by Des Hunt
“Tom? Tom?”
His eyes opened. “I’m here,” he said weakly.
“Are you injured?”
“Yes.”
“Where?” Then Marika saw the bulge at his waist. In the dim light it looked like some horrific injury. “Oh my god! Your stomach! What happened?”
Tom gave a feeble smile. “No, that’s a kiwi. It’s my arm that’s injured. Can you give me a hand up.”
Once standing, Tom showed Marika the kiwi and its injury.
“Did a dog do that?” she asked.
Tom nodded.
Marika’s eyes went wide. “Buffy?”
“No. That one there,” said Tom pointing to Spot who was cowering in the shadows. “He’s Spot, the Davidson’s pet dog.”
“Is he now,” said Marika, thinking. “Um … do you mind if I take some photos … like … before I take you to hospital?”
“Yes please,” said Tom. “I want everyone to see what the real kiwi killer looks like.”
* * *
The next 12 hours were hazy for Tom. He remembered helping the dogs into the back of the SUV before climbing in himself and also the difficulty of fitting the seatbelt while he still held the kiwi. After that were bits and pieces at the hospital: his burn being treated, some injections, and the transfer into a bed. From then on there was nothing until he woke to find it was daylight outside, with blue skies. His father sat beside the bed, working his phone.
“Hi Dad,”
Brandon looked up, startled. “Oh! You’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“How’s the arm?”
Tom looked across to his heavily-bandaged left arm, which was arranged out to one side, lying on a pillow of its own. “Don’t know. Can’t feel a thing.” He wriggled his fingers. “It still works, but.”
“You had quite an adventure,” said Brandon. “Didn’t you.”
Tom shrugged. “Where were you when I called?”
“Working. The boss wanted to get most of the fruit in before the storm hit.”
“But the storm had started by then.”
“Um … yeah, nah, we were in the shed sorting out what we’d picked. The rain was so heavy I didn’t hear the phone. Sorry Tom.”
Another shrug from Tom. Maybe it was true, maybe not. “So what’s been happening,” he asked.
Brandon brightened. “Well, you’re a bit of a hero around here. What with saving Mike Davidson, a kiwi, and bringing in a kiwi killer. Everyone’s impressed.”
“Is Mike okay?”
“He’s in here somewhere,” said Brandon, waving an arm. “I hear his legs are pretty banged up. Won’t be going pig hunting again in a hurry.”
“What about the dogs? What’s happening to Buffy?”
“I dunno,” said Brandon, without interest. “I suppose they’re in the pound.”
Tom thought about this. Maybe now was the time to say what he wanted, while Brandon was all defensive. “I want Buffy to be my dog.”
Immediately Brandon began shaking his head. “Aw, Tom, I don’t know about that. Your mum won’t want a dog around the baby.”
Tom glared at him. “But I’m living with you!”
Brandon turned away. “Your mum’s making noises about having you back … back with her in Hamilton.”
“Why?”
“You’ll have to ask her that. She’ll be here later.”
* * *
After his father left, Tom had little time to think before a nurse arrived to change his dressing, take his temperature, and generally check him over. Then a junior doctor came and gave him the once over. After that there was food, of which Tom ate about half.
He had just settled down again when Dave Hughes arrived to pick up his phone. They found it in the bedside cabinet. Dave checked it was still working before bringing Tom up-to-date with what had been happening.
“That logging truck’s been cleared off the road and they’re working at the site again. It’ll take the rest of the week to process all the trees they felled. But they saved most of them. Only a few came down with the wind.” He paused to shake his head. “I can tell you it was pretty rough in there at the height of the storm.” He chuckled. “But I don’t have to tell you that, do I? You were there at ground zero. Bit of a hero aren’t you?”
Tom deflected the comment by asking about the dogs.
“They’re in the pound. That DoC woman … um, Sally … she went and picked up all of Davidson’s pack. They’re being tested to see if any of the others are also kiwi killers.”
