Loving Ways

by Gee, Maurice

  He told her to get up and get dressed. She fizzed and spat. He told her to go away and not come back; and said that if her husband met with any accident he would go to the police. She laughed at him. She broke things. She left the plug in the handbasin and flooded his bathroom. Then she went away. She did not become beautiful as she left but remained ugly. She was, for all that, the most beautiful woman he had known; and she had not stopped walking in, walking into his head, wearing both her faces, and striking him again so that he lay stunned.

  ‘I got out of that flat,’ Alan told Freda. ‘And I changed my job as soon as I could. But I haven’t been able to keep her out.’

  ‘Do you think we’re all like that?’ she said.

  ‘More or less. Not just women. People.’

  ‘And that’s why you’re religious?’

  ‘I suppose it is.’

  ‘It makes me shiver.’

  ‘It should.’

  ‘No, you make me shiver. We’re not like that.’

  ‘Freda.’ He took her hands over the table, held them a moment, let them go. ‘When David came today I went out into the trees and I found myself thinking, I could kill him, that’s what I’ll do. I could keep him away from you by killing him.’

  ‘But you won’t, will you?’

  ‘I just felt how easy it would be. Then you and me … That’s what I thought.’

  ‘But you won’t. She would have. Phoebe. And for money.’ She took his hand. ‘Alan. You’ve had a hard time, I can see. I can see how you make sense of it all, with God and stuff. But to me you’re just a man I like. I’ll start from there. I’ll take the rest of it as it comes.’

  ‘I make you shiver. You said it.’

  ‘Not when I hold your hand. You’ve seen things I haven’t seen. But you’ve got, look, five fingers just like me.’ She squeezed them. ‘Now let’s go.’

  He followed the black car back to the orchard. She closed the garage and climbed to the patio. ‘I’m sleeping in the cottage tonight. No, don’t argue. I want to do it your way.’

  ‘Freda –’

  ‘If we’re in the same house I’ll climb into bed with you. I can’t help myself.’

  ‘I’ll sleep in the cottage.’

  ‘Ha. All right. I’ll let you. Then we’ll be safe.’

  ‘Are you going to bed now?’

  ‘We’ve got an early start. And I don’t want to be with you any more today. I want to think.’

  Heather was watching television in the lounge. She told them that she had rung round and hired a nurse. Alan fetched his toilet gear from the bathroom and found his pyjamas under a cushion on the sofa. Freda came outside with him. She did her trick of rising on her toes but this time kissed him on the mouth.

  ‘There,’ she said, ‘that’s a start.’

  He turned in the drive and saw her standing in the lighted doorway. She raised her hand, then went inside. He walked to the cottage and made a bed on one of the bunks and lay in the dark. The mattress smelled of mouse, and gorse made glassy squeaks on the window pane. Phoebe approached with her dreadful step. He turned her away. Freda took her place. Safe, she had said. A start, she said. The empty wine bottle from their dinner the night before gleamed on the sill above the bench.

  After a short time he went to sleep.

  MAY

  She made a dozen sketches for tile paintings and showed them to Evan. He liked those with flax bushes in the foreground and water behind but paused at the sketch of the woman in her dinghy. ‘Are you sure about this one?’

  ‘That was the first. That’s what gave me the idea. I’m not going to stop because of the boat.’

  ‘We’ll get a new one. I want to give him time to calm down.’

  ‘He never will,’ May said.

  ‘Junior and me go back a long way. He was the first bloke I knew in New Zealand. I was concreting paths with him a week after I got here. He taught me a lot.’

  ‘Not how to pot, though. You taught yourself that.’

  ‘Yeah. Poor old Junior and his pots. Hey, do some of the river. You and me in the river.’

  ‘These are for family consumption.’ Then she corrected herself: No they’re not. I don’t want to do just pretty pictures. Why not Evan rising from the water, with dripping beard and hairy belly and thick penis and thick legs? A river god. The Aorere seemed to ask for one and Evan was the perfect model, pre-Hellenic. He was ugly and close to primal things. Yet he was man too. He did all the man things so well.

