by Jeff Gulvin
They dived deep and John-Cody showed Libby coral trees hundreds of years old, protected here from the massive avalanches of vegetation above the surface. He pointed out beds of lamb shells that were older than the glacial fiords themselves and sea pens like quills waving in the current.
On the boat Hunter and Bree stood together in the stern and watched the bubbles rising. Bree stood close to him, aware of his breathing, the tanned skin of his forearms. Surreptitiously she glanced at his face in profile, the full redness of his lips, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She had never kissed a boy before, had never wanted to. She realized then that she wanted to kiss Hunter and a squirming sensation gripped her stomach; she looked at the white metal of the deck between her feet.
‘They’re over there now,’ Hunter interrupted her unconsciously and Bree followed the line of his finger to where the bubbles had drifted.
‘How long have they been down?’ she asked him.
‘I don’t know. I’ll check.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Alex can keep an eye on the timer.’ Bree didn’t want him dashing to the wheelhouse, didn’t want the moment between them broken. Hunter looked round at her then and smiled. ‘This is brilliant, isn’t it?’
Bree gazed across at Marcaciones Point. ‘The best,’ she said. ‘Just the very best.’
THIRTEEN
NEHEMIAH POLE WAS AT HOME. Jane was back on the phone to the United States and he was listening intently, coiled at his desk with his elbows resting on the blotter. Jane’s desk was at right angles to his so both of them could get the benefit of the view across the fields where the two bays and Barrio grazed the paddock. Jane was concentrating, chewing on the end of a pencil as she did when she was thinking hard. ‘You’re sure?’ she said.
Pole felt the hairs lift on the back of his neck.
‘Get the paperwork and fax it to me. We’ll take it from there.’ She put the phone down and looked across at her husband. ‘I think we just struck gold.’
Pole stared at her for a long moment then he stood up, fists clenched, and walked to the window. In his mind’s eye he was at West Arm, Gibbs and Mahina together on the dock, an ambulance crew and the body of his son wrapped in plastic. He saw Mahina avoid his eye, saw himself gazing intently at her for the first time in years, as if with Eli’s death some control had been wrested back.
Jane came alongside him. ‘Assuming what we get is good enough, it’ll be up to you to do it.’ She faced him, took him by his shoulders as if he were a child. ‘The people in the States want to be distanced from any adverse publicity that might arise.’
Pole was quiet, gazing across the paddock.
‘Ned?’
‘What?’
‘Did you hear what I said?’
He nodded.
She saw the clouds gathered in his eyes and she frowned. ‘You contact the authorities right away, no messing about.’
‘Why not speak to him first, tell him we know?’
‘What on earth for?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Give him an option.’
‘After the trouble he’s caused us? Give me a break.’ She looked at him then, puzzlement in her eyes. ‘With what you went through in the bush I can’t believe you said that.’
‘Bush?’ He was staring at her. ‘What’re you talking about — bush?’
‘The jungle, of course: the army. What do you think I’m talking about?’
Pole stepped beyond her: he couldn’t get the image out of his head, the body bag on the wharf and Mahina avoiding his eye. ‘When will we know for sure?’ he said.
‘Just as soon as they get their hands on the prosecuting attorney’s report.’
Bree went back to school on the Monday after the Easter holidays were over with thoughts of Hunter and Easter orchids in her head. She and her mother had accompanied John-Cody on the last Doubtful Sound trip of the season and the whole of the Camelot estuary had been thick with the scent of the flower.
She saw Jessica Lowden squatting on the low wall of the school where the bus pulled up, and her heart sank. She recalled the same feeling when she went back after Christmas and she didn’t know how she’d managed to get through the last term. Hunter wasn’t on the bus this morning: Bree knew that he and his family had been up in the North Island for the holidays and he was returning to school a day later.
Jessica looked up as she got off the bus. ‘Hey, Bree.’
Bree stopped, absolutely amazed. Jessica was smiling at her. She got up from the wall.
