by Des Hunt
‘Is he fixed?’ asked Bee as soon as we went in.
‘Yes,’ replied Afi. ‘He’s sleeping under the caravan now.’
Bee brightened a little. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Afi, as if he’d been the one who’d done everything.
‘What made you bring him here?’ I asked.
‘Because my brother, Harry, doesn’t know this place,’ Bee said quietly. ‘When he finds I sneaked it away, he’ll go looking for it at all my friends’ places.’
‘Why? What’s so important about a duck?’ I asked.
‘His friend Brett is staying with us. They always do nasty things when they’re together. This time they bet they could each kill a duck with a fishing line. Brett did, but I sneaked this one away before Harry could finish it. Now he’ll have to pay up.’
‘Brett!’ I said, alarm bells going off in my head. ‘What’s his other name?’
Bee shook her head. ‘I forget. He goes to that posh school where Mum works.’
‘Brett Hotchkins.’
Bee’s eyes went wide. ‘Yeah, that’s it. Do you know him?’
‘Yes,’ said Afi, ‘we know him. We go to the same school.’
‘Oh,’ said Bee lowering her head.
‘But we’re not at all like Hotchkins,’ continued Afi. ‘He’s an animal.’
‘Yes,’ said Bee with feeling. ‘I know.’
While the news that Hotchkins was there at Port Waikato was worrying, I figured that it could also help. If we could get photos of him with the Redferns and the evidence, then it would make things a lot simpler.
That afternoon Tiresa asked us to go floundering — I think it was just to stop us hanging around all the time as we had on Wednesday.
The trip started badly. When Afi unlocked the shed to get out the gear, Dean saw the quad bike.
‘Hey,’ he yelled, ‘why aren’t we using this to get around the place?’
‘Because Dad says we can’t,’ replied Afi.
‘Why not?’
Afi explained his dad’s attitude to boys on quad bikes.
‘That’s stupid,’ said Dean. ‘I can ride one safely.’
I gave a little snort.
Dean ignored me and climbed on the bike. ‘Does it go?’
‘Yeah. Dad used it at the weekend. He took it out to tidy —’
The last of his words were lost as the bike roared into life.
‘Turn it off!’ yelled Afi.
Dean’s reply was to start reversing the bike out of the shed.
‘No!’ I yelled, moving so that I was standing in the way.
For a moment I thought he was going to run me over, but Afi leant over and turned off the key. The thing spluttered to a halt.
‘Wusses!’ yelled Dean, as he climbed off the bike. ‘What a pack of wusses.’ He then stomped off, leaving Afi and me to put the bike away and organize the gear.
Before Afi re-locked the shed, I did a quick check along the shelf where the box of fireworks had been. I was pleased to see that it had gone.
Dean joined us as we were walking out the gate carrying the net between us. Without speaking or breaking stride, Afi handed him the eskie containing the ice and a couple of knives. Dean gave a nod, which may have been an apology, before falling in line behind us.
We took a shortcut through the park and then alongside the drain that ran behind the Redferns’ place. The tide was on its way out when we reached the estuary. This, according to Afi, was just what was needed for good floundering.
I soon found that I was not needed to haul the net. Although it was never stated as such, Afi and Dean had made it another one of their stupid competitions. Stupid was certainly the right word. Each was trying to haul the net faster than the other. As a result, instead of taking a smooth path through the water, the net was dragged all over the place. I stood in the shallow water, wondering what on earth had got into them. The Afi I knew was usually a softly spoken, easy-going nice guy. However, something about Dean had got him all fired up.
Eventually they calmed down enough to start pulling the net to the shore. As it moved into the shallow water, I could see they’d caught something big. Large fins kept flashing above the surface as something struggled to escape. At first I thought it was a shark, but then a long spike arched out of the water — it was a massive stingray.
By the time it was landed, we were jumping and yelling in excitement. It was more than a metre wide, and a lot longer than that if you took in the tail. The thing wasn’t all that scary lying there in a puddle, but the thought of it swimming free in the estuary was: what would have happened if one of us had stood on it?
