Jade and the Hunters

by Amy Brown

  Laura and Becca nodded sympathetically. Jade couldn’t help thinking that she knew better than they did how Zoe felt. Sniffing as silently as she could, Jade frowned slightly. It had been nearly two years since the car accident in which her mother had died, and these moments of melancholy were becoming less frequent. They surprised her now.

  ‘Don’t spend all night brooding over the little mausoleum,’ Mrs Death said, poking her head in. ‘I’ve stoked the fire and Roland has made a cake of which he’s terribly proud. Come downstairs, eat cake, watch TV and keep your ma company.’

  ‘OK,’ Zoe agreed, checking her watch. ‘I think New Zealand’s Next Top Model is on. Let’s go.’

  Laura nodded vigorously — that was one show she never missed.

  While the girls were sprawled on the floor by the fire, consuming large slices of pineapple upside-down cake and debating the relative merits of the hopeful models, Bronson returned.

  He didn’t say anything, but stretched out on the sofa, still wearing his shoes.

  ‘How was your day, darling?’ Mrs Death asked during the ad break.

  ‘I hit a cat.’

  It was the first time Jade had heard Bronson talk. She was surprised at how high his voice was, and by what he had said.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘With the car — I finally got that white cat from down the road.’

  ‘You deliberately ran over our neighbour’s pet cat?’ Zoe asked, muting the television. ‘Are you a psychopath?’

  ‘Nah — I just hate that cat. It was pretty funny.’

  Cosima looked silently amused.

  ‘There’s nothing funny about this at all,’ Mrs Death said, staring with disbelief at her son. ‘Go upstairs. Now!’

  ‘I’m sixteen, Ma. You can’t send me to my room anymore.’

  ‘I can send you to your room and I can do worse, too. Get upstairs right now!’

  Bronson sniffed, and for a moment Jade thought he was going to hoick a throatful of phlegm onto the carpet. He slammed the door as he left the room and something in the hallway fell. Probably a small taxidermied mammal.

  Mrs Death, Zoe and the girls exchanged looks. Cosima continued watching the muted ads on the television, and, without shame, began sucking her thumb.

  ‘How old are you, Cosima?’ Zoe asked.

  Cosima, of course, did not answer.

  ‘It’ll get infected and I’ll have to stick a pin through your thumbnail again. You don’t want that, do you?’ Mrs Death said.

  Unmoved, Cosima continued sucking rhythmically.

  ‘You’ll get horse teeth,’ Zoe tried again.

  Cosima scowled at her older sister, but continued with the babyish habit.

  ‘I don’t know where I went wrong,’ Mrs Death sighed. ‘Zoe, it is saying something that you’re my most normal, well-adjusted child.’

  Zoe laughed in a way that made the girls uncomfortable. They really didn’t know Zoe well at all. Jade was briefly reminded of the woman Jane Eyre hears cackling in Mr Rochester’s attic.

  That night, as Zoe, Laura and Jade made their way to the cold bunk-room, Jade was sure she heard a female laugh coming from the attic.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Jade asked Laura.

  ‘What?’

  ‘A laugh — a woman’s voice.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I must be hearing things.’

  ‘It’s an old house — probably only a floorboard creaking or wind in a chimney or something.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jade agreed out loud, but inside she was still uncertain. She kept listening for the laugh again, long after Laura and Becca had cocooned themselves in their sleeping bags and were fast asleep.

  Wide awake, with freezing toes, Jade wondered how Tani was faring in the stable with Dusty and the Deaths’ horses. She felt guilty for bringing him to a strange, upsetting place, when he could have been at home in Mr White’s paddock, sheltering under the apple trees with the big old bays, Hamlet and Brandy. No, she had to think about something else; her guilt was keeping her awake. What would send her to sleep? Usually she would read. The last book she’d finished was Jane Eyre: Abridged. That wasn’t a calming thought either: it reminded her of the laugh she’d heard coming from Mr Death’s office in the attic.

  Jade tried to concentrate on a pleasant thought, but everything kept twisting back to anxiety. Was this ‘stress’, which her dad so often complained about? Even remembering the Corretto video, and imagining how it might once and for all fix Tani, made Jade worry. What if it was nothing but a money-making scam? What if Briar Rose had been brainwashed? What if no one could help her with Tani?