  She turned from him as she always did when surprised to excess in this way. But a hum of expectation had begun in her. She would paint him. It was time.

  She spent the morning making further sketches, and kept him out, although he was an unseen presence behind the waterfall and in the waves and, always, standing in the river. How should I colour him? He would require a teaky red, and other times be pale, with a darkness where his organs would be. She coloured the sketches, bright colours, icon bright, then wondered if Evan was a shadow in the sea. She took a sheet of paper and sketched him deep down, half man half fish, swimming fast with arms at his sides and face out-thrust and his beard pointing ahead. She liked it and laughed at it, but tore it out and put it in the back of the pad: Evan as taniwha. She chose the best of the coloured sketches and took them to him in the pottery.

  ‘I thought we’d start with these.’

  ‘Let’s see. These are good, May.’

  ‘I know they’re good.’

  ‘These’ll sell. You know how to get the colours right.’

  ‘I’m good with colour. How should we mount them?’

  ‘We’ll put a frame around them. Elm. We’ll go for quality. Leave that to me.’ He grinned at her and hugged her, thick-armed, keeping his clay-stained hands away from her smock. ‘It’s going to be a good winter, May. Just you and me.’

  ‘I want to do some painting too. My own stuff.’

  ‘Sure. We can sell them to your brother.’

  May smiled. She did not think Alan, or anyone else, would want to buy the paintings she would do.

  Later, as she was making lunch, she saw an old Rover 90 drive into the yard and angle into a parking place by the trees: her father’s car. Impossible, she thought, he’s far too ill. Then Freda got out and waved to her, and even though May did not want outsiders today, she said, ‘Thank God.’ She went out and hugged and kissed her friend.

  ‘What do you think of my car?’ Freda cried.

  ‘How did you get that out of him?’

  ‘I went to Heather. It’s marvellous to drive, May. It rolls, it goes like treacle. Do you think he’d leave it to me in his will?’

  ‘You’d better ask. How is he?’

  ‘The same. No, worse. He’ll always get just a little bit worse, every day.’

  ‘Until he dies?’

  ‘Until he dies. He’s not suffering. He’s fairly peaceful. He’s nicer now than he’s ever been.’

  ‘That wouldn’t take much. Shouldn’t you be back there nursing him?’

  ‘Alan’s looking after him today. David’s coming. That’s why I had to get out.’ She went round the car and took some paper bags from the passenger seat. ‘Stuff for lunch. From Takaka. It’s lovely here, May. I’d forgotten. I could live here. I went and had a look at Wainui Inlet. And the Pupu Springs. All that clean water. I wanted to take my clothes off and dive in.’

  ‘You’d freeze,’ May said. She took Freda inside and began to be pleased even more. All the years of Freda, the kindnesses and arguments and chatter and deep talk, had built in her a feeling close to love, and she was never able to turn it aside for long. ‘How are you?’ she said. ‘I worry about you.’

  Before Freda could answer Evan came in. Their liking had never advanced far. In Evan’s opinion Freda did not have a great deal to her, she had a mind that hopped like a flea, and he would not accept May’s judgement that Freda did not have enough time, was driven by an urgency that made her quick and eager and impatient. Urgency, Evan said, what does that
mean? May could not explain; her formulations stayed imprecise – that Freda had to know, and know closely, and enjoy, that she had a hunger interfering with good sense … and Evan replied that he agreed, she had a hunger all right, for men. He was coarser than she liked about Freda. As for Freda’s feelings about him – again May could not formulate; all she could say was that Evan did not work for her friend. And there was something in Freda that was shallow: she asked for good looks in a man, a Hollywood face. Am I fair in that?, May wondered. It was not at the very top of Freda’s list, but was surely close. David had first got her attention with his John Wayne assessing look. But hadn’t there been some desperation too in her lunge at him?

  She listened to Freda talking, bright and fast, covering her indifference to Evan, and thought, She’s a clever woman and she tries. She’s generous. If she hadn’t picked me up I might have died. She observed Freda’s false sparkle and became aware of something deep and quiet at the back of it, an excitement that lay still and put a weight in her that May had not felt before. I know what’s happened, she told herself. She would not speak of it until Evan had gone. Then she said: ‘How are you getting on with Alan?’

