by Lee Murray
‘Higher, Mum,’ Aihe calls, swinging her legs for momentum. But she doesn’t get far. The gale is against us.
I can’t believe he did it. After all these months, I still can’t believe it.
I push Aihe again.
What classic timing. Womb still raw, he’d decided to shred my heart too.
‘Nudda wun?’
Nodding mechanically, I push the swing, reliving bitter accusations, angry revelations, the wind no match for my hurricane of emotions. Great clouds scud towards us, looming like the deadline on my mortgage payments.
The empty swing next to Aihe’s careens into me. Selina flies down the chute and walks back for another turn. Buffeted, she falls to her knees, then crawls, mouthing, ‘Nudda wun?’ The wind grabs her words, tossing them against a concrete wall.
Running over, I snatch Selina up. She hides her face in my breast. Back to the swing to get Aihe, who clings to me in a crinkle of rainwear. Sand gritting my eyes, I stumble towards the car park and—
Where is Pania?
She’s wandered off again. At sixteen, she thinks she’s old enough to go anywhere, do anything, without asking. She wasn’t like this before. Before he cheated. Stop it! Focus. Find her.
Out beyond the grassy verge, waves crash over the jetty. She’s not there.
The car park is empty, save my old Holden. No one else is mad enough to brave this storm. Kids still clinging to me like gladwrap, I struggle along the promenade to the boatsheds, and battle my way down the stairs.
On the narrow strip of concrete walkway between boatsheds and the floating jetty, Pania dances. Above her, gulls are tossed on the wind, their plaintive cries counterpoint to her inner rhythm. She pirouettes in her skinny jeans and sneakers and leaps through the air. Upon landing, she spins and leaps again.
The jetties, instead of bobbing on the water’s surface, are submerged, roller-coastering in the wild ocean. My graceful daughter dances. Oblivious.
After the stillbirth, when Terry left and I sank into depression, Pania told me dancing had saved her. Transfixed, I stare. Sea surges over the walkway, splashing the boatsheds’ brightly coloured facades. Pania dances in the receding surf. Rain, a few drops, then a splatter. Pania still dances, face upturned and arms wide, summoning heaven to earth, drinking in the rain.
I inhale the energy of the storm, the churning ocean. A moment later, black clouds are directly overhead, pelting us. Selina whimpers and Aihe’s fingers dig into my palm.
‘Pania!’ My cry is unheeded, perhaps unheard. ‘Pania, get away from the—’
Wet-haired, she springs high into the air and spins, beautiful and defiant.
A violent wave erupts from the sea, towering above Pania, still spinning in mid-air. The wave surges, opening a streaming maw. Drooling jaws snap around her. Foaming eyes mock me. Throat tight, I can hardly believe my eyes. The ocean growls. The watery monster retreats, whipping Pania out to sea.
‘Pania!’ The crash of the surf drowns out my cry.
Thrusting Aihe and Selina onto the bottom step, I dash along the gangway, sliding on slick concrete. Spray splatters off my jacket. Sea drags at my boots. I scramble to the jetty, placing one foot on the surging wood. Wet to the knee, I cling to the walkway and position my next foot. The jetty heaves.
‘Mama!’
Behind me, my toddler reaches for me, face contorted into a scream – barely a mermaid’s whisper in this wind. Aihe yanks Selina’s jacket, trying to hold her back. She slips, losing her grip. Selina dashes forward. To me. And the sea.
One last desperate glance seawards. Cavernous grey troughs and surging peaks. Pania’s arm breaks the surface. Then she’s swallowed.
‘Mama!’ Right behind me.
I spin, stumbling on wet planking. Selina leans over the edge, towards the jetty, arms outstretched above the roiling sea, mouth open, howling, ‘Mama!’
Save Pania? Or Selina?
Chest tight and tears flowing, I grasp my baby as she falls, snatching her before the sea does. I clamber off the jetty, scraping my knuckles red, and stare out to sea.
No sign of Pania.
Aihe stumbles to me. Gasping like a landed fish, I clutch Selina, dragging Aihe back to the car. The girls tremble. My hands shake, fumbling the keys. Aihe takes them off me and clicks the beeper. Pania. Pania.
Drenched, Selina is screaming – no mermaid whisper now. I strap them in their seatbelts. Lock the door. And run.
