She had so much she wanted to say to him, but knew not to disturb the protocol of this intensely personal moment of mourning. She desperately also wanted to crouch down in front of the little boy who was now hanging onto Haunui’s trouser leg, to tip up his chin and look into his face and see how much of his mother was in it, how much of her had been passed on to live another longer and happier life, but she knew that would have to wait as well.
Erunora then formally invited Rian’s ‘hapu’ to Pukera village for the tangi, for which, she stated, preparations were already under way. Ropata thanked her, and the crowd began to break into smaller groups, awaiting word to return to the village themselves.
Haunui sat down cross-legged on the sand, gripping the box so tightly that the knuckles of his big hands were almost white, his tears splashing onto the carved lid. Four or five people stayed near to him, ready should he need their physical or emotional support. Erunora was one.
Kitty knelt on the sand before him, and touched his sleeve. ‘Hello, Haunui,’ she said.
He raised his swollen red eyes to her. ‘Hello, my little Pakeha daughter.’
Chapter Four
The women were still wailing, and Kitty wished they would stop. But she knew that this was the way they mourned. She had sometimes thought that the Maori approach to death and grieving—the public weeping and the embracing, and the long, three-day funeral—was a far more satisfactory arrangement than the English tradition of quickly burying the deceased, then grieving behind closed doors; but this way was also so very exhausting.
‘How did you know we would be arriving today?’ she asked Haunui. ‘And how did you know we would be bringing Wai?’
Haunui blew his nose fastidiously into an enormous handkerchief, then shoved it in his pocket. ‘Tahi had a dream.’
Kitty raised her eyebrows questioningly.
‘He woke up one morning,’ Haunui explained, ‘and said he had dreamed that his mama would be coming home on this day, just as the sun was rising. So we started making the preparations. He has had visions before. He has never been wrong.’
Kitty knew better than to question the importance the Maoris attached to visions and other mysticisms. She sat back on her heels and regarded the little boy sitting close beside his grandfather, his small, brown hand resting lightly on the waka taonga containing his mother’s remains. He had his head bowed and Kitty could see his scalp through his parting. His black hair was fine and glossy and reached his shoulders, the heavy wave common to most Maori hair absent.
‘Did you know your mama was coming today?’ she asked him.
He looked up then, and Kitty almost cried out with startled delight. ‘But he looks so like Wai!’ she exclaimed to Haunui.
The boy had his mother’s little pointed chin, her wide cheekbones, and her slanted eyes, though his were hazel, not the deep chocolate of Wai’s.
Haunui smiled. ‘Ae, he does. Better his mother than his father, though, eh?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Kitty agreed, recalling her uncle’s long, dour face and his thin lips, pinched tight with hypocritical piety. ‘You’re a clever little man, aren’t you?’ she said to Tahi.
He nodded, his hair swinging. ‘Whaea Williams says so.’
Kitty opened her mouth to ask him if he realised that they were cousins, then abruptly shut it again and turned slightly away from him. ‘Does he know?’ she whispered to Haunui.
‘Ae. I have not kept much from him. Only the…nature of it.’
‘My papa has gone away,’ Tahi announced.
‘I know, sweetheart,’ Kitty replied gently. ‘He’s in heaven, with your mama.’
Tahi shook his head vehemently. ‘No. He is somewhere else.’
‘Oh.’ Kitty wondered if he meant hell. He was probably too young to be attending the mission school, but the more florid aspects of the Church Missionary Society’s version of Christianity did tend to get passed around rather indiscriminately, and she knew for a fact that Maori mothers sometimes told troublesome children that if they didn’t behave they would go to hell.
‘He is down there,’ Tahi said, pointing at the sand.
Kitty glanced at Haunui.
He shrugged. ‘It is as good a place for him as any.’ Then his expression softened. ‘It is very good to see you again, Kitty. I have missed you.’
Kitty felt tears threatening again. ‘I’ve missed you too, Haunui.’
‘Thank you for bringing her home. I will sleep easy now. And so will she.’
‘I hope so.’
‘And you are happy, being Rian’s wife?’ Haunui asked, gesturing at the ring on Kitty’s hand.
‘Oh, very. But how did you know?’