“What will happen to them?” asked Tom.
“Well, I doubt they’ll ever be returned to Davidson. None of them were registered or chipped.” A pause. “I’ve got in mind to try and get one of them myself.”
“Buffy?”
Dave smiled. “No, you’ll want Buffy, won’t you?”
Tom looked away, not wanting Dave to see the tears that were forming.
“What’s the problem?” asked Dave. Then, when Tom wouldn’t answer, he said, “Aw, I get it. You’re going back to live with your mum. Is that it?”
Tom gave the slightest of nods.
“And you don’t want to go?”
“No.”
“Well, don’t give up yet. You never know what might be possible. Just hang in there, Tom, and I’ll see what I can do.”
* * *
Next visitor in line was Marika. She had news on the kiwi, which had been all sewn up and was doing well. She repeated what Dave had said about Mike Davidson’s dogs, and then she gave news about Mrs Hopwood’s dog, Harvey.
“He’s not been fully cleared yet. He’ll be held at least until the DNA results come back for Spot. But that’s simply a precaution. Sally Page no longer believes Harvey’s the killer.”
She then moved into a full interview about the events of the previous day. Tom answered her questions, but his mind was elsewhere, thinking of the future rather than the past.
At the end, she said, “By the way, Mike asked me to tell you he’d like to see you sometime. He’s at the other end of the ward. I gather he wants to thank you.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t mind being there for that. Get a photo of the hero meeting the villain.” The smile faded. “But that’s not going to happen, is it? Mike Davidson is not a happy man.”
After she left, Tom decided he’d go meet the man, and get it done with. He needed to get out of bed and go to the toilet, anyway.
Mike was asleep when Tom arrived, but it was obvious why he was not a happy man – he was hung up by cords like a puppet. Both legs were plastered and raised up from the bed. His chest was tied with a bandage, and blotches of antiseptic paint covered other parts of his body. Even in his sleep he looked angry. Tom decided to leave and come back another time.
On his way back, Tom explored the hospital. He discovered there wasn’t much to it, and it wasn’t even in Kerikeri. It was in Kawakawa, an hour’s drive from home. Tom then realised that Dave had gone out of his way to visit, it wasn’t just a courtesy call, it was the action of a true friend. Maybe the man really could do something about keeping Tom with his father in Kerikeri.
* * *
That hope was shattered soon after he got back to his bed. In the seat was his mother and standing, with the baby in a sling on his chest, was the partner, Allan.
Mandy’s first words were, “So, this is the mess your father got you into.”
Tom climbed into his bed before speaking. “Hello Mum. How are you?”
“I’m all right,” she snapped. “More importantly, how are you?”
He shrugged. “My arm’s sore, but the rest of me is okay.”
“What I want to know is what were you doing out in the forest during a tropical cyclone?”
So Tom told her.
When he’d finished she said, “Some people are calling you a hero.” Her voice had softened. “Sounds like you were.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Then the hardness came back. �
�What was your father doing all of this time?”
“He was at work.”
Mandy snorted. “So he says. I’d like a second opinion on that. I know him from old.”
“He’s not like that any more,” said Tom, hoping he sounded convincing.
Another snort. “Oh yeah? What is he like?”
“He’s changed. He’s more settled.”
“Yeah, right,” said Mandy, her voice full of sarcasm. “I suppose it’s a change if you’re not living in the back of a van any more. But that hovel he’s got is no better. No son of mine should live in a place like that. When you get out of here you’re coming to live with me.”
Tom opened his mouth to object, but Mandy shouted him down.
“No! No argument, Tom. That’s what’s going to happen. I’ve made up my mind.”
This time Tom jammed his mouth shut. There was no point in arguing when she was in this mood. Instead he looked up at Allan to see what he thought of the move. But the man had turned his back and was staring out the window, his body tight and motionless. He clearly didn’t want another man’s son living in the same house, and that gave Tom a glimmer of hope. Maybe, sometime later, when the couple were alone, Allan would do the arguing for him.
