The Man From Ti Kouka

by Rosalie Henaghan

  ‘I don’t think anyone can help. I love Dan and I guess I always will, but the whole situation is a disaster. Let’s talk of something else,’ she ended desperately.

  ‘I’m sorry, Trudi. I guess while Dan’s been going through agony, you have been too. You’re looking very pale, you need a bit of fresh air. Trudi, I’ve just thought,’ Anne added. ‘Why not come home with us for the weekend? I’ll be returning on Sunday night to drop the lads back at school. I’m picking them up at nine o’clock in the morning, so transport’s no problem.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ said Trudi uncertainly. She longed to say yes. It would be heaven to wander along the cliffs, to hear the sound of the bellbirds and the tuis again, and to scramble over the rocks in Seal Bay. Every memory of the magical time she had spent with Dan came to her mind. If Dan was away she would not be hurting him.

  ‘Please come. I know you loved Bell Bay, everyone does. The boys are longing to get home. Whether they think differently when they’re older Dave and I sometimes wonder. Since the experimental wheat crop tests the boys have become quite research-minded. The crop figures we achieved this year were highly significant. The Council of Wheat Control has invited the boss to give a breakdown on the latest figures at the conference.’

  ‘We didn’t get round to talking much about the growth of wheat,’ Trudi smiled.

  ‘I don’t suppose you talked much about the factory! Dave and I saw your picture in the paper the other day. You looked fabulous.’

  ‘I was lucky.’ Trudi paused. ‘I didn’t care for the caption, I’m afraid.’

  ‘That was the one thing my son commented was appropriate.’ The voice was cool but dignified. Trudi looked up in surprise. The softness of the carpet had hidden the entry of a tall, dark-haired woman whose elegance was completely natural.

  ‘Mrs. Johnson, I’d like you to meet Trudi Carr,’ said Anne. ‘Trudi, this is Dan’s mother.’

  Anne’s quick words fell into the silence as Trudi and Dan’s mother looked at each other. The intelligent brown eyes reminded Trudi of Dan at once. In fact, the arctic frost in them made her think of that time when Dan had made her feel small about the forgotten bottle. She could feel the blood draining from her face.

  ‘I’m pleased to have the chance to meet you for myself,’ said the older woman. ‘Unfortunately you were too busy to accept my son’s invitation to visit us at Ti Kouka.’ The frost disappeared by magic as she turned to Anne. ‘It was a wonderful movie, incredible special effects! My friend’s granddaughter wanted to come with us, so we decided to go to the five o’clock session. Are you a fan of science fiction, Miss Carr?’ Trudi could only admire Mrs. Johnson’s social sense. Evidently she did not wish to embarrass Anne Forrest.

  ‘Some I’ve seen I’ve enjoyed. I don’t go to the movies much, somehow there’s never seemed time.’ She knew her answer was ragged.

  ‘Work is your great interest, I understand. I know the label, of course. As a matter of fact I have three of your gowns in my wardrobe this minute. Tell me about that export order you achieved.’

  Faced with such a royal command Trudi explained briefly, minimising her efforts. Mrs. Johnson’s shrewd questions showed a knowledge of the trade and Trudi found herself relaxing as she explained in greater detail.

  ‘I’m sorry, I was talking too much,’ she apologised. ‘Nonsense, it sounds fascinating.’

  For the first time Trudi felt the warmth and sweetness of Mrs. Johnson’s smile. Instinctively she smiled back, unable to resist.

  ‘I’ll make a drink,’ put in Anne, suiting action to words by getting up and moving to the kitchen.

  ‘Thank you, Anne.’ Mrs. Johnson glanced at her again and Trudi felt the older woman’s sadness. ‘I can see how much your career must have meant to you. I’m not blaming you now I’ve talked to you. I was before, I’ll admit.’

  ‘I would have given up my career for Dan,’ put in Trudi slowly. She felt she had to be honest with Mrs. Johnson. ‘I’ve discovered just how inadequate work is now. Although I’ve been so busy, the second I stop, I see Dan. I can’t seem to avoid thinking about him.’

  ‘I think Dan is doing the same thing. We’ve always been very close, but over this I can’t help him.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson. All I can say is that Dan misunderstood something. He’s not to blame—I am.’ Trudi’s voice had tailed into silence. ‘It’s funny really.’

