The Man From Ti Kouka

by Rosalie Henaghan

  ‘Goodness, I hadn’t realised,’ Trudi frowned. She should have made a note in her diary earlier in the year to mark her sister’s anniversary. After all, she had been her sister’s bridesmaid on that occasion.

  ‘It’s slipped my mind. Would you like a new suit or dress or something else?’

  ‘I’d love a new outfit, Trudi. Since I’ve stopped earning I’ve had to be very economy-minded. We want to save for a house of our own.’

  ‘I|; was a pity John had to take up the transfer to Ashburton so soon after your marriage,’ commented Trudi. ‘You really loved working, and your boss was so disappointed.’

  Too late she saw the trap, but for once Maria didn’t seem to notice, but spoke thoughtfully. ‘I do miss it. When I was working I found the reality is decidedly unglamorous. The research side is far more interesting and I was really enjoying that. Since I’ve-been at home I’ve been able to follow my own inclinations and I’ve learnt a lot. On the other hand there’s nothing like the stimulation of having a specific case, and doing a job well. But when I see John’s face light up on just seeing me, I’m getting paid, Trudi, far more than ever before.’ Maria replaced her cup carefully and looked at her sister. ‘It’s true, although I know to you it might sound crazy. Of course, I’d like to go back to work, but in the meantime John’s happy and so am I. John’s transfer won’t take for ever.’

  Trudi nodded, admitting defeat. ‘What colour does John like you in?’

  ‘Trudi, you are a darling! Blue, particularly pale blue.’ Maria’s pleasure was so sincere that Trudi realised her hostility to the loss of her career had really worried her sister.

  ‘One blue outfit coming up!’ she smiled. ‘C’mon, let’s get to that big blue bath!’

  It wasn’t long before they were in their swimsuits and racing in long-legged strides towards the waves. They had to keep jumping the pieces of wood in their path and when they reached the beach, they darted in and out of the waves, as they went towards the sheltered curve of the bay. Halfway along they reached a large rock formation and stared at it in surprise.

  ‘It looks like a giant carving of a Maori chief, a Rangitira—look, even the whorls of the tattoo are grooved on his face.’

  The Rangitira appeared to ignore them, staring arrogantly out to sea. Trudi gazed at him and for an odd moment the chiefs face seemed to dissolve and take on the aspect of the stranger who had appeared so disturbingly at the creek. The sun’s rays struck at the same time, casting a golden glow about the rocks. She blinked and shook her head, telling herself to stop being fanciful. Maria had run on ahead and Trudi raced to catch her sister.

  The beach took a sudden curve before curling to the feet of the steep white cliffs of limestone which blocked any further progress. The small bay was occupied by some of their fellow campers and they waved to them before swimming. The water was cool and relaxing.

  Maria left the water first and lay spread on the golden sand while Trudi played raindrops with the waves until the memory of the pool and the man on the horse returned. Hastily she swam back to the beach and joined Maria. She felt herself under scrutiny and glanced up. High on the top of the cliffs above them stood a tall figure, a horse beside him, and instinctively she draped her towel around her.

  ‘He must have wings!’ she muttered, suddenly certain of the figure’s identity.

  ‘Need them with limestone,’ put in Maria, her own gaze following Trudi’s. ‘You couldn’t climb those cliffs. Look, further along towards the camp, the trees have a small gap in the bush, I bet there’s a track through there.’

  Studying it, Trudi nodded. There was a logical explanation, she reminded herself, for his apparent omnipresence. The high point would give a commanding view of Ti-Kouka’s fields as well as their bathing spot. She knew a definite irritation that such a man should be observing them.

  ‘Come on, let’s go back to the tent.’

  As they made their way into the camp they saw a small stile which led into a path heading towards the bush, and Maria suggested they explore the hill in the morning.

  ‘In the meantime, I seem to have developed a tremendous appetite. It must be the clean, fresh air,’ Trudi chuckled.

  ‘We should take some more driftwood as we go.’

