Charlotte took another bite of her toast, chewing slowly, savouring the bite of the dark spread mixed in with butter. The Marmageddon crisis had ended a few weeks ago and just in case there was another shortage, Charlotte had bought a couple of big jars of Marmite and stored them away in her bedroom. Just in case, because you never knew in Christchurch when something was going to disappear and, once gone, when it might return. Charlotte picked up her second piece of toast and before she could bite through the first corner, her plate was gone, disappeared away into the dishwasher. Then her mother disappeared out the back door into the garage, gone for the next eight hours at least.
Usually her mother didn’t get home until late evening. Too much to do at work, she would say. Although Sean and Charlotte had thought a few months ago that their mother was having an affair, they had come to the conclusion that she was simply throwing herself into work, it was preferable to going home and facing the fact of the house, living with the damage, not being able to move their claim forward.
The earthquakes had taken the city from her, it had been cordoned off for months. Years. Soldiers stood guard at the main points through the cordon, keeping everyone out of the city. Their city. The cordon had gradually been reduced in the months since the earthquake, but there were still parts of the city mere mortals couldn’t get into. That was supposed to end in winter, and Charlotte wondered what it would be like to be in there again. The February quake had happened in her second year of high school, and the city was, then, still relatively new to her, part of her journey to and from school. On her way home, she often postponed getting her connecting bus and walked around to see what was going on. She was just starting to get her bearings, get familiar with the old buildings. She had watched the demolition of the Manchester Courts building in a kind of stop motion: five afternoons a week she would go past and see progress, what walls were being taken down, what innards were being exposed.
The earthquakes had also taken Charlotte’s parents from her. To be strictly correct, the September earthquake had given them back, her father had moved back in and they played at being happy families for a while. The February quake had opened up a few cracks in that happy family unit, but they were just minor ones, they were all pulling together, putting aside their bad tempers from lack of sleep, from the difficulties of living in a broken city with a broken sewerage system. But the June quake had opened those cracks wider, and at the same time, her mother was trying to deal with EQC, getting their house assessed, getting some idea of timeframe for repairs. The arguing started again.
Charlotte had a late start at school that morning so she had the house to herself for a few minutes. She considered not going to school that day, she could fake an email to the school fairly easily. All it would take was an email from her mother’s email account on the family computer. Charlotte could watch for replies and delete them so Rebecca would never know. It was tempting, but she couldn’t guarantee her mother wasn’t checking emails during the day. If she was caught, her parents might decide she needed to go and spend her school holidays with relatives, so they could keep an eye on her, ‘get her back on track’ was probably what they would say. She would end up in Ashburton with her father’s sister and her three cousins, all younger than her, watching videos, one after another, day after day. Even Ashburton suffered disappearing building syndrome. Although it was an hour away from Christchurch, some of its buildings had been damaged in the first earthquake, the Darfield one, and some had been found to be earthquake prone and were being demolished.
Apparently you could cook with Marmite, that’s what Nanny had told her the other morning, and Charlotte was going to have a go, google some recipes and try them out at the weekend. It was going to be her school holiday project, ten ways with Marmite, something to amuse her while she studied, because that was all she was doing during the school holidays. Her parents couldn’t afford time off work, because all their spare time was going into their dealings with EQC, and Sean had already had his mid-term break, it was almost finished, just when Charlotte’s was about to start.
Charlotte would miss her grandmother when she went home. At school, it was a running joke, how long would someone be out of their house while repairs were done? No one knew, it was never as fast as the builders said it would be. But Suzanne’s repairs were going to plan, they were being carried out by Uncle Gerald’s company, so of course it was on schedule. Maybe once Nanny went home, Charlotte could go and stay with her. It would be peaceful, and although Suzanne was stressed over being away from her home and having to live with more people than she was used to, she wasn’t verging on crazy. Not like Charlotte’s mother, who bounced between yelling, crying and painfully uncomfortable silences. Other girls at school talked about how stressed their parents were over insurance issues, and for once Charlotte had something in common with them. So many of them seemed to be going through life invisible to their parents, and that was certainly the case for Charlotte.
