by Fleur Beale
Who knew you could cook frozen pizza on a barbecue? Sausages were nicer, though, and it was good to have half-frozen bread to wrap them in – the bread thawed and cooled the sausage at the same time.
People made the trek out to the long-drop. Robert Chan took the little boys out. He and Blake helped Matt outside too, although I’d be willing to bet a large fortune that they only went as far as the nearest bush.
I didn’t want to believe the radio reports were about our city. They were saying people were dead. Others were injured. The rescue helicopter was using the road outside the hospital’s emergency department as a landing pad. The hospital put out a call asking off-duty staff to come in if they possibly could.
Dad could have gone to help at the hospital.
Daylight was fading. Henry snuggled up against me. ‘I don’t like the dark.’
Leo didn’t say anything, and I knew he was trying desperately not to let the tears out. I wrapped my arms around both of them. ‘You reckon it’s time to get the emergency lights?’
Henry took the thumb from his mouth to nod. Leo said, ‘We won’t be able to find them if it gets dark first.’
‘Good thinking.’ We did the high five. ‘And what do you reckon about everybody sleeping in here tonight? I’ll organise the lights and you two organise people to drag all the mattresses in here. Can you do that?’
They jumped up, and went to try to drag Matt off the sofa.
‘Blake – the emergency lights. They’re in the garage.’ The munted, busted, shoved-off-its-foundations garage.
Robert Chan stood up. ‘Come on, Blake. Let’s see if we can get in.’
I said, ‘Hey guys, leave Matt – he’s too lazy to be any use. But we’re the awesome mattress-finders.’
Henry scampered down the hall, jumping over broken pictures and the heap from the linen cupboard. He stopped at my doorway. ‘Your room’s wrecked, Lyla.’
I wanted to cry but Leo was beside me, quivering with stress, so I swore instead. The kids stared at me open mouthed, then collapsed into giggles. But it wasn’t damn well funny – the dressing table was still fixed to the wall but it had spat every single drawer out across the room. The whole place was a merry old mess of clothes and broken glass from the mirror. The noticeboard was on the floor and my bedside light lay squashed under the tipped-over desk.
Leo took my hand. ‘It’s all right, Lyla. We’ll help you.’
Ouch. He was only eight, and totally freaked out, but was comforting me. I gave him a hug. ‘Good man. Let’s do it.’
They helped me kick a path to the bed and between us we wrestled the mattress off. I’d have done it a lot quicker by myself, and we’d only got as far as the lounge door by the time Blake and Robert came back with the lanterns. The light made puddles in the gloom. Light puddles were friendlier than liquefaction puddles.
‘We’ve got mattresses at our house,’ Leo said.
Not a bad idea – but I let the men haul them over from next door. Our house was now a meeting house, a real wharenui – wall-to-wall mattresses on the lounge floor, marae style.
Henry and Leo fell asleep and the Chan girls shortly after, although Imelda took her time. We turned the radio on low enough not to disturb them.
We heard shock in people’s voices, grief in their words.
Somebody official said people shouldn’t expect help to reach the suburbs for at least three days.
Voices kept saying people had died but nobody could confirm how many. Cindy Jaffrie breathed in short gasps. Marlene held her hand. None of us tried to tell her that her daughter and husband would be okay.
We put a lantern in the lounge window where the light would be visible from the street.
It was fully dark and raining when we heard somebody struggling with the door. Cindy just beat me and Blake to get to it. Caroline Jaffrie fell in.
Cindy hugged her daughter as if she’d never let her go. Blake shoved an assortment of food at her – pizza, sausage and a plate of soft ice-cream. The stuff would be melting in freezers all over the city.
Cindy wrapped a blanket around Caroline, questions pouring out. ‘Your father’s building, Caroline. Is it…Did you see him? Is he okay?’
Caroline shook her head. ‘Don’t know. I couldn’t find him – one entire wall’s down. The building’s a shambles but it looks like they all got out.’
She’d walked home. They weren’t letting people into the parking building. Her car was stuck there.
It was good Caroline was here and safe, but I couldn’t help wishing it was Dad who’d come through the door.
I hoped my parents wouldn’t have to walk home; they’d taken the car this morning. They could have parked it on the street. My mind skipped to the image of Mum clambering over the pile of rubble. Please, let her be all right. Let them both be safe. The aftershocks would be bringing more bricks and concrete down all the time. There’d be no lights on in the city. How would she see in the dark? I was so glad she had my shoes.
Prof’s nephew turned up around ten. His car had five people in it already but they squeezed Prof in. They were going to their holiday house at Wanaka. He wasn’t a huggy man, but each of us got a handshake. ‘Thank you, dear people. And please – use anything from my house. Help yourselves.’
It was an hour later when Alex Jaffrie drove up in their car. I wished again that it was Dad and I wished he was hugging me and Blake like Alex was hugging Cindy and Caroline.
He ate three sausages and a slice of thawing cheesecake, and downed two cups of tea. ‘We’ll drive to Dunedin in the morning if the airport here’s not open. Grab a flight to Auckland from there,’ he told his family. Their son Evan lived in Auckland. Lucky Evan to live in a city where the earth didn’t crack under your feet.
‘Give the airport a call,’ I said. ‘The landline works.’
That led to a flurry of other calls.
Marlene Chan rang her parents. When she hung up, she said, ‘They’ll come and get us tomorrow.’ She looked at her husband, a question in her face.
Robert shook his head. ‘I’m staying. I’ll be able to help.’ He was an engineer and he’d worked non-stop for days after September. Their house had been only slightly damaged then but now it was a wreck and they wouldn’t be able to live in it. Oh well, chuck another mattress on the floor, Lyla.
