“Eventually.” She did not understand the drift of his question because she was trying to cope with his verdict. She had got what she wanted – someone to rebut her conclusions, but instead of being relieved she was about to explode. No wonder he fell out with Tane. How could someone be so conservative and cautious, so unthinking, unimaginative and insensitive all at once? She felt like blurting something out, but instead threw her papers together using more energy than was necessary.
Hearing the commotion he glanced back to her. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”
She was considering carefully how she should answer his question when her phone rang in the hallway. David jumped up and looked around as if he needed a place to hide. “Don’t tell them,” he said as she answered the call.
“Hallo, Eleanor,” she said. She listened intently. “I’ll make some enquiries and phone you back.” She hung up.
“Eleanor’s just had a call from Harry Mountjoy, the vicar at the church you went to the other day. She rang me because I told her about meeting you on One Tree Hill. I haven’t told her you’re here, but the vicar wants to see you urgently. He hasn’t heard about the accident. Doesn’t listen to the radio.”
“I don’t know that I need his kind of help,” he said. “Anyhow why does he want to see me?”
“I don’t know, but do you mind if I come?”
CHAPTER 27
The vicar looked at him with a horrified expression. “But you’re hurt?”
“Just a little accident with my car. It’s been on the radio.”
“I’m afraid we don’t listen to the radio very often. Surely you should go to the casualty department?” David shook his head vigorously. “You don’t think so? Miss Fairweather, I’m sorry. I was forgetting you. Do please come in.” He ushered them into the lounge. “My wife has left us some tea. Please sit down, Miss Fairweather. I think that’s a comfortable seat. Lavinia baked these scones this morning. Would you like me to pour?”
“I love home-made scones.” Kate smiled.
“If you don’t mind, would you please not tell anyone you’ve seen me,” said David.
“Dear boy, are you in trouble?”
“My car went over a cliff yesterday morning. The police are looking for my body.”
He went to the window and stood behind the curtain looking out. The sunlit lawn flowed out towards a large copper beech. Below the beech was a deckchair and a figure hidden under a large sun hat. At the side of the chair was a basket with some gardening tools. Obviously the scone-maker.
He came back into the room conscious of the impression he was making. “And the police are not the only people who are after me.” He proceeded to give an account of his visit to Pataratara and his suspicions of what was happening there.
“.…so it’s better for me to stay dead,” he ended.
“A remarkable story,” said the vicar but he seemed not to be listening.
“The next thing to consider is what sort of future action I take. I have several different options.” He remained standing, pointing the finger of one hand to the palm of the other as if he were lecturing at the university. “As I see it, these are: firstly…”
He heard Kate clear her throat and saw her motioning towards the vicar. Harry Mountjoy was looking out through the French doors with an abstracted expression on his face.
“Don’t you think he asked you to come because he has something to say to you?”
Slowly Harry Mountjoy turned towards him. But the expected flow of words did not come. Instead he said hesitantly, “I don’t suppose you have a photo of Tane?”
Before setting out to Waitehaia he had dug out an old photo of Tane taken on a geology department trip. Mystified, he pulled the picture from his wallet.
The vicar looked at it for a long time and seemed to be immersed in thought.
“Why did you want it?”
Harry Mountjoy did not reply, but looked again out the window where the figure in the sun hat was now kneeling by a garden border. “You must have been concerned about Tane’s state of mind. You would have wondered what might have happened to him. Am I right in saying also that you even felt some responsibility yourself?”
“Of course I did.”
The vicar took off his glasses, polished them, put them back on, looked out the window again, then he leaned closer to David and put his hand on his arm. “You will be pleased to hear he is safe.”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know?” The vicar gave a half smile, hesitated again, glanced up to the ceiling, out the window, at the floor, then he looked at David almost appealingly. “Because I’ve seen him.”
“You – have – seen – Tane?” he said numbly. “There must be some mistake.”
“There is confidentiality involved so would you be good enough not to disclose this to anyone else?” the vicar continued anxiously, and appreciated Kate’s nod. “It was quite by accident during my visiting…. He did not see me. There were characteristics I recognised from your description, David, when you came here last. Still, I was not positive of his identity, so I went to the University Geology Department the next day. They showed me a photo which was similar to the one you have given me. I noticed some changes, but it was the same man.”
“You realise this is a little hard for us to believe, Vicar,” said Kate. “Where did you see him?”
“As I mentioned, my pastoral work is confidential.”
“Really? How is Tane?”
“He is well – physically.”
“Does this mean that he is in a psychiatric institution?”
“He is in good hands.”
“In whose hands?”
“I’m sorry; I cannot answer that question.”
“Confidentiality again?”
He nodded.
David burst out, “But I’m his colleague, his best friend!” As soon as he said it, he knew it was a lie.
“Unfortunately, sometimes even families cannot get this information.”
“Vicar, I understand about confidentiality,” Kate said, “but may we know the name of his psychiatrist so that David at least can make enquiries? He could of course refuse to give information, but you would be passing on the responsibility to him, and David would not disclose his source.”
“I can tell you that I know him very well as a parishioner and had already thought of consulting him about Tane before this discovery. In fact, David, you met him last Sunday.”
“The tall chap who collected the books, the one we met here in the vicarage afterwards – in the hallway. The talkback shrink?”
“Randall Richardson is my vicar’s warden and a personal friend.”
“Why didn’t he say anything about Tane then?”
The vicar sighed. “I don’t think you appreciate the situation, David. He is obliged to respect patient confidentiality.”
“Have you any suggestion, Vicar?” said Kate brightly.
“I have suggested that I was happy to work with him in the case of this patient using a team ministry model.”
“Did he agree?” asked Kate.
He shook his head.
“That’s a shame, isn’t it?”
“He has no professional obligation to accept my offer.”
Though she appeared to keep her cool, Kate was furious. Patient confidentiality, team ministry, professional obligations – it’s all bureaucratic gobbledegook!
Just like the Alpine Sports Club meeting about the huia when all the people were so excited about a bird discovery that they forgot the people who were lost. Something didn’t ring true.
A mischievous impulse seized her .
“Vicar, we greatly appreciate your offer to work with Dr Richardson,” she said. “I’m sure Tane is in good hands with him. As a matter of fact, he happens to be a great favourite of mine, and I often listen to him on the Radio Waitemata talkback late at night. He talks about stress and the way you can handle it. In fact I was thinking of ringing in myself once and asking him his advice on one particular question, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.”