The Man From Ti Kouka

by Rosalie Henaghan

  The quiet of the evening camp was broken only by the distant call of a couple of children, and she could see an older couple cooking a meal over a barbecue by their tent.

  It seemed strange without Maria and she decided to go for a walk along by the sea. She slipped into her sandals as the sand could still bum at that hour and went to see the Rangitira, but even he was ‘not at home’. The shore held lots of other enchantments, and Trudi walked along, picking up more of the tiny smooth white almost flat pebbles and pocketing them. She saw a piece of driftwood and admired its tuatara-like shape. With very little whittling of the mouth and the knots forming the bulbous eyes it would look very dragonlike. She decided to try carving it later.

  Two people were fishing on the rocks by the cliffs and they told her it would be possible at low tide to get right round. She determined to do that the very next day, then smiled, as she didn’t even have an idea of when the tides changed. These expert fishermen could no doubt tell her exactly.

  The jeep was at the campsite and she watched casually as Dan Johnson lifted a drum of rubbish into the back. She grinned, hoping he was finding it a hateful job, then wondered at her own maliciousness. The man was occupying far too much of her thoughts. She went into the tent and lay down lazily on the foam pad. It was stupid to think about such a man, she told herself.

  She grabbed one of the books, then discovered that although it might be light enough for wandering around, it certainly wasn’t light enough to read. She put the book back in the car, having already discovered how damp things could get in even a dry tent. She pulled out her sleep attire and a dressing gown and put them into the tent.

  Gratefully Trudi remembered the driftwood. Carving its prehistoric shape would keep her mind occupied. Somewhere in her cutlery she had a small sharp knife, and she rattled around in the container, discovering it by nearly cutting herself. Perched in the middle of the plank seat, she sang quietly to herself as she studied the wood. Her first cut was more a scrape and she was surprised at the hardness of the wood. She dug in harder and achieved a more satisfactory result.

  Unaware of the passage of time, she was engrossed in the work and only the fading of the firelight made her desist. Trudi walked over to the shower and toilet block, stumbling a little in the dark, wishing she had remembered to carry her torch. The shower was too icy to stand under for long, so she was soon marching down the hill again. She carried her day clothes in a small linen bag as she decided it was a great deal easier to change into her nightwear in the shower recess than in the confines of a low tent. The coolness of the silk felt soft against her skin. Trudi admitted that her nightwear and lingerie were her pet extravagances; she loved the soft feminine dainty garments. The outfit she wore tonight was the colour of the sea at twilight. On impulse she wondered if the Rangitira was on view and she detoured to the beach to see him.

  The slap and wash of the waves told her the tide was receding, and she ran, dumping her gear at the edge of the sand. The eyes and nose appeared and disappeared in the waves. There was a magic in the night which was intoxicating and Trudi found herself, after a brief glance at the silent camp to make sure everyone was asleep, throwing off her dressing gown, aware of the freedom of the beach. Exultantly, she laughed and danced, feeling the night air lift her hair. The sand skipped as she ran along it, dancing and frolicking in wide, ever-increasing circles until she collapsed weakly in a heap by the sand in front of the old Rangitira. Totally lightheaded, she scrambled to her feet, calling out to the song of the waves.

  ‘Hey, Rangitira, you’re my man. I dare you to come and play!’ She was up and dancing, again spinning to some secret melody.

  Still laughing at herself, she stopped aghast as a dark shape began to move towards her, swimming powerfully through the water. Mesmerised, she stood poised as the shape revealed itself to be some godlike figure, water pouring off the bulging muscles of the blacksmith-like chest and the slim hips. For a moment the moonlight showed the black alien figure moving towards her, then a cloud shadowed the light. Terrified, Trudi began to rim along the beach, her heartbeats making so much noise she could only just hear the thud of her pursuer’s feet. Too late she realised that in her fright she had taken off around the small cove and away from the camp. Her breath was coming in short painful bursts and she was just about to run out of beach when she remembered the track by the cliffs.

