Soon

by Charlotte Grimshaw

  The Cock

  Tuleimoka met them at the gate. ‘Pathtime,’ she said to Johnnie.

  ‘I don’t want a bath. I just had a swim.’

  ‘You need a path to get the chlorine off.’

  ‘Don’t want the chlorine noff. Make Soon talk!’

  ‘Just a minute, Tulei,’ Roza said, waving the nanny away and walking ahead with the boy. ‘Right, let’s finish off quick . . .’

  At the castle, preparations were made for battle, supplies were laid in and weapons were polished, and then the friends waited. They would have no idea where their next battle was to take place until the Ort Cloud had arrived from the Universe.

  After three days of waiting Soon got bored and challenged Starfish to a duel, to which Starfish said with dignity, “Don’t be silly, Soon.”

  The Green Lady’s man, Crackers, got into the Bachelor’s bedside drinks cabinet when the Cassowaries weren’t looking and stole a powerful liqueur that made him so drunk he had to be locked in the castle dungeon. The Bachelor, who had been following the Green Lady about as usual, was outraged to find he couldn’t offer her a cocktail, and demanded that Crackers be banished. Soon said that if Starfish wouldn’t fight a duel he was a poof, and then there was a crack of purple lightning and the Ort Cloud appeared in the sky to tell the friends that his Wife had met with Barbie Yah, and had been plotting to take over his realm. He would need help in battling his greatest adversary, the poisonous, violent purple cloud he had once called My Jewel and Most Beloved Wife . . .

  ‘OK. Tulei?’

  The child was led away, Tulei saying musically, ‘Don’t you be naughty poy.’

  Roza frowned after them. ‘The woman has a mania for cleanliness. Isn’t that out of fashion now? Aren’t we supposed to let children be dirty?’

  ‘Mm. Germs are good,’ Simon said.

  ‘Tell her that. She wants to disinfect him.’

  Simon was glad to have a break from ‘the friends’ (he was starting to think of Soon as quite a nuisance), and was hoping Roza would go on talking to him in the frank way she had before, down at the pool. But they found the full company assembled at the tables under the pohutukawa tree. Troy and Shane were tending to the snacks and drinks, Karen and Juliet had returned from a trip to town, Ed was holding a drink and a phone and was texting while he talked to the ladies, and David was standing off to the side conferring with the Cock. The Cock’s wife now appeared on the deck, in conversation with Trent.

  David and the Cock settled their private discussion and sat down.

  ‘It’s a matter of managing the optics,’ the Cock said.

  ‘Set up your working group,’ David said. ‘Get the people you want on it, maybe Dame Maud Spalding, then when they bring out their dire report, move in and fix up the disaster. But less radically than they recommend, right?’

  ‘Dame Maud’s already on two working groups. She’s booked solid. Legal aid, welfare reform. Prisons.’

  ‘Well, who else is as useful as her? You can find someone.’

  The Cock said, ‘We need to discuss the other thing. The emergency recovery legislation. The latitude that allows us. If we’re really bold.’

  David nodded. They started talking about the floods in Queensland.

  The Cock’s wife came across the lawn to kiss Roza. ‘I’ve been talking to your Trent. Where do you get such sexy help? Is there a Sexy Help Shop?’

  Simon thought of the thing he’d heard Claire say about men: sometimes it just takes one thing. They say one thing and you know you’d never go out with them.

  Karen said, ‘They’re pretty gorgeous, Roza’s polo-shirt brigade.’

  Ed Miles leaned over to her and whispered, ‘I don’t think they’re interested in women of your age.’

  Karen gave him a startled look and turned away.

  The Cock’s wife was celebrated for being the mother of twins, a patron of the arts and a beauty. The other big thing about Sharon Cahane was that she ‘didn’t take herself too seriously’. She sat down, accepted a drink from Troy, and beamed at the Cock, who looked back steadily.

  ‘We got stuck in a traffic jam. What a fuss he made. He sat in the back making threats at the driver. I’ve never known anyone as impatient as my husband. He nearly blew a valve.’

