Another Throw of The Dice

by Mary Clare Morganti

  Min found this idea odd and for a split second she imagined solitary walkers laughing away to themselves. ‘Only on the “funny farm”,’ she thought crudely.

  ‘Sometimes I’m having a conversation with myself inside my head and I might go so far as to smile to myself and that’s a sort of fun.’ (Min knew that most of her conversations inside her head were more likely to make her frown.) The student had looked unconvinced. Min was beginning to realise that a single woman going about her business could be the object of speculation or worse still, pity.

  ‘What about the solitary man?’ she wondered.

  Chapter 12

  ‘Come outside you lot, or you’ll miss the sunset.’

  Lucky was sitting on the deck of the hotel on the south coast of the Big Island thinking over the day they had spent underwater with the fish. The other three were relaxing in the lounge bar having a drink and talking to Viliamu the hotelier. Semese had gone to his village after spending the afternoon with him. Lucky’s fondness for sunsets harked back to his witness to the magnificent displays from his home in Victoria Australia where the richly nuanced tones never failed to amaze him.

  He knew that the equatorial transition of the great orb accompanied by a range of tonal subtleties, would be over in a few minutes and thus the day would glide rapidly into black night. Eyes still dazzled by the garish day would not immediately see the stars pricking the blackness and would have to stare sightlessly at the place where the horizon had been. Robert was the only one to obey the summons and he took a seat in silence. It was Lucky who broke it.

  ‘In places like this you are reminded why the sun was a god for earlier civilisations. Its power to light and warm must have been forever in their thoughts while its disappearance made things mysterious and dangerous.’

  ‘I was thinking along the same lines, but I think it would have been different for the people living in the polar regions than for those in the equatorial ones.’

  ‘You’re right. But probably whatever latitude you lived in, the sun must have had divine status because it was obviously connected to life itself.’ Min came out into the dark and tried to find somewhere to sit.

  ‘I can’t see a bloody thing,’ she said as she tripped over Robert’s feet. He guided her to a chair and said ‘Now now’ in a silly voice and was told brusquely to hold his tongue.

  Lucky told Min what they had been talking about and she said she had never been in total darkness until she came to the tropics.

  ‘It’s utterly terrifying and I can see why we associate black with evil. Apart from being scary, all sorts of horrible things can happen under cover of pitch darkness.’ Min shuddered.

  ‘Universal lighting is pretty recent come to think of it, so our thinking has been influenced by darkness.’ Lucky sounded thoughtful and added,

 

  ‘It must have had quite an influence on architects’ handling of building design in a fundamentally different environment.’

  ‘All those burning braziers and things were a problem too,’ drawled Robert. ‘How did the great fire of London start, I wonder. An unattended torch perhaps?’

  ‘Wasn’t it something to do with a pudding in a baker’s shop?’ asked

  Lucky.

  ‘Dunno,’ said Min ‘but the word curfew comes from the French ‘couvre- feu’ when the citizens were told to put out their fires.’

  ‘Well I never,’ said Robert sarcastically, ‘and here was I thinking that curfew was a sort of canine statistic.’

  ‘OK, OK old smarty-pants. It’s just that I find word origins fascinating.’ Lucky went on to talk about the great and final curfew for their neck of the universe when the sun finally burnt itself out. Robert said the inhabitants of earth were more likely to stuff up the planet long before that and Min agreed with him.

  ‘You kiwis are such doomsayers. It must be your dour Presbyterian background.’

  ‘And you Irish larrikins live in a permanent state of deluded optimism.’

  ‘Seize the day,’ piped up Dinah from somewhere in the dark.

  ‘How long have you been there eavesdropping?’ Robert looked around in the dark and could just make out a figure crouching on the deck.

  ‘I’ve been listening to your conversation and thinking what a bunch of eggheads I’m saddled with.’

  ‘You obviously haven’t met a true egghead,’ humphed Robert.

  ‘I’ve become a fan of the moon since I’ve been here,’ Min stated firmly.