  With the tide on its way out she still had a chance to escape. The wind seemed to be crying to her to stop, but she ran on.

  The white cliffs glinted silver in front of her, cutting off her progress. Glancing behind her, she could not see the creature, but she dared not stop to check. Gasping, she turned towards the sea, hoping to find the path round the rocks. She called out, hoping Dan Johnson or the fishermen would hear her. If only she had listened to Maria! she thought despairingly. Could she find the path before the creature seized her?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Trudi’s feet flew on the wet sand. The wind seemed to be crying to her to stop, but she barely slowed as she approached the cliffs. Only as she reached the rocks did she see the creature an instant before she cannoned into it. Her scream was silenced as giant black cold clammy arms closed around her. Her struggles were futile as the iron strength held her easily, and in desperation she bit at the horrid rubbery skin. It was a relief to hear the imprecation that followed, telling her that the creature that held her was no sea monster but a mere man in a wet-suit. She kicked out, glad of his automatic release, only to be pulled with him as they both fell.

  ‘And to think I thought you were a nereid inviting me to some delightful fantasy!’ he muttered, when at last she lay stilled by his strength. ‘You’re more like some bride of Dracula!’

  ‘Thanks very much! You frightened the seven bells out of me, suddenly appearing out of the water like that!’ Trudi’s breath was still short, but at least she was no longer in a state of terror, having recognised the man.

  He had the temerity to begin chuckling, as he hauled off the rubber suit.

  ‘Maybe you should learn not to play dares. You need a lesson, young woman.’

  ‘Well, I certainly don’t intend taking lessons from you, you ... you...’ she spluttered as she searched for the right devastating phrase, ‘you overgrown hunk of masculinity!’

  ‘Lesson one, young nereid, I don’t like rude names.’ He waited for an apology and when there was only a proud lift of her head his hand pulled her towards him with that same inexorable strength and she felt her mouth taken and crushed. She was aware that he was punishing her for the taunt, and she struggled, trying to move away from the hard fire of his mouth. She felt her whole body tighten against his, and softened, wanting his caress in the mad moonlight, then she realised how crazily she was behaving.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered huskily.

  Immediately Dan released her. She sat up, still shaking, and he stood up and pulled her to her feet.

  ‘I’m sorry too, nereid. I didn’t mean to startle you and when you took off towards the cove I was afraid you’d try something dangerous, like attempting the cliff track.’

  Trudi glanced past him in horror at the waves crashing over the rocks at the base of the cliffs. In her terror she hadn’t had time to realise how impossible it would have been.

  ‘It’s not to be attempted in moonlight by a stranger, even a nereid. I’ll take you round to Seal Bay tomorrow if you like, to make up for giving you a fright. Meet me here at two-thirty and I’ll see you get round and back safely.’

  ‘You’d better not, your boss might throw a spanner. Don’t junior employees have to work pretty hard on places like Ti-Kouka?’

  ‘Not as hard as the boss!’ He grinned suddenly. ‘I can take a little time off, occasionally. We’re not without some of the more civilised attributes of the city. I’ll even offer to escort you back to your residence, just to make sure Rangitira doesn’t frighten you again.’

  ‘I’m perfectly all right now. I think Rangitira would offer me c
onsiderably less trouble.’ Trudi saw the moonlight catch the gleam in his eyes for a moment and she hastily added a few conciliatory words.

  ‘Thank you, but I shall be fine. Besides, there’s all your gear.’

  She turned and walked down the beach. The sand felt cold under her feet and she was suddenly aware of her gossamer night attire clinging to her. She would have liked to run from the tall dark shadow standing there, but she refused to show how upset she had been.