  ‘Yes, your brother,’ Freda said. ‘He’s nice isn’t he?’

  ‘Nice?’

  ‘Well, interesting. He showed me the painting he bought from you.’

  ‘I wanted to give it to him.’

  ‘Why should you? Painting’s your job.’

  ‘Yes, but finding a new brother – I thought it should be marked with a gift. I’m going to do some tile paintings. I’ll give him one of those.’

  ‘He’s happy with the Wharariki one. It’s beautiful, May. He’s wrapped it up again, though; he’s saving it for Auckland. He’s funny, don’t you think? I mean, everything has got to be a little ceremony.’ She took out a cigarette and put it in her mouth, then jerked it out. ‘I forgot, I’m giving up. Throw these things away, will you? Put them in the rubbish.’

  May took the packet. ‘What does this make? Four times? Five?’

  ‘I’ve lost count. But it’s real this time. David was the one who got me started again. You couldn’t live with him and not smoke.’

  ‘So who are you stopping for?’

  ‘Myself.’

  ‘Why don’t I believe that?’

  Freda laughed. She reached into her bag. ‘Damn, you’ve got them. I’m going to do it hard this time. Have you got any gum?’

  ‘I’ve got some barley sugars.’

  ‘No. I guess I’ll survive.’

  ‘Who is it, Freda? My other brother?’

  Freda laughed again. ‘You know me. I’m a pushover.’ Underneath her bantering she waited to be serious.

  ‘Stop joking,’ May said. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Nothing happened. That’s the funny part. All we’ve done is have a few talks and a meal. I gave him dinner in the cottage last night. But I can tell he likes me. God, I shouldn’t talk like this, I’m superstitious.’

  ‘Superstition is something new,’ May said. ‘You spilled it all to me when you met David. You wouldn’t stop.’

  ‘This is different, May. It is different.’

  ‘I’m not arguing. But how long have you had? Three days?’

  ‘Four. But you know how it is when you meet a man; you get the feeling, This one will do. God, doesn’t that sound awful, like buying a bottle of wine at the supermarket. What I mean, it hasn’t really happened before. With David I had to close a part of myself down. I put it aside for the duration. Alan, though, it’s …’

  ‘A sense of rightness?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s recognition?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And love?’

  ‘You’re laughing. I don’t want to talk about it, May. What I want is get him into bed. But he won’t. You don’t know how different we are.’

  ‘I think I do.’ She had a sudden picture of Alan and Freda striding on different paths towards a corner, like two people in a cartoon; but they stopped and would not collide, each sensing the other out of sight; then he, then she, reached around and felt the other’s face, and would explore – would they? – then take hands and pull each other into sight.

  ‘You know he’s religious?’

  ‘I didn’t know that. I know he doesn’t like it when I swear.’ She grinned nervously. ‘Or smoke. You mean he goes to church and all that stuff? I should have guessed.’

  ‘Does it make you like him less?’

  ‘I don’t think so. It makes him – interesting. God, I’ll have to be careful.’

  ‘For starters, Freda, do you believe in God?’

  ‘I don’t know. Yes, I do. I think I do.’

  May laughed. ‘It’s going to be quite a romance.’

  ‘You don’t, do you?’

  ‘No, I don’t. I think it’s loony. I was hoping Alan would grow out of it.’

  Freda’s cheeks mottled, red and white. ‘That’s a stupid thing to say.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘How do you know what his life’s been like? How do you know he doesn’t know?’

  ‘Faith, you mean? Let’s not argue, Freda. But I wouldn’t go pretending anything.’

  ‘I won’t pretend. I’ve never pretended in my life.’

  ‘Okay. Calm down. What happens next? What are you and Alan going to do?’

  Freda reached again for a cigarette. ‘Bugger,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll have to stop saying that.’

