‘Have some food,’ Dad said.
‘I will; then I’m going to take some back to Lena’s, if that’s okay.’
‘Sure, there’s plenty.’
‘You’re stupid,’ Rick said. ‘Why would you give her anything?’
‘It’s a bit of food.’
‘No wonder people take advantage of you.’
‘We took advantage of each other.’
Dad got up and spooned some more curry over his rice. ‘What I’d like to know is, whose baby is it? I suppose you know, Rick?’
‘Kevin Beere’s.’
Dad whistled. ‘Well, there’s trouble. No wonder she wanted to link up with us.’
‘If there’s one thing I understand, it’s that. Her life is crap so she hides it by making out she’s tough,’ Elliot said.
‘She’s tough because she’s tough,’ Rick said as he shovelled his food. ‘She’s a user and if you go back to her, I’m bloody finished helping you.’
‘I never went back to her in the first place, so why don’t you shut up? She came looking for me and now we know why.’
‘But you went off with her. She hunts you out and you’re gone, like that.’ Rick clicked his fingers. ‘Stupid.’
‘It was, Rick. I’ll never be that stupid again, so give it a break.’
‘I don’t think you will either, Elliot,’ Dad said. He put his arm on Elliot’s shoulder. ‘Can you hear me when I say your whole relationship was based on power and control?’
‘Yeah. I can see that now.’
‘Good. If there’s one thing you learn, it’s this: if it doesn’t feel mutually respectful then it won’t be.’
‘I hear you.’ Elliot moved off to put some food into containers for Lena. He wanted to escape the close confines of what was effectively a birds-and-bees chat.
He wished he’d been able to speak to Zeya one last time — he had an inkling that she would have coped with all this in spite of her sheltered life. Every action has a consequence and that made him think about his mother and the pushchair still waiting in its box. ‘I might go and see Mum. Did she get any of this food?’
‘She said she wasn’t hungry but you could check again,’ Dad said.
Mum was lying in the semi-darkness in her room. ‘Can I come in?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She smiled at him but it was clear she wasn’t happy.
‘I suppose this will be good news one day,’ Elliot said. ‘The weird thing is I like that little dude. He got under my skin really fast.’
‘Me too.’ She patted the edge of her bed. ‘In a strange way, I like Lena as well; she’s a survivor.’
‘I’m not freaked by her anymore.’
‘No, I’m not either.’ Mum adjusted her pillow and sat up. ‘I wasn’t much help to you with the paternity thing; it all happened so fast.’
‘You were a legend, Mum. I’ll never forget how you rallied after the accident and all that crap you had to deal with when you found out.’
She laughed. ‘I feel like a legend — a very old legend of about a hundred and three.’ She pulled a tissue out of the box that was lying on her white bed cover and blew her nose. ‘I felt like a grandmother.’
‘Well, that’s not happening for ages. I’m wiser now.’
Mum put her hand over Elliot’s. ‘You’re okay. You don’t have to be a different person because of all this.’
‘I am different, though.’ Elliot stood up and moved off. ‘I told Lena I’d drop off some takeaways; will you have any?’
‘No, not tonight, but yes, take her some.’ She waved her hand in the direction of the lounge. ‘I’d still like her to have the pushchair and I think I’ll occasionally have coffee with her; stay in touch. Are you alright with that?’
‘Yeah. Cheers, Mum. We’ll keep an eye on them, huh?’
It was 20 October, Arnie’s eightieth birthday, and the celebration was in a Wellington restaurant that Dorice had booked.
Mum, Dad and Rick were there, along with Stan and a few other cronies of Arnie’s.
Elliot took a beer off the waiter’s tray and clinked glasses with Rick. ‘Cheers, Elricko.’
‘Yeah, cheers to you, mate. I’m pleased to see you’re not wearing your nurse’s uniform to this party.’
‘Haha. Arnie’s quite a handful.’ Elliot had a mouthful of beer and shook his head as he thought about the past few weeks. ‘It’s been crazy dealing with him and then trying to get home to sort out the rest of my messy life.’