  ‘Except that you feel like weeping instead of laughing?’ put in Mrs. Johnson, patting her arm gently. ‘The only clue I’ve got is that laugh when my son saw the picture in the paper. I don’t ever want to hear such an ugly, tormented sound again. I believe he thinks you’re a gold-digger.’

  ‘And worse,’ Trudi sighed, her eyes studying the carpet thickness without even taking it in. ‘Please, Mrs. Johnson, it’s no use. I’ll always love Dan, but I know there’s no future in it. I’m glad I’ve met you, because you’ll help him in time. I’m glad he has such good friends as the Forrests, and his boss must be pretty good too.’

  ‘His boss?’

  The conversation was getting almost beyond Trudi. She hoped desperately that she could avoid the tears that were gathering at the back of her eyes and throat.

  ‘Yes, the wonderful high and mighty Sheridan Jay of Ti Kouka. As for Mrs. Jay, the sound of her scares me stiff!’

  Anne walked in with a lavish trolley and Trudi was glad to select one of the many featherweight delicacies Anne had prepared.

  ‘Anne, you’re a gem!’ Mrs. Johnson smiled. ‘Miss Carr was telling me the thought of meeting the Jay family was intimidating. Do you think the boss of Ti Kouka is very fierce?’ Her voice had an attractive lilt now and its echo again reminded Trudi of the humour in Dan’s.

  ‘Well, I’d hate to get on the wrong side of him. But I doubt whether it would ever happen.’ Anne’s eyes smiled widely. ‘But of course, as for the tyrant, words fail me!’ Anne’s eyes lit with laughter, and Mrs. Johnson chuckled.

  ‘Forgive me, Trudi. Be assured that the tyrant isn’t as bad as she sounds.’

  ‘She must be quite nice, because Dan thinks the world of her,’ contributed Trudi.

  Anne coughed into her handkerchief and Mrs. Johnson smiled widely.

  ‘Tell me, Miss Carr, what position do you think Dan holds at Ti Kouka?’

  Trudi reassured her hostesses. ‘I’m under no illusions, at all. I know Dan is just the hobo around the place. It’s funny, but all my ideas went topsy-turvy when I fell for Dan. He’s just such an unworldly guy and I guess I was too materialistic! I really hated the thought of never having our own little place. Now I’ve had time to find out it wouldn’t matter if I lived in a tent with Dan. Just being with him would make it fun.’ She shrugged her shoulders wistfully. ‘I’m sounding like a bad soap opera!’ She was glad that neither of the two women moved. She supposed her comments must have sounded dreadful.

  ‘My dear, I’m going to call you Trudi—really I can’t go on calling you Miss Carr. I think if you came to Ti Kouka you’d find it a lot easier to understand. Come home with us in the morning.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I would love to see the homestead, but I wouldn’t wish to embarrass Dan,’ protested Trudi.

  ‘If you come with me tomorrow Dan won’t even be there. Everyone’s away. It really is a golden opportunity,’ added Mrs. Johnson thoughtfully.

  ‘Anne had already asked me, as a matter of fact,’ put in Trudi honestly.

  ‘Trudi, we’d love to have you, but I’ll withdraw my invitation for another time. Quite frankly, I think you must go to Ti Kouka.’

  ‘Do come, Trudi,’ begged Mrs. Johnson, ‘I hate being on my own at Ti Kouka! It’s such a large house it needs people. We’re driving home early and Anne can bring you back to town on Sunday evening. It would be kind of you to give me some of your time.’

  ‘I can see where Dan gets his charm from,’ capitulated Trudi. ‘I’d love to see Ti Kouka, Dan spoke about it so much.’

  ‘I must send that little
one a book or some sweeties. If I’d gone to the eight o’clock session I’d have missed meeting you,’ put in Mrs. Johnson with a smile.

  As she drove home shortly afterwards Trudi thought Mrs. Johnson’s remark was typical of the graciousness of Dan’s mother. It had been a surprise to meet her, yet she seemed to contribute even more to the puzzle. No one could overlook Mrs. Johnson easily. She had a completely natural air and warmth, yet her first glance had almost frozen Trudi.

  Anne Forrest and she obviously thought the world of each other and she could imagine Mrs. Johnson being a cross between a grandma and an elder sister to the Forrest family. It was strange that such a striking woman could live in perfect peace with the ‘tyrant’ of Ti Kouka. The ‘tyrant’ wouldn’t be able to persuade Mrs. Johnson to do anything she didn’t want to. Smiling at that thought, she climbed into bed and allowed herself to daydream. Supposing things could be explained with Dan, suppose she were to meet him again, suppose his arms would enclose her and she would feel the heavens wheel as his mouth touched hers.