‘Did you have a good holiday?’
Bree looked at her dumbly and nodded.
‘Great. What did you do?’
‘I went over the hill with Gib.’
‘Did you? I’ve only been once. Not on the Korimako, you know, just for the afternoon with Southland Tours.’
They walked together into the school building, with Sally and Anna, Jessica’s two cronies, behind them, equally as chatty. Bree saw Biscuit at the door to their classroom and she looked just as astonished.
‘It must be weird for you,’ Jessica prattled on, ‘Easter and soon it’ll be winter. In England it’ll be summer now, won’t it?’
‘Spring. But not long till summer.’ Bree laid her bag on her desk. Behind her Sally opened a packet of sweets and offered them to her. Bree took one rather gingerly as if she half expected Sally to snap the bag shut on her hand. She looked up at Jessica who was suddenly looking sheepish.
‘Look, we’re sorry, OK? I mean about being nasty to you. It’s just that you were new and your name was weird.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Anyway, we’re sorry.’
The tutor called them for the register then and Bree sat down, quite stunned by it all. For six months and more Jessica Lowden had made her life a misery. This was almost too good to be true. At break she sat on her own in the classroom and took her writing paper from her bag.
Dear Dad
You’ll never guess what! Jessica Lowden’s stopped bullying me. She’s been doing it for half a year and we came back from the Easter holidays and she just stopped. She even said sorry. I nearly fell over. Brilliant isn’t it because everything else here is so cool. I love John-Cody and he and Mum are getting on well. He was so depressed when we got here, but I talked to him about Mahina and I think he secretly fancies Mum. Mum is gorgeous. She’s much younger than him but that doesn’t matter, does it. I talk to him quite a lot.
She paused then and realized this was the first letter she had written for a while.
Sorry I haven’t written for such a long time, I suppose I’ve just been busy.
Anyway, everything is cool especially now Jessica is being so nice. I don’t even mind playing rugby. I really like Hunter. Did I tell you about him? We’ve been friends since I got here. I’ve been to tea and he’s come to tea. I haven’t kissed him yet, but I’m thirteen soon so I think that will be the time. What do you think? I’ll be a teenager then. I’m not going to tell Mum, I’m just going to do it or rather I mean I’m just going to let him do it. That’s a girl thing, Dad. You wouldn’t understand. Anyway, things are really cool here now. I’ll let you know when I’ve kissed Hunter.
Lots of love, Bree
Jessica sat next to her in Japanese that afternoon. Bree had picked the language up well and was one of the best in the class. Jessica, on the other hand, was not good and Bree hoped she wasn’t sitting next to her just to copy her work. The tutor raised an eyebrow; everyone in the school had been aware of the enmity between the two of them, and this sudden display of friendliness took them all by surprise. During the lesson Jessica told her that she and her friends were going down to Lake Te Anau after school to look at the new boat Southland Tours was putting on the water: Bree could go with them if she wanted to. Bree thought about that. Her mother was back in Dusky Sound and John-Cody was over the hill starting winter preparations on the Korimako.
‘You can come back to my house afterwards,’ Jessica went on. ‘My mum will give you a lift
home.’
Bree decided to phone Alex from Jessica’s house. Given what had happened in the past, she felt she would be stupid to upset Jessica by turning down the invitation.
After school she packed her bag and got her coat from the peg. Jessica, Sally and Anna were waiting outside for her and Jessica smiled when she came out.
‘How you going?’
‘Fine.’
Jessica pointed towards Matai Street. ‘The new boat’s moored by the sports domain.’
‘Fine.’ Bree walked by her side. ‘What kind of a boat is it?’
‘A catamaran, a new one.’ Jessica’s father was one of the skippers for Southland Tours, rotating between Milford Sound and Lake Manapouri. Bree had seen him sometimes at the helm of the boat they used when they went over to the Korimako.
