The reality of it hit Fleur for the first time. I really am going to be a grandmother. Nikki was carrying a new and unknown life. In a few weeks that life was going to become a small person with its own unique identity. She had lost this daughter of hers for so many years; now she had another chance.
A man known or unknown had killed Saffie in a violent random act. To think, if David had not been gay; if I had not kissed Fergus; if David had not died; if I had not come on holiday with my parents. If I had not slept for one entire hot afternoon- was destructive, and would blight any possibility of future happiness.
She walked down the wooden steps to meet Nikki, and as she did so her mobile phone rang.
‘Hi, it’s me!’ Sam said.
‘Sam! I wondered where you’d got to.’
‘Ah! I have a pretty good reason for not ringing you when I said I would.’
Fleur felt a lurch of excitement. ‘What’s that?’
‘I’ve just landed in Kuala Lumpur…’
‘Sam!’ Fleur burst into tears.
‘I figured you could do with some moral support. At the very least I can see you and that niece of mine safely home. I’m going to stay the night here, old darling, I’m bushed. I’ll drive down to you first thing in the morning.’
‘Sam, you couldn’t have timed it better.’
‘I’m glad. I’ll talk to you before I leave to find out exactly where you are. I’ll catch up with your news then. Good night, Fleury.’
‘Good night, Sam.’
‘Good night, Sam,’ Nikki called, smiling. She pulled herself up the steps and sat under the fan. ‘I’m so tired.’
‘Bed, darling?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Go straight away. I’ll ask Ah Lin to put your lunch on a tray.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
Nikki lowered herself on to her bed gratefully. She did not want to worry Fleur but she wondered if she was going to be allowed to fly home.
She closed her eyes. ‘Thank God for Sam,’ she whispered before she fell asleep. A family doctor might just tip the scales.
She wanted to take Saffie home. She wanted to go home to have her baby.
FORTY-TWO
I could see Jack below me with Fleur and Sam. He was showing them the new jetty he had started to build while I’d been away. His yacht was moored at the end with the small motor dinghy we used for going across the water to shop. He was taking them across the bay to show them Paihia and I was grateful because I needed to be on my own.
I was like a cat reclaiming her territory. Autumn was beginning, it was cooler and I was determined to walk the boundaries of our land, despite my size. I was so glad to be home. I closed my eyes, wanting to cry with relief. Happiness settled like sunlight, warming me with its reminder of the simple things here that gave me so much pleasure.
The bay was the palest blue and there was no wind and I watched the figures below me get into the small motorboat. The sound of the engine reached me up here on the hill and I saw three heads turn back to the land, reluctant to leave me.
It had been difficult to persuade them that I would be fine, that they were only ten minutes away by water, and eventually they had understood how important it was for me to have time and stillness alone here. I did not want to hear voices or movement or feel other human beings around me while I chose the exact and perfect place to bury Saffie.
I knew she would guide me; I knew we would choose the place together, so I sat on the hill watching the white wake made by the boat crossing the water, carrying the people who loved and were worried about me.
Singapore Airlines would not have let me fly home with them if Sam had not been with me. Although I had been given a thorough check-up in a hospital in KL and they had judged I was fit enough to fly, especially with a doctor, I was way over the safe period and of course I could not get any insurance cover.
I had to pretend I was not worried about the flight because it was far worse for Fleur and Sam and poor Jack back here waiting.
The local villagers had brought little gifts for us before we left Port Dickson. They had left us alone during our time there and protected us from any intrusion and we were touched by their gentleness and sensitivity.
The Malaysian police in Kuala Lumpur had been wonderful too. They had advised us about the wood for the coffin and made suggestions for how it should be lined. When we had arrived in the city it was all ready. The small coffin had been made beautifully in local wood. It was highly polished and smelt of camphor. There was a small gold plaque: Saffron Alice Montrose 1971-1976 R.I.P. There were wreaths of bougainvillaea, orchids and frangipani from the Malaysian Police Federation.