  ‘Stop daydreaming, Trudi,’ she reminded herself sternly. ‘You’ve got one weekend to gather memories.’

  In her dreams Dan held her tenderly and whispered that he loved her. It was hard to wake up to reality. She showered and washed her hair at the same time, then dressed neatly. By the time her gear was packed she just had time to eat a hasty breakfast before the arrival of Mrs. Johnson. She locked up the flat and stepped into the car, recognising the late model car as being a saloon model of the type Dan had driven. Again the small cabbage tree design dangled from the key ring, but this time the centre of the tree had been decorated with greenstone. Sitting quietly in the back with the boys, Trudi found her eyes travelling to it. Evidently Mr. Jay supplied a household car too, she thought.

  The turn-off to Ti Kouka seemed to come slowly and when the shingle road was finally reached, with its distinctive cabbage trees, she could re-echo Mrs. Johnson’s profoundly simple statement, ‘Home!’

  Trudi looked out the window. The creek where they had first met Dan flashed past and then soon afterwards the car slowed as Mrs. Johnson eased off the accelerator, just as the car rounded the corner to reveal the first view of Ti Kouka homestead. Trudi drew a sharp breath, looking at the scene she had pictured so many times. This time there was no horseman riding along the track.

  Her thoughts were broken as the boys announced they had arrived at the bungalow. Their joy could hardly be contained as they burst out of the car the second it stopped in front of their house. Trudi waved goodbye to Anne with a faint misgiving, feeling suddenly apprehensive. Mrs. Johnson turned the car and headed towards Ti Kouka. The homestead gates were open and as they drove towards the slight rise Trudi moistened her lips.

  One day Dan would hear that she had visited them, but she hoped by then the pain of their last meeting would be over.

  ‘My dear, welcome to Ti Kouka,’ smiled Mrs. Johnson.

  Past the huge macrocarpa trees and the clumps of oaks, then at last Ti Kouka sprawled itself lazily in the sunshine. The two-story old stone dwelling had darkened to a dull grey, but the house was redeemed from being too dark by the enormous windows. Two small columns supported a large porch which Mrs. Johnson drove under so that they were immediately outside the front door.

  ‘I’m giving you the full treatment, Trudi, front door entrance.’

  Mrs. Johnson seemed completely at home as she opened the door with the key on the chain. Trudi found herself in a large reception area and a magnificent old grandfather clock ticked softly. A faint whirr startled her as it began to chime. The deep melodious sound reminded her instantly of her childhood home and she felt welcomed by the sound.

  ‘It belonged to the original Sheridan,’ smiled Mrs. Johnson, ‘or rather to his bride Mary.’ She led Trudi into a large sitting room and Trudi stopped to admire it. A well proportioned spacious room, with its crystal chandelier sparkling in the sunlight, showed the magnificently plastered ceiling. Comfortable rolled arm couches and matching chairs were grouped attractively. A grand piano stood in one corner, but it scarcely obtruded. At the far end a large stone fireplace occupied the greater part of the wall. A distinctly homely atmosphere was in the room, despite its size.

  ‘Through here is the dining room and off that is the breakfast room,’ commented Mrs. Johnson. Trudi followed wide-eyed as she glimpsed a period Victorian dining suite complete with ornate buffet. The chairs around the table seemed sufficient to feed three families.

  ‘I’ll show you round in a minute, but first let’s put the kettle on. Oh, by the way, that end door in the hall goes down to the shepherd’s wing; we never go “visiting” unless invited. It keeps everyone’s dignity.’

  ‘So they have their own rooms?’ queried Trudi. ‘Yes, it’s really an apartment. They have a bedroom, a guest room, a lounge, and of course a kitchen and bathroom. It was modified years ago. My flat is the same, immediately above theirs.’

  Trudi nodded. She guessed Mrs. Johnson was accustomed to running Ti Kouka. It would be a large task, the standard was immaculate, so the tyrant must be a demanding mistress. Mrs. Johnson led the way, pointing out the downstairs bathroom and toilet facilities, the television room, the games room and then Sheridan’s study. They went back to the hall where the stairs led a curving way up.

  ‘What a wonderful staircase for a dramatic entrance,’ Trudi commented.

  ‘You’re absolutely right. I’ve really enjoyed it on many occasions. Here we are, you have this room. I’m sure you’ll like it.’

