Gith

by Else, Chris

  I didn't get a lock. There didn't seem any point after that night.

  ***

  SUNDAY. I GOT up and went down to the service station to open the place and set the till for Pita. Then I walked back to the house and made a cup of tea. Gith was still in bed so I joined her. We sat there, side by side, and sipped our tea in silence. I had to talk to her but I didn't know where to start. I was torn between feeling bad about what happened with Brenda, and angry about Ray Tackett and that bastard Wyett. In the end it was the anger that won out.

  'Listen,' I said. 'Last night. What did they do to you?'

  She shrugged.

  'They hurt you?'

  'Bit.'

  'There wasn't any funny stuff. You know. Sex. Nothing like that?'

  'Narg.' She looked at me and then she pulled a face, like she was going to cry. 'Bub-bub-bub. Bobby.'

  'Yes, Bobby. The thick one.'

  'Thick?'

  'Slow. Dumb. He cried, right?'

  'Poor Bobby.'

  'And they let you go? They brought you back here?'

  'Gith.'

  'And the other bloke. Not Ray, the other one. He was the joker that took Anneke, right?'

  'Narg.'

  'No? You sure?'

  'Pth,' she said, pointing up at the ceiling and rolling her eyes. Was I dumb or what?

  'That was Wayne Wyett.'

  'Tho?'

  'So, I don't know.' It made no sense. 'What they did to you, though. That's a crime. They should go to jail.'

  'Gith.'

  'Did you shout? Did you scream?'

  She clapped her hand over her mouth. I felt a surge of rage to think of her in the hands of those bastards. We — she needed revenge. But that would be tricky; thinking ahead to an arrest, to the cops' questions, to a trial.

  'You'd have to go to court,' I said. 'I don't know if that would be a good idea.' I could see some bastard of a lawyer getting on to her and asking her questions. It would be so easy to get her mixed up. And the worst thing would be to put her through all that and then have those pricks get away with it.

  'Could you do that?' I asked her.

  'Gith.' She put her cup down on the bedside table.

  'Questions? Lots of questions?'

  She screwed up her eyes. I could see the pain there, and the fear. Jesus, I really did want to kill somebody.

  'I'll talk to Hemi,' I said.

  'Gith.'

  'And, you know, I'm not going to leave you again. Ever.'

  She frowned and made a shooing move. 'Thtupid.'

  'You want me to leave you?'

  'Narg!' Hands over her face. I didn't get it. She was getting pissed off. She looked at me and suddenly wrapped her arms around her head. Hiding.

  'You want to hide?'

  'Narg! Nar, nar, nar!' Hitting the bedclothes with her fists.

  'You don't want to hide.'

  A big sigh. She put her arms round my neck, hugged me tight. I felt the warmth of spilt tea trickling down my stomach.

  'You want to go on like normal? You don't want those bastards to beat us?'

  'Gith.'

  'Oh God, I want to kill them, Gith. I really do.'

  I shouldn't have said that. She lifted her hands and made like she was holding a rifle, aiming at the light in the ceiling.

  'Pag!' she said.

  That scared me.

  'No, sweetheart. No. We can't do that. We might want to but we can't.'

  ***

  THE NEXT DAY I got a call from Ma. She wanted to make an arrangement to pick up her car. Leece was going to drop her in town. There was another reason for the call, though.

  'What are these stories I've been hearing?' she asked.

  'What stories?'

  'I've had Dolly McKenzie on the phone saying you're going to be arrested. That you ran Ray and Bobby Tackett off the road and pulled a gun on them, scaring poor Bobby half out of his wits.'

  'Who told her that?'

  'Don't ask me. You know Dolly. Is it true?'

  God, I thought, what do I say now? The Old Man will seriously blow his stack with the Tacketts if he hears the full story.

  'Well,' I told her, 'something happened. With Gith. I talked to the Tacketts about it. We sorted it out.'

  'What happened?'

  'Look, I'll tell you later. I don't want to upset Dad. You know what he's like.'

  'Hmph.' She wasn't happy. 'What about this gun?'