Chapter 17
When the doctor did his rounds on Wednesday morning, he gave Tom the all clear to go home. While waiting for Brandon to arrive, Tom walked down the ward to see Mike Davidson.
He found the man awake, lying back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
“Hi Tom,” he said without enthusiasm. “I hear you’re leaving today. How’s the burn.”
“Still hurts. How are your legs?”
“They’re stuffed. Be months before I’m back at work. Don’t know what’s going to happen with my business in the meantime.”
“Can you get somebody else to do it?”
“That’s what I was thinking about.” He sighed deeply. “Anyway, I wanted to thank you for what you did … like … in the forest. They tell me things could have ended up … well, a lot worse if you hadn’t come along. So thanks.”
Tom nodded his acceptance.
Mike continued. “I suppose you know what’s happened to my dogs.”
“I heard they’re in the pound.”
“Yeah. I can’t see why they have to take all of them. Those dogs are like family to me.”
Tom pictured the conditions in the shed where the dogs had been kept. Yeah, he thought, pity you didn’t treat them that way.
The man moved in the bed so he could look directly at his visitor. “Tell me, is it true you found Spot actually attacking a kiwi.”
“Yes.” Tom went on to tell him exactly what he saw, and what happened to the kiwi. By the time he finished, Mike was shaking his head from side to side.
“He wouldn’t have learnt to do that by himself. No dog of mine would attack kiwi without help. Some other dog taught him that. I bet it was that mongrel, Harvey. He was always in the forest. He’s the real killer. I reckon they had the right dog all along.” He paused, before adding, “That was until you started interfering.”
Tom’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide. This guy was in total denial. He would blame anybody and anything rather than accept his own dog was a kiwi killer. Tom had actually been feeling a bit sorry for him, but now … now he was speechless. But even if he could’ve found the words, he knew they would have been wasted on this man. The best response was to walk away, which was what Tom did.
* * *
The remainder of the school holidays passed slowly for Tom. His arm was still too sore to ride or run, and he’d lost his enthusiasm to train for the triathlon. He knew he wouldn’t be in Kerikeri much longer. Nothing had been decided yet, but the signs were bad. Each night after dinner Brandon rang Mandy. He did it outside, so Tom couldn’t hear what was going on. But Tom knew they were arguing, and he also knew that when it came to arguments, his father never won.
There was a bright spot on Saturday when Brandon bought Tom a phone – exactly the model and deal Tom wanted. That filled in the rest of the weekend. Even so, Tom was relieved when school resumed on Monday, and there were other things to help fill in time.
By Tuesday Brandon was back into his old habits, arriving home late without any explanation of what he’d been doing. The phone discussions with Mandy continued.
Wednesday was much the same. Then, on Thursday Brandon texted while Tom was at school.
Won’t be home for dinner tonite. You’ll have to find your own way home. I’ve contacted Dave. He’s expecting you.
Tom was more than a little annoyed by this. Yes, it was better than not knowing what was happening, but only just. He began to understand why Brandon had been so keen on buying the phone – it allowed him to stay away from home longer.
When Tom knocked on Dave’s door he was surprised to hear a whole lot of barking from inside. Was this Buffy? His hopes rose. Had his father organised this as a surprise?
No such luck. When Dave opened the door, the dog that came out was not Buffy, although it certainly looked like a pig dog.
“Hi Tom. Come in and meet Charlie. He was one of Davidson’s pack.”
Tom was shocked. “Why didn’t you take Buffy?”
“Aw, a bitch can be awkward. Unless you want to breed they can be a real pain.”
When he got inside Tom saw Buffy’s bowl and bed were set up next to the couch. Already Charlie had taken the place of Buffy, and that hurt.
Over dinner Dave told of the latest developments. The DNA testing proved that Spot had been the killer of all the kiwi. Harvey had been cleared and returned to Mrs Hopwood. Spot had already been euthanised. The rest of the Davidson pack would be sold to recover costs. Any that didn’t sell would go the same way as Spot.