One side effect of the stress at home was that Charlotte was studying a lot and getting better grades than she ever had before. She had done well in NCEA Level 1 last year and was determined to do even better this year. What else was there to do? Staying in the lounge and watching TV wasn’t an option, there simply wasn’t enough on the actual television stations to hold her attention, even if she could ignore the insurance discussions going on in the kitchen. In her room, headphones on, studying, it was the only way to get away from those tense discussions. Sean was escaping to the university library and his girlfriend’s flat. Not that their parents knew about the girlfriend. Not that he was hiding it from them, they just weren’t paying attention.
Charlotte had tried learning about insurance so she could understand what her parents were going through. And maybe she could learn enough to help. She had read about the concept of ‘good faith’, which meant a person buying an insurance policy had to be honest about the things that made them riskier to insure and about what had happened when they made a claim. For the insurance company, good faith came at claim time, when they were supposed to treat the insured fairly. There was an imbalance of power at claim time, Charlotte could see that. Insurance companies had money and lawyers and experts, plus a thorough understanding of the ins and outs of the insurance policy, which your average person didn’t.
Charlotte’s parents’ problem wasn’t their insurance company, it was EQC and getting over that $100,000 cap. Their house had been assessed several times and each assessment came back different. The first one had said they would be overcap and passed on to their insurer, but then, because they had claims in for four earthquakes, the damage was divided between those four quakes and they were undercap for all of them and they would stay with EQC. Her parents were trying to argue that the February quake had been the most damaging one and would surely put them overcap. It was confusing, not just for Charlotte, but for her parents and, apparently, for the people at EQC because, Rebecca said, she was never told the same thing twice.
Charlotte had asked her grandmother if there was anything Uncle Gerald could do to make her parents’ insurance claim go better. After all, Suzanne’s repairs were going well because Gerald was in charge. Suzanne had only said, ‘Oh sweetheart,’ pulled her close and kissed her on the top of her head. ‘People like me are the lucky ones, our damage isn’t much and there isn’t money to be made off us, so EQC’s willing to let us go.’
Charlotte was puzzled. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘If this house stays undercap, Fletchers gets all the work,’ Suzanne explained. ‘It’s worth a lot of money to them.’
‘But it’s wrong,’ Charlotte said. ‘They have an insurance policy.’ It was something her parents said often, that if only they could get passed over to their private insurer, things would start going smoothly.
‘There’s a lot of things wrong in the world, sweetheart, and not much anyone can do about them.’
A Chill Wind
May 2013
Lindsay and Kev
in had recently heard from their insurance company’s project management office again. The last communication had been in February, when the project manager visited with the structural engineer. This was the cowboy project manager who had slashed their original scope of works, changing it from having the house lifted and its ring foundation replaced to just gluing the cracks. There had been nothing from the PMO since then, but Lindsay and Kevin had decided to wait and see what the geotech report said. Work on their house could not move forward without the geotech report.
Then, in May, they heard from a new project manager, who arranged a visit to discuss the next steps in their repair. Although Lindsay and Kevin were happy that the cowboy was no longer their project manager, they had questions to pose to the new guy.
There were two of them at the door that morning, and Lindsay quickly ushered them inside. It was freezing outside, snow was predicted for parts of the South Island, including Christchurch, and it certainly felt like it would be happening today.
The new project manager was the younger man, called Kurt. He was in his thirties and reserved, but he seemed intelligent. There was no attempt at charming them, which was a relief. The first project manager had been charming, or thought he was. This new one, Kurt, shook hands with Lindsay and Kevin and then introduced the second man, who was about sixty. His name was John and, Kurt said, he would be their project manager as Kurt was moving on to a new role. Kurt was training John, who had just joined the PMO after a couple of years with EQC.