  'I had a gun with me. I didn't pull it on anyone.' Was that true?

  'Why did you have a gun with you?'

  'I'll tell you later. Okay?'

  ***

  HEMI CAME OVER that evening and we had a chat, sitting on the back verandah with a beer. I soon saw that things were not as easy as I'd thought. I told him my side of it. Off the record.

  'Hmmm,' he said. 'That's tricky, bro, eh. Dangerous driving. Offensive weapon. Those are serious charges.'

  'My driving wasn't dangerous,' I said. 'Ray's was, though.'

  'But the gun, eh.'

  'I didn't point it at anyone.'

  'Well . . .' Hemi had his head on one side like he wasn't sure that made a difference.

  'So who's making these charges?'

  'No charges. Just stories.'

  'Look,' I said, 'the only reason Gith and I haven't come knocking at your door and wanting those jokers arrested for kidnapping and attempted rape is that we're not sure if she could go through any of that stuff in court. But if we're talking serious charges, those are the serious charges.'

  'Right. And they're not charges anybody should get away without answering.'

  'So?'

  Hemi sipped his beer. 'So.'

  'So what happens now? Do you just arrest them?'

  'No. I need a complaint.'

  'So you mean the Tacketts won't say anything if I don't.'

  'That seems about the size of it, bro. Everybody's talking about it. Except the people that were directly involved.'

  'You're not happy with that,' I said.

  He shifted in his chair, a slow kind of wriggle.

  'Well,' he said, 'in one way it's nice and easy. In another . . .' He left it hanging.

  'Is this like Hemi's view versus the official view?' I asked.

  'No,' he said. 'I'm what they call conflicted on this one.' He had more to say but was having a problem with the words.

  I changed the subject. I told him how this was the second time Gith had been attacked.

  He listened to the story of what had happened at the show and then he asked, 'Who was this?'

  'The same bloke that was driving the white van.' He looked at me. 'Have you told Ryan?'

  'Would it make any difference?'

  He sighed. 'I don't know, bro. They have their own way of doing things.'

  'City ways.'

  'Investigative techniques.'

  Yeah right, I thought.

  'I'll have a word to him,' Hemi said.

  I wasn't sure I wanted that but it was too late now.

  'There's another thing, too,' he said.

  'Oh, yeah?' I knew what it was.

  'Small matter of a window, eh.'

  'We don't know who broke the window,' I said.

  'Brenda thinks she knows. She wants a charge laid. If she goes to her insurance company, they will definitely want a charge laid.' He looked at me, sipped his beer. 'On the other hand, if she goes to her insurance, she'll have to pay the excess.'

  'Tell her to send me the bill,' I said. 'Would that do it?'

  'Could do, bro. Let me talk to her.'

  ***

  PEOPLE ALWAYS TOOK sides when it came to the McUrrans and the Tacketts and this affected how they saw things. I found this out that week when I went to the pub.

  I hadn't been keen to go. Gith and I pretty much had a fight about it but in the end she made me see she wanted to be on her own to listen to her music. It was a quietish night in the back bar. Mark and Tom and Monty were drinking with Trevor Bittington. Mark spotted me first. />
  'Gidday,' he said. 'Clint Eastwood, is it?'

  Bittington took one look and turned away, moved over to the next table.

  'We were just talking about you,' Tom said.

  'And he's got a problem?' I asked, waving my hand after Trevor.

  'A few people have got a problem,' Monty said.

  'You?'

  Monty shrugged. 'Mates are mates, eh?'

  I turned to Bittington and tapped him on the shoulder.

  'If you've got something to say, say it to my face,' I said.

  He stared at me for a second. 'What you did to Bobby Tackett was bloody irresponsible,' he said.

  'What?'

  'Scaring him shitless like that.'

  'Yeah,' Mark said. 'He crapped his pants. Literally.'

  I ignored him, kept looking at Trevor. 'Do you know what Ray and that bastard Wyett did to Gith?'

  'They gave her a lift home.'

  'Who the hell told you that?

  'You got a different story?'

  'They tried to bloody rape her, is all.'

  'What?'

  'You heard me.'