‘Your mother wrote to your aunt. I am very happy for both of you. And you have not had to give him too many kicks in the pants?’
Kitty grinned. ‘Not yet.’
‘Ah, that is good. That is always a sign of a successful marriage.’
Just then, Erunora tapped Haunui on the shoulder and said in her thin voice, ‘It is time to return to the village. We have much to do.’
Haunui nodded. ‘You will all be at the tangi?’ he asked Kitty.
‘Of course. We would be honoured. Thank you.’
‘And where will you stay? There is plenty of room at Pukera.’
‘Well, I was considering staying at Aunt Sarah’s. But she wasn’t with Rebecca Purcell and the others. Is she avoiding me, do you think?’
Haunui gave her an amused look. ‘Yes, she was with the others.’
‘Well, I didn’t see her.’
‘She is there now.’
Kitty turned around and stared at the group of missionaries still standing on the sand a hundred or so yards away. Someone waved—Rebecca. Kitty waved back.
‘I still can’t see Aunt Sarah,’ she said.
‘Look more closely.’ Haunui stood up. ‘You will come to the village soon? Most of the manuhiri are here now.’
Kitty knew that if the visitors from other areas had arrived, the tangi would start shortly. ‘Yes. I just want to say hello to everyone first. After that?’
‘Ae,’ Haunui said. Then his face broke into a grin as Rian approached, his sea boots crunching on the shelly sand. He took the hand Rian offered, and returned the greeting with a hongi. ‘It is good to see you, Rian. Thank you for bringing Wai home.’
‘It was an honour,’ Rian said. ‘It’s good to see you, too. I regret that it’s in such unfortunate circumstances, though.’
‘Ae. But at least she is home now.’
Kitty walked across the sand towards the small group of missionaries. As she neared them, Rebecca Purcell detached herself and came to meet her, her arms wide.
‘Kitty Carlisle!’ she exclaimed as she enfolded Kitty in a generous embrace. ‘How wonderful to see you! Or rather, I should say Mrs Farrell, shouldn’t I? Congratulations, dear. I’m so happy for you.’
‘Thank you, Rebecca. That means a great deal to me,’ Kitty replied, standing back to inspect her friend. ‘You look very well.’
Rebecca hadn’t changed much since Kitty had last seen her. A little heavier around the middle, perhaps, and there were feathers of grey streaking the red hair at her temples, but her welcoming smile and kind eyes were the same.
‘That’s very nice of you to say, Kitty, but I must admit I’m having to let out my stays a little more each year. Of course, having two more babies hasn’t helped.’ She grasped Kitty’s hand. ‘Are you happy? Have you been having lots of wonderful adventures sailing the Seven Seas?’
Kitty laughed. ‘Yes, I am happy. Very.’
Rebecca looked rather relieved. ‘Oh, I am pleased. When Sarah told us that you and the captain had married, well, I did wonder if that may not have been the wisest thing for you to do. Then I thought, no, that girl knows her own mind. And her own heart. She won’t have made a decision like that lightly.’
‘No, I didn’t, and I haven’t regretted it for a moment. Rebecca, where is Aunt Sarah?’
&nb
sp; Rebecca stepped aside and pointed to a short, plump woman standing next to the much taller figure of Marianne Williams. The woman waggled her fingers in a hesitant wave, the early morning sun glinting off her spectacles.
Kitty blinked. ‘Aunt Sarah?’
‘Hello, Kitty.’
Kitty took several steps closer, finally recognising her. It was indeed Aunt Sarah, but not the thin, faded, harried-looking woman who had bodily thrown her and Wai out of the house one hot February afternoon in 1840. This Aunt Sarah was pleasingly plump, even stout, with pink cheeks and markedly smoother skin. But she must have been weeping, because her eyes were rimmed with red.
Kitty stepped forward to embrace her aunt, but Sarah raised her hands to stop her. ‘No,’ she said, and Kitty’s heart plummeted with disappointment.
But then Sarah said quickly, ‘Kitty, I need to say something to you.’ She cleared her throat nervously. ‘And that is that I am so sorry for the way I behaved towards you and Wai on the day you left Paihia. I am sorry that I doubted you and accused you both of those vile things. You were not at fault, either of you, I know that now, and I have regretted my actions every single day since.’