Kevin welcomed them inside and as they walked into the lounge, he shot Lindsay a look that said he was worried. Kevin wasn’t impressed with EQC, he had heard too many bad things.
Lindsay and Kevin sat on one sofa while Kurt and John sat on the other. Kurt was about to start speaking, but Kevin got there first.
‘We’re not happy with the latest scope of works,’ Kevin said. He reached across to the coffee table, where Lindsay had stacked their information. He picked up their copy of the scope. ‘The first scope had the house being lifted and the ring foundation replaced, this just glues the cracks,’ he said, waving the sheaf of paper.
Kurt and John exchanged glances that Lindsay could not interpret. Were they mentally slotting them into the difficult customer category? Or were they sympathising? Had the previous PM been replaced because there were issues? Lindsay was briefly hopeful that the previous scope would be reinstated, that they wouldn’t have to fight to get their damage properly repaired.
Kurt made no comment on the suitability of the second scope, but he did say he and John would do a new assessment, take some floor level measurements.
‘We’ve been waiting for the geotech report,’ Kevin said, as they started to stand up. They sat back down again. ‘The work was done last year, but the report seems to be taking a long time and it doesn’t make sense to decide what’s done to the foundation without the geotech report.’
‘After all,’ Lindsay added, ‘we’re TC3 and we need foundation work, which requires a geotech investigation. It seems backwards to decide on a repair strategy without the geotech report.’
Kurt tapped on his tablet and after a few moments told them the previous PM had cancelled the geotech report after his first visit.
‘That’s before the structural engineer visited,’ Lindsay said, irritated. ‘He’s decided he can glue the cracks without waiting for the engineering report, and that’s backwards.’
‘Well let’s have a look around and take some measurements,’ Kurt said.
Kevin and Lindsay had drawn up a layout of the house when they first moved in, to figure out what renovations they would do, and it was coming in handy as various people went through the house carrying out assessments. Kevin handed them a copy of the layout and went around the house with them while Lindsay stayed in the lounge, by the fire, trying to quell her sense of unease. After a few minutes of becoming more agitated, she went through to the kitchen and started preparing vegetables for dinner, peeling potatoes, kumara and carrots, chopping broccoli. She became so engrossed in distracting herself that she soon realised she had done enough vegetables for two nights. Oh well, that’s what refrigerators were for, after all.
‘They’re off, Lin,’ Kevin called from the front doorway. Lindsay wiped her hands dry and went through to say goodbye to the men. She and Kevin stood on the front steps and watched them walk down the driveway. The wind had picked up and its chill bit through Lindsay’s jumper, making her shiver. She rubbed her arms, and they continued watching the men. When the two project managers were out of sight, Lindsay and Kevin walked back inside and shut the door. In the kitchen, Lindsay boiled the jug and made Kevin a coffee.
‘You not having one?’ Kevin said.
‘My stomach’s agitated enough,’ Lindsay said. ‘I don’t like this.’
They walked through to the lounge and sat on the sofa nearest the fire.
‘I don’t either,’ Kevin said.
‘They didn’t even go under the house. Did you tell them where the manhole is?’
‘Yes, I did,’ Kevin said. ‘They said they didn’t need to go under, so I didn’t bother suggesting they go up into the roof.’
‘I don’t get it,’ Lindsay said. ‘They were going to lift the house and now they’re not and they don’t have any explanation for it.’
‘They’re trying to stick us with a cheap repair, that’s what’s going on,’ Kevin said.
‘We need a lawyer,’ Lindsay said. She knew this wasn’t what Kevin wanted to hear, but her suspicions the last few months had been confirmed when their new project manager said their geotech report had been cancelled.
‘We’ll call up, ask about the geotech report,’ Kevin said. ‘See what happens.’
‘But they’ve said it’s cancelled, what’s the point of that? We need to get someone involved who knows what they’re doing.’