  Only when she had turned the corner did she run as fast as she could to her gown, pull into its comforting warmth and collect her bag. In less than a minute she had made her tent, but as she had sand in her clothes she was forced to open the car door to get some more. Shivering, she changed, hating the fact that there was not room to stand in the confines of the tent. She would have loved to have made herself a hot drink, but her fire was dead, not even a spark remaining. Snuggling into her sleeping bag, she pulled a rug over the top, grateful for the warmth. Even so it was a long time before she stopped shivering, but in her heart she knew it was not only caused by the cold. It had been so long since a man had kissed her and the sensation had touched something she had thought was as dead as the ashes of the camp fire.

  Trudi moaned softly, as she realised that her carefully guarded barricade had been demolished so easily. She had been forced into that first kiss, but her flesh shivered again as the memory of those moments on the sand could not be forgotten. She had enjoyed the feel of the hard flesh, the firm muscles which had imprisoned her, and to her intense humiliation the arrogant Dan Johnson had known it. Tentatively she felt her lips. She had known the man was dangerous, the minute she had set eyes on him at the creek. The cold treatment she had given him there was the only way to react.

  If he came close again she would be in deep water, and she had worked for too long remembering that men could not be trusted. He was definitely the most dangerous man she had ever encountered. Physically their bodies reacted, she told herself, adding that it would be the last time she would allow such a challenge. She had fired him by her struggles and he wasn’t the type to allow an insult to pass unnoticed.

  The next day she would not allow him to so much as offer a helping hand. She would use the same defences she had used so expertly against many of the men with whom she came into contact through work. She would be cool, logical and dignified, and soon her immunity would recover. It had been the fault of the moonlight and the delicious abandonment she had felt dancing on the silvered beach.

  She felt a hot tear bum down her cheek and was surprised by the emotions that were see-sawing through her. In part it was outrage, in part anger, in part desolation, and it was a relief to feel the tears spurt. Trudi brushed them away and sniffed. The whole incident had become out of proportion, she told herself. After all, what was a kiss? She had been kissed before. It was just the effect of the night, plus the strange chemistry they had been instantly aware of when their eyes had met back at the creek.

  With a sigh she realised she should not go with the man to see the hidden bay the next day. With typical male arrogance he had presumed she would fall at his feet at the idea, but now she realised that she had sidestepped the issue. A smile touched her lips; she was not going to be any man’s plaything, she would follow her own terms.

  The sound of the waves seemed to have made a song as she woke the next morning. Again the tent was stifling hot and she had no idea of the time. For once she was uncaring, she was living to nature’s clock. She sang softly as she performed sketchy ablutions and washed out her clothes. Only as she pegged out the soft shimmering green silk nightgown did the frown return and her song faded away. After breakfast Trudi decided that it would be a good time to explore the beach in the opposite direction. The tent took only a few minutes to tidy, then she made some lunch and took a book, a rug, a drink and her work notes in a pack and set off along the beach. Once away from the shelter of the point the sea crashed and dashed itself along the huge rocks. Many were like giant stepping-stones and she moved past them slowly, admiring their stark beauty. She could see the road she had followed, then saw the homestead in the distance. She picked up her pack and moved on hurriedly, wanting to get out of sight of the large glinting windows and any possible glimpse of the man who had upset her.

  Briefly she wondered if she was being fair to Dan. He had probably had to get time off and he was not the type to like asking for favours. It was very bad manners to leave no word for him, and she tried to remember any time she had done anything similar in the past. She knew she had never been so discourteous, but then savagely she was glad that such an arrogant creature would cool his heels. He would realise that she was not interested in him and he would leave her alone. The battle would be over. Trudi sighed as she gazed at the sea, wondering why she felt so defeated. She supposed it was just her upbringing, feeling guilt over failing to leave a message.

  A large group of rocks formed a distinctive pattern on the sand, almost like an island, and she headed towards them, deciding she could rest there and read or gaze at the sea. She dumped her bag and began climbing. The rocks were quite easy to climb and on top she found a hollow which was sheltered by a higher rock behind. Chuckling to herself with joy, she clambered down and hauled up her pack. Although the rug had been heavy to carry she was glad of her foresight now as she rolled one half to form a backrest and the other to sit on. She gazed at the sea, then picked up the pencil and paper with the intention of working out some of the details of the latest distribution plans, but found herself sketching the shape of the rocks around her.