Heart pounding. Across the car park. ‘Pania! Pania!’ Along the promenade. Sobbing, screaming, I plunge onto the gangway. One deep breath. And dive into the sea.
*
Terry’s cell phone vibrates against the dining chair.
‘Not in the middle of dinner!’ Sue sighs, making her huge belly rise and fall like seaweed on the swell. Only four months to go, and she still looks great.
Terry shrugs. ‘It’s the price we pay for my on-call allowance.’ A generous allowance, worth a couple of overseas holidays a year. He shovels another forkful of risotto ai funghi into his mouth and fishes the phone out of his pocket.
Unknown number. Not the call centre then. ‘Hello.’
‘Is that Mr Lenton?’ a woman’s gravelly voice asks. ‘Mr Terry Lenton?’
Mr? Definitely not work. ‘Speaking.’
‘This is Inspector Turner of Wellington Central Police.’
Terry clears his throat. ‘Yes?’
‘Sir, we have your children in custody.’
‘What? My kids!’ Terry’s pulse bounds, fork clanking onto his plate.
‘Could you come down to the station right away, please?’
‘What’s happened? Where’s Kendra?’
‘We were hoping you could tell us.’
*
Inspector Turner’s shoes snap on the grey linoleum of Central Station’s corridors, a staccato rhythm almost as fast as Terry’s heart. She ushers him to a small room, containing nothing but a few chairs and a table.
‘My kids,’ he stares around the empty room, jaw clenching. ‘I want to see my kids. Where’s their mother? What has she done this time?’
‘Take a seat, Mr Lenton.’ Inspector Turner takes a cautious breath, as if he’s about to bolt from the room.
Terry sits. Raises his eyebrows, breathes.
‘Your children were found in a locked car at Oriental Bay an hour ago. Apparently they’d been there since the storm started around 4 o’clock this afternoon.’
‘What?! That dumb—’
Inspector Turner raises her hand. ‘Hear me out, please, Mr Lenton.’
Terry snaps his mouth shut and nods. Nothing to be gained by being belligerent. ‘I’m sorry. Go on.’
‘They’d been in the car. Both are in shock, and—’
‘Both?’
‘Selina and Aihe. They’re pretty shaken up.’
What did she mean both kids? ‘What about Pania?’
Inspector Turner adjusts a button on her uniform. ‘Pania and your ex-wife are still missing.’ A pause. ‘The six-year-old keeps saying—’
‘Aihe. Her name’s Aihe.’ What did it matter? He should keep his trap shut. Find things out faster that way.
‘Yes, Aihe. Aihe says a wave swept her sister into the sea.’
‘What in hell’s name?’ Terry leaps from his seat, smacking his palms down the table.
‘Mr Lenton, please sit.’
Terry obliges. Hell, this woman is as cold as an ice bucket. Makes him wonder what else she’s seen.
‘It’s important you don’t quiz your children too much. That you don’t ask questions about what happened. Listen if they talk. Comfort them. Reassure them. But please don’t pass verbal judgement on anything they say. It could affect evidence if your wife—’
‘Ex-wife,’ Terry spits. ‘Bloody ex-wife, thank heaven.’
‘We nee
d your children’s evidence to be untainted, in case your wife and daughter don’t turn up.’
To hang with the evidence. ‘Sure. Listen, comfort, reassure.’ His mouth works on autopilot while his mind spins.
Inspector Turner stands. ‘Come this way.’
Terry lurches to his feet, the risotto squirming in his stomach, and follows her down the hall to another room. A female officer is sitting on a sofa, and his kids, dressed in oversized unfamiliar clothing, are playing with a pile of toys. Despite the heater, they look cold. Selina’s cheeks are pale, her blonde hair in dark damp curls against her scalp. She pushes matchbox cars along a road on a traffic mat.
Aihe leaps to her feet and rushes into his arms. ‘Dad!’ Her cheek is icy. Freezing hands cling to the back of his neck. She shoots a sidelong glance at Selina and whispers, ‘A giant dog took Pania. Mum jumped in to save her.’
A giant dog? What sort of crap was that? Listen. Comfort. Reassure. ‘It’ll be all right. Mum and Pania will be home soon.’
At the sound of his voice, Selina looks up. ‘Daddy. Wuff-wuff got Pani in a sea.’ She pushes the car along the mat, right through three buildings. ‘Brmm brmm.’
