. I just need you to help me put it back in place. I’m in pain here, so let’s hurry up!’

  I have a quick shower, which warms me up a little. As I turn the shower off, I hear a knock on the door and then it opens up a sliver.

  ‘Libby, it’s me,’ Charlie whispers through the crack. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah. Fine.’

  I hide behind the shower curtain.

  ‘OK, good. I brought you an extra towel. I’ll leave it on the floor.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Libby?’

  My heart starts pounding in my chest.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Um …’

  Koro yells from the kitchen.

  ‘I better go,’ Charlie says. ‘We’ll talk later. I made you a Milo; it’s on the bench.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.’

  Steam has fogged up the mirror, and although I can’t see my face, I know it’s there. No one’s asked me about the bald patches on my scalp, but I know that, under a fine mist of courtesy, the question lurks.

  I wrap the extra towel around my head as a turban. The steam from the bathroom follows me up the hallway. I sit on the bed and braid my wet hair into a tight French plait. After changing into a baggy sweater and track pants, I tie a red bandana around my head.

  I look at the open window and visualise myself jumping out and running down the hill. Never having to face a
nyone again. I take a big breath in and then let it out again. I’m not that brave, and I’ve already run away from one home. What sort of spinner runs away from the home they run away to? I look around the bedroom and know that I can’t sit here forever. I force myself to go to the kitchen.

  Tama leans against the sideboard slurping Milo. Wetekia sits at the end of the table, where most of the books, fruit bowls and things have been pushed. At the other end are bowls of steaming liquids and bandages.

  A small squat lady brushes past me, her hands full of frayed towels.

  ‘Kia ora, love.’

  ‘Libby, this is my Aunt Amelia – Aunt Amelia, this is my friend Libby.’

  ‘Hi.’

  Charlie’s aunt plants a kiss on my cheek and then plonks herself in a seat at the table. She rips the towels into small strips. A man who appears to be even older than Koro – I guess he’s Joe – sits beside Koro. His head is bowed and his eyes are closed. He speaks a steady stream of words, quietly and in Māori.

  Koro’s pale face glances up from a sea of cushions.

  ‘Charlie, I need you to go and cut some harakeke. Around the back of the garage is a good bush to use. Some of the older leaves will make a strong splint.’

  ‘OK, Koro.’ Charlie takes a knife from a kitchen shelf.

  ‘And Charlie, don’t miss anything out. Say a karakia. Take the outer leaves, and remember to cut downwards, away from the centre. I think it’s going to rain, and you don’t want the water going into the plant.’

  ‘I know, Koro.’

  He sighs as he leans back on the pillows. The effort from speaking has drained the last of his reserves.

  ‘Here, drink this,’ Hautai says, cupping one hand behind his head as she tips a cup towards his lips.

  I take a mug of Milo from the bench and sit in one of the battered dining chairs at the table.

  ‘Koro’s going to get his bone put back in,’ Kawharu says beside me. His eyes sparkle with the thought of it.

  ‘I heard. He must be very brave.’

  ‘Yeah and there might be some blood,’ Tainui adds from his ringside seat.

  Charlie comes back in with some strong-looking flax and lays it on the table. She slices the roots off two big leaves, the dirt still clinging to them, and passes the leaves to her mum. Hautai lifts Koro’s arm and places the thick part of the leaf just under the break.