Gith

by Else, Chris

  Yeah right, I wanted to say.

  'Bloody wankers,' the Old Man muttered.

  We went to the bar and I bought him a beer. Pretty soon he'd found one of his mates to talk to and he was sweet again. I took a lot longer to calm down. I was sorry about calling Bobby an idiot but, in fact, he was, and it riled me to have anyone thinking Gith was the same. She could be trusted with the gun just as she could be trusted with anything else. It wasn't much of a thing anyway: an old twenty-two. I wasn't like half the other blokes in the town, with a .303 and a shotgun stashed away in the hall cupboard. With all the pig hunting and duck shooting I figured there were more guns per head in Te Kohuna than any other place in the country. Who the hell was Gray Tackett to be worrying about us when there were so many morons around the place with easy access to worse weapons?

  In the end I was too wound up to hang around chatting. I knocked back my beer and put my hand on the Old Man's arm.

  'You all right here?' I asked. 'I gotta go find Gith.'

  'Yeah,' he said. 'You go. Tell her she's a little ripper.' As I walked away I could hear him start into the story of the skeet shooting.

  Back outside I stood looking round, trying to spot Gith in the crowd. I was not sure why I had to find her. Something was bothering me. Was it Gray Tackett saying we would live to regret it? Or something Hemi had said? Looking back on it now, I think maybe it was just a mind-reading thing.

  I took a few steps down the line of tents towards where I'd last seen her. Still no sign. Then I saw Brenda Paddigon hurrying towards me. A look on her face.

  'Come,' she said, grabbing my arm. 'Quick!'

  Gith was on the ground between two tents. She was curled into a ball and her eyes and her head were going. Ireleen Loft was crouched beside her looking useless. I went down on my knees and wrapped Gith in my arms.

  'Sweetheart, sweetheart,' I said. 'What's wrong?'

  She tightened even more, scrunching herself smaller.

  I looked up at Brenda. 'What happened?'

  'Don't know. I was in the tent. I could see the shadows through the cloth. She was talking to someone. Next thing I knew she was down on the ground.'

  'Did you see anything?' I asked Ireleen.

  'No. No.'

  Gith gave a moan. Her head went back. Her eyes were wide, with only the whites showing.

  'Oh God!' Ireleen said.

  I slid one arm under Gith's knees and lifted her, stood up. 'I gotta get her home.'

  The collection bucket and bag of ribbons were lying on the ground.

  'Can you look after that?' I asked.

  'Sure,' Brenda said. 'Absolutely.'

  'Come on, sweetheart.'

  Gith twisted in my grip. For a second I thought I was going to drop her. Then her arm went up around my neck and she pulled herself hard against me, her face turned into my collarbone. I started to walk away, the crowd opening up in front of us. Looks on people's faces. Dolly McKenzie reached out and patted Gith's shoulder as we walked past.

  When I got to the Riley I had to half lower her to the ground while I got the keys out. It was then that I saw the beginnings of a bruise on her wrist — a blue band across the white skin, one end of it rounded. A thumbprint.

  5

  I TOOK HER home, got her out of most of her clothes and put her in my bed, where she curled up tight. Then I took off my own shoes and jeans and climbed in behind her. I put my arm round her and held her close. She was icy, her body stiff like she was frozen. I started to talk to her, whispering into her hair, telling her I loved her and saying it was all going to be okay and I'd always be there to take care of her. The first of these was true and I hoped the others were too. She didn't move. She hardly seemed to be breathing. I put my hand on her chest to feel her heart and the beat was scarcely there. I think what scared me most was the thought that she had gone back into a coma and wouldn't come out. That fear was even stronger than the rage I felt at whoever had done this to her.

  The telephone rang and, a few minutes later, my mobile. I knew it would be Ma. She'd have heard and she'd be worried but I couldn't let go of Gith. I stroked her knees and her shins. I kissed her hair and the smooth skin of her shoulder. I kept saying I loved her and asking her to please, please, please stay with me because I couldn't live without her. And that was true too.

  Bit by bit she started to relax and the warmth came back into her. I could feel the breathing in her ribs now.