Kitty opened her mouth to speak, but Sarah cut her off again. ‘No, please, I need to finish. I have asked God for forgiveness, and He has seen fit to grant that to me. Now I’m asking you for forgiveness also. I do not expect it, Kitty, but I would like it.’
Kitty reached out and hugged her aunt tightly. ‘Oh, Aunt Sarah, of course I forgive you. And I’m sure Wai would too, if she could. It wasn’t your fault that we had to leave. Please believe that. We had to go anyway, because of Tupehu.’
Sarah burst into tears, sobbing damply on Kitty’s shoulder while Rebecca and Mrs Williams looked on, dabbing at their own eyes.
Kitty awkwardly patted Sarah’s back until her aunt finally stepped back, fumbling for her handkerchief. ‘Oh dear, I’m so relieved,’ Sarah mumbled, then blew her nose. ‘I’ve dreaded this day.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have,’ Kitty admonished, feeling that a weight had finally been lifted from her own shoulders. ‘How have you been faring, Aunt Sarah? Has there been any news of Uncle George?’
Her aunt’s face changed, and for a second the old Sarah was back. ‘No, there has not,’ she said testily. ‘But in his case, no news is definitely good news. And I hope there never is any news, come to that.’
Kitty stared, shocked by the vehemence in her aunt’s voice, even though God knew she had reason for it.
Sarah’s tone softened and she added, with a twinkle in her eye, ‘You see, dear, I have a suitor. I believe one is supposed to wait seven years until one’s missing spouse can be declared dead, and I’ve still got two years to go. Still, I am hopeful.’
Kitty exclaimed, ‘Aunt Sarah!’ and burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, but that sounded really funny.’
Sarah said, ‘I know that’s a dreadful thing to say about the man I once loved, and I did love George for many years, I truly did. He was a good man, and very devout, and he was so inspiring in the pulpit. But something went terribly wrong with his mind. Well, you know that, Kitty, you saw him.’
Kitty said nothing, recalling with a shudder how progressively more deluded, demanding and frightening George had become during his time as a reverend at Paihia.
Sarah’s face hardened again, but in it Kitty could also see a shadow of sadness for the man her aunt had once loved. ‘In the end he was evil. There is no other word to describe him. He must have been to…to do what he did. Not even the Lord could forgive him for that. But now he has gone, and I believe that is for the best.’
Kitty nodded, but now she was thinking about someone else, someone she very much wanted to speak to but with whom she had absolutely no intention of reconciling. ‘And Amy? Is Amiria still here?’
Amy—cunning, wilful and hot-headed—had been a housegirl in the Kellehers’ Paihia household at the same time as Wai, her cousin, and it had been Amy who had told Tupehu that Wai had become pregnant by the Reverend George Kelleher. Tupehu had gone insane with rage and chased Kitty and Wai, and his own brother Haunui, down the beach and hurled spears and curses at them as they escaped out to the Katipo.
‘Amy has gone as well,’ Rebecca said, her tone suggesting that this wasn’t a bad thing either.
‘When?’ Kitty asked, a horrible notion taking shape in her mind.
Sarah saw it. ‘No, she went about six months after George disappeared. That was the same day you and Wai left. He was last seen on his way home from Waitangi, on this side of the river. He was walking around Ti Point at Te Ti Bay, apparently.’
Kitty wondered whether Tupehu had come across him, and her uncle’s bones were now lying hidden somewhere between here and the mouth of the Waitangi River. ‘And nobody has seen him or heard from him since?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘Not a single word.’
‘We have had word of Amy, however,’ Rebecca said. ‘She left the village here when Haunui came back with the child, and apparently went out to Hone Heke’s settlement at Pakaraka. I’m not sure if she is still there now. It’s rumoured that she has been seen with the rebel Maoris.’
‘What rebel Maoris?’ Kitty asked.
‘Heke’s people. The ones who have been cutting down the flagstaff at Kororareka.’
Kitty opened her mouth to ask more, but suddenly noticed that the last of the Maoris were leaving the beach and heading back to the village. Her questions would have to wait.