Dean was obviously thinking much the same thing. ‘You didn’t tell me those things were out there,’ he said, glaring at Afi.
Afi shook his head. ‘I didn’t know myself.’
‘What are we going to do with it?’ I asked.
‘Put it back,’ said Afi.
‘Will it survive?’
‘Yeah! We’ve caught them on the long line before. They can last a few minutes out of the water.’
‘Cut its sting off first,’ said Dean.
‘No!’ said Afi.
Dean stuck out his chin. ‘Why not?’
‘I’m not mutilating any animal.’
‘What if it attacks someone?’ said Dean.
‘That hardly ever happens,’ Afi replied.
‘Does so!’ said Dean. ‘People in Aussie die from their stings. It’s got to come off.’
‘I said, no!’ Afi yelled. ‘And I’m in charge here.’
‘Says who!’
‘Says me! It’s our gear, so I say what happens.’
For a moment there was a standoff with each of them staring angrily at the other.
‘Stuff that! I’m going to do it,’ said Dean, turning and striding up the beach to where the eskie sat on the sand.
I grabbed Afi’s arm. ‘Come on. Let’s get it out before he gets back.’
We dragged that part of the net into deeper water, so that when the stingray was untangled it could swim away. Getting it free was the dangerous part, because now there was enough water for it to attack. We almost had it free when Dean started yelling. I looked up and saw him sprinting towards us.
‘Quick! Get that bit off the tail,’ yelled Afi.
I bent over, grabbed the net and was pulling it back when the ray attacked. It was so fast I didn’t have a chance to react. The tail slapped against my left side, throwing me into the water. I screamed as pain ripped up my arm.
Next, there was a great splashing of movement alongside. It seemed as if the thing was coming at me. I tried to scramble away, but now it was me who was trapped in the net: I was a sitting duck for another attack.
But it never happened.
‘It’s gone,’ said Afi as he splashed towards me. ‘Did it get you?’
‘Get the net off me,’ I yelled. ‘It might come back.’
‘It won’t come back,’ said Afi.
By then Dean was alongside. He turned on Afi. ‘What do you know? You were the one who said they didn’t attack humans.’
‘They’ll attack if you molest them,’ said Afi.
‘Get the net off me!’ I screamed.
That had the desired effect. They turned their attention to me instead of each other.
Soon I was standing and they were checking out my arm. Dean used the knife to enlarge the hole in my shirt. There was a line of blood that ended with something sticking out of the skin.
‘That’s the barb,’ said Dean.
Silently, Afi bent over and scooped up some water. He ran it over the wound to get a better look.
‘It looks a bit strange,’ he said, moving to pull it out.
‘Shouldn’t we leave it?’ I asked, thinking that pulling it out might make things worse.
Afi ignored me, and with a quick tug had the thing free. He held it up for me to see.
It was just a few millimetres long and looked nothing lik
e I’d expected.
Afi’s face split in a big smile. ‘It’s a piece of shell,’ he said. ‘You fell on a piece of shell.’
The relief was wonderful, almost good enough to take away the pain of the cut.
‘It wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me cut off the sting,’ said Dean. But the grin on his face showed his relief.
‘Maybe it’ll get you next time,’ said Afi.
I gave a grim smile. As far as I was concerned, there would be no next time. I’d been as close to a stingray as I ever wanted to be. If others wanted to go floundering, then fine, but they’d not get me out there again.
Chapter 22
We had another Samoan dish that night: fish baked in coconut juice. The fish was kahawai. We’d caught two of them in the net, but no flounder. Maybe the stingray had scared them away. That or the crazy way Afi and Dean had hauled in the net.
While it was cooking, Tiresa attended to my cut. Afi had gone up the hill to check for yachts, and Dean had disappeared somewhere else.
‘How have you been getting on?’ asked Tiresa, extracting another piece of shell from my wound.
‘OK,’ I replied.