They walked and told jokes and Jessica told Bree all about her family, her dad’s job and her brothers and mother. She told her about living in Te Anau and asked her what living in England was like.
‘It’s fine except that when you’re here people call you a Pom,’ Bree said. ‘I really hate being called a Pom.’
‘Sorry about that: it’s just a name. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘I know,’ Bree said. ‘At least I do now.’
They walked the length of Bligh Street and Bree felt as contented as she had since arriving here. The letter to her father was in her bag, already stamped and ready to post at the shop when she got home to Manapouri. Getting things sorted out at school was the icing on the cake: she had Hunter, the house, John-Cody, the boat and Sierra. Life was suddenly pretty wonderful.
They came to the sports domain and Bree looked across the stillness of Lake Te Anau. It was deceptive: from the town itself it looked quite small but in fact it was much bigger than Lake Manapouri, stretching many miles beyond Patience Bay to the north. ‘Where’s the boat?’ she asked Jessica.
‘It’s not here yet. They’re bringing it round in a little while.’
‘Is your dad driving?’
Jessica nodded.
They walked across the domain towards the little harbour where the wealthy people kept their sailing boats. A red and silver twin cab was parked by the harbour and Bree could see a tall man working in the back. The sun was high but not very warm and she buttoned her coat a little more tightly. The lake shivered with ripples cast by the breeze skirting the town from the mountains. Jessica was quiet now, leading them very definitely towards the beach. She walked slightly in front of Bree with Sally and Anna behind them. The lake seemed very still again, the breeze dying. This part of it was much emptier than the section that fronted the town. Bree walked on, glancing now and again towards the red and silver truck.
Ned Pole thought about John-Cody Gibbs as he restacked the hay he had bought for the horses. He stood up in the flat bed of the truck and rubbed the small of his back; he was lean and fit and strong, but at fifty-two the first twinges of age were catching up with him. He pushed his hat to the crown of his head and saw four schoolgirls heading for the beach.
Jessica led the way down to the shingle, then bent for a stone and skimmed it across the surface. Sally and Anna moved either side of Bree and dropped their bags on the ground: they too bent for stones.
‘Let’s see who can get it the furthest,’ Anna said.
Bree put her bag down, knowing she was no good at skimming the flat stones but prepared to have a go. Jessica got three bounces with her first effort and Sally followed with two. Bree was about to try when she saw that Anna was poking around in her bag. She stopped and stood straight.
‘Anna?’
Anna looked up. ‘What?’
‘What’re you doing?’
‘Looking for cheese.’
Bree felt the muscles cramp in her stomach. She looked at Jessica and saw her grinning wickedly, then Sally too. Anna was pulling the books out of her bag and tossing them to Jessica.
‘Look at her, the boff. She thinks she’s so perfect.’
‘Cheesy Breezy: smelly Cheesy Breezy. Stupid name for a stupid stuck-up Pom.’
Bree felt the tears in her eyes. ‘Can I have my books back, please?’
‘Can I have my books back, please?’ Jessica mimicked. ‘Poor Cheesy: you really thought we’d be your friends. Friends of a boffy Pom like you. Here, let’s see if the fish like cheese.’ She threw Bree’s English book into the lake.
‘What’s this?’
Bree looked round to see Anna holding the letter she had written to her father. She lunged for it but Anna stepped away and Sally pushed Bree, sending her sprawling on the stones.
Ned Pole swung himself down from his truck and heard a girl cry out from the beach. Looking over he saw one of them being shoved to the ground. Thinning his eyes he began to walk towards them.
Bree had cut her knee. She sat on the stones with blood oozing down her shin while Anna read her letter aloud and the others laughed and laughed.
‘Us friends with you!’ Jessica cackled at her and tossed another exercise book into the lake. ‘You’ll have to tell him you were lying, Cheesy.’
‘Tell who exactly?’ The voice was deep and male and rumbled at them from the pavement. Bree looked up at a tall figure partly silhouetted by the sun. He stalked down the beach and whipped the letter from Anna’s hand.
