Weeping Waters

by Nicholson, Anne Maria

  ‘What about Theo, Doctor? Will he be OK?’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s in a critical condition, Frances. He’s in intensive care and we’re preparing him for surgery.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘I can’t say too much more. His wife Sue has asked to visit you so she may want to tell you more. She’ll probably come and see you soon.’

  Her face pale, Frances starts to quiver and Tori holds her hand more tightly.

  ‘It could have just as easily been me. It’s just that Sam and I managed to crawl over the crater’s lip. He must have been hit by more of those hot rocks. God, I hope he’ll pull through.’

  ‘The good news, Frances,’ the doctor adds, ‘is that Sam Hawks escaped injury almost completely—just a few scratches and he’s already gone home. Now I think you need to rest. We’re moving you to a room in another ward in about ten minutes.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  As soon as Tori turns his phone back on, it beeps to tell him there are three messages. They’re all from Shona. She is heading for the Chateau and asks if he can meet her there.

  He delivers the children back to his mother’s house and after hugging her, leaves quickly to avoid confronting Cheryl, who is due back any minute from the supermarket. For the first time, her return to Taupo has not distressed him. He feels little emotion towards her at all and his only concern is that her unexpected change of heart might disrupt the family harmony.

  She arrived, without notice as usual, two days earlier. When Tori dropped by late in the day to see his mother, she was waiting for him. He noticed immediately something was different. Her eyes engaged him for the first time since their parting, and her thick long hair had been layered, highlighting her attractive face. She asked him to go for a walk with her, something she had not done for years.

  Sensing trouble, Tori felt guarded but agreed to go.

  ‘I’m really missing the kids,’ Cheryl began. She then took his hand. ‘I’m missing you too, Tori. I’ve been a fool. I want to come back.’

  Tori’s mind raced. He squeezed her hand, then let it drop as he struggled for the words that could express his feelings.

  ‘Cheryl…you left me. You didn’t give me any say in that decision. I’ve had to make my own way with the kids without you. Now…’

  Cheryl tried to take his hand again but this time he resisted. ‘No. It won’t work. Not now. It’s been too long. If you want to come back to Taupo I can’t stop you, but it will never work between us now. It’s too late.’

  He could see her face change and harden. ‘It’s that slut from the volcano centre, isn’t it? The American. Hemi told me all about her.’

  ‘This isn’t about anyone else, Cheryl. This is about us. And us is no more. You made sure of that.’

  He turned back to the house with his stomach churning. He knew he was doing the right thing but he wasn’t sure if he was being truthful. If Frances hadn’t been around, maybe…

  He sees Cheryl’s car arriving just as he is leaving. He waves but does not stop. The ash has stopped falling but he can see traces of it on the roadside and drifts of it floating on the edge of the lake. As he drives, he rings Uncle Eruera, his sister Mata and other elders in the iwi to let them know about Frances and Bill. As Bill belongs to their tribe, they will want to follow the progress of the search and prepare themselves to come if needed.

  He yawns deeply as fatigue creeps up on him. Realising he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, he pulls over for some takeaway food. The shop is crowded with locals he recognises and skiers on their way home to more distant towns and cities.

  As he orders fish and chips and coffee a voice behind him says, ‘The trout aren’t going to like that ash, Tori. It’s made a helluva mess.’

  He turns to see Smithy, whose face is sweaty, dots of the ash sticking to his nose and in his hair.

  ‘You’re looking a bit messy yourself, eh, Smithy. What have you been doing?’

  ‘Checking all the marinas and around the lake generally. We’ve been worried about water contamination and the ash can wreck all the machinery as well. Gets right into things. It’ll wreck all the paintwork on the cars too.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s ruined all my washing that was hanging on the line,’ a woman next to them says. ‘All the sheets are streaked with black and the clothes are stained.’

  Tori’s food arrives. ‘Got to run, Smithy. My cousin Bill is lost up the mountain.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that, mate.’ Smithy claps a hand on Tori’s shoulder as he leaves.