‘It’s happening,’ Rick said. ‘Seems to me, you’re over the worst.’
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, savouring their drinks before Dorice sidled up and whispered in Elliot’s ear, ‘I need a quiet word with you.’ She tugged his arm, and Rick winked at his brother.
‘What’s up, Dorice?’ Elliot said when they were standing in the far corner of the room. He moved quickly so she would stop pulling on his arm.
‘I’ve had a visit from a young lady who’s been quite upset about things. We’ve had a long talk and—’
Elliot stopped breathing. ‘Zeya?’
‘Yes, dear. Of course. Now I have a letter in here,’ and Dorice rummaged in her bag until she found it. ‘Here we are. I told her that things had been quite bad for you lately,’ and Dorice dropped her voice to a whisper that was barely audible, ‘but I didn’t tell her in what way.’
‘I wish I could’ve told her, Dorice. I think she’d have understood.’
‘She is a wise little thing. Anyway, she asked me to pass this on.’ Dorice held the envelope up.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Elliot put his fingers on the corner of the letter but Dorice didn’t let it go.
‘Isn’t it nice that a young person today would still write a letter? None of that messaging business or—’
Elliot whisked it out of her fingers. ‘Dorice, you are one in a million.’ He kissed her cheek and went straight to the men’s. He locked the door and ripped the envelope open.
Dear Elliot,
I’m writing because we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to each other. I understand that we can never be together and for now, that makes a friendship impossible too.
I’ve been very sad about Arnie’s accident and I know I was partly to blame for ringing you at work. Father was so angry and I’ve had to work hard to rebuild his trust. I will not be able to contact you after this.
I will always treasure the memory of our afternoons together at the teahouse and the way we talked and shared secrets about our lives. I listen to the Dvořák with different ears now and I will always hold a special place in my heart for lily-of-the-valley.
Dorice told me that things have not been so good for you lately and that Arnie is stopping work now. She said you were busy looking after him and that you had also been driving home frequently. I know you will resolve your problems in both places, and do the right thing, because you are a good person.
You are misguided when you think we can work together for Burma one day. It is a dangerous country for foreigners and our problems are generations old. I’m applying for Medical School in Auckland next year and I’m hoping Father will trust me to go and study there on my own. Once I’ve completed my degree I’d like to go back to Burma and work where I’m needed.
I will remember you with much fondness and something more as well.
Go well for your future,
Thwa dau mal,
Zeya
It wasn’t the letter he’d have hoped for but it was realistic. Zeya seemed noble and smart and he was sure she would reach her goals in Auckland. He folded the paper, slipped it into his jacket pocket and went back to join the others. Now he had one more job to do before he could relax.
Elliot tapped his knife against a glass and asked everyone for attention. ‘I’m not much of a speech-maker,’ he said. ‘My grandmother pointed that out at my eighteenth birthday dinner and I made a pact to shut up in public after that, but this is Arnie’s eightieth — a special occasion — and
I’m going to have another go.’ Elliot took a deep breath and opened his piece of paper.
‘Arnold Reginald Cashwell.’ Elliot paused to glance at Arnie and just as he’d expected Arnie raised an eyebrow.
‘When I first came to live with you I thought I’d died and gone straight to hell.’ There was laughter around the table. ‘Everything was strange: I didn’t drink rum, I didn’t like cats and I didn’t like getting up in the morning. Now I like rum and cats.’
Elliot let people chuckle and make comments. He waited and then carried on. ‘I’d run out of options at home so I had to suck it up and accept my lot. I was going to leave as soon as I could get a flat, but we kind of rubbed along okay and I stayed.
‘I’ve learned heaps, not just about security and wiring but also about life. You’re a good guy, Arnie, and I’m pleased you didn’t die when I, aahh, zapped you.’
There was more laughter and Arnie slapped his leg with his good hand and called out, ‘Aye aye. Me too.’