  'Crap,' he said. 'And anyway, any girl who gets into a van with Wayne Wyett is asking for it.'

  'She didn't get into the fucking van!' I almost yelled it at him. 'They pulled her in.'

  'That's all I've got to say,' Trevor turned his back on me again.

  I lunged at him but Monty grabbed my arm.

  'Steady on, mate.'

  'Jesus!'

  'Calm down.'

  I looked at Trevor. His back was like a challenge and it made me even madder. 'Fucker always was on the Tacketts' side,' I said.

  'Bloody Wyett,' Mark added.

  Yes, well, I figured I wasn't done with Wyett either.

  'What do you know about him?' I asked.

  'No-hoper,' Monty said.

  'Nasty piece of work,' Tom added.

  'Nasty how?'

  'Drugs, they say. You know — those people down Ramp Street.'

  Drugs? What had Tackett said? Something about Wyett being wired?

  'If towns have arseholes, that's ours,' Mark said.

  'Who does he hang out with?' I asked. 'Other than Tackett.'

  Monty shrugged. 'Wouldn't have a clue.'

  'He's got mates in Katawai,' Tom said. 'Does a bit of hunting with them.'

  'Shit,' Mark said. 'I wouldn't trust that bugger with a gun. I wouldn't want to be anywhere near him.'

  'Does he own a black pig dog?' I asked Tom.

  'Who? Wyett? Wouldn't know, mate.'

  Simon Ingrest was moving through the bar. He stopped at our table, said hello to Mark and Tom and Monty. But not to me. I wouldn't normally have done anything but my temper was up after what Trevor had said.

  'Have you got a problem with me too?' I asked.

  Simon turned, looked at me. 'Ah, well. I'm afraid I've had a request to ban you.'

  'What?'

  'That's a bit on the nose,' Monty told him.

  'Who?' I asked.

  'I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say.'

  'Why?'

  'Because of your violent tendencies.'

  'Fucking Tacketts,' I said. 'You mean to say you'd serve Ray Tackett and not me?'

  'Now, now, now.' Simon switched his tone. 'I didn't say I was going to do anything. I just said I'd had a request.'

  'I would have thought,' Monty said, 'that it wasn't necessary to mention a request like that.'

  'Maybe not. Maybe not.' Simon turned back to me. 'I can understand why you reacted as you did. You'd be extra protective under the circumstances.'

  'Given the girl's — you know — disability,' Tom said.

  'Extra protective,' Simon nodded. 'But, of course, you have to realise that although people understand, it doesn't mean they approve. You know what I mean?'

  I knew what he meant.

  ***

  I DON'T BLAME Brenda for talking. She would've had to tell somebody, if only because she needed to work things through. I guess she talked to Susie Smeele. Susie wasn't a blabbermouth but she was pretty close with Faye Ingrest, and Faye would have told Simon, who was almost as bad as Dolly McKenzie, and that would have been that.

  When people turn against you, you see it in little ways. They don't stop to chat for as long as they used to. If they think they can get away with it, they avoid your eye and pretend they haven't seen you at all. In a place as small as Te Kohuna, where you know most of the people you meet, it becomes clear pretty quick. There was a difference, though, between the people around the township and the blokes in the pub. For the town it was all a moral thing, though I'm not sure if it was the fact that Gith was my niece or that she was handicapped that got them going. Maybe there was no real difference. Either way, they figured I was taking advantage, using somebody I was supposed to be looking after.

  I didn't know how much talk there was at first. It took a phone call from Joanne to bring it home.

  She got straight into it. 'What are these rumours?'

  'What rumours?' I could guess what rumours but I didn't fancy talking about them with my sister.

  'About you and Anna.'

  'What about us?'

  'Is it true?' Joanne was speaking for the family. Had Ma and the Old Man heard anything yet?

  'If you mean are Gith and me sleeping together, the answer's yes.'

  'That is so bad news, so absolutely rural in the worst possible sense. How could you?' She reminded me of Brenda all of a sudden.

  'We love each other,' I said.

  'Rubbish. You're in fantasyland. You're just taking advantage, abusing her.'