  Amused and promising herself that no one would ever see her sketches, she began to shade in the line of the rock, then, she noticed that she was drawing the Rangitira, but he looked alarmingly like Dan Johnson. She scored through it and ripped the paper to shreds, firing it around her. The sea wind, instead of taking it out to sea, flung it back to her, so she stuffed it in her pack. The wretched man seemed to have irritated her, and she put away the pencil and began eating her lunch. Idly she wondered about the time. Her perch was safe; the rock where she sat was too dry ever to have been covered by high tide. Lower, the rocks were slippery and festooned with weed, showing the high water mark. Trudi felt slightly sleepy and using her pack as a pillow she curled up, feeling oddly lulled by the distant murmur of the sea. She realised that she had had very little sleep the night before owing to the emotions she had experienced, and she felt oddly pleased at the image of the big man waiting for her at the camp.

  ‘Serve you right,’ she muttered as she closed her eyes.

  Her dreams were mixed with the sound of the sea and nightmare pictures of the giant chasing her and then turning into a seagull hopelessly calling her name. The sound woke her and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then moved her aching limbs.

  The full implication of her situation took but a moment to seep through. She had been totally stupid to have slept in such a situation. The shore was not a long distance away, but the size of the crashing waves which had turned her rocks into an island alarmed her. A seagull flew overhead, his noisy cry laughing at her position. Trudi glanced at her watch, then remembered that she had deliberately left it off. She looked around her, trying to estimate the depth of the tide; too late she remembered the dampness of the sand she had been walking along to avoid the heat and the sea at the edge of her rocks. That alone should have told her that she was in an area normally surrounded at high tide.

  ‘Trudi, you’re silly, but you’re in no danger,’ she told herself. ‘Just sit tight, until the tide changes again, then you can climb down again and return to camp. Just a bit lucky that you’ve still got those two apples and a sandwich left and even a couple of mouthfuls of drink.’

  She stood up and walked carefully around her perch, then clambered down and peered over the edge. All she received was a splash of cold water, so she backed away cautiously and climbed up to her rug again. She wondered if the sea was at the peak or if it was still coming in.

&n
bsp; She looked at the sky, wishing she had some idea whether it was five, six or seven o’clock. Vaguely she remembered Dan saying it was low tide at two-thirty. She had a mouthful of drink, wondering just at what time the tide would retreat and leave her able to clamber down. A schoolgirl memory of tides being twelve hours from low tide to low tide teased at her and she thought grimly of herself trying to make her way down the rocks in the moonlight at two-thirty in the early morning. She told herself she must be wrong, but just to be on the safe side she recapped her drink bottle firmly. If the waves eased she could swim the few yards to the shore, but to attempt it at the moment would be folly.

  ‘Cheer up, Trudi,’ she scolded herself. ‘You can do that distribution change costing without the telephone or the thousand and one things that usually interrupt you. You always said you needed a desert island for a bit of peace and quiet, and now you’ve got one. Besides, it’s sensible to keep busy,’ she admonished herself.

  She picked up the sandwich and ate half and one of the apples, tucking the other back, just in case she was hungry later. She ate it slowly, wishing the sea air did not make her feel so conscious of her appetite. Deliberately she looked around in case anyone was in sight, then sank back into the shelter again. She would do it several times, she told herself, just in case anyone was looking for her. She reminded herself that no one would even notice if she was gone. Dan would have realised she didn’t intend to keep the date and he would have returned home. The other campers would all be busy with their own interests.

  For once Trudi felt it difficult to immerse herself in the intricacies of the plans. Without access to her calculator she had to do every sum mentally and it took longer than she had thought to plan and cost. She kept herself busy working out the details and when she had finally exhausted all the possibilities her brain could give her, she wrote them all out again in order of preference before putting the book away carefully in her pack.