‘I ask because Afi seems to be strange. He’s not his normal self at all. Has anything in particular happened?’
‘He and Dean seem to argue all the time,’ I said.
‘Such as?’
So I told her about the competitions and the way each was always trying to out-do the other. I finished with the fight over the stingray. ‘Dean can be argumentative,’ I said, ‘but he’s not normally that bad. I think it’s because his parents have split up.’
Tiresa nodded slowly, processing the information. ‘I think it’s more than just his parents splitting up. There’s something which is affecting Afi as well.’
I thought so, too. It was time to say what was worrying me. ‘It might be because Afi is Samoan,’ I said. ‘In Australia we didn’t have a lot to do with Polynesian people. Dean might have said something that upset Afi.’
‘I don’t think it’s that,’ said Tiresa. ‘I asked Afi and he said there’d been nothing. I didn’t think there would be: Dean has been nothing but great towards me.’
She began rinsing the cut with disinfectant.
‘But I think I know what is causing it,’ she said, moving so she was looking directly at my face. ‘It’s you.’
‘Me? I haven’t done anything!’
She smiled. ‘Not intentionally, I’m sure. But you’re at the centre of it. Dean is worried that he is losing you as a friend. So is Afi.’ A pause. ‘When Afi first won the scholarship to Franklin, he was worried that he wouldn’t have any friends there. Then, on the first day, you two got together and became good mates. He’s jealous. And so is Dean.’ She then went back to rinsing the wound.
I thought about what she’d said, and it made some sort of sense. ‘What should I do?’ I asked.
‘I don’t think you need to do anything. Just be aware of what’s happening. Perhaps give Dean more space. It is a difficult time for him.’
Soon after that, Matt walked in, home from work.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing at my arm, now covered with a band-aid.
I told him about the stingray, but not the argument.
‘We used to net the things when I was a kid,’ he said. ‘But I haven’t heard of one being caught inside the heads for years.’
‘Has anyone ever been stung?’ I asked.
‘Nah. Not that I know of. I think you’d have to tread on one to be attacked. I wouldn’t let it put you off floundering.’
I said nothing.
Afi arrived home. He’d not seen any yachts out in the Tasman Sea.
‘What are you going to do if you do see a yacht?’ asked Matt.
‘Photograph it,’ replied Afi.
‘Then what?’
‘Try and get a photo of them bringing the boxes ashore.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ said Matt. As long as they don’t know what you’re up to. They’re not people to mess around with.’
‘Their girl Bee was here today,’ said Tiresa. ‘What a lost soul she is. Her mum’s cleaning at the school all holidays, and she’s left at home with those horrible males.’
Matt looked puzzled. ‘Why did she come here?’
We explained about the paradise duck.
‘Mongrels,’ said Matt, when we’d finished. ‘And that Hotchkins boy sounds no better than the Redferns.’
No one disagreed with him.
Dean was still missing when dinner was almost ready, so Afi and I went searching. We found him walking through the park. When we asked him what he’d been doing, he shrugged and said that he just needed some time to himself.
I was woken Friday morning by the quonk, quonk call of Pato. Peering out the caravan window I saw him walking around the section looking miserable. I opened the window and attempted the queek, queek call of the female. I must have got it about right, for his head popped up and looked around hopefully. He quonk-ed several times, pausing in between to listen. When there was no answer, his head lowered again and the pacing resumed. My heart went out to the lonely animal.
Bee arrived during breakfast. She stayed outside for a while, talking to Pato, trying to cheer him up. It didn’t work, which wasn’t surprising, as she looked more miserable than he did.
When she finally came inside she said, ‘He’s hungry.’
‘Then we’d better get some food for him,’ said Afi.
‘What does he eat?’ I asked.
‘Crabs, worms, grass …’ replied Afi.
‘He’ll eat chook pellets,’ said Tiresa. ‘You can get some at the shop. While you’re there get me some duct tape. I need to bundle up the newspapers and can’t find my roll. Matt must have taken it.’
‘They won’t have duct tape,’ said Afi.