Aftershocks kept rattling the house and all of us with them. I was glad it wasn’t just Blake and me here by ourselves.
Towards midnight Natalie came back from the medical centre. We gave her food.
‘What’s it like out there?’ Caroline asked.
Natalie shook her head. ‘Bad. Lots of injuries. We couldn’t get into our building, so the medical staff were stitching people up under car lights. We had a couple of makeshift tents for the worst cases. I was running all over the place with the supplies we managed to salvage. Kids were crying. People were in shock. It’s just awful.’ She broke down in tears.
Marlene and Cindy rushed to comfort her but we all knew there was no comfort in our city that night.
Matt, Marlene, Robert, Natalie, the Jaffries – all of them stretched out on the mattresses but only the kids slept. I squashed into a lounge chair with Blake who sighed but didn’t shove me out. At one point, Matt said, ‘Aftershocks feel different when you’re lying down, Lyla. You should try it. And by the way, good job on the rescue even if it did take you forever.’
I struggled not to cry. Matt was being kind! I knew he was trying to distract me.
‘Any time,’ I told him, and actually managed a smile when he shuddered. ‘You okay?’
‘I’ll live.’
Time crawled on. The reports coming over the radio were awful.
Sixty-six people were dead and the number would get higher.
People were trapped in damaged high-rise buildings in the central city. One of Greer’s cleaning jobs was in a high-rise block of flats. Joanne could have been in a city high-rise.
There were multiple fatalities throughout the
city.
There was only one survivor from a bus crushed by a falling building.
Rescuers were working under floodlights in the cold, desperately trying to find people in the ruins. It was summer. Why was the weather so wintry? It seemed to me that nature had turned against us today.
I went to the window to look out. The floodlights must be powerful. Beams of light reached upwards into the darkness from the central city. Everywhere else was totally black.
Urban Search and Rescue teams were on their way from other countries. A team from New South Wales would be here by morning.
Mum wasn’t part of a USAR team, but I knew that wouldn’t stop her. She’d still be searching through rubble.
Blake’s arm around my shoulders comforted me.
‘They’ll be all right, Lyla.’
I wished they’d come home.
All night long the house groaned and shuddered. It felt like its sinews were being stretched to breaking. Leo woke in a panic, not knowing where he was, and Natalie wrapped her arms around him. ‘It’s all right. It’s just Rūaumoko, but he’s not really angry. We’re safe. I promise.’
Matt looked like he was in pain. I stretched out a foot to touch his shoulder. ‘Want some drugs?’ I should have thought of that earlier – but he could have asked too.
He turned his head to whisper, ‘What you got?’
‘Codeine. If I can find it.’
‘Find it.’
It was where everything else was by now, on the floor. The doors on the bathroom cabinet were swinging gently. I left them open – nothing left in there now.
Matt chugged down a couple of tablets. ‘Lyla, also known as Girl Friday.’ From Matt, that was a heartfelt thank you.
You go kind of numb after a while, at least I did. My mind sort of shut down – nothing going on, nobody home. It was easier that way.
I might have gone to sleep, because I got the mother of all frights when Blake started pushing and shoving. ‘Hear that? It’s a car. Come on, Lyla – let me up, will you!’
I didn’t need telling twice. We leapt over bodies and raced for the front door. Blake snatched up a torch. We got that door open in record time and hurtled outside.
I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. Ghostly figures in the dark. A big truck – an army truck?
‘Blake! Lyla!’ Then Mum was running. We all crashed together in a massive, blubbery hug.
I kept saying, ‘You’re still alive! You’re okay? Dad? Have you heard from Dad?’
She shook her head. ‘He’ll be doing triage at the hospital. Don’t worry, Lyla. He’s fine, I’m sure he is.’
But she didn’t know for sure.
We shut the door as much as we could and I only noticed the two extra people when we were back inside. Mum introduced them. ‘Karen and Winston. Doctors from Australia. Dead tired.’
Marlene half sat up. ‘Good to see you, Clemmie. Welcome to the Ireland Street Marae.’
‘September all over again,’ Mum said through a massive yawn.
I offered tea and food but they didn’t want anything except sleep. ‘People have been bringing us stuff – cakes, pies, muffins. Coffee.’
Somehow, the Aussie doctors found space to lie down. Matt gave up his mattress. ‘I’m good at sleeping – can do it anywhere.’
Blake and I followed Mum to her room and watched her fall onto her bed – I don’t think she even noticed the mattress wasn’t there, just like the duvet and pillows weren’t. She was wearing overalls and a fluoro jacket, both too big for her. She still had my shoes on. The sight of them reminded me of the grandparents, all four of them waiting to hear Mum and Dad were okay.
I groaned, and whispered to Blake, ‘Gotta ring the grands.’ No need to whisper, though – a cannon blasting off wouldn’t have woken Mum.
In the end, I just rang the Wellington grands and whispered into the phone, ‘Mum’s home, but Dad’s not.
Mum says he’s probably working at the hospital, but can you ring Grandy and Nana Lilith? I’m too tired.’ But it wasn’t that. I didn’t want to be the one to tell Dad’s parents that we didn’t know if he was still alive.
Blake had taken the shoes off Mum when I got back. He’d pulled the emergency sleeping bags from the wardrobe, and we tucked one around our mother’s grubby-but-alive body. Dad’s sleeping bag lay on the bed ready for him if he turned up before morning.
It was the floor for us. I raided the wardrobe for pillow substitutes. Blake was happy with a rolled-up fleece