  'Are you asleep?' I asked.

  She gave a little wriggle, pressing herself back closer against me. Her hand came round and rested on the top of my leg. The relief I felt brought tears to my eyes. I didn't move though. I didn't want to disturb her or to change anything about how we were. Maybe we both went to sleep in the end.

  The knocking on the door woke me up. I got out of bed and pulled my jeans on, walked out of the room and closed the door to a crack behind me. I could see the two shadows, vague in the ripple-glass pane of the front door.

  'Is she all right?' Ma's voice was full of worry. She was still wearing her Victorian outfit.

  'Yes, I guess so.' I stepped back, swinging the door wider. 'Come on in.'

  The Old Man had a grim look on his face.

  'That skinny girl from the Tearooms told us what happened,' Ma said over her shoulder as we followed her down the hall.

  'Right.'

  'I called.'

  'I know, yes. Sorry about that.'

  'Getting out of that car park was a bloody nightmare,' the Old Man said.

  I showed them into the kitchen. They sat down at the table while I put the kettle on.

  'What happened?' Ma asked.

  'I don't know. I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet. She was kind of out of it. Now she's asleep.'

  'That's good.'

  'Those bloody Tacketts!' The Old Man exploded. 'I'll shoot the bastards myself!'

  'Watch it! Watch it! What are you saying?' Ma turned to him.

  'We don't know it was the Tacketts,' I said.

  'Who the hell was it, then?'

  'Could have been someone after the money,' Ma said. 'You know — the collection.'

  'But the bucket was still there,' I said.

  'Was it empty?'

  'I don't know. Brenda would know. She took it back to the RW tent.'

  'Brenda?'

  'Brenda Paddigon. From the café.'

  'Ah, yes,' Ma said.

  I made the tea and brought it to the table, fetched the milk and sugar.

  'And this Brenda, did she see anything?' the Old Man asked.

  'Not much. Some shadows on the wall of a tent. She was inside. Gith was outside.'

  'What about this other girl?'

  'No,' I said. 'Don't think so. Did she say anything to you?'

  'No.' The Old Man hit the table with the side of his fist. 'Bloody Christ! Somebody must've seen something. All those people. Are they all bloody blind?'

  'It's weird what people don't see.' I was thinking of a white van.

  We drank our tea. I was glad they had come and that they cared but there wasn't much to say. I didn't want to tell them my own ideas about what had happened, partly because I didn't want to worry them and partly because it would have led to a long talk and I had to get back to Gith soon as. In the end, Ma got the point like she usually does.

  'Come on, Ted,' she said. 'We'd better be going.' Then she turned to me. 'Unless you want me to make you and Anna some dinner.'

  'We'll be fine.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'Yes,' I said. 'Though there is something you could do. Stop off on your way past and have a word to Pita. Tell him to lock up at six and ask him to bring the keys up here to the house. I'll do the till and the alarm later on.'

  'Will do,' the Old Man said.

  I showed them out. Ma turned on the doorstep and gave me a big hug.

  'Take care of her,' she said.

  'I will.'

  The Old Man still looked a bit wound up. He shook my hand and said nothing. />
  Back inside, I made Gith a cup of tea. Milk and two sugars. When I took it in to her she moved and then sat up. I opened the curtains to let a bit more light into the room.

  'Ma and Dad were here,' I said.

  She nodded and reached out for the tea, wrapped her hands around the mug and drank.

  'How are you?' I asked.

  She gave a little shrug. Then she patted the bed beside her. I went and sat there, on top of the covers. I wasn't sure whether that was what she meant.

  'Do you want to talk about it?' I asked.

  She gave a maybe kind of shift of her shoulders. Any words she had were gone for now. This sometimes happens if she's seriously upset.

  'It was the man from the van. Right?'

  Yes.

  'Was it Ray Tackett?'

  She didn't know.

  'Do you know Ray?'

  No. She made a sign for pen on paper. I went and fetched the pad and the ballpoint. She put her mug of tea down on the bedside table and drew her knees up under the covers to form a base for the pad. She bent over it and started to draw, slow and tense. I sat down beside her again and waited.

  The picture looked like this.