  They made their way back to the tent and built a roaring fire, and amid much laughter they soon discovered it was not the way to cook. After the flames had lowered they cooked quite satisfactorily, the chops sizzling and the potatoes soon bubbling.

  Aware that the evening was at last getting cooler, they changed and found that experience almost impossible in the confines of the tent. Amidst great hilarity they suddenly smelt the odour of burnt chops and the frizzled remains convinced them there was a lot to be said for electricity and controlled heat. The salad was easily fixed and the tomatoes and com still made a nourishing meal. Trudi had to admit that the chops would have been delicious. Maria’s comment that they were super burnt made them both chuckle.

  Afterwards they lay back talking desultorily about mutual friends and new plans. Casting her eye around, Maria found a plank sitting by the fence and she propped it on two big stones. It too contributed to the merriment as she introduced the ‘latest in lounge furniture’.

  Other camp fires were being lit and the occupants of the tents and caravans were homing to the camping ground. The fire was almost dying down when both of them wondered about washing the dishes.

  ‘I’ll go. The tap’s close to the other caravan, I might say hello to the folks there.’ Maria spoke eagerly.

  Trudi watched Maria dart off. The solitude which had such an appeal for her held no such joy for Maria. She moved to the car and pulled out her light jacket, one of their latest range. In the pocket was her usual notepad and pencil and she began sketching a dress for Maria. It was a simple style with an accent on draping over the shoulder, layer upon layer like the waves of the sea, swishing out into fullness at the waist. They had the perfect fabric for it in stock. She put the sketch away as Maria approached and threw a log on the fire.

  ‘Thought you were letting the fire go out!’

  ‘I nearly did,’ apologised Trudi.

  ‘Such a nice family in the caravan by the water tap,’ Maria reported. ‘The man used to work on Ti Kouka and he brings his family every holidays. They say the fishing is superb.’

  ‘Do you know, the water’s boiling already,’ put in Trudi with surprise. Despite the growing darkness the hiss of the bubbles could not be mistaken. ‘Where did I put the detergent?’

  ‘I just tripped on it! I have the feeling we should set aside one area for preparation!’ laughed Maria. ‘Look at the stars starting to shine, the air is so clear. I know I’m going to sleep like a log!’

  ‘At least it’s still warm, and the sleeping bags shouldn’t be too hard on the base. It’s certainly different from home. No bench to wipe down here,’ Trudi chuckled, as she finished.

  ‘The sea is very soothing, don’t you think? Singing its own special lullaby. I wish my John was here with us. He’d really enjoy it.’

  ‘Like the hunk.’ Trudi spoke spontaneously, thinking of the stance of the figure on the cliff. She could have bitten her tongue at her sister’s look.

  ‘There’s hope for you yet,’ teased Maria. ‘I thought you didn’t approve!’

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ announced Trudi, glad that her expression was hidden by the darkness of the night. Both girls took some time to settle.

  ‘This reminds me of our last holiday with Dad,’ put in Maria sleepily. ‘I can still see him picking up a shell and making up stories about the pearl that lost its way.’

  ‘That was a lovely tale,’ Trudi said quietly. ‘We were lucky. He was so good with stories. He was wonderful, the way he could spellbind.’

  ‘Part of being a topline barrister,’ said Maria. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be in the same class.’

  ‘He always said you’d make a good lawyer.’ Trudi didn’t add that her father had always said that
she had the makings of a barrister too. That dream had come to grief when she was seventeen. Their father had died when she was twelve and his loss had darkened her life.

  Maria stirred, settling into the sleeping bag like a curled-up cat. Trudi lay back, then shot up when the tent fly gave a sudden crack. Realising it was only the effect of the wind, she lay down again, but sleep seemed far away. Again the fly cracked and she began to worry that the ignominy of having the tent collapse might be real. She had a momentary vision of the hunk standing by as she extricated herself from the heap. She could just imagine the laughter on those mocking lips. Another loud snap made her decide to check the ropes.