  The Cock was expressionless. ‘I was perfectly calm,’ he said.

  ‘There must have been an accident, but he’s saying he wants the roads cleared, he wants heads to roll.’

  ‘I have no idea what my wife is talking about,’ said the Cock.

  ‘Mate, you could have choppered up here,’ David said.

  ‘What would have been the optics of that?’ Roza said.

  The Cock smiled. ‘Indeed.’

  Sharon said, ‘Roza, Juliet, Karen, I’ve been meaning to say I want you to come to my book group. We’re going to have it at Trish’s as soon as she’s ready — something to cheer her up. Trish doesn’t actually read the books, she just likes a laugh. Poor Trish.’

  There was a respectful silence.

  Juliet said, ‘It was an amazing funeral.’

  ‘Wasn’t it amazing?’

  ‘And Trish is being amazingly brave.’

  ‘She’s an amazing woman.’

  ‘My wife spends her life in a state of astonishment,’ said the Cock. ‘If she’s not amazed, she’s stunned. If something isn’t unbelievable, it’s incredible. If my life were full of such extremes I might die of shock.’

  Sharon tapped her long nails on her glass.

  ‘Listen to him.’

  ‘He’s off.’

  ‘Anyway . . .’

  The Cock turned to David. ‘On a lighter note, Vince Buckley wants us to talk about suicides.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The Chief Coroner wants suicides to be publicised, and Buckley’s taken up the cry. More people kill themselves each year than die on the roads. He wants us to discuss it.’

  ‘Wants who to discuss it?’

  ‘The community. The punters. He wants prevention campaigns. Like for the road toll.’

  David finished his drink and rattled his glass at Troy. ‘Doesn’t that mean everyone gets obsessed with it and more and more people do it?’

  ‘Like lemmings,’ Karen said.

  ‘Thanks, Troy, another please. I suppose like lemmings. Sort of. Anyway, car crashes are accidents. Why should we stand in the way if someone actually wants to die?’

  The Cock laughed. His eyes were intelligent, his expression was alert, and when his eye fell on people they tended to squirm. The big thing about the Cock was that he was the brains. (David was the brains but also the charm.) The Cock was tall and solid, with symmetrical features, narrow eyes and a thin, hoarse voice. It was said that he wanted David’s job, but didn’t have the support, since voters and many in the party found him frightening. He had wide and intimidating interests, including a fondness for Norse mythology. He had a degree from Harvard as well as from Auckland University; he was supposed to have extraordinary financial prescience; and was more right wing than it was advisable for the party to reveal. His preferred tone, when selling unpopular policies, was one of hypnotic blandness. He specialised in creating what they called ‘a mood for change’ — this involved manipulating the public into demanding the very measures he and David had planned to foist on them all along.

  Simon always felt wary, as if he had something to hide, when the Cock was around. Karen was repelled by his smoothness and quite frightened of him.

  ‘Suicides. Vince Buckley is a complete arsehole,’ David said.

  ‘But he’s our arsehole,’ the Cock replied.

  ‘He’s your arsehole.’

  ‘He’s an arsehole we’re all saddled with.’

  ‘Oh please,’ Sharon called out. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Who is that lovely creature?’ the Cock s
aid.

  ‘Isn’t she,’ David said with pride. They watched as Elke crossed the lawn on her way to the beach.

  The Cock said, ‘My, how she’s grown. She doesn’t look like you, Roza, but she’s very like you. It’s the way she moves.’

  ‘How observant,’ Roza said.

  ‘She’s conscious of being looked at but she’s not going to show it,’ the Cock added with a little flourish, as Elke disappeared down the path between the hedges. Simon took note: the Cock had uncharacteristically shown his hand. He wanted to impress Roza.

  Roza gave him a gracious smile.

  David said, ‘Bravo, Cahane.’ The Cock registered the mocking tone. He caught Simon’s eye and stared for a moment, as though coldly weighing up whether he mattered.

  The group broke up before dinner. Karen disappeared, and Juliet and Sharon went off with the young Miles children. David took the Cock and Ed Miles into his office, and Simon and Roza were left alone.