  In this anxious state, Jade felt as if she would never fall asleep. But, her eyes gummy and her mouth dry, Jade was woken early the next morning by Becca.

  ‘Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Mr Death is calling us down for breakfast.’

  ‘What time is it?’ Jade asked, groggily.

  ‘Six-thirty.’

  ‘You two go ahead; I’ll be down soon.’ Jade saw that Laura and Becca were already dressed in track pants and several layers of jerseys.

  ‘I wanted to wake you earlier, but Becca wouldn’t let me,’ Laura apologized.

  ‘You looked so comfortable,’ Becca protested.

  ‘It’s OK. I’ll be ready in a minute. You two go.’

  ‘You look terrible,’ Mr Death said as he handed Jade a plate of toast and scrambled eggs.

  ‘Sorry I slept in,’ Jade said.

  ‘You’ll feel better after some breakfast.’

  Mr Death, or Roland (as Jade was almost brave enough to call him), was right: the hot food and drink woke her up. The conversation, however, made the food sit uneasily.

  Again, Mrs Death, Zoe, Laura and Becca were discussing the day’s riding. Mrs Death would be busy visiting the farm managers and doing ‘paperwork’ this morning, so Zoe would take them for a ride.

  ‘I know a really fun trek down along by the stream. Good hills for gallops, and plenty of fences for those who want to jump as well as gates for those who don’t.’ Here, Zoe looked kindly at Laura, then sternly at Jade.

  The thought of galloping over hills and having to either clear full-wire jumps or slow down enough to open and shut heavy five-barred gates made Jade want to call her dad or Mr White and ask to be taken home.

  ‘You’re still looking pale, Jade,’ Mr Death said. ‘Isn’t she, Ma?’

  ‘She is,’ Mrs Death agreed. ‘Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself when you fell yesterday?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No, you didn’t hurt yourself, or no, you’re not sure?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I do feel a bit funny,’ Jade lied.

  ‘OK — no trek for you today. Sorry.’

  Jade tried not to look too relieved.

  ‘Today’s your city day, isn’t it, Roland?’ Mrs Death asked.

  ‘Indeed it is. Meetings in the metropolis of Palmerston North.’

  ‘OK. Bronson, you’re going to keep an eye on Jade this morning while we’re all out.’

  ‘Nah, I have to meet Steve.’

  ‘No. You’re grounded, remember? I’d hide your car keys, but I want you to be able to take Jade to the doctor if she needs to go.’

  Bronson gave his mother a scowl exactly like the one Cosima had given Zoe the previous night. Jade felt equally dismayed, but hoped her face didn’t show it. Bronson had a fleck of scrambled egg on his cheek and an almost manic glint in his eyes. Perhaps it would have been better to go for the ride after all?

  ‘I’m not feeling too bad,’ Jade tried to say. ‘A short ride should be fine.’

  ‘No, you’ve already bailed,’ Zoe said. ‘And, anyway, our ride will be about four hours.’

  Jade didn’t reply. She just put her knife and fork together tidily, as her mother had taught her, and tried to aim her disappointment at her breakfast plate.

  Ignoring Mrs Death’s suggestion that she go back to bed, Jade accompanied the others to the stables to see how Tani had survived t
he night.

  ‘Hello, sweet pea,’ Jade said, giving her pony a kiss on the nose. Instead of flicking his head up and whacking his devoted owner in the nose, as he had done the week before when Jade and Mr White had struggled to give him his worming paste, Tani was gentle. His big, soft upper lip tickled Jade’s cheek, returning her kiss.

  ‘Have the others been nice to you?’ Jade asked. ‘We won’t be joining them when they go out today, boy. I’m going to give you a good groom and turn you out into the paddock, if Mrs Death lets me.’

  Tani loved being groomed. He leaned into Jade’s body brush as she swept it firmly down his neck. In the middle of winter, with his fluffy Kaimanawa coat, it was impossible to get him looking shiny. Instead, after a brisk groom, he looked like an inviting teddy bear.

  Before picking out his hooves, Jade gave her big teddy bear a hug.

  ‘I wouldn’t be hugging him, not after the trouble he caused you yesterday,’ Zoe said, as she walked past with Bob. Her horse, like all the Death horses, had been sleekly clipped, ready for hunting.

