I CANT WRITE IT ASK PIRI
"Yeah, I'll do that… anyway, the other doctors and nurses think they're doin you a big favour sending you away. They haven't asked you about it, but they know they know best. So off you go to a Hohepa home," watching the child frown. "I found out that means Joseph… ironic, isn't it? Won't let you go to Joseph, but they'll send you… ahh, never mind," squeezing the thin shoulder gently. "You goin away tomorrow, you know that?"
He adds hastily,
"Hey, it'll be good, I hear they're good places, and everyone'll be sweet to you there… and if things work out the way I want them to, and you want them to, it'll be a holiday. You think of it as a holiday,"
damn, I've unleashed tears too early, he won't listen now,
"hey child, it won't be forever, I promise, I promise it, honey," rash bugger Sinclair, now how you gonna make that stick?
"Look," urgently, "I been talking to a lot of people, your teachers, the old lady Marama Tainui when she was here,"
ahh, goody, consternation.
A finger swivels in the air making a — was that a question mark? Gulps and sighs when I don't respond, and he takes up the pad — hell, he don't like writing things.
"I'm dumb, Simon, I'm thick, you be patient with me. You tell me your own, thanks," as the pad's shoved across nearly into him.
MARAMA SICK HERE?
"Hoowee, I let that out, and I shouldn't have done,"
liar man, you hoped he might get interested in something other than his own trouble. The Tainuis said he was compassionate; rather, that Piri said he was a sucker for anyone else's woes.
Glancing down quickly,
but I'd better not keep you quiverin there too long.
"She was here, she's better now, but she was very sick. Sick as you were," brushing his hand lightly over the boy's ragged gold hair. "You know what a stroke is?"
Very puzzled look. Holy ghost, it's easy to talk with him… where'd Lachlan get this shit about him being a difficult kid to talk to all the time?
"Let's say it means a part of her broke inside. It happens sometimes to old people… she's really all right now, you needn't worry for her. She was here for two months though, and when I found you were related, I went and talked some. She loves you, right?"
He gets the real McCoy this time, a full-fledged Simon smile. He grins back. Maan, just as well they're still your milk teeth-. "You know what, chicken? You got a lovely smile, you want to indulge yourself more often," but it fades quickly.
Well, I suppose he ain't got much to be happy about right now.
Well, this Marama," becoming businesslike, "she had a lot to?ay about you and Joe. She knew you got hidings, but she said, "I thought he just got a smack. Like all kids get a smack eh? Otherwise he would have showed it, nei?' You don't give too much away, you know that?"
The look he gets back is deadpan.
She was very upset when she learned how you were hurt, but more upset that they've separated you. She kept saying, 'But Joe loves his boy, this was just an accident.' It don't look that way
to other people though. Not to the police or the doctors… but they only get to hear the bad parts. I've been hearing all about the good parts. There were a lot of good parts, right?"
The fingers fan out and close and spread again and again and again.
Sinclair giggles.
"I get the message… millions. Simon, shift over would you, honey? This old chair's hard as a navvy's arse and it's cutting right through me. Thanks. That's another thing, can I borrow one of your cigars while I smoke it?" giving him the clown face he knows turns kids on, rolling eyes and loose lip smile and eyebrows wagging Hey? hey?
The boy laughs and pats him on the shoulder. He kneels up and passes him a cigar from the discard pile.
"Ahh, that's good… settle down by me now," peeling the cigar and lighting it. He puffs it awhile in silence, then gives it to Simon saying, "Your head teacher told me you've got this bad habit of smoking, but as your personal physician I say you can smoke this once and it won't stunt your growth or nothing."
He curls his long limbs up on the bed, arm out for the child to pillow his head on.
Right on, Sinclair man, you doin this your way and it's working, but you can guarantee those stiff-face cheeses won't understand one bit of it if they come in at the wrong time. They'll foul it up and how they can foul it up. A bit of time — give me that and I'll have him started the right way.
Between sharing the cigar, he tells the boy who he has talked to, and what they said, and how he built up a picture of the situation gradually. "I don't do nothing in a hurry, child," chuckling, "nor something either." It's a much different picture to the one the Social Welfare and other medical people hold.
"I think you'll do better all ways back home with your own folk. There'll be enough of them looking out for you now everything's come bang into the open. I don't think nobody'll let it happen again. And to make that sure, I aim to find out whether this Kerewin'll take responsibility for you, while Joe gets access."
The two solicitors had been dubious about that. "Possible," they'd said, "but very unlikely unless the bloke has had a complete change of heart and lifestyle."
Sinclair smiles to the boy,
"From what I hear, the access part shouldn't be a problem far as you and Kerewin are concerned, right?"
Agreement.
The child is relaxed and interested. Even when he starts coughing on the smoke, he attempts to keep his eyes on Sinclair's face.
"Easy now, I'd better finish that off… well, you got all that part? Right, here's where I need your help. It'll have to be surreptitious,
sneaky you know? You won't have to let any of them know Sinclair put you up to this, you keep a still tongue in your head?" broad smile taking the edge off that.
Course, mouths Simon, and the man blinks.
"What you say?" tipping the boy's face gently round towards him. "You say course?"
"Wow," says Sinclair, "you put a mite more air behind that word, any word, and one of these days you gonna surprise yourself and talk right out loud," though he's swallowing now like he's going to be sick at any moment. Cigar? "Speaking of air, boy, you think some fresh stuff be a good idea?"
The NO is so emphatic it surprises him.
K SMOKES THIS.
"And you've missed the smell, huh?" Sinclair shakes his head. "I'm looking forward to meeting this lady. How'd you call her? Unique? Speaking of meeting her," taking a cagy sideways look through the blue screen of smoke, "you know where she is?"
Obviously no. And he's fighting tears again, while he writes TOWER? MORANGI? and losing by the time he's finished.
"Ah c'mon Simon honey, don't break your heart… Morangi? Nobody's suggested there. Where is it, north or south? I'll try and find her, I really will because I been looking allover already, truly now," watching tears trickle down into the gutter of the child's smile.
"Fuck me, why can't they see you're missing your home so much?"
Calm down man, everything works for the best… made an impression on Greeneyes here though. That smile is rueful and knowing and about two hundred years old. Who's the child?
He leans over and kisses the boy quickly and tenderly, and then sits up.
"Look Simon P Gillayley, I'll work on things from my end, but you'll have to be doin something too."
You'll get hung, man, this ever comes out… inciting rebellion and riot in minors, shithot!
"It's like this. If you settle down and get happy in this place they're sending you tomorrow, that's fine, it makes everyone happy, they were right, you see?"