‘Yes, they do. By the fishing gear.’
At the mention of duct tape, I glanced over at Dean. His expression was blank, as if he hadn’t heard. I let it go.
By the time we left, Tiresa’s shopping list was quite long. I had mentally added two other items: liquid bleach and dog biscuits. The first to disable the beach buggy and the second to disable the dog. We needed to be prepared just in case a yacht ever did appear.
The shop had all the items. We also bought some chocolate and chippies, which we ate sitting on the wharf. From there, we could see a large catamaran anchored on the other side of the river.
‘Do you think that’s our yacht?’ I asked.
Afi thought for a time. ‘Doubt it. I don’t think they’d want to come ashore if they’re smugglers.’
‘It would be much easier if they did,’ I said.
‘They wouldn’t do it here, though.’ Afi turned and pointed to the shop and the houses behind. ‘Someone would see them, even if they did it at night.’
It was then that I saw Dean coming out of the shop. A short time before he’d been on the other side of the wharf. Instantly, I was suspicious again.
When he got up to us, I noticed his pockets were bulging. I pointed to them. ‘What have you got in there?’ I demanded.
Afi looked at me, puzzled by my rudeness.
‘Nothing that should interest you,’ replied Dean.
‘Show me!’ I ordered.
‘No!’
‘You’ve stolen something, haven’t you?’
He shook his head.
By then I was angry. ‘Yes, you have. Take them out and show me.’
For a moment we eyeballed each other. ‘All right!’ he said, fishing in his pocket. ‘Here! Look!’
He handed me a small plastic bag. When I looked inside I found a wooden box inlaid with paua shell. It was a knick-knack box. I’d seen them in the shop. They were made by a local artist.
‘It’s for my mother,’ said Dean. He fished in the other pocket and pulled out a slightly bigger one. ‘And this is for my father. I have to buy them different gifts, you see, because they no longer live together.’
I handed the gift back to him. ‘Sorry,’ I said lamely, unable to look at him. I felt so bad: I was meant to be his friend in his time of need, and now I’d blown it big time. If he’d hated me at that moment it wouldn’t have surprised me, because I certainly hated myself.
‘Come on,’ said Afi. ‘Let’s go back.’
We walked along the main road in total silence, with all of us hanging our heads, thinking about what had happened back at the wharf. I don’t know what the others thought, but I decided that, from then on, I would give Dean the space Tiresa had recommended. I’d already spent too much time protecting myself and too little time on what he needed. That had to change.
When we got to Maraetai Bay, Afi detoured off the road.
‘Let’s get some crabs for Pato,’ he said. ‘In case he doesn’t like the chook pellets.’
It was a brilliant idea. Over the next half-hour we scurried around in the mud, catching the little critters. And in the process, we almost forgot about the argument.
Paradise ducks must be better crabbers than humans are, because none of us found it easy. Of course, ducks don’t have fingers that can be nipped, but they do have tongues. I couldn’t decide which would be best to have bitten, fingers or tongues. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that the crabs would need to be dead before I swallowed them.
We stored the crabs in a plastic jar that Afi had pulled out of a rubbish bin. We must have already caught twenty or so when we were interrupted by the sound of an approaching motor. It was the beach buggy with two people on board: Harry Redfern behind the wheel, and Brett Hotchkins alongside him.
They were coming towards us, but I don’t think Hotchkins recognized us until they were quite close. When he did, he leant over and yelled something to Harry which I couldn’t hear above the noise of the engine. Harry must have heard, though, because he nodded and gave an evil smile before spinning the wheel to veer away from us.
For a moment I felt relieved, thinking they were going to leave us alone.
Stupid me!
Harry was only turning away so that he could get a better line of attack. A big circle was needed to get his back wheels into the worst of the squelchy mud. Once we realized what he was doing, we tried to move away. But running in that mud would have meant we’d fall flat on our faces. As it turned out, maybe that’s what we should have done, because I suspect it would have been easier to take than the treatment Harry gave us.