Tom had listened in silence until this last bit, when he couldn’t control himself any more. He stared at Dave in horror. “You mean Buffy could be put down?”
Dave shook his head vigorously. “No Tom. She’s already gone. Someone else took her.”
“Who?”
A shrug. “When I got Charlie yesterday, she’d already been taken. They said it was to a good home. I’m sure it was. They check new owners very carefully.”
That calmed Tom a little.
Later, when they’d done the dishes, he sat on the floor and played with Charlie, except it wasn’t the same as being with Buffy. After 20 minutes he thanked Dave and went home to bed.
* * *
Over breakfast on Friday morning Brandon said they were going to Mrs Hopwood’s for dinner that night.
“I didn’t know you knew her,” said Tom.
“I didn’t until she came up to me in the supermarket, when you were in hospital. She asked how you were getting on.”
“You never said.”
Brandon shrugged. “I forgot, I guess.”
“So when did she ask us to dinner?”
“Um … she sent me a text yesterday. We’re to be there by five. I’ll pick you up from school. That’ll give us plenty of time to get ready.”
Tom was still puzzled, unable to figure out why it had taken Mrs Hopwood almost two weeks to make contact. And even then it was with Brandon, not him. At first, Tom had expected her to visit the hospital, and when that didn’t happen, he’d hoped she’d come over to the bach. At one stage he’d considered going over to see her, except that would be almost like skiting about what he’d done, so he left it for her to make the first move. And now she had, although it did seem a rather strange way of doing it.
* * *
At exactly five o’clock Brandon and Tom walked over the road to the new development, which now had a flash nameplate attached to the block wall – Keri Keys it was called. Someone had also finished installing the gates. As they approached, these swung open to let them through.
“How did that happen?” asked Tom.
“They’re automatic.”
“Yeah, I know. But how did they know we were here?”
“Ellen must be w
atching through the security camera.”
Tom wasn’t convinced. His father’s manner was a little too accepting. Something was going on here.
Harvey met them halfway down the driveway, his tail wagging so much that his whole body moved. Behind him were Mrs Hopwood, along with Marika and Dave. Apparently they were invited to dinner as well.
After they’d all greeted one another, Mrs Hopwood suggested they do a tour of the development. They started with the houses which were now close to being finished. Then they moved down to where the development met the inlet, a part Tom hadn’t seen before. He found this much more interesting than the houses. There was a jetty, a boat ramp, and several mooring buoys, one with a launch attached. A dinghy was resting upside-down on a small beach. The area would be a great place for kids to play.
From there they moved up to a smaller house, tucked away at the back of the development. Mrs Hopwood insisted they take a look around inside. Tom tagged along, even though he would have preferred to go back to the estuary.
They did the lounge, the kitchen, the laundry, the bathroom … and it all looked great, but of absolutely no interest to Tom.
Down the hallway were two bedrooms, one with its own bathroom. The second was smaller and as boring as any other empty bedroom. Tom had moved away to walk down the hall, when he heard his name mentioned. He turned back.
“What was that?” he asked.
Mrs Hopwood was grinning at him. “I said, this will be your bedroom.”
“Eh?”
Mrs Hopwood chuckled. “This house is where you’ll be living.”
Tom turned to Brandon who was also grinning. “Yes, we’ll be living here. This is the caretaker’s cottage and I’m the caretaker.”
By then everyone was grinning except Tom.
“When did this happen?” he asked.
“Over the last week,” said Mrs Hopwood, “although I’d been thinking of it for some time. I asked around and found people had good things to say about Brandon, especially his boss. So I approached him when you were in hospital. Over the last few days we’ve been visiting plant shops sorting out the landscaping, and today we signed an employment contract. He starts Monday.”
Tom shook his head as if to clear it. He still wasn’t convinced this was all good news. “Does Mum know about this?” he asked.