  I felt useless looking at it. 'I don't know this bloke.'

  'Argh!' It was a scraping sound from back in her throat. She hit her knees with her fist and twisted her head from side to side.

  'Sorry,' I said. 'Sorry.'

  She waved the drawing at me and then patted her head, pulled at her hair. I didn't get it. I kept looking at the big, stare-y eyes. They were like glasses. Was that what she meant?

  'Does he wear glasses?'

  Gith let go of me and flopped back on the pillows. I felt like an idiot. Then I caught sight of the bruise on her wrist again. I reached out and took her hand, turned it so that we could both see the mark. It made me mad.

  'He hurt you.'

  Yes. She was looking down at it.

  'Here? Nowhere else?'

  No.

  'And he said bad things?'

  Yes.

  'He said if you told anyone about seeing him the other week, he'd do things to you?'

  Yes. She squeezed her eyes shut. I could feel the trembling start in her arm.

  'Okay,' I said. 'That's enough.' I moved close and hugged her. The pad and pen slid to the floor. She leaned into me.

  'I'm dumb,' I said. I felt her nod. It didn't make me feel good.

  ***

  WHEN THERE WAS a knock on the door at five past six, I guessed it was Pita. Instead, I found Brenda Paddigon. She had the pink teddy bear under her arm.

  'Ah.' I took it from her. 'I'd forgotten all about this. She'll be glad to have it.'

  One of its paws had a dirty mark but otherwise it looked okay.

  'And I have to give you these too.' She held out the keys to the service station. 'Your bloke down there said as long as I was coming up here . . .'

  'That's a bit bloody casual of him,' I said.

  'Quite.' She smiled. She had a nice smile. It made me see what a good-looking woman she was. She was a few years older than me, I guess. Brown eyes and wavy deep red hair cut to her shoulders, brownish skin dotted with even browner dark freckles. She was wearing a pale blue shirt with the top buttons undone. Freckles there, too, and a good length of cleavage. I felt awkward, like I'd somehow got her all wrong before.

  'Come in if you like,' I said, stepping back.

  'Thanks.'

  'Gith's asleep.' We went into the living room.

  'A cup of tea?' I asked. 'Or a drink?'

  'Oh, a drink. Why not?'

  I figured I might have a problem then. 'It'll have to be beer,' I said. 'We're not real civilised round here.'

  'Oh.' She wasn't sure but she gave me a grin, like she was telling herself everything was fine. 'Beer it is, then.'

  I put the bear down on the sofa. 'We could go out onto the verandah. It's nice out there at this time of day.'

  'All right.'

  I fetched the beer, remembered that she might want a glass. Her café was a smart sort of place. It was right next to Bank Antiques and it had a wine list and everything. I hadn't been there too often, not sure why. Gith liked it and so did Ma. Bill and Leece went there, too, when they were in town.

  We settled in our chairs and I raised my beer to her. 'Thanks.

  For what you did today.'

  'Is she all right?'

  'Yeah. She's fine now.'

  'Only it looked . . . you know, well, like some kind of fit.'

  'It is,' I said. 'Only not the usual kind. Her brain circuits get overloaded. It used to happen all the time. Now it's only when she's real stressed.'

  'And it's because of an accident, right?'

  'Car accident. Eight years ago. Both her parents were killed.'

  'Oh God.' She screwed up her face at the thought of it. It seemed she really felt it and wasn't going to start in on some pity thing. I liked her for that.

  'It's been a long road back for her,' I said.

  'I bet.' She looked at me, a look that I couldn't figure out. Like she thought I was something special? It felt weird sitting there with her, seeing that look.

  'The thing is, though, she's real smart.' I went on, just needing something to say. 'And it riles me when people don't see it. Some people think she's dumb, like she's got a low IQ or something, but it's not like that.'

  'She can't talk, though, can she?'

  'No. Not normal. She's got words, usually, but she can't string them together right.'

  'Does she do sign language? Like deaf people?'

  'No, because that's a language too, eh. The psychologists and so on, they told me she can't figure out how to make sentences. In any kind of language. I guess it's like when you or I know what we want to say but we can't find the words, like it's on the tip of your tongue kind of thing? With her that happens all the time, with everything she wants to say. It pisses her off big time.'