  Tori devours the food hungrily as he continues driving, the warm, golden, batter-covered fish and crisp chips immediately satisfying his empty stomach. The coffee gives him an instant lift. A stream of cars is still travelling north but there is very little traffic heading for the mountain and eventually he almost has the road to himself.

  Dark rain clouds fuse with smoke and ash to hide the volcanoes. The beauty of the landscape seems to have evaporated and the wild tussock foothills are forbidding. He recalls the stories of the haunted, gale-swept desert that frightened him as a child, sitting on his grandfather’s knee in the gloom of evening. ‘Travel with caution and be respectful in the high country lest you be borne down by sleet and ice or smoke and ash from the mountain,’ the old man would tell the wide-eyed boy. ‘You mustn’t do anything to offend the tapu of the holy mountain.’

  When he reaches the turn-off to the volcano, Tori sees a roadblock and a policeman waves him to the side of the road. ‘You can only go as far as the Chateau. The army has plenty of people up there looking and we don’t want any more civilians to worry about.’

  Shona is sitting in the hotel lounge waiting for him. Despite the season, her midriff is still very much in evidence between low-cut black jeans and a tight-fitting red sweater. He resists the temptation to tell her that her stiletto boots might not suit the local climbing conditions. Thinking how happy her appearance would make Bill if he were here, Tori gives her a hug and tries to reassure her. ‘He’s a tough old warrior. If anyone can survive, he will.’

  Beckoning a waiter, Tori orders two brandies. The rich auburn liquor warms and steadies them.

  ‘Stay here,’ he tells Shona, ‘and I’ll try to find out what’s happening.’

  In the volcano observation centre alongside the hotel, Tori asks the two seismologists and an emergency rescue worker for news, explaining that he is Bill Harp’s cousin.

  ‘Nothing happening,’ one of them says, looking up from a bank of scientific equipment and radio receivers. ‘The volcano has gone dead. At least for now. But we’ll be here all night, just in case. I’m afraid the soldiers haven’t been found. There are a couple of dozen army people up there digging around and a few sniffer dogs. The trouble is the ash from the eruption covered the top of the mountain where we believe they’d dug in yesterday. They were supposed to be out this morning but then the eruption happened. The rescuers couldn’t start as early as they wanted because we were too worried there could be a big explosion.’

  ‘I’m here with Bill’s girlfriend. Should we just wait until we hear something?’

  ‘They’re packing up now. It’s getting too dark. They’ll start again at dawn. We’re in radio contact with the rescuers. You’ll just have to keep checking with us here.’

  Tori finds Shona curled up on a sofa asleep, looking like a lost child. Leaning over her, he gently taps her arm until she wakes.

  ‘Is he going to die?’ she asks him immediately, clutching his hand.

  Tori struggles to disguise his fear. ‘I don’t know. There’s always hope. But it’s nearly dark and they’ve stopped the search until daybreak. I’m going to have a look around myself.’

  ‘I’ll come too.’ Shona jumps up and nearly falls over. They both look at her boots and laugh.

  ‘Just stay here, sister,’ he says kindly. ‘Maybe a few prayers…’

  The light is fading fast and he avoids the few soldiers he sees, knowing they will stop him. He drives sl
owly up towards the top car park at the foot of the snowfields, thankful he has put chains on his tyres. It is deserted and dark when he arrives. Snow has already covered the tracks of the rescue vehicles. He takes his torch and, pulling up his parka hood, heads towards the track he knows will take him in the direction of the search.

  For a few minutes, he climbs steadily, forgetting the cold. But the torch is of little use and he’s finding it harder to make out the contours of the rocks. Suddenly a huge rumble makes him lose his step. He trips and crashes onto his side. Ignoring a searing pain in his knee, he stumbles to his feet. As heavy drops of rain drip down his face he realises the noise was thunder, not an eruption. As he looks up, he sees a bolt of lightning flashing down the mountain, illuminating the bluish-white slopes. He shudders as he recalls this omen of death from his people’s legends.

  He tries to move forward but the heavy rain drives him back. He slips and falls again, crying out as the pain in his knee intensifies. Lightning skirts around him and he knows he is no match for the might of the mountain. His leg aching, he turns back with a heavy heart.