We were escorted onto the plane before the other passengers and a little group of policemen including Mohktar saluted as they wheeled the tiny coffin to the plane. I felt Fleur beside me. We were both remembering Dad’s coffin entering the vast cargo-hold of an army flight, long ago, and we moved nearer to one another in silence as Saffie was tenderly carried across the tarmac by a huge turbaned Indian and a Malay officer.
We shook hands with the courteous Malaysian police. Blythe had left the night before for the UK. When I reached James Mohktar I felt such a sense of loss that I was afraid it would show in my eyes. Perhaps he knew, because he was brisk, shook my hand, and drawing me away from the others he took a small box from his pocket and opened the lid.
‘These are the smallest pair of shoes I could find. One shoe is for Saffie to guide her safely into the next world, and one shoe for you, Nikki, to guide you forward without her. You think that one shoe is no good without the other. It is not true, for wherever you go in this life she is with you. You will always be one half of a pair and death does not change that.’
I stared down at the tiniest pair of little bejewelled Chinese shoes and then Mohktar put the lid on and folded my hands around the box. ‘The reality of your days here will fade like a dream, but the essence of something, of your spirit and your sister’s, will remain. You will live on in my memory, Nikki.’
I looked into his strange and complex face. Such a mixture of cultures lay behind his eyes. ‘I am so glad to have known you, James Mohktar.’
He smiled. ‘Take care, Nikki.’
He turned abruptly away, back to his colleagues, and Sam and Fleur and I boarded the plane. As it motored along the runway I craned out of the window. There was one policeman standing alone waiting for the plane to take off. I knew he would watch it until we were a speck in the sky and then he would turn and drive home through the palm oil plantations on the long, straight road back to Singapore, to his wife and his child.
I sat in the long grass of the meadow and considered the strange intensity and familiarity between us. I knew it would seem unreal as the months passed; all part of finding Saffie in a place that had so many conflicting memories. Mohktar, somehow, has not touched my real life, just enriched it.
If I felt loss, it was for the passing of strangers who would never meet again and a glimpse of another culture which embraced the unknown and unseen and saw it as normal, a link and passage between worlds; a journey from a state of life to an afterlife. Not a death.
The spirit of Saffie will always be with me. Sleeping or waking. I do not need to dream. I do not need to conjure her from darkness and loss. She has always walked beside me, her small feet in sure and perfect time with mine. This was the simple and obvious truth that James Mohktar had given me.
I believe it finally. It is why he passed my way.
I stood up awkwardly. If I turned to my left I could see the tiny clapperboard Maori meeting place where Saffie lay waiting. Candles were kept alight day and night by Maori friends who took turns to guard her so that she was never in the dark or alone. Tangihanga, the Maori process of mourning, had begun.
I thought the perfect position for Saffie’s last journey to a peaceful afterlife was here where I stood now. The grass was long and the smell sweet, of hay and childhood, of the myriad of possibilities that l
ay ahead. You could just glimpse our house to the right with the view down the valley. Across the river from our land lay the curve of blue sea with the yachts resting in the shelter of the bay. Beyond, tiny islands lay.
Behind me our land circled and there was no sound but the constant crickets and the kokakos. It was a perfect bird’s eye view of all that I loved and the things that made up my everyday life.
We will bury Saffie here.
Sam’s boys were going to fly over and help build a small summer house with a grass roof and no straight lines. Inside, I already knew what trees and shrubs I would plant. Manuka, kowhai and ponga, and saplings to grow upright through the roof and windows.
Distant Maori relations of Jack’s were coming up from their farm in Whangarel to help too. Gran and Grandpa were travelling all the way from Cyprus to be here.
Saffie will never lie alone again.
I turned from the water and started to walk back to the house and it was then that the first pain came, sharp and urgent, making me double up with the shock of it. I crouched on the ground to get my breath. Sweat broke out on my forehead and fear made my heart hammer.
I must get back to the house. I got to my feet shakily and I felt Saffie’s presence suddenly beside me, anxious.
‘It’s OK,’ I told her. ‘It’s OK. I can make it back to the house…’
No!
The word seemed loud in the silence.