  'I bet. So she can't tell you what happened today?'

  'I know what happened. Somebody threatened her.'

  'That bloke.'

  'Yeah. What did you see?' I asked.

  'Not much. The side of the tent was sloped, so the shadow was sharper at the bottom than the top. But I guess he was about her height. Nothing special about him.'

  'She's a metre seventy-five.'

  'Well, then.' She sipped her beer. Then she asked the question I knew was coming. 'Why did he threaten her?'

  I had nothing to say except the truth. Anyway, it would be good to talk to somebody about it, and I liked her enough to want it to be her. So I told her.

  'I thought the cops were looking for a wagon,' she said.

  'They are. They've got two people who say that's what it was. It's Gith's word against theirs . . .' I shrugged, meaning it was clear what the cops were going to think.

  Brenda didn't answer. She was working on it, I could see, trying to figure out what to believe.

  'That collection bucket. The money was still in it?' I asked.

  'Yes.' She nodded. 'Quite a lot, actually.'

  'It wasn't robbery then.'

  'No.'

  'And she didn't make it up.'

  'No.' She looked at me. 'No, she didn't make it up.' She let out a big breath. 'God,' she said, 'this is scary. I'm not sure I want to know about this.'

  Suddenly, for the first time, I felt it myself — the fear, like a rush of cold blood. I was scared for Gith mostly, seeing how she might be the only person between this bloke being caught and him getting away with it.

  'Have you talked to Hemi?' she asked.

  'About today? No, not yet.'

  'You going to?'

  'I guess.'

  Then another thought struck her. 'It's weird, eh? The guy taking a risk like that. Confronting her in public. Anyone could have seen him.'

  Something must have pushed him, I started to say. But then I asked myself, why was he being pushed? Because somebody had told him that Gith saw Anneke Hesse getting int
o a white van. And why had they told him that? Jesus, I thought. It's my fault. It's all because I've been shooting my mouth off.

  'I'm sorry,' I said.

  'What for?' She looked surprised.

  'For telling you about it. I haven't been thinking straight. I haven't been taking it seriously.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I've told a few people what Gith saw, and word's obviously got back to him and he figures he'll scare her shitless to shut her up. That's why he took the risk. That's why he grabbed her.'

  'He grabbed her?'

  'Yes, she's got a bruise on her arm. Like a thumbprint.'

  'God!' she said. 'That's assault. They could arrest him for that.' She thought about it. 'But then if they go after him and they don't nail him, he'll be on the loose, feeling even more desperate.'

  True enough. Maybe we shouldn't tell Hemi, I thought. But if we didn't, how the hell were we ever going to get out of it?

  'What do we do?' I asked. 'Sit tight and keep quiet?'

  Brenda sipped her beer. Then she looked at me, smiled. Again I felt I couldn't read her. She was trying to make up her mind about something. She gave a little toss of her head, flicking her hair aside.

  'I'm very discreet,' she said. 'I'm not going to say anything. And I don't suppose you're going to tell anyone you told me about it. So, you don't need to apologise, eh?'

  'No.' I figured it was Gith I should be saying sorry to really.

  'On the other hand, I'm a nosy creature. I like to hear what's going on. So if you want to, I'm happy to lend an ear whenever you feel like talking something through.'

  'Thanks.'

  'And I can keep my eyes open, as long as I know what I'm looking for.'

  'Thanks. That's great.' I was not at all sure what she was saying she would do, partly because I didn't know what I wanted.

  We sat without speaking for a bit. The anger came up in me again. I wanted to smash something or hit somebody. Not in front of Brenda though. I took a big breath. Tried to keep my mind on the facts.

  'Well,' I said, 'we know a few things, eh? We know he's about a metre seventy-five. And we know he knows who Gith is but she doesn't know him, except by sight. He's bought gas from us a few times but he's not a regular. And we've also got some names.' I remembered what Hemi had said about not spreading stories. Too late now. 'Rick Parline. Colin George. Wayne Wyett. And Ray Tackett.'