  He said, ‘The Cock’s wife’s very animated.’

  Roza paced nervously. ‘Good God, I can hardly stand it. Let’s walk somewhere. The High Priestess has got Johnnie; she’ll be fumigating and delousing him, so I’ve got nothing to do until dinner. Let’s walk along the beach.’

  ‘We haven’t got much time.’

  ‘I can’t stand the insipid talk; I feel caged.’

  Simon said, ‘Cahane’s always interesting.’

  ‘He’s too interesting.’

  ‘He likes you.’

  Roza paused. ‘He does. I suddenly thought that, just now.’

  ‘And David noticed, and then Cahane was irritated. No, disconcerted.’

  ‘Yes! I thought all that too. The Cock’s wife is so vacuous. Thank God you’re here. You’re not vacuous.’ She added, ‘You and Karen, I mean.’

  ‘It’s lucky you and Karen get on so well.’

  She stopped pacing. ‘What do you actually mean by that?’

  ‘Nothing. Just what I said. It’s great that you’re friends.’

  ‘You were being sarcastic.’

  He tried to fend her off. ‘I’m just tired, that’s all, and then I had this great whack of gin on an empty stomach. Trent makes it like rocket fuel. Sorry.’

  ‘I rely on you to be honest,’ she said.

  He reacted to her imperious tone. ‘Really. Are you completely honest?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, that’s all right then.’

  She planted her hands on her hips. ‘Are you saying I’m not?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that.’

  She said, ‘Karen and I get on extremely well, which is lovely for Elke’s sake.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s Elke who matters. And Johnnie, who now has a big sister.’

  ‘Yes. Roza, don’t be so intense; I just made a throwaway remark. It’s nothing.’

  ‘And you and I matter. If I didn’t have you to talk to I’d go insane. Sometimes I think if I have to hear about another book group or charity lunch or fundraising dinner I’ll start screaming.’

  ‘You need to work out how to live.’

  She laughed, to his relief. ‘I do. What do you recommend?’

  ‘Work. Hard exercise. Reading. Plenty of sunlight. A good diet.’

  ‘Oh, if it were that simple.’

  ‘It is that simple. Or rather, that’s all there is. That’s it, that’s life. And sometimes you find, to your surprise, that you’re happy. But don’t expect to be happy all the time.’

  ‘I live in a world I didn’t make.’

  ‘Exactly. You’re not the only one who’s had to work out how to live. Y’know when you were having your crisis over Elke, I had a few problems too.’ The gin was hot in his stomach and he felt tipsy. ‘If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Karen, or anyone? It’s important.’

  Roza clasped her hands satirically. ‘I swear.’

  He hesitated, looked around. ‘Back then I was depressed — I now think I was clinically depressed — and I did something crazy. I had an affair.’

  ‘Simon! How intriguing.’

  ‘But it wasn’t just any old affair — it was with someone so unsuitable I can hardly believe it.’

  ‘Unsuitable?’

  ‘She was . . . not only an ex-patient, although from a long time before, but she was really, um . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She was . . . young and impecunious.’

  ‘You mean she had no money?’

  ‘Yes. Poor, no education, no prospects.’

  ‘Was she attractive?’

  ‘Extremely. But she lived in a sort of chaos . . . in a ramshackle house and . . .’ He broke off with an embarrassed laugh. ‘It was in South Auckland.’

  ‘South Auckland!’

  ‘I met her at the airport. She worked in a café there. I recognised her because she’d been a patient years before.’

  Roza laughed. ‘It sounds like Forster, Howard’s End — where the respectable Miss Schlegel has an affair with the lower-class Mr Bast. Everyone said to Forster, “You’ll have to change the plot. A person of Miss Schlegel’s class would never have an affair with a lower-class man.” But Forster refused to change it. Because it was the whole point.’

  ‘He probably knew it could happen. God,’ Simon looked around uneasily, ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You’ll keep it secret, won’t you? I can trust you?’

  ‘Of course you can.’

  He said, tense: ‘In Howard’s End, do they live happily ever after?’