  ‘Patience is a virtue,’ Laura said vaguely.

  ‘What are you on about?’ Becca laughed.

  ‘I heard it in a song on the radio at the café the other day. And, anyway, it’s true: Jade is right to be patient with Taniwha.’

  Jade smiled gratefully at Laura.

  ‘You two are just too nice,’ Zoe said. ‘Bob here would take advantage of good natures like yours.’ Zoe patted her horse’s clipped neck, as if his opportunism were a charming quality. ‘Hurry up, Laura — everyone else is ready to go. You and Sofia are a perfect match: both a bit dozy.’

  Laura made a face at Jade. Her good nature was being challenged by Zoe this morning.

  Once the riding party had disappeared over the hill, Jade’s temper improved. The morning was really quite pretty with the thawing shards of ice floating on the dark, green troughs. Grey, green, greasy, Jade thought, remembering something her mum used to read her when she was little.

  The small paddock by the stables had been chewed up by too many hooves, but the mud was drying up after a rainless night, and, sprinkled with the end of a heavy frost, looked a lot like a good chocolate brownie. The ice crunched under Jade’s boots as she furtively led Tani out from the stable. No one will mind, she thought, uncertainly, if I borrow the lunging rope and whip. Surely, no one will mind?

  Left alone in the stable, Tani had begun to fret. It was better for him to be kept busy, but that didn’t have to mean a ride. Lengthening the dirty white lunging rope gradually as she led her curious pony in a circle, Jade clumsily jiggled the long whip a safe distance behind his fetlocks — to encourage Tani to walk in a 15-metre circle around her. The sheer quantity of rope in one hand and the unwieldy whip in the other was difficult to balance. Jade had tried this a few times with patient Pip, but she still didn’t have the knack of Michaela Lewis or Mr White. But they’re grown-ups. Michaela’s even been to the Olympics, Jade consoled herself.

  The first few circles were a bit small and egg-shaped, interrupted occasionally by Tani turning into the middle, unsure of what Jade expected him to do.

  ‘No, not that!’ Jade sighed. Tani’s head was down now, and his teeth were snatching at the few blades of grass on offer. ‘In a circle: walking … waaalking,’ Jade chanted calmly, as she’d heard Mr White doing.

  Realizing that Jade wasn’t going to give up and let him eat, Tani began to walk well: his hind hooves were tracking up to meet the imprint of his fore hooves; his body was supple and bending agreeably around the shape of the circle. Jade, feeling more confident, gave the whip a little flick behind him.

  ‘Trot on … ter-rot!’

  Although she had been careful not to touch him with the whip, Tani leapt forward, breaking into a canter.

  ‘Settle down — easy does it.’ Jade spoke as calmly as she could. ‘Just a trot, please. Trot.’ Reeling in the rope a little, Jade walked quickly with Tani, in a smaller circle within his circle. ‘Trotting, boy!’

  As he obeyed her commands, Jade gave him more rope, until Tani was trotting in a good 15-metre circle again.

  Proud of how well he had behaved, Jade brought Tani back to a halt and gave him a big pat.

  ‘I stole this from breakfast for you,’ Jade said, holding out half a piece of cold buttered toast in the palm of her hand. Always greedy for treats, Tani gobbled up the offering.

  Jade was beginning to lunge Tani on the left rein, in the opposite direction, when she was distracted by a figure in the driveway by the house. Bronson was leaning against the driver’s door of his car and seemed to be staring at her.

  ‘What does he want?’ Jade asked Tani, who snorted with excellent comic timing. ‘Is that what he thought his mum meant when she said “keep an eye on Jade”? I’d feel safer if he drove away.’

  As if he’d heard her, or at least decided that the girl with the pony looked unlikely to keel over in the next hour or so, Bronson granted Jade’s wish. Squinting one more time in the direction of the home paddock, the boy hopped into the driver’s seat of his Mazda, put on a pair of unnecessary sunglasses and reversed out of the driveway. The tyres flicked up a shower of gravel, and he was gone.

  Tani sensed Jade’s relief. Sharing her good mood, he behaved even better on the left rein and didn’t seem too disappointed when Jade couldn’t produce another toast treat at the end of the session.