Kevin closed his eyes, he was thinking. Lindsay kept her mouth shut, pushing wasn’t the way to get her point across.
‘We’ll keep getting as much information as we can,’ Kevin said at last, ‘then we’ll know what we’re dealing with. Until then, a lawyer is jumping the gun.’
Lindsay nodded, although she didn’t agree. ‘I’ll call up about the geotech report,’ she said. ‘But I’ll call the insurance company, not the PMO.’
‘Good idea,’ Kevin said. He swallowed back the last of his coffee and set his cup on the coffee table.
‘I used to feel sorry for people who’ve been red zoned,’ Lindsay said. ‘But in some ways they’re the lucky ones.’
Kevin raised an eyebrow.
‘Not my parents, I don’t mean them, but people like Jase and Carla, they’ve moved on, they’re in their new places.’
‘You’re right about that,’ Kevin said, ‘but they do have a bigger mortgage, red zoning didn’t give them enough to get back the equivalent. That’s set them back some.’
‘That’s true,’ Lindsay said.
‘But are most red zoners better off?’ Kevin went on. ‘Or are there more like the O’Loughlins, who’ve had to get lawyers to get what they’re entitled to?’
A decision had been handed down in the O’Loughlin case in April. The O’Loughlins had a red zoned house and their insurance company offered to settle based on the repair of the property. The court ruled that insurers could do this because the red zoning process could not be regarded as damage that the insurer had to pay for, even though repairs could not legally be carried out. However, the court did find that the O’Loughlins’ insurer had not met their obligations, because their fictional repair involved a strategy that had a high likelihood of failure and had not, in fact, been carried out by the insurer’s experts. In effect, the insurer was trying to get the O’Loughlins to accept a repair strategy that was not realistic and not likely to be attempted if their house actually could have been repaired.
‘Did they say anything about the foundations as you went around?’ Lindsay asked.
‘No, they just pointed and looked,’
Kevin said.
‘At least they can see how crumbly it is,’ Lindsay said. ‘Surely they won’t go away thinking that can be patched.’
Kevin shrugged. ‘Hopefully,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know.’
Kevin put his arm around her and she snuggled into him. Outside drops of rain started to hit the windows, blown in by the chill wind. ‘It’ll be okay,’ Kevin said, kissing her cheek. She nodded. ‘Really, it will.’
A New Normal
June 2013
It was a strange thing, being excluded from going into the centre of the city you lived in, but it was normal life for the people of Christchurch for over two years following the February 2011 earthquake. The original red zone cordon had gradually been reduced. Each time, Alice had come into the city to walk around the newly-moved barriers, peering in to see what was going on, what had changed. She was never the only one, there was always someone else with a dazed expression, trying to make sense of where they were, what they were seeing. It helped Alice to know she wasn’t the only one feeling dislocated. She knew the demolition and rebuild would take years and that there were people who had decided they would avoid the city centre until then. But Alice preferred to be shocked bit by tiny bit, gradually demolishing her idea of what a normal city was and replacing it with this new transitional city.
Finally the last of the cordon was coming down. Officials held a ceremony to stand down the army troops who had manned the cordon since February 2011, but Alice, Sean and Charlotte wanted to avoid all of that. It seemed put on by people from outside the city, the Prime Minister and other politicians down from Wellington, the officials from CERA. Yes, City Council officials and local Ministers of Parliament would be there, but it seemed more like the locals were guests rather than the hosts.
The rebuild was feeling more and more like something being imposed on the city by Wellington rather than being done by the people who were supposed to be running the city. There were political things going on, tensions between the City Council and the Minister for Earthquake Recovery, and there were rumours that the Government would take over the City Council and put commissioners in place. Sean and Charlotte said they had enough of seeing people play happy families at home, they didn’t want to see it on what should be a relaxing afternoon in the newly cordonless city. Alice understood, the tension between their parents was getting to them both.
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