  ‘No. It’s complicated. Actually Mr Bast gets crushed by a falling bookcase.’

  ‘Right. Because I’ll tell you something else. Now I’m past it, I wish I hadn’t done it. I sometimes think if there was a button I could push that would eliminate her, I’d push it.’

  ‘That’s horrible.’

  ‘There’s nothing as horrible as wanting to escape from yourself. From the things you’ve done. I only had the affair because I was in a low state. I wasn’t myself.’

  ‘But it’s brutal, to want to “push a button and eliminate her”.’

  ‘Yes. It’s cruel. But you want me to be honest, remember? I feel revulsion for the whole thing. I’d sunk. I was drowning.’

  ‘But she wouldn’t see it that way.’

  ‘No. She probably thought she was raising herself up.’

  She stared at him. ‘It is cruel.’

  ‘That’s what happens when the haves get with the have-nots. The centre cannot hold.’

  Roza frowned. ‘ You could have stayed together, out of, you know, love.’

  ‘Love? She was completely uneducated. But there’s more. When I first met her, all that time before, she was brought into the hospital, in labour, with an escort. A prison guard. She’d been arrested for a drug offence. We had the affair years later, after she got out of jail.’

  ‘I don’t believe this.’ Roza wasn’t laughing now. ‘Jail. And she has a child?’

  ‘It had died by the time I met her again.’

  ‘Died! God, Simon. Is there anything else?’

  ‘No, that’s it. The child died naturally, according to her — of meningitis.’

  Roza said, ‘Why are you telling me this now? She’s not around, is she? Not a nuisance?’

  ‘No . . . but she exists. She’s out there.’

  ‘Does she make contact?’

  He held back from mentioning the stranger’s phone call. ‘I haven’t talked to her for years. I shouldn’t have told you all this. You’ll keep it a secret, won’t you? It would be a disaster if anyone found out. We have to think of Elke.’

  ‘Elke?’

  ‘I mean, the children, the family, Karen. And I don’t want David hearing about something like this.’

 
‘Oh yes, we all need to stick together,’ she said in a distant voice. She bit her thumbnail, thinking.

  ‘Roza, you won’t tell him?’

  ‘Of course not. Think of all my secrets. I know about shame. I was a disgraceful addict, remember? I know how it is. Your whole self recoils at the thought of going back. You hate the thing that brought you low, and the people you met while you were down there. Don’t worry, I’m your friend; I’m your fan; I love you. And you’re right — we have to think of the children.’

  ‘Do you really love me?’

  She squeezed his arm. ‘Poor Simon, you’ve gone all bleak and crushed. Of course I do.’

  Talking about Mereana had increased his anxiety, but Roza had switched abruptly to her old playful tone. Every answer she gave would be joking and ironic, and it would be impossible to know what she really thought.

  She went off to rescue Johnnie from the nanny. Simon walked over to the Little House to shower and change. He found clothes strewn over the floor and Karen lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and looking inexplicably bleak.

  Revulsion

  ‘What is it, my jewel?’

  But Simon realised he’d just imitated Roza as ‘the Bachelor’ in her endless Soon stories. He cleared his throat. ‘I mean, what’s wrong?’

  Karen turned on her side. ‘I hate, I loathe Ed Miles.’

  ‘I thought all you ladies found him amusing and nice-looking and stylish.’

  ‘He’s horrible.’

  ‘Well, I’ve always wondered what you saw in him.’

  ‘He insulted me. It was so unexpected. He made a comment about my age, which was rather bitchy, now I think back. But then, as we were all getting up he leaned over to me and whispered, so no one else would hear . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘First he looked sort of pointedly between me and Roza and Sharon, to show he was comparing us, I suppose because they’re both so tall and thin and stylish. And then he whispered, “Of course, Karen, that shirt is the most unflattering thing you could possibly wear, with your curves.”’

  Simon sat down on the bed. ‘Christ.’

  ‘He’d know I’d never repeat it to Roza, because you don’t want to repeat an insult, do you? And you don’t want to make trouble. It was so sneaky. I thought, boy, you really don’t like me.’