No, Nikki. Stay where you are – don’t start walking. Ring Jack. Ring him now.
At that moment my waters broke. I got my mobile out of my pocket and I dialled. Jack anwered immediately.
‘Nik?’
‘Jack, please don’t panic. Could you come back? I think I’ve gone into labour.’
Jack panicked. I heard it. Sam came on the line. ‘Nik? Where are you?’
I was doubled up again and could not speak for a minute. Sam’s voice was calm and reassuring. ‘Take deep breaths, that’s it. How close are your contractions?’
‘Oh, God, Sam, pretty close, about three or four minutes…’
‘Nik, listen to me…’ His voice was jerky and breathless and I realised they were all running as he talked. ‘Don’t try to get back to the house. Stay where you are. Lie down, breath as you’ve been taught and try to relax…We’re in the boat now and on our way. OK?’
‘Yes.’ I could hear the boat engine start up from across the water. Jack was frantically gunning the old engine for more speed. I lay down in the flower meadow and disappeared into the long grass. I felt strange, as if I was floating above myself.
‘Are you lying down?’ Sam’s voice.
I looked up at the sky through my dark glasses. Not a cloud. Very peaceful. I smiled.
‘Nikki? Answer me! Come on! Keep talking to us, there’s a good girl.’
But I was very sleepy. Then the pain came again and I cried out.
‘OK, sweetheart. We’re coming into the jetty now…Can you still hear me?’
I turned slightly to the phone, sweating profusely. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. You’re doing great. Jack’s rung the emergency services. The helicopter will be with us before you know it…Nik?’
Everything was beginning to slide away from me…
Wake up! Don’t you dare go to sleep! Saffie’s voice; indignant.
She was always saying that to me. I liked to sleep longer than she did.
Very tired, Saff…Just the wind through the grass whispering and then a heavy silence and faraway sounds from down on the water…
Jack was leaning over me…‘Nikki! Nikki! Oh God!’
Then I heard Sam’s calm voice. He lifted the lids of my eyes and then took my hand and listened to my pulse. I heard him rustling with something, then a sharp prick in my arm. I heard him saying to Jack, ‘Listen, Jack! Listen! You must keep calm. I’m going to need your help. She’s had a small bleed and this baby is going to arrive quickly.’
I began to feel better and opened my eyes.
‘Nikki?’ Sam’s voice was loud. ‘Right, sweetheart, we can’t do this without you. Stay with us…’
The pain came again, violently, and I groaned and passed out. When I came back, Mum was putting a pillow under my head and lower back and covering my legs with a thin sheet. She made me sip water. Both Sam and Jack were talking on their phones. Fleur stroked my hair.
‘It’s going to be all right, darling. Jack is guiding the helicopter in and Sam is talking to the paramedics. Help is coming.’
I closed my eyes. Jack was giving grid references. ‘Yes, there’s room to land…sloping meadow…southwest of Paihia…Yeah, that’s it! Straight line at twelve o’clock up from the bay. Great. How long? OK. Please hurry.’
I could hear Sam talking on the phone now. ‘We need…No chance! She won’t make it to Auckland, she’s dilated. Yes, if we have to…but she’s had a small bleed. The baby’s in some distress…Yes, it might be an emergency caesarean…if I need to get him out fast. Yes, I have…I would appreciate all help pronto…’
Baby in some distress. I gripped Fleur’s arm, fighting sleep.
I’m going to lose my baby.
‘Nikki!’ Fleur’s voice was firm. ‘Come on, darling, you must stay awake. This baby needs all the help he can get.’
I groaned and waited for another contraction. ‘You never told me it was this bad!’ I yelled at Fleur as she wiped my face. ‘Where’s Jack?’
Her answer was drowned by the sound of the helicopter overhead and I saw Jack on his trail bike flying by, pointing to the flat end of the field.
‘Nikki, I need to see what’s happening with the baby…OK?’
In a moment Sam covered me up again. ‘Nik, on the next contraction, you must not push until I say. This is important…’
‘Why?’