  'No, I'm not. Come round and talk to her. Ask her for yourself.'

  'I can't talk to her. Nobody can.'

  'Sure you can,' I said. 'If you know how.'

  'How could she possibly understand? She has nobody but you. Nothing to compare the situation with. She's seriously handicapped, for God's sake. How could you not be abusing her?'

  'You'd condemn her to a nun's life then?'

  'That's the oldest excuse in the book. If you didn't give her sex, she would never experience it. Half the child abusers in the country come up with something along those lines.'

  'She's not a child,' I said.

  'Mentally she is.'

  'No. No, she's not. She's smarter than half the people I know. She's a lot smarter than me.'

  'Oh, for God's sake!' She sighed. I could hear it. 'I knew it was no use talking to you.'

  'Well, don't then.'

  She hung up.

  Gith was sitting on the sofa, listening in. She looked at me, wanting to know.

  'That was Joanne,' I said. 'Word's going round about you and me.'

  She looked a bit puzzled.

  'Brenda must have talked about the other night.'

  She rolled her eyes like Brenda was a bore.

  'People don't like it,' I said. 'They think it's wrong.'

  'Tho?' She shrugged. Then she waved for me to come and sit beside her. She put her arms round my neck and gave me a big sexy kiss.

  'Listen,' I said, when she let go. 'About Brenda . . .'

  'Narg!' She put her hand over my mouth. 'Ken,' she said.

  'Gith. Good. Good. Brenda. Pth.'

  'I love you, sweetheart,' I told her.

  'Gith.'

  ***

  I KNEW WHAT Gith and I did was wrong. I'd thought it was wrong from the beginning. I'd thought it was against the law. But what could I do? I wasn't going to try and stop it. Gith didn't want to stop it, and I just couldn't see any way of making her stop that wouldn't have destroyed our life together. She was my life and I was hers. Making love was just what it says. Our relationship went to a whole new level. It felt like a miracle.

  I'd never been all that keen on sex. Young blokes in their teens and twenties are meant to care about nothing else, and a lot of the guys I knew were like that. They thought about it all the time. They talked about it all the time. Most of their lives were spent in tryin
g to get girls into a spot where they would give it out. I don't know if I was weird or thick but it wasn't like that for me. I liked girls. I liked the way they looked and the way they made me feel. I liked being with them and I was keen enough to play around. Not that I got much opportunity as a kid. Fat boys with glasses don't cut it. The few times I did get anywhere, it just didn't seem to work. It always felt like, at some point in what we were doing, the girl just seemed to go AWOL, leaving me there all by myself. I figured I was getting it wrong or missing the point somehow. Sex never seemed as satisfying as the sound of a well-tuned motor roaring into life.

  I felt pretty much the same with Michelle. Maybe neither of us had high hopes. For her, I think, marriage was a means to an end. For me it was more like something you were meant to do, a stage of life. When it came to the sex thing, it was always disappointing — for her and for me. With Gith all that changed. She made love the way she laughed. She gave it everything and I felt that life was happening right there in my arms. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't have held back even if I'd wanted to. It was like jumping off a cliff into a roaring torrent of feeling, and being swept away. We were so happy. We'd go about our work and I'd be whistling my head off and she'd be making the weird noises that she called singing, and every time we looked at each other we'd just grin, and I knew the grin on my face was as big and dumb as the grin on hers.

  Maybe, in a way, it wasn't good for us. It became more and more like the rest of the world didn't exist. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, in the middle of a job, we'd touch each other by accident, and something would happen, like a switch going on, and we'd leave the car and go to bed. We'd want each other so much we didn't even stop to take a shower, just stripped off and grabbed each other, leaving oil and grease on the bedclothes and on each other's skins. At the weekends we'd sometimes spend all day in bed, eating and drinking and making love, and stroking each other and talking in the way we always seemed to manage to talk somehow. I guess love is talking, or it was for her. Maybe it was the only time she ever felt she was completely understood. It wasn't too different for me. I felt I was the luckiest bloke alive. I felt I was alive for the first time. Until the day that Michelle walked in on us.