‘Did Rupeni ever try to come between you and Father?’ Uncle Hone asked. We needed to know, now.
Grandmother Ramona shook her head. ‘Never. Oh yes, we exchanged a few words every now and then. I thought he had lost his love for me. We were always so formal with each other. I have never touched him since that day your father stole me. But there were times when we would tremble when we were near. If we touched each other I would be afraid —’ She swayed. Recovered. ‘Deep down in our hearts Rupeni and I knew that we loved and wanted each other. But I would never have gone to him. I was Bulibasha’s. I was a mother with twelve children. I had respect for Bulibasha. He was the father of my children.’
‘So why go to Rupeni now, Mum?’ Aunt Miriam asked.
‘Because Bulibasha is dead,’ Grandmother said, ‘and I am alive and Rupeni is alive.’ She straightened. ‘I say again, I have done my duty to your father and to the Mahana family. Nobody can say that I have not been dutiful. But now I have another duty. To put right what your father put wrong forty-five years ago. To go to Rupeni as I would have done when I was sixteen.’
‘Have you talked to Rupeni?’ Uncle Matiu asked. ‘Has he agreed to have you?’
‘Yes. He wants me. I want him. It is as simple as that. But he too has said he will abide by your decision.’
‘We’ll be the laughing stock of Gisborne,’ Aunt Ruth muttered.
‘That’s all you can think about, isn’t it,’ Grandmother Ramona said. ‘The mana of the house of Mahana. You think Rupeni’s family wants this to happen too? Not a chance.’
‘You’ve never loved us, Mum,’ Aperahama said.
‘Oh my son, love for you is why I will not do this unless you agree to it. If you don’t, then let me die. But I beg of you, let me go to Rupeni. Besides, there’s one more thing that you should know —’
Grandmother reached into her dress pocket and took out a letter. ‘He sold me,’ she said. ‘Your father sold me to Rupeni Poata.’
There was a shocked silence.
‘This is the proof. It is my bill of sale. Here —’ She gestured to Uncle Matiu.
‘You see,’ Grandmother said, ‘your father wanted to win the Golden Fleece so badly that he went to Rupeni Poata and said that if Rupeni threw the playoff he would give me over to him. As it happened, Rupeni Poata didn’t accept, though he let your father think he did. Mahana Four won because it was the best.’
‘Of course it was,’ Uncle Hone snorted.
‘Rupeni gave this bill of sale back to your father after the competition. I found it in his drawer. I rang Rupeni to ask about it. Rupeni told me he said to your father, “You should have trusted that angel when it said it would look after you.” Your father never told me about this.’
‘But it doesn’t count,’ Aunt Sarah said.
‘No. But your father’s intent was very clear. He would have sold me if he had to. I am angry with him for even thinking of it. It was the last straw. I do not feel obliged to him any longer.’
‘Well, that was then,’ Uncle Maaka said. ‘This is now. There’s a big difference. I don’t think any of us need to take into account your story.’
He turned to the others. ‘Kua pai?’ he asked.
‘Kua pai,’ they agreed.
Glory was kneeling next to me. She jabbed me in the side and nodded:
Do something.
I frowned back at her. What could I do?
Then I remembered Grandfather’s words. ‘You make the decision,’ he had said. Nothing more.
I coughed and tried to speak. My father looked at me, curious. I coughed again.
‘I think we should vote,’ I squeaked.
All eyes in the room swivelled around to peer at me. ‘Hei aha?’
‘I said,’ I repeated, ‘that we should all take a vote.’
Aunt Sarah pursed her lips and looked at me askance. ‘Why is it,’ she said, ‘that every time you mention a vote, Himiona, I always feel like I’m about to be had! No vote.’
‘Don’t you believe in democracy?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but —’
‘The vote is the only democratic way.’
‘Listen to the boy,’ Aunt Ruth snorted. She rushed to take Aunt Sarah’s side. ‘This isn’t an election, Himiona. And who’s we? If anybody is having a say in this matter it’s the adults. Not kids.’
‘I still think,’ I said, ‘that there should be a vote. Perhaps only — our parents?’
Glory nodded vigorously.
‘Who do you specifically mean?’ Aunt Ruth asked, enunciating each word carefully. ‘And where do you get all this nonsense? School is making you whakahihi.’
Then Uncle Hone spoke up. ‘I think Simeon has a point. We don’t seem to be getting anywhere. Why don’t we try it? How about all Mother and Father’s children and our partners?’
Mum’s eyes widened. So did Uncle Jack’s and Uncle Albie’s. Let the in-laws in on a decision? Are we hearing right?
Astonishingly, ‘Sounds worth a try,’ Uncle Matiu said. ‘Agreed? Kua pai?’
There was a mumble which appeared to indicate agreement. The in-laws shuffled nervously.
‘I’ll give you a few seconds to think about it,’ Uncle Matiu said, ‘then I shall ask for a show of hands. How many of us? Twenty?’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Aunt Sarah exploded. But before she could elaborate, Uncle Matiu had called for the vote.
‘How many for Mother Ramona?’
Eleven hands.
‘How many against?’
Nine hands.
‘Mother wins.’
‘I knew it wouldn’t work,’ Aunt Sarah said. She turned to Uncle Jack, ‘Why did you vote against me?’ She looked at Uncle Matiu. ‘Jack’s just changed his vote. A draw.’
‘I’ll vote the way I want to,’ Uncle Jack said. ‘The vote stays as is.’
‘Well, I don’t like the vote,’ Aunt Ruth said and folded her arms. That’s that.
‘So we should lock Mother up for the rest of her life? Or let her die?’ Esther asked. ‘Is that your solution?’
Aunt Ruth turned on her. ‘We’ll force feed her if we have to.’ She turned on everybody. ‘How can you all take Mother’s side? We’re talking about the mana of the family here, and don’t any of you forget it. Our father is lying up there in his grave. He fought all his life against Rupeni Poata. Look what Rupeni did to our father’s leg. I loved my father. Did any of you? You are being persuaded by a silly old woman who is losing her marbles. I can’t let you do this.’
I raised my hand again, hoping to stop Aunt Ruth from turning the tide.
‘Perhaps there should be three votes,’ I said. ‘You know, have three shows of hands and the majority vote wins.’
Aunt Ruth looked like she could murder me.
‘Ka tika,’ Uncle Hone nodded. ‘The boy has some brains, after all. Maybe we should all go for our School Certificate.’
Everybody laughed.
‘Well,’ Uncle Matiu asked Aunt Ruth, ‘does that sound fair to you?’
Come on, Aunt Ruth, come to Simeon.
‘Oh, all right.’
Gotcha.
‘Round number two!’ Uncle Matiu said.
My heart was pounding. Glory was humming beside me. She looked totally unconcerned. What was the fuss all about?
‘How many for Mother this time?’ Uncle Matiu asked.
This time nine. Uncle Jack was still hanging out against Aunt Sarah.
‘How many against?’
This time eleven.
Grandmother Ramona looked across to me, her face wan. She knew Aunt Ruth’s impassioned defence of the Mahana mana had appealed to the family’s sense of honour. There was only one vote to go. What should I do? There had to be some way of giving Grandmother a fair chance. Surely there were some of the family who, under other less public circumstances, would vote for –