‘It’s possible the umbilical cord is caught round his neck.’
‘Sam, am I going to lose this baby?’
‘He’s doing OK so far, sweetie, but we’re going to have to get him to hospital pronto. So be brave and do exactly as you’re told – even though you’ll want to push…’
The rotary blades caused a wind and whipped the grass where I lay. It landed noisily and two men in flight overalls came running towards us. They talked to Sam and then one paramedic gave me something to help the pain and put an oxygen mask over my face. ‘You’re doing good.’
Jack was beside me as another contraction gripped me and I screamed, ‘I want to push!’
‘No!’ three voices said sharply.
‘Come on, breathe, darling…’
‘OK, lady, let’s see what’s going on…’
‘Sam!’ I gasped. ‘The baby’s coming, I can’t stop it. I can’t.’
The pain was overpowering. ‘Stop for a sec! Hold still, Nik. OK…OK. Now you can push. Push!’
I bore down with all my strength and I felt the baby slip out of me.
Silence. I listened to everyone’s quick breathing and frantic movements. Please God. Please God. One of the paramedics ran to the helicopter. I looked round. Fleur had her hand over her mouth. Jack was ashen. Then suddenly a tiny splutter, a hiccup, and then a thin wail of fury.
‘Atta girl!’ a paramedic yelled. The baby was held near my face briefly, so fleetingly, and then placed in something and whisked away as they ran to the helicopter. Sam smiled down at me as I was bundled tight onto the stretcher.
‘Well done, sweetheart. You’ve got a little girl.’
Then they were running with me towards the helicopter and the rotary blades were already starting to turn. Jack climbed in beside me as we rose up from the flower meadow. And that is all I remember.
FORTY-THREE
Fleur and Sam watched Laura and Peter Llewellyn walk off the tiny plane at Kerikeri.
‘God, they look old, Fleury,’ Sam said. ‘Old and tired and small.’
Fleur felt her heart constrict. ‘It’s all too much for them at their age. It’s all too much.’
Sam held up his hand and waved and Laura�
�s face lit up, changed in an instant as she saw her son. Saw only him. Fleur drew in her breath in a stab of familiar but almost forgotten pain. She found her father’s eyes and he held them and smiled and all was well again.
Peter held her close for a minute as if she was very precious. ‘My beloved Fleur,’ he whispered.
Fleur turned to Laura. ‘Mum, how was the journey? Have you survived? You look wonderful.’
‘Hello, darling. Trust my granddaughter to live in the middle of nowhere! My dear girl, you are much too thin…’ She took her daughter’s arm. ‘Fleur, it must have been awful…awful. We felt helpless so far away. I don’t think we stopped thinking of you and Nikki once.’
Laura’s face was anxious and Fleur squeezed her mother’s arm. ‘Thanks, Mum, I’m fine. It’s been wonderful to have Sam. Come on, let’s get you into the car.’
On the long drive back to the house, Peter and Laura were too tired to make much conversation, and within half an hour were asleep in the back of the car.
Sam glanced at Fleur. ‘It’s going to take them a few days to acclimatise. They don’t go anywhere now, you know. I don’t think they would have survived the journey if they’d had to fly from England. I’m glad we decided to leave Saffie’s funeral until next week.’
‘Jack says Nikki is still hoping to bring the baby back. What do you think, Sam?’
‘Not a chance! She was a prem and is still underweight. It’s not as if Nikki and Jack live in the middle of Auckland. Besides, Nikki will still be weak. She haemorrhaged twice. If it wasn’t for special circumstances, I doubt they’d let her out of hospital yet, either.’
‘We need to bury Saffie, Sam. Nikki won’t relax or move on until it’s done.’
‘I know,’ Sam said quietly. ‘I know.’
Fleur and Sam had had time to talk while Jack stayed up in Auckland with Nikki and the baby. They had never spent time together as two adults and probably never would again. One night she had told him about David. He had stared at her in disbelief. He had gone through a period of intense hero-worship towards David while he had still been at school, when the few years between them still seemed huge.
The Hour Before Dawn Page 26