‘Mr Pole.’ Jessica swallowed. ‘We were just having a bit of fun.’
Pole stared at the two upturned books floating in the lake. ‘Fun?’ He looked as though he was going to spit. ‘You call this fun?’ He glanced at the graze on Bree’s knee. ‘Are you all right, young lady?’
Bree didn’t answer him. He looked at the other girls, who were backing away from him now.
‘I know you, Jessica Lowden,’ Pole said. ‘You get yourself home and wait there till I come round.’
Jessica paled.
‘Yes, you be afraid. I know your dad, remember. I know him really well.’ He took a pace towards her. ‘You go home and wait. And tomorrow you’d better be nice to this English girl, you’d better be really nice.’ He turned to the others. ‘You too, you hear me? I know your parents and they know me. If you see me at your houses there’ll only be one reason.’ He paused and looked again at Jessica. ‘You’re a bully, Jessica Lowden, and I don’t like bullies.’
They turned tail and ran. Pole watched them go, Bree’s letter in one hand and her bag in the other. He handed back the letter and bag then waded into the ice-cold lake to retrieve her books.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he handed them to her, water soaking him to the thighs. ‘I think these are finished.’
Bree took the sodden books and as she did so the tears welled in her eyes and she sat down on the stones and cried and cried and cried. When she finally stopped Pole was crouched beside her in his soggy jeans, holding out a clean handkerchief. ‘You’re Bree, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Dr Bass’s daughter.’
Bree nodded and snivelled and blew her nose in the handkerchief. She offered it back to him. ‘You keep it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got plenty.’ He looked at her then, resting his forearms on his thighs. ‘Have they been giving you a hard time?’
She nodded.
‘For how long?’
‘Ever since I got here.’
‘That must be tough.’
She nodded again.
‘Have you told anybody?’
She shook her head.
‘Not even your mum?’
‘No.’
‘No, I guess not. What about Gib? I’ve seen you around with him.’
She shook her head.
‘You don’t want to tell anyone?’
‘No.’
‘It’d be best if you did. They need to be stopped, Bree, before they go too far.’
‘I don’t want to tell anyone. My mum would only worry and there’s nothing she can do about it unless she talks to the teachers.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked up at him. ‘If she does that, it’ll only get worse.’
‘I hear you.�
� Pole stood up and his jeans made a squelching sound and he looked down at himself. Bree started to laugh and he started to laugh, then he held out his hand and she took it and it was big and warm and she wondered why neither her mother nor John-Cody seemed to like him.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ll give you a lift home, drop you off so nobody knows what happened, OK? But I have to change first. We’ll need to stop at my house.’
Bree stood in Pole’s study watching Barrio cantering up and down the hill while Pole changed his clothes. He buckled fresh jeans in his bedroom then climbed the stairs and watched the thin, gawky twelve-year-old from across the landing. He watched her watching Barrio and all at once he saw Eli before his ex-wife took him back to Australia. He would have been about Bree’s age when that happened, the last time Pole really remembered him as a child.
He came through and Bree turned and smiled. Pole stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded towards the paddock. ‘Beauty, isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you ride?’
Bree shook her head. ‘I do a little bit at Hunter’s, but I don’t really know how.’
‘Hunter Caldwell: he’s a good kid.’
Bree nodded.
‘I could teach you if you want.’
She stared at him, eyes suddenly shining. Then they darkened again and Pole frowned.
‘Not on Barrio, he’s too big. Now Pinky — that’s the littler of the two bays out there, the one with the pink tinge to her back legs — she’s gentle.’
Bree’s eyes followed where he pointed and looked at the smallest horse. She had a black mane and was narrow at the flank.
‘You don’t think your mum would like it, eh? Or Gib maybe.’
She looked between her feet.
‘No worries: I understand. Think about it though. I’ll teach you if you want.’