  ‘So you’re more of a romantic than an egghead,’ said Lucky.

  ‘No - it’s just that the moonlight is so welcome after the moonlessness and I’m neither a romantic nor an egghead - thanks all the same Dinah.’

  ‘Hardly romantic in the Mills and Boon meaning of the word perhaps,’ Lucky yawned.

  ‘I think I’ll grope my way to the sack,’ said Dinah from the depths, ‘and I

  need your help Robert.’

  ‘Yes - goodnight all - see you in the morning - when the sun god rises.’

  ‘Anyone for an early morning swim?’ asked Lucky.

  A sort of non-committal grunt was all he heard and then Min said ‘I’m not an early riser.’

  Left alone again, Lucky peered up at the sky and looked for the Southern

  Cross.

  It was Alpha Centauri which identified it from another possible cross formation and once he located it he always felt a sort of pang of what, he was not sure. Perhaps it was the thought that his very own ancestors never knew of its existence. Contemplating the immeasurable vastness of just the Milky Way thrilled him and at the same time reduced him, while the universe lay outside the scope of his imagination reducing him to total insignificance. Nonetheless life, of which he was a mere atomic part, was a tremulous thing perpetually flaring and extinguishing but demanding respect for its continuance.

  In the morning when he went down to the beach, Viliamu was fishing from a small promontory a few yards further out. Lucky plunged through the clear water and trod water while he chatted to Viliamu above him.

  ‘How did you sleep?’

  ‘Like the proverbial log.’

  There was a disturbance in the water and Viliamu began to reel in his line. After some minutes of play the fish was hauled up to the rock and he called,

  ‘Breakfast.’

  Lucky dived under the water and looked for any other fish that had got away. Having watched the poor fish’s death struggle, he thought he might just settle for toast this morning.

  Chapter 13

  In spite of what she had said the night before, Min was sitting in the dining room when Lucky returned from his swim.

  ‘I meant to ask you how you were getting on with your telephone man.’ She described how she had visited the office after her empowering chat with the Principal and after sitting for at least an hour among the patient supplicants whose wordless dialogues with the high priest seemed to satisfy them, she finally got to state her case again. This time she said that he would be contacted by the college, but this made no noticeable impression. They had reached another stalemate and she sat quietly waiting for a development. Finally, the shortage of cable which had not arrived from New Zealand was quoted again and Min said that she had contacts in Wellington who might be able to speed things up.

  ‘To be honest, I had decided that I’d write a hard luck letter to someone in government and hope to get a conscientious reaction. Aid to the Pacific was quite a hot topic among donor countries and I had nothing to lose but a lot to gain.’

  At that moment Robert and Dinah joined them, sniffing the air suffused with the smell of cooking fish. Lucky was feeling hungry and decided he’d manage to forget the elegant swimmer in the pond and enjoy a hearty breakfast after all. Viliamu joined them at the table and a cheerful young man served the steaming food under his direction.

  ‘The bus will be here just after midday so there’s time for another dive.’ Lucky asked Viliamu if he was a local lad and where he had learned his e
xcellent English.

  ‘I went to secondary school in Auckland and when I left school I worked on the inter-island ferries for a while.’

  ‘I thought I detected a pommy twang,’ mumbled Robert but no one asked him what he meant. Min darted a knowing glance in his direction.

  ‘There were often strikes at the worst time of the year and holiday- makers would be stranded. I hated missing out on pay of course but as a greenhorn, I had no say in things.’

  ‘Do the ferry people ever strike here?’

  Again Robert got no reaction but Lucky asked the chatty young man what had brought him back home.

  ‘My big feet,’ he roared appreciatively at the joke. The others waited for more.

 

  ‘I inherited a title,’ he explained quite solemnly, ‘so I came back to shoulder my responsibilities – but it’s true – I could never find shoes big enough in New Zealand so I had to wear thongs most of the time. Bloody freezing in winter it was.’ He rubbed his legs at the memory. ‘I suppose there’s a factory making shoes for those big island feet there now. I even thought of starting my own…’

  ‘This fish is the best I have ever tasted,’ said Dinah.