  Easing herself out, an inch at a time, she sneaked carefully round the pegs, glad of the moonlight. Relieved that all the threads were taut, she stood up and glanced at the camp. In one of the caravans a light burnt and she wished she had a similar aid, so she could read. A good book would drive out the tormenting thoughts of the man who had so deeply disturbed her. She went to the car and took out her jacket. She pulled her sneakers on and set off, stepping lightly over the grass and then on to the sand. Without thinking she made for the Rangitira and paused to admire it, as it stood looking more lordly than ever.

  ‘Young maidens should beware or they might succumb to the man of the sea.’

  The deep voice made her gasp and she spun round to see the vague shape of a man seated against the log. A fishing line explained his presence.

  ‘Trudi, isn’t it?’

  ‘How did you know?’ Surprise overcame her natural courtesy.

  ‘The man of the sea told me, of course. A beautiful woman will walk the sands at midnight.’ He chuckled as he declaimed, then added conversationally, ‘He had the time wrong, of course, but only by a couple of hours.’

  Trudi wished she could see a little more clearly. The voice sounded teasingly familiar. The man swung the rod and the easy grace as he moved silhouetted him blackly against the sands. Before she could see his face he moved again and with a quicksilver movement tossed his coat on to the log and gestured to her to sit.

  ‘Sir Walter Raleigh?’ she questioned lightly.

  ‘I’m my own man.’

  It was strangely companionable sitting staring out at the vast seas. The line moved slightly but the hands merely settled it.

  ‘Have you caught anything?’ she asked.

  ‘More than you dream,’ he answered cryptically.

  Again the laughter in the voice was oddly disarming, but she moved farther back, aware that the light fell on her face, yet shadowed his.

  ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’

  The voice was gentle and she responded immediately, guessing he was Maria’s fisherman.

  ‘No! Maria fell asleep straight away, but I started thinking the tent might collapse,’ She chuckled a little wryly. ‘I hadn’t realised that tents are so noisy. Ours goes snap more often than a popgun, and the sea saying its litany didn’t help.’

  This time the laughter was open and the richness of the voice warmed. ‘I’m sorry it’s not as you expected.’

  ‘Don’t misunderstand me. It’s my inexperience, not Bell Bay’s fault. It’s beautiful. Look how the moonlight turns the wave crests to silver. It even makes the foam on the sand look like silver tatting on a collar.’ Trudi stopped herself, realising how odd her words sounded. ‘Sorry, I don’t often go into rhapsodies!’

  ‘Don’t apologise, you’re right—it is beautiful.’ He moved closer and turned to take her hand in an oddly intimate gesture. At that moment the fishing line began to sing and he moved forward to adjust it. The moonlight fell on him revealing the powerful physique and the angles of his face.

  ‘You!’

  The word broke from Trudi with the shock. She felt herself become rigid, knowing that he was smiling faintly at her surprise. Clearly he had the upper hand, and she writhed inwardly at letting the hunk see her feelings.

  The softness of her gown slipped into her fingers and she wondered what arrogant thoughts he had when she had approached him in her nightwear. She pulled her jacket closer, her thoughts tumbling in a kaleidoscope.

  ‘Oh, come now, don’t pretend.’ He spoke smoothly, winding the line up.

  ‘Why, you presumptuous...’ Words temporarily failed her in her rage. ‘Just who do you think you are?’

  ‘Dan Johnson.’ He spoke softly yet there was a dangerous silence that followed as though the mere mention of his name would quieten her.

  ‘So what!’ Trudi flared. ‘You know I didn’t mean that. As though I’d look at you!’

  ‘A cat may look at a king,’ Dan Johnson quoted.

  ‘Well, I’m not a cat and I’m not looking,’ Trudi snapped. ‘I’m not interested in men. I’m a career girl. Thank goodness it’s not necessary for a woman to have a husband to be fulfilled today.’

  ‘In your case that attitude is probably right. Why inflict such a proud, stubborn nature on a poor, lonely male?’

  ‘Hmph!’ Trudi snorted inelegantly.

  ‘Now how am I to interpret that? The lady agrees, so she’s wiser than I thought; occasionally speechless, so she’s learnt the value of silence! Remarkable.’