Wai’s tangi began that afternoon and went on for two days and two nights. The population of Pukera had increased considerably for the occasion, swelled with visitors come to pay their respects to Wai and her family. But there was plenty of food—pork and kai moana and kumara and potatoes—and the weather so balmy that most people slept outside.
On the first night were the formalities. As the wharenui was too small to hold everyone, Wai’s waka taonga was laid in the porch and the people gathered on the paepae before it to hear the speakers and take part in the grieving. First came the speakers from Pukera, including Te Rangi, Haunui’s half-brother who had ascended to chief when Tupehu died, then at least half a dozen orators representing the manuhiri. Then Reverend Augustus Dow, the Church Missionary Society minister standing in for Reverend Henry Williams, who was away, said a prayer and read some passages from the Bible, followed by Pukera’s tohunga, who also led prayers, although they were definitely not Christian. Wai had been baptised, and was therefore entitled to an Anglican service, but Haunui had evidently insisted she also have a traditional Maori farewell.
Kitty’s old friend Simon Bullock arrived at eight in the evening—she recognised him immediately, hovering with his hat in hand and waving discreetly at her across the paepae.
‘Look, there’s Simon,’ she whispered excitedly to Rian. ‘I’m going to say hello.’
Rian lifted his hand in greeting and Simon replied with a salute.
Kitty waited until the current speaker paused to contemplate his next words, then wove her way to the back of the sitting crowd towards Simon.
Grinning broadly, he took her hands and kissed her cheek. ‘Kitty! It’s marvellous to see you! I heard this morning that you’d arrived. How are you?’
‘I’m well, Simon, thank you. It’s lovely to see you, too.’ Noting that he looked as sartorially uninspired as he always had, she was pleased she had bought him the new shirt.
‘I see you brought her home,’ Simon said, inclining his head towards the wharenui. ‘I knew you would, when you could. You always were a good person, Kitty.’
Kitty’s eyes grew hot with unexpected tears. ‘I’m so pleased you’re still here, Simon.’
Simon sighed. ‘Yes, I’m still out at Waimate growing oats and barley and trying to indoctrinate small defenceless children with the teachings of the CMS.’
Kitty felt a twitch of disquiet; he sounded jaded and even slightly bitter, and, just for a moment, most unlike the Simon she knew. She regarded him more close
ly, and noticed lines fanning out from his kind eyes and his generous mouth that definitely hadn’t been there five years ago.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘You’re not having a crisis of faith, are you?’ Such a question would be considered extremely rude if she had asked it of anyone else, but she knew Simon wouldn’t mind.
‘Not so much a crisis of faith, as such. More a crisis of, shall we say, denominations?’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes. But I’ll tell you about that later, shall I? And by the way, Kitty, you’re a dreadful liar.’
‘What? Why?’ she demanded in bewilderment.
Simon reached out and tapped the wedding ring on her finger. ‘You told me you weren’t the marrying kind. You turned me down, remember?’ But he was smiling again. ‘Well, you would have if I’d asked you.’
Kitty did remember; she’d been terrified he was going to ask for her hand, so she had spurned him before he’d had the chance. As it had turned out, he’d had no intention of asking her to marry him, so it was all a bit embarrassing. But amusing, eventually.
‘Well, clearly I was mistaken, wasn’t I?’
‘He’s a good man, the captain,’ Simon said, and for some reason his approval pleased Kitty inordinately. ‘No children yet?’
‘No.’
‘That’s a shame. I’ve always thought you’d make a wonderful mother.’ Simon looked around. ‘Are the Paihia people not here? That’s a bit rude, I must say.’
Assuming he meant the missionaries, Kitty said, ‘Yes, they were for a while, but they left when the tohunga got up to speak.’
Simon’s moue of disapproval suggested that he still thought the missionaries’ decision to leave was discourteous.
‘Come and sit down with us,’ Kitty suggested. ‘Come and say hello to Rian. And the rest of the crew are here somewhere as well. Except for Sharkey, of course.’ And she told Simon what had happened in Durban, and also that they had a temporary crewman on board, although not the story of how he came to be sailing with them; she wasn’t sure if Simon would approve of Rian’s decision to harbour a self-confessed murderer. ‘But Rian told him to stay on the Katipo because he’s not had anything to do with Maoris and we didn’t think this was a suitable time to introduce him.’
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