  Shaking and drenched, Tori shelters in the hotel foyer, not yet able to face Shona. He finds the bathroom and as he washes his hands and face he regards his frightened face in the mirror. For a moment he thinks he sees Bill’s features mingled with his own. He gasps and the mirage fades until he is looking deep into his own eyes again. He breathes deeply—in, out, in, out, regaining control.

  He finds Shona asleep again and gently strokes her shoulder, but this time she doesn’t move so he knows he must leave her alone in her vigil. He will return home to collect his people and prepare for the time when the mountain decides to deliver Bill back to them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Frances wakes as the last minutes of daylight dissolve into night. For a moment she forgets where she is until reminded by a dull ache in her shoulder breaking through a barrier of painkillers.

  ‘Frances…’ Startled, she turns to see Sue sitting in the grey visitor’s chair alongside her bed, her soft features invaded by anxiety.

  ‘Is Theo…how is he?’

  ‘Not good…’ Her voice fades away, then rallies. ‘Are you feeling OK?’

  ‘I’m fine. Lucky escape, I guess. I’m so sorry about Theo. I lost sight of him. It was crazy up there. Everything just seemed to explode around us. There were hot rocks flying everywhere. I can remember trying to see where Theo was but I couldn’t move. And then…then I can’t remember anything until the helicopter came.’

  Sue is kneading her hands as she listens, trying to visualise those last moments for herself. ‘I know you couldn’t do anything. Theo’s always been philosophical about the volcano. I suppose I always thought it might come to this. Yet I hoped we would be away from here before it did. I think another year and he’d have given it away. And now…’

  ‘You haven’t given up on him that easily?’ Frances smiles, trying to penetrate Sue’s despair.

  ‘No. It’s just that he’s in such a bad state. He’s still in a coma. His skull is cracked and he has broken bones in both legs and quite severe burns on his legs and arms.’

  Ignoring her own pain, Frances leans forward to take Sue’s hand as she starts to cry.

  ‘The worst thing is…I’m sorry—’ She reaches down to her handbag on the floor, removes a handkerchief, dabs her eyes and blows her nose. ‘The worst thing is they don’t know yet whether he has brain damage. Even if he pulls through physically he could be affected for the rest of his life.’

  ‘I’m truly sorry, Sue. We all know we do a dangerous job and something can go wrong at any time, but none of us really believes it will happen to us.’

  ‘I know. Theo loves those mountains.’ As Sue stands to leave she gives a resigned shrug of her shoulders. ‘Sometimes I think he loves them more than me.’

  ‘No, you’re wrong,’ Frances says. ‘Whenever I’ve been up the mountain with him, he always talks about you. You’re his rock, really.’

  As Sue leaves the room, a nurse enters, carrying a large box. ‘You’re popular,’ the nurse says, placing the box, which Frances can now see is full of red roses, on the bedside cabinet. She hands her a pile of emails and phone messages.

  As Frances flicks through them she is astonished at the speed of communication in the vulcanology world. ‘Glad that mountain was no contest for you, Frankie! Hurry and get well. I want to go climbing with you again soon. xxx Ollie.’ There are other greetings from her colleagues in Seattle, old friends in the Philippines and from other scientists around New Zealand. Her mother, contacted by the hospital, has asked her to phone.

  She opens the small envelope attached to the flowers: ‘My darling, Thank God you’re safe. I love you and I want you to come back home. Damon.’ Taken by surprise, she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So often she had longed for such warmth from Damon yet the words sound hollow, as though they are coming from a complete stranger. She struggles to conjure his image in her mind. His face, once the epicentre of her desire, has faded from her mind and heart. Nor can she recall with any clarity the pain that used to leave her drained and distraught.

  She picks up the bedside phone to call her mother.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  We’ll all go together. We’ll just wait up the mountain until they bring him down. It’s what we must do.’ Uncle Eruera lifts the rear door of his old navy-blue Holden station wagon and watches as Tui and Tori load into the back a pile of large fern fronds still wet with the cool morning dew. ‘I’ve rung Bill’s mother, and his sisters are trying to find his father. They’ll all be getting up there as quickly as they can.’