Pania – his treasure, his first baby – dragged into the sea by a dog? Where is she? What happened? Anxiety gnaws at Terry. There has to be some other explanation.
*
That night, Terry is on high alert. Not from being on call, but from minding his damn kids because Kendra is AWOL.
Selina refuses to sleep in the portacot, finally burrowing in between him and Sue. Not that there is any excess space with Sue’s pregnant belly. Aihe has nightmares, whimpering in the room next door, until Sue moves onto the sofa and Terry brings Aihe in with him and Selina. Not ideal, but at least he gets a few winks in between the kids snuffling and Selina flinging her arms in his face.
The next morning, Aihe has a fever and Selina is coughing. Their bed turns into a sick room, a menagerie of stuffed toys keeping the girls company. And Terry. They won’t let him out of their sight.
The news is out. Woman and Daughter Missing in Oriental Bay splashed across social media, the front page of the DomPost, and on radio and television. A wave of calls flood in. Sue fends them off while Terry reads fairy stories to the girls, pretending everything is normal. Except it’s not.
Pania is missing. His Pania, his eldest, so full of promise. Hands shaking, Terry turns a page.
At 10am his cell phone rings.
‘Mr Lenton?’ It’s Inspector Turner. ‘We may have found Kendra, but we need positive identification.’
So Kendra is dead. Has she taken her life? And Pania’s too? Knowing it would hurt him, selfish cow. He shakes his head. Focuses. ‘What about Pania?’
‘No sign of Pania, yet, sir, but your wife is at the hospital, still alive.’
Alive? Something fierce surges in his chest. That means Pania could be, too. At last he can do something other than sit and read fairy tales.
‘Daddy?’ Aihe’s brown eyes gaze at him. The same eyes as Kendra. ‘Where are you going?’ Her voice trembles.
Terry pats her glossy hair.
*
The murky water is awash with debris, stirred up by the storm. No sign of Pania. Lungs burning, I surface. Gasp. A wave slaps my face. Salt searing my throat, I tread water, searching for a sign of her – a glimpse of flesh between the choppy peaks.
Something yanks my ankle, dragging me down. A quick gasp, then my head is sucked beneath the surface. I struggle, but the shadowy tentacled monster would rip my limbs from their sockets before it loosens its grip. The grey sea blurs, becoming darker than the day Terry left me. I’m dragged into the belly of the harbour.
Chest aching, I glimpse a fist-sized glow ahead. Anglerfish? Can’t be. Wellington Harbour’s too shallow. It grows into a shining orb, looming as we speed along the seabed. Indistinct figures swim inside the sphere of light.
The tentacle flings me forward. Plunging into the light, I gasp, choking on water. Throat filled with brine, I thrash.
A figure approaches, eyes as green as sea lettuce, and fishy-tailed. The merman enfolds me in his arms and kisses me. A warm current runs through me. The tightness in my chest eases, and I inhale.
Breathe? How can I, in water? Bizarre.
He smiles. ‘Kendra, we’ve waited for you.’ Beard threaded with thin kelp stands, he’s wearing a necklace of living seahorses.
Inside, the globe is larger than it appears, a world unto its own, lit by a yellow glow. Around me, figures swim. Fish-tailed people – mermaids and mermen. A pod of dolphins swims by, a girl astride one, her feet against its pale underbelly. She laughs, a trail of bubbles streaming behind her as the dolphins cruise away, her dark hair swirling in the water.
Her laughter penetrates deep into my being. I know her.
A watery dog bounds over, a seaweed bundle in its jaws. My merman takes the parcel, extending it to me.
‘Look and rejoice.’ His voice, as deep and sonorous as the sea, thrills through me.
The seaweed layers peel back and dance away in the water, revealing a baby. My baby. Matiu – bigger, chubbier than when he was stillborn. Matiu beams, his eyes lighting up like candles on a birthday cake.
He’s alive. Grinning, he swims off, chasing fish. My boy. My only boy, alive. My chest surges with sweetness.
The merman grins, lifting me onto his dog. Although it’s made of shimmering water, its back is solid beneath me. Real. When it barks, vibrations run through its ribcage against my legs. This place is surreal.
We’re off, the dog bounding through the water – merman swimming alongside – following the dolphins’ wake. The dark-haired dolphin rider laughs, sending tickling fingers of recognition down my spine.