  ‘If only you worked so well when I’m on your back,’ Jade grumbled to her pony, giving him another pat and leading him back to the stable. He seemed so calm that she was tempted to get her saddle and try to catch up with the others. However, a thought had occurred to Jade that was even more tempting than the ride: with Mrs Death visiting the farm manager, Mr Death on his way to Palmerston North, and now Bronson gone, too, the house was empty …

  ‘Hello?’ Jade called quietly, swinging open the kitchen door. Nobody answered. In the dim hallway several sets of shiny eyes stared at Jade, but all were made of glass.

  I’m going up to our room for a lie-down. My head aches. Jade planned her alibi in case she was interrupted. Every second stair seemed to creak under her feet. She looked down and saw that one of her thick winter socks was wet where the frost must have seeped through the leather of her riding boot.

  Just going upstairs for a lie-down, Jade thought again, now standing under the trapdoor in the ceiling. The ladder wasn’t in its usual corner, though.

  ‘I’m sorry, I need more time. I can’t rush this one: Bertha isn’t ready for a public appearance.’

  Jade froze. Mr Death’s smooth voice was clearly audible from the upstairs corridor. Jade had definitely heard him say ‘Bertha’ — the name of the woman Jane Eyre had found hidden in Mr Rochester’s attic. The poor mad woman who kept laughing. And Jade had distinctly heard a woman’s laugh last night.

  ‘I’m not going to rush this one — I’m adamant this time, sorry. OK? Right … well, I’ll have something very interesting for you soon. Bye.’

  Mr Death hung up the phone. His chair rolled across the attic floor boards. When Jade heard him fiddling with the trap door and moving the ladder, she darted into the spare room and even pulled herself, fully clothed, into her sleeping bag. Shutting her eyes tight and trying to make her breathing regular, Jade waited for the door to open. Had Mr Death heard her eavesdropping on him?

  But no one opened the door. Her heart knocking like a fist in her chest, Jade lay as still as she could for what felt like half an hour but was probably only five minutes. When she heard the kitchen door bang shut, and a motor — probably Mr Death’s four-wheel-drive — start up, Jade slithered out of her old sleeping bag. The zip was broken and the sky-blue flannelette lining was threadbare, but it was a comfort. Trying to arrange it tidily on her bunk, Jade listened carefully. The house was silent. No sound of footsteps, laughter or voices came from the attic. Jade felt a little ridiculous — she wasn’t actually concussed, but she had put herself to bed in the middle of the day.

  Mr
Death probably wasn’t like Mr Rochester at all. But that conversation … Who was he talking about? Who was Bertha? If there really was a prisoner in the attic, Jade should call 111. But the operator would be expecting to hear about an emergency, and all the evidence Jade had was weird laughter and a strange phone call. No, that would not do — she’d be told off for wasting police time and preventing genuine calls from getting through, calls about murderers and people who’d fallen off horses or had car accidents. More proof was needed — and advice. Laura has the biggest mouth in Flaxton, but I don’t know who else to tell, Jade thought. Becca crossed her mind briefly. No, Becca would tell Zoe.

  Shivering, mainly from the change in temperature from having left the sleeping bag, Jade pulled on her scratchy green jersey (which always smelt too strongly of sheep — lanolin, her dad told her — to wear to school mufti days), and went downstairs. Thankful that no one was in the kitchen, especially not Mr Death, Jade helped herself to an apple which looked nearly too rotten to eat. It would do for Tani. The riders would be home soon, and until then Jade planned to fuss over her improving pony.

  It was funny: Tani had gone so kindly this morning, but in the last hour Jade hadn’t even thought of him. This is why he’s been playing up on me, Jade thought. I’ve been worrying more about all the Deaths than about Tani’s training.

  As Jade was thinking this, she failed to hear the four-wheel-drive return. It wasn’t until Mr Death was walking through the kitchen door, where Jade was pulling on her boots, that she realized he was back. Bumping into the bent-over girl fumbling with her left boot, Mr Death yelped.

  ‘Sorry, Jade!’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Jade replied shrilly.

  ‘I thought you were in your room. You OK?’

  Jade must have been staring. Did Mr Death seem at all guilty?

  ‘Yep, I’m fine,’ Jade said, feeling furtive herself. Suddenly remembering the yellowed apple, she tried to move it behind her back.