  ‘You probably swam with it yesterday, dear girl.’

  ‘Please!’ Dinah put her knife and fork down and fixed Robert with her stare. Min rolled her eyes.

  Viliamu continued his reminiscing. ‘I remember being bare-footed in the school ground one day in the summer and I was called to the Headmaster’s office to be reminded that the school required shoes as part of the uniform. My English wasn’t good enough at that stage so when the Head said “It doesn’t look good when everyone else is wearing shoes, does it?” I answered “Yes Sir.” And when he repeated the question and I repeated my answer, he said in a very loud voice “I think you mean ‘No Sir’, don’t you?” and I was completely confused. I’ll never forget that feeling. It was a long time before I learnt to answer those questions correctly.’ He stared at his own private vision represented by his feet.

  Min, ever in didact mode, made a mental note of the story and decided it was a timely reminder of the fishhooks in spoken English.

  ‘Fish and the tag questions are forever linked,’ she smiled to herself. Lucky gave his head a ruminative little shake. ’Must say the problem escapes me. But then I’m a monolingual Australian who never has to risk his neck in a foreign language. Even here I’m spared that effort because most people I deal with are fluent in English.’

  ‘Sometimes my colleagues correct my grammar.’ Dinah laughed ambiguously and the others weren’t sure whether she thought it necessary or a bit of a cheek.

  ‘How do you manage to settle down to village life after the free-for-all in New Zealand?’ Robert really wanted to know.

  Viliamu pointed out that as a chief he had traditional privileges and there were tourists who provided variety to life. Suddenly, he looked at his watch.

  ‘You lot had better rattle your dags so you can fit in a dive before the bus comes.’

  Min and Robert smiled at the quintessential New Zealand expression and

  Lucky nudged Dinah.

  ‘Obviously an “in” joke from the country where sheep call the tune.’

  While the other three went for their final swim, Lucky went for a walk along the coast to find shells for his growing collection in an old hospital amphora. Shells had not imposed their presence on his consciousness before but now he was fascinated by their beauty variety and function. They were stunning forms of architecture provided by nature as shelter for soft and vulnerable bodies going about their ocean lives. How much the range of his awareness had increased in this richly endowed coastal place!

  Chapter 14

  The bus arrived promptly at midday and it was a very contented group who climbed aboard. They thanked Viliamu and his team in the hotel and all said they would be back. The driver collected a small package of food and climbed into his cockpit which was adorned with an indiscriminate array of fetishes – a catholic rosary, some Disneyland kitsch and out-of- season Christmas trinkets. Tinsel festooned his operating space like a bower bird’s nest. It was private property, Pacific-style, and the driver was a proud owner.

  The engine laboured in what sounded like third gear and Robert wanted to call out that it was time to change down. However that was to be the register for a journey which was going to be interrupted with annoying frequency. Dinah turned to Robert and told him to relax.

  They had ground along the partially sealed road for about a kilometre when a stone flew in through one of the window spaces near the back and hit one of the passengers who had also boarded at the hotel. The driver braked in the middle of the road and hauled on the handbrake. He looked in the rear vision mirror and told one of the young men to get off the bus and find the culprit.

  The passengers waited in silence while attention was given to the wounded man. He held his fist to his head and spoke to the driver in an undertone. From his seat further down the bus towards the front Lucky saw no evidence of bleeding but he wondered about concussion, so he asked his friends if they had any first aid training. Dinah said she had done a course so long ago that she had forgotten everything except something about pupil dilation.

  ‘Could be a problem with those brown eyes,’ she said flippantly.

  In the meantime a group had assembled outside the bus and were talking heatedly to the driver through the back windows. He seemed unmoved by their anger but kept a sympathetic gaze on the victim. Feeling excluded from the drama the travellers wondered what they should do and Lucky in particular felt uncomfortable.

  ‘I wonder if we’re witnessing some local vendetta,’ he said, ‘and the envoy is taking his time.’