Pania?
‘Yes, your daughter has chosen to live here, with her brother, with us.’ The merman’s voice flows through my mind like a lazy ocean current. ‘You can, too.’
I turn, his gaze warming my cheeks. I tumble off the dog and fall against him, tugging his arm around my shoulders like a blanket. We drift in the current. The ripple of his laughter shimmies through me, making my toes curl in pleasure. The glow of new love flowers inside me, a rare orchid in a hot house.
‘But Pania—’ I turn.
He plucks a seahorse from his necklace and whispers to it. The creature unfurls, writhing through the water after the dolphins, emitting a high-pitched whinny.
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
He grins, taking my hand, and I swim at his side. The dolphin carrying Pania wheels towards the seahorse, which nickers a greeting, and leads the dolphin to its master. Nudging my companion, the dolphin bobs beside us. Pania stands up on its back, touching my shoulders.
‘You won’t lose me again, Mum. I’ll be here.’
She pirouettes, and dives off the dolphin, into the sea. Moments later, she reappears, Matiu in tow, the dolphin circling her protectively. Placing Matiu in my arms, Pania kisses me. ‘Come, join us.’
But Aihe, Selina…
The merman’s eyes are grave. Stroking Matiu’s cheek, then mine, he says, ‘We’ll love you, no matter what choice you make.’
*
Damp reddish-brown locks are splayed across the hospital bed, among the tubes and wires. At first, Terry doesn’t recognise Kendra. She’s dyed her luscious black hair – the one thing he’d still loved about her when he’d left. Well, that and her art, although she’d never sold many paintings. A thick tube snakes into Kendra’s mouth, jamming it open, her chest rising and falling as air rasps in and out.
Her skin is the worst. Years ago he’d loved her mānuka-honeyed complexion, smooth against his hand. Now she’s bloated and swollen with sea, blotchy.
He turns away, sickened.
Their separation had left him estranged from the kids. Not that he’d had much time for them before.
He’d been too busy working late – with Sue.
And Pania? Terry shudders as he thinks of recent shark sightings off Kapiti coast.
One of the monitors starts to beep in rapid-fire. A nurse approaches him. ‘Mr Lenton, we need you to leave, so we can treat your wife.’ She ushers him out.
His ex-wife, not his wife. He doesn’t even have the energy to correct her.
*
Something crisp and soft touches my cheek. The brine is chased away by the tang of fresh starch. Hiss and sigh. Hiss and sigh.
Beeping. Somewhere nearby. Throat aching, raw. Roaring at me. I drift back to sleep and my merman cradles me in his arms.
Beeping again. Goosebumps. A short sharp stab. Cold surges through my arm and drowsiness claims me.
My eyes fly open, squinting against bright lights. A figure looms over me, blotting out the brightness. Not the merman. Someone else. What have I done? My arms are empty. Where is my baby?
A voice speaks. ‘She’s awake.’ A flurry of activity. More white figures loom over me. ‘Kendra, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Can you hear me?’
Croak. My throat aches.
Was that me? Why can’t I talk? Something is obstructing my mouth, filling my throat. Frantically, I scrabble to grab it, but someone holds my wrists down.
‘Just blink,’ says the voice. Far too smoothly for my liking. ‘Blink once if you can hear me, please.’
I stare straight ahead. Who are they? Where is Matiu? And Pania? They’re nowhere to be seen. Beep, beep. My eyes focus. The blurry figures are doctors, nurses. The bright lights, hospital.
The figures bend over me and pull the horrid tube from my throat, making me gag.
‘Just blink if you can hear me.’ He has blue eyes, the smooth-voiced one. Too similar to Terry for me to trust him, I shut my eyes and drift back to sleep.
*
Terry frays the paper rim of his coffee cup with nervous fingers.
‘We’re aware she’s not well, Mr Lenton.’ The psychiatrist adjusts his glasses. ‘But I’m not sure just how unwell—’
Tossing his cup in the wastepaper basket, Terry replies, ‘She says she saw a giant dog take my daughter.’
‘As strange as it may seem, both your children substantiate the claim. It’s even recorded in police reports.’ He shakes his head. Sighs. ‘We don’t know what to make of it. Police haven’t had any sightings of vicious dogs, although one officer did see a seal near the coast. Perhaps it was a shark?’
