Dammit. I don't want to go out. I don't feel like it at all. On the other hand, for a friend he don't ask much… he's given
more than he's got, even taking childminding — if I can in all conscience call my casual overseeing 'minding' — into account.
She puts on her denim jacket, scraping a fishscale off one sleeve, then asks the radiophone operator to get her a taxi. It's the talkative one. Old Eyes-and-Ears. Not to mention tongue. "Hear you and Simon Gillayley have hit it off?" "He's a much maligned child." "And Joe too, they say." "They say what?" "O, just that you've been to his place, and he's been to your place."
He adds hastily,
"They say it nicely."
"They couldn't say otherwise, considering."
"Your taxi's on its way. Uh, considering what?"
"Innocence, built-in chaperone, and the laws of slander," says Kerewin curtly.
The operator choked.
"Of course," he says in a neutral tone. "Of, course."
"Would you put in a call to Wherahiko Tainui please?"
"Well, they're still over the hill at the moment-"
"No they're not. Simon's round there now."
Silence.
"He might be with Piri Tainui, would you mean Piri Tainui?"
He's speaking very cautiously. "I'm sure the old people aren't back
yet."
She frowns at the mike, "You're positive?"
"I've had a telegram to ring through to them as soon as they got back. I've been trying their number every quarter of an hour."
"That's very odd. Would you try Piri then, please?"
The operator breathes heavily.
"I'd like to, but I saw him down at the New Railway just before I came on shift, and I don't think anyone could raise him at the moment."
"But you said-"
"I meant the boy could be at his house. And that hasn't got the phone on. It's the sleepout on Tainuis' farm. Lynn and co used to live there with Piri, and Simon used to go there a lot. Before."
She ignores the invitation to gossip.
"Well, that is berloody odd. I wonder where he's got to then?"
"Uh o," says the operator. "We've been expecting this. You like me to ring Sergeant Trover?"
"No. I'll check with Joe first. Thanks all the same." You incredible busybody you. „
"That's all right," says the operator happily. "Have a nice time.
Click. The taxi driver was taciturn. He said Good evening. Yes to her directions, and nothing thereafter.
She walked up the driveway of the Tainui farm, shivering.
Another frost….
Two dogs in a wire run began to yelp and snarl as she came near the house. There weren't any lights on. She could see the dark bulk of the sleepout: no lights there either. She knocked on the door of the house. No answer. Walked to the sleepout and yelled,
"E Himi! You there?"
The dogs barked louder.
Nothing else stirred.
"Ahh to hell," and walked back to the taxi.
"Pacific Street now."
The taxi driver grunted.
It was darker and colder by the time they arrived at Pacific Street.
There was milk in the box at the front gate. She collected it, checked the letterbox for mail, and tramped up to the front door.
It stood slightly ajar,
"Simon?"
She stands in the hallway, listening.
No sound.
She walks into the kitchen and switches the light on. There's a plate on the bench by the sink, and another in pieces on the floor.
"You just throw whatever's handy when you get wild?"
"Uh huh. From your tea to a certain half gallon of beer on
a Saturday morning."
Breakfast too, by the look of things… she puts the milk in the fridge, and then examines the floor. The plate had been partly filled with porridge: there were splatters of the stuff all over the place. She picks up the broken pieces of plate and puts them on the bench, and cleans up the rest of the mess. She notices that while Joe has left it, he has rinsed his own plate.
The budgie hasn't been covered, the milk hasn't been taken in… looks like nobody has been here since this morning… so much for hunches, thinks Kerewin. Anyway, if Joe is happy about him roaming all round the show, why should I worry?
As she walks out to the gate, the smell of the sea comes strongly.
Of course, she thinks, it's only a couple of hundred yards to the wharves.
The smell of the sea was the smell of blood. He didn't know why the two should smell the same, because they were very different, but they seemed to be inextricably mingled.
Where one was, there was the other.
From where he knelt, it was easy to watch the Tower door.
Kerewin had left. Joe hadn't arrived.
He unwrapped the sack from round himself, and stood unsteadily, shivering.
It's all quiet.
Stupid Clare, he says inside himself, as he limps towards the Tower.
He has called himself that, Clare, Claro, ever since he can remember. He doesn't know if that's his name, and he's never told it to anyone. He has a feeling if he does, he'll die.
Stupid Clare, again and again, with each halt step.
If he hadn't thrown the plate, he wouldn't have got the kicks.
On the other hand, if he hadn't thrown the plate, it might have got worse.
As it is, his face is hot and numb at the same time, and he is lightheaded.
I hope it is warm. O Clare, I hope it is warm.
Joe stands beaming at the door.
"Tena koe!" he cries. "Haere mai, nau mai, haere mai!"
Two or three of the regulars look up from their beer.
Shillin' Price says, "Gidday Kerewin." The barman nods to her.
Joe yells,
"Meet Pi! Missus! And Polly!"
There's a group of people in this corner. Shrouded in smoke, the brown faces stare at her with bright unfriendly eyes.
"Tena koutou, tena koutou," she says, "tena koutou katoa." As always, she wants to whip out a certified copy of her whakapapa, preferably with illustrative photographs (most of her brothers, uncles, aunts and cousins on her mother's side, are much more Maori looking than she is). "Look! I am really one of you," she could say. "Well, at least some of me is-"
"Tena koutou katoa," she says again, lamely.
The old lady Joe had called Missus looks at her keenly, grunts, then says "Hell hell hell."
Polly Ackers spares a glance from her cardplaying to grin at Kerewin, glower at Joe.
"Your turn, fuckwit," she says to Pi.
Pi Kopunui (Joe enlarges, "Pi, he's a cousin on my mother's side eh." High pitched giggling. "Most of them are Tainuis of one kind or another") picks up a card, lays a card down.
"Game," he says briefly to Polly Ackers, then turns to Kerewin.
He comes across and hongis. He is warm and big and smells strongly of beer. "Tena koe, kei te pehea koe?" he says, hugging her. "Joe's said a lot about you these past weeks."
He whispers, "He's got a skinful."
A skinful?
O, he's drunk….
Very
He's very glad she came, Joe tells her and the whole pub, six or
seven times.
Kerewin begins to think of many reasons why she should suddenly go back home.
But after another jug, the man quietens, pales, excuses himself. He comes back looking rather more sober.
The old lady grins.
"He puku mate, nei?" Hell hell hell.
She has a husky kind of chuckle, like a mummified laugh.
Joe grins back at her, weakly. "Ae."
a moment later he says, "Kerewin? Like to come have a meal now?" His voice lowers,
"Sorry about all that."
"That's okay." To hell, everyone gets drunk once in a while.
"I was uh worried that you might not want to come out with me."