  Finally a formidable looking person came from the same direction and climbed on board with a purposeful stride. There were further questions and forthright input from the driver and finally the injured man still

 

  holding his head, followed the new arrival off the bus. To the dismay of the foursome the driver too left, after switching off the engine.

  ‘Anyone got a scrabble set?’ Lucky queried hopelessly.

  ‘We’ll have to settle for “I Spy” I’m afraid - but I need a pee,’ said Dinah with a note of petulance. ‘Even a loo-on-the-rocks would be a welcome sight.’

  Min had her eyes shut and was deep breathing. Without opening them, she told Dinah to imagine she was the Queen of England on safari.

  ‘Don’t for God’s sake make me laugh. What time are we due at the ferry terminal?’

  ‘When we get there it seems,’ Robert smiled at Dinah and patted her knee.

  ‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with “D”,’ Lucky said out of the side of his mouth.

  They all looked around and saw the driver coming towards the bus which he climbed aboard without a word or as much as a nod. They meandered on minus the two passengers and made some progress until another stop for a woman on the side of the road, whose plans seemed to require input from the driver; again the engine was switched off.

  ‘I wish he’d leave the engine running,’ said Lucky. ‘At least then we’d have the illusion of going somewhere sometime. This is not good for my blood pressure.’

  When the driver accompanied by the woman and several baskets of produce returned, Lucky approached him and asked what time the ferry left. The answer was a semaphore of the eyebrows as the driver stared straight ahead while Lucky waited, holding on to the pole behind his seat. As he sat down he suggested that they go with the flow because their frustration might be counter productive in the long run.

  ‘Oh for a long drop!’ said Dinah through clenched teeth. ‘But that would hold us up even more.’

  Min suggested that they all tell a story from their childhood to take their minds off things but the others groaned in unison citing the rattling of the bus as one reason for rejecting the idea.

  As they drew near to a towering church the congregation began to spill out on to
the road and the driver stopped to greet his friends who stood at the open door to exchange what sounded like banter.

  ‘Savile Row would be proud of those blokes in their Sunday Best,’ said Lucky in his tired tee-shirt. ‘I wonder how they maintain such an impeccable standard of clobber.’

  ‘How do the women do it you mean,’ answered Dinah.

  Some of the young men, looking dashingly attractive with their bibles under their arms, waved to the visitors and laughed among themselves.

  ‘I feel as if we’re miscreants in a tumbril on the way to a nasty end,’ snarled Robert and Min said she was pleased to give amusement to these God-fearing youth.

  ‘After all, it’s innocent fun - we hope.’ She grimaced and rolled her eyes. They talked about the demise of the Sunday Best and Robert recalled how he once had to find a suit for a funeral because he did not possess anything formal enough.

  ‘All those years in the bush I suppose,’ Min suggested, which reminded

  Lucky that the Bush in Australia meant out of town and did not necessarily preclude formal occasions.

  ‘Australia’s squatocracy live in the bush - very different from the New

  Zealand bush, I gather.’

  Dinah laughed at the image of Robert in a suit and he pretended to look misunderstood.

  ‘So where did you find a suit?’ she nudged him playfully.

  ‘At an op shop if you must know. But you wouldn’t know about recycling

  - or life in the bush in my sense of the word.’

  Dinah admitted that as far as she knew New Zealand was one big farm overrun with sheep.

  ‘And here and there a spot of bush I now realise.’

  ‘Where real men run free from the women who got the vote far too early.’ Lucky looked at Min to see her reaction but she just kept a poker face and closed her eyes.

  There was a hoot of laughter from the driver as he started up the engine and Lucky once again approached him wordlessly pointing to his watch. Again there was no reaction except for a change of gear, so Lucky returned and slumped into his seat with his mandibular joints working. After a while he said,

  ‘We’re not going to make it so dream up those stories - we’re going to need them.’

  Chapter 15

  The last of the local passengers had left the bus as they drove into the harbour area where the first thing that struck everybody was an absence of activity. Robert leaned forward and said,