  To Trudi’s surprise she was in one of the central bedrooms. It appeared almost overwhelmingly grand. She lowered her bag as Mrs. Johnson told her to make herself comfortable, before joining her for a cup of tea. After Mrs. Johnson had disappeared Trudi surveyed the room. The bed with its heavily carved head and foot boards was matched by the dressing table and tallboy. Two comfortable chairs stood in a corner as though gossiping with each other about the newcomer. The curtains were brightly patterned, highly glazed cottons, which matched the coverlet on the bed. Large windows led her to look out at the view. She could glimpse the red roofs of the Forrests’ bungalow in one corner of the patchwork of rich fields.

  A horse grazed in a paddock close at hand, and she recognised it immediately as Dan’s. She turned back to explore her room. A side door opened into a dressing room with drawer and wardrobe space fitted round three sides and mirrors along one wall. She grinned as she hung her lonely dress and jeans in the august space provided. A similar space was on the opposite wall. Another door led into a bathroom and she stared in astonishment. The floor area was in proportion to the house. The room had a large shower cabinet in one corner, which despite its impressive door handle was glisteningly modern, matching the other facilities.

  Another door led out of it and feeling a little like Alice, she followed where the door led and found herself in another vast bedroom. She stopped immediately feeling herself an intruder. A faint familiar tang made her wrinkle her nose and she smiled as she recognised Dan’s aftershave. Instinctively she gazed around with delight, knowing she was in Dan’s room. A large sitting area was formed by the porch which led to the front door immediately below.

  A view all over Ti Kouka spread before her, because of the three aspects of the window. She stepped to one of them and admired the neat paddocks, then turning, she could see the sea in the distance. Her fingers picked up the binoculars on the ledge and she jumped suddenly as the tall cabbage trees on Ti Kouka Point appeared. Her fingers automatically felt a small plaque at the side and she put them down, seeing the inscription, ‘To Dan—love, the Tyrant’.

  Three photos hung in a row on one wall and she moved forward to study them. The first was a sight that made her smile. It was a charming study of a man, a woman and a small boy. She had no difficulty in recognising the small boy as Dan, and Mrs. Johnson had not altered greatly. She guessed the lean spare man was Dan’s father. The next was a more casual study of the same man talking to Dav
e Forrest. His bronzed countenance showed delight in some joke shared with the photographer, and Trudi wondered if Dan had been the cameraman.

  Below it a sepia portrait of an elderly stem-faced unsmiling couple caught her gaze. She knew instinctively she was looking at a picture of Dan’s grandparents. The man, though elderly, had a toughness about him, a grim determination that contrasted oddly with the gentle grip of his wife’s hand. He glared out at Trudi fiercely and she stepped back, feeling guilty.

  She fled back through the massive bathroom and dressing room and then stopped. A man’s jacket hung on the opposite wall and she gazed at it, recognising it immediately. Sliding back the door, she saw that the wardrobe on that side was almost full. Dan’s suits and trousers and shirts hung neatly along. Thoughtfully she shut the cupboard and returned to her bedroom.

  She guessed the house could hold more surprises as she made her way downstairs.

  ‘Let’s use the breakfast room,’ suggested Mrs. Johnson. ‘It’s beautiful with the sun at the moment. The tea is just ready to pour.’

  Trudi smiled at her hostess. ‘Sorry, I went wandering. I ended up in Dan’s room.’

  ‘Don’t look so guilty, child. The rooms do connect, after all. The whole suite was changed a couple of years ago.’

  ‘Dan told me the homestead was as big as a barn, but I had no idea. I thought everyone would be living on top of each other, but it’s not .like that at all. I guess I was wrong about a lot of things,’ Trudi said, perplexed. ‘Why doesn’t Sheridan Jay have the master suite?’ She blushed, realising her curiosity had made her sound discourteous.

  ‘He does,’ put in her hostess with a sympathetic smile. ‘There’s such a simple explanation, you know. Would it help if I told you that Dan is short for Sheridan and J is the initial for Johnson?’ At Trudi’s startled gasp she smiled. ‘The name Sheridan James Silas Turnbull Johnson is rather a mouthful! Initials were so much easier, they just stuck. His father was James and he was very keen on calling our son Sheridan after the old man, so I insisted on putting in Turnbull for my father. We both decided that as the rest of the initials matched his pioneering grandfather’s, he’d better have Silas as well. Some call him Dan, others S.J.’