  ‘I might and I might not. Have you seen him? All this standing up when a woman comes in, and opening doors; that’s got to stop.’

  May laughed.

  ‘Maybe it was the army,’ Freda said.

  ‘He certainly never got it from Dad. Don’t you think it’s nice?’

  ‘It could get on your nerves.’

  ‘So, the great romance is over.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, May. Alan and I are just getting started. So keep quiet. And give me my smokes.’

  May cleared away the lunch dishes. Later they walked up to the tank and sat on the grass looking over the inlet.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s really going to happen. But I’m going to give it my best shot,’ Freda said.

  ‘How does he feel about … his brother’s wife?’

  ‘Not very good. It has to go slow’ – she sighed – ‘so goddam slow. I suppose it might be good for me.’

  ‘I don’t think it will do you any harm. How many men have you been serious about?’

  ‘In my life? A dozen. Two dozen.’

  ‘And every time you’ve just jumped in?’

  ‘And made a mess. Even poor old Prentiss was a mess. It might be good to take things slow. I shouldn’t have talked about this, May. I made up my mind I wouldn’t, driving over. I might have spoiled it.’

  ‘No, you haven’t.’

  May lay back on the grass and closed her eyes. She was happy. She believed Alan and Freda might have a chance. Chance, she thought, that’s how it starts, accidentally. But hard work comes after that. Freda might be ready to do it for once: make concessions, even make some changes in herself. It was possible. You moulded a bit, taste or prejudice or preference, pushed in your thumb, and it was like rubber and sprang back into place when the pressure came off, but after a time, if you kept on, it turned to clay. It might work for Freda because she was good. Oh, selfish, excitable, demanding, quick-tempered, but good for all that, and intelligent too. She liked before she disliked. She liked herself – essential that. She understood weakness (especially, although later on, her own), and she was not frightened of loving. May did not know Alan well enough to decide whether he had virtues equalling those, but hadn’t she sensed in him, in spite of his hang-ups, a preference for yes over no? That was promising. She was glad this thing had started. What a pity David prowled around the edges of it.

  May sat up. She looked at Freda, who had lain down too. Her eyes were closed and she had a smile on her face – a cream-licking smile. May was rel
uctant to spoil her pleasure. She gazed over the inlet – glossy water, still tide – and the red roofs and the sea. Pieces of the spit showed, ill-defined. A barge, low in the water, moved along to Takaka behind a white launch. Overhead, almost beyond sight, a silver aeroplane drew a vapour trail from north to south. Was it true that jungle tribes, newly Christian, took these things for the finger of God? She did not think that God, if he existed, would point to places on the map. Up or down he’d point, in encouragement or warning. He’d point his finger into head or heart, the way he had, presumably, with Alan. She looked at Freda again and saw her frown.

  ‘Where does David fit in?’ May said.

  ‘Yes,’ Freda opened her eyes, ‘I was thinking about him.’

  ‘Has he caught on about you and Alan?’

  ‘Shit, no. Do you think I’d still be in one piece?’

  ‘And he still doesn’t know where you are?’

  ‘Not unless somebody’s told him. He followed Alan home yesterday, but that’s because he’d just found out Robert was sick. He’s worried about what he’s going to get. His inheritance. That’s why he’s there today.’

  ‘Why would he follow Alan?’

  ‘I don’t know. Because it’s his style. He plays games. I don’t want to be an expert on him. Anyway …’

  ‘Yes? Anyway?’

  ‘I’m going up to Auckland. To Alan’s place.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning. It’s all right, May, I’m not going to live with him. I’ll shift out when he comes. And then we’ll see.’ She made a grin that had a sour edge. ‘I’ve gone from Mister Quick to Mister Slow.’

  ‘Don’t put too much pressure on him, Freda.’

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t need advice.’

  She was confused, and would joke and tough her way through. The danger lay in her impatience and in what she called her common sense. Hey, it would tell her, we like each other, okay? So why are we waiting? May wished that she could oversee this early part of their coming together, and rescue her, perhaps him, when things went wrong.

  ‘Don’t interfere, May.’

  ‘I’m not.’