‘Thanks for everything you’ve done for me; the stories, the learning and shit — I mean stuff. I hope you get to have your trip on a cruise ship and I hope you have a good retirement.’ They grinned at each other and Elliot remembered to say, ‘Oh, and happy eightieth, Captain.’
Arnie struggled to his feet. ‘My leg’s caught,’ he said to Stan and they wrestled it free from under the table. ‘Thanks for those words, Elliot.’ He stood for a moment — it felt like ages, and then he spoke in a quiet voice.
‘When Russell Barnard rang me last year, the last thing I wanted was some kid coming to live with me. Seventeen, he said his boy was, and I thought, “Bloody hell, wet behind the ears.” Alright, I said, two weeks at the max, but I knew I couldn’t say no.’ Arnie looked at Dad. Elliot looked at Dad too and he could see there was something funny going on between the two men.
‘See the thing is,’ Arnie said. ‘I let Russell down once when we were in the navy together. I knew the truth of an incident that saw Russell pack up and leave and I didn’t go out to bat for him. It’s sat on my conscience for twenty-five years and I saw his phone call as a chance to remedy the wrong.’ Arnie’s hands were shaking. ‘I hope you’ll accept my late apology, Russell.’
What the hell? Elliot and Rick looked from Dad to Arnie and back again. They then stared at each other and nodded their heads.
‘It’s funny, though,’ Arnie continued. ‘I thought I was doing Russell a favour but it’s ended up that he’s done me one. Having his lad stay has changed my life and the last year or so has been,’ he paused and grinned at Elliot, ‘choppy, rewarding and good. A boat ride, you might say.’ He raised his glass. ‘I hope you stay and do your ticket in Wellington. I’ve got plans for you, so keep in touch.’
‘Or you could come back home and join us at Barnard’s,’ Dad called out across the applause.
‘No way,’ Rick said, chucking in his ten cents’ worth. ‘He needs to come down to Dunners and rip it up with his brother.’
Elliot threw his head back and laughed. It was good to have options. He caught Dorice’s eye and he smiled at her. ‘Funny thing is,’ he said to everyone, ‘I’m thinking of a fresh start in Auckland.’
I’d like to offer my love and thanks to my immediate family, especially Paul.
I’d also like to acknowledge the people who helped me get this book to its final stages: Mandy Hager, Bridget Shaumann, George Brumer, Katie O’Connor, Chris Watson, Leo Watson and Jackie Rutherford.
Thank you to so many people who helped to shape Coming Home to Roost. In particular, I’d like to mention Georgina Whyte, Jill Simons, Paul Sugden and Elizabeth O’Connor. Thanks to all the early readers who gave me your thoughts and suggested improvements. Every one of you offered something for me to think about.
A special thanks to my sister Jude Watson for your endless hours of discussion and proofreading. It’s been fun and I hope we have something new to dissect soon.
My final and biggest mention goes to my editor, Barbara Larson, who ‘got’ Rooster from the beginning and went in to bat for him. Thank you for your superb editing and your support.
About the Author
Mary-anne Scott lives in Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand, with Paul. They have four sons and two grandsons. Mary-anne is a guitarist and singer and an avid reader with a particular interest in teenage literature. Coming Home to Roost is her second novel. Her first book, Snakes and Ladders, won the Children’s Choice Award at the 2013 New Zealand Post Book Awards. You can read more about Mary-anne at www.maryannescott.nz
Copyright
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Longacre is an imprint of the Penguin Random House group of companies, whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published by Penguin Random House New Zealand, 2016
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Text © Mary-anne Scott, 2016
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Cover and text design by Kate Barraclough © Penguin Random House New Zealand
Cover photograph by Shutterstock
Author photograph by George Brummer
Printed and bound in Australia by Griffin Press, an Accredited ISO AS/NZS 14001
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A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.
ISBN 978–1–77553–859–2
eISBN 978–1–77553–874–5
The assistance of Creative New Zealand towards the production of this book is gratefully acknowledged by the publisher.
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Coming Home to Roost Page 19