  Mata comes out of their mother’s house carrying two large plastic bags. ‘I’ve got sheets and blankets, just in case,’ she says, putting them alongside the ferns.

  ‘Mum and Cheryl will mind the kids. I’ll drive Mata in my car and we’ll see you up there,’ Tori tells Uncle Eruera.

  As they reach the turn-off to the mountain, Mata looks surprised as Tori drives in the opposite direction.

  ‘Just a very quick detour via the hospital,’ he tells her, mocking pain as she jabs his rib teasingly.

  It’s too early for visitors but he persuades the sister to let him see Frances. She is sleeping peacefully, a faint smile on her lips, so he decides not to disturb her. As he turns to leave, a flash of red catches his eye: sunlight is piercing through the ruby roses. He tiptoes over and reads the card.

  He has taken too much for granted. Of course she has someone else. Why did he ever think otherwise? Yet she seemed sometimes to care about him as much as he did about her. You’re a fool, Tori says to himself, you can’t will her to be in love with you. He thinks again about Cheryl, waiting for him, wanting him again, together with their children. It would be so easy…

  As they approach the intersection to the road to the Chateau, Tori phones Shona.

  ‘I haven’t heard anything, they’re still looking,’ she tells him. ‘The soldiers have been up there since dawn.’

  When they arrive he can see Uncle Eruera’s car already parked outside the hotel and the old man is leaning out the window talking to Shona and an older woman. As Tori pulls up he vaguely recognises her as Bill’s mother, although he hasn’t seen her for many years. He waves a short greeting and beckons Shona to come with Mata and him to the volcano observation centre.

  Their faces grim, the seismologists he met the day before mutter their hellos. While one returns to the task of monitoring the seismometers, the other indicates their presence to a third man, an army sergeant, who is talking on the phone. His face flushed and lined with exhaustion, he tells them to sit down.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he falters. ‘We found them fifteen minutes ago. One of our field doctors has just phoned us. I’m afraid they’re all dead.’

  Shona sinks to the floor moaning. Tori and Mata each take an arm, pull her up and hold her very tightly. She clings to them.

  ‘No, no, not Bill! It’s not fair. H
e was so beautiful. It’s not fair.’

  She continues crying out Bill’s name in a litany without hope as they lead her outside. Tori whispers to Uncle Eruera and Tui and they gather around Bill’s mother and sisters, closing into a tight circle of grief.

  Tori, automatically assuming the responsibility of the elder, approaches the sergeant with a look that says he won’t take no for an answer. ‘Our family wants to take Bill’s body away. It’s important for us.’

  ‘I understand, but we’ll have to wait until our doctors have completed their examinations and released him. The police are already up there so they’ll have to be involved too. They’ll be able to do that up there in the ambulance. So I don’t foresee any major difficulties as long as the family sign a form saying they’ll take responsibility.’

  ‘We need to go up there to help bring him down,’ Tori says. ‘Can we get through? This mountain is our spiritual homeland. We must say special prayers as close to where he died as we can. This must happen as quickly as possible.’

  ‘It’s at your risk. I can provide an escort to take you up to Whakapapa. There’s only a few emergency workers up there because of the fear of more eruptions. They will be bringing the bodies down there to the ambulance on skidoos.’

  The tiny cavalcade winds up the mountain road, the women quietly weeping, the men’s faces set in sad resignation. Mata and Bill’s mother wrap their arms around each other in the back seat while Shona rests her head against the door, tears washing a line of mascara down her cheeks. They trail behind an army truck, two young soldiers in the front, lamenting the loss of their mates.

  At the top of the road, an ambulance is parked. Its rear door is open, light flashing on its roof and two paramedics and the army doctor waiting alongside. A police jeep is parked next to it. Presently, they hear the sound of the skidoos, the straining of the small engines desecrating the alpine stillness as one by one the ski patrollers arrive with their tragic cargo.