  He leaned closer and Trudi felt her temper explode again.

  ‘Typical, arrogant male; making snap judgments without basing your decision on anything more substantial than a minute’s conversation!’

  His full-throated roar of laughter would have scared any fish within sound. Realising the trap she had dug for herself, Trudi joined in the laughter.

  ‘At least you’ve got a sense of humour. Tell me why you decided to be a career woman.’

  Trudi stared out over the moonlit sea. The question made her examine herself. Why had she decided to be a career woman? she asked herself silently. For a second she had a momentary vision of the meeting at the pool. Was it so that she could be safe from the temptation offered by the gleaming eyes of a man such as Dan Johnson?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Trudi became aware of the man waiting quietly beside her. His stillness seemed a part of the night.

  ‘I don’t think I ever consciously made the decision, it just happened,’ she was forced to concede. ‘I’d wanted to be a barrister, but by the time I reached university level it wasn’t possible, so I joined Maugh’s Fashions as a machinist.’

  She looked out to sea, feeling the agony that decision had caused her.

  ‘And your sister?’

  ‘Maria’s a barrister.’ She did not even try to keep the pride from her voice.

  ‘You gave your sister your dream.’

  His perception startled her. She had to be honest. ‘Not entirely. Maria had always wanted to become one. She had the brains, even won a scholarship. There was no stopping her.’ She added dryly, ‘Until John came on the scene and they married.’

  ‘And is she happy?’

  ‘Blissfully.’ She had to admit it.

  ‘And you? Still singing “The Song of the Shirt”?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. I’m Production Manager at the factory. We make clothes for women who appreciate “something a little different”.’

  ‘Like the Emperor?’ His eyes glimmered in the light. ‘Production Manager sounds important. I imagine you didn’t walk into that job?’

  ‘Hardly! I went to night school and did business administration and tried to do some accountancy units.

  I was doing extra shifts and one day I fell asleep, and for me it was the luckiest snooze ever. The boss was very kind. He said I could start working in the different sections to learn from the inside. I guess you could say I was a Jack of all trades,’ Trudi chuckled.

  ‘Jills at the very least. One surprising point. Are all the men in this factory blind? You’re quite startlingly lovely.’

  Trudi looked at the man, wishing the shape of the nearby rocks didn’t shadow him. His compliment had been merely a statement of fact. Stewart had said the same thing, she remembered. Stewart had been in charge of advertising and sales. He was char
ming, urbane, and handsome. Nearly all the girls had been green with envy when she had been sent into Stewart’s section to learn the basics of his craft. Stewart had taken one crushing look at her dyed school blouses and clean but far from new jeans and told her to wear something presentable. Sales staff, he informed her crisply, were expected to look as if they believed in their product. As he told her to go back to machining till she could appear in more suitable attire, she had been crushed, and studying the carefully worked out family budget again, she could not see how she could comply.

  The same night her mother had announced her intention of marrying again. Both Trudi and Maria had been surprised. They knew their mother had been spending a lot of time during the day helping a friend with his children, as his wife had died. Engrossed in work and study, neither had been aware of the loneliness of their mother. After the announcement events had moved with speed. Almost overnight the house had been sold. Their new family lived in Rangiora and they had quickly decided that the most sensible solution was for the two girls to move into a flat. For the first time Trudi found herself with money in her pocket.

  It had been a real thrill to chat with Rita, the friendly forewoman, about making several new outfits. Using the staff cost scheme, she had been more than happy with the change in her appearance.

  Stewart had approved, and Trudi found herself in a world she had only read about. She was taken to expensive restaurants, and wined and dined clients under Stewart’s guidance. It had been natural that she should have fallen in love with him. When he was out of town she missed him deeply. She waited desperately for him to mention marriage, but gradually she realised that their relationship was doomed. Despite Stewart’s seeming openness there was a reserve on some aspects which didn’t tally with her own knowledge. As she got to know the routine of his department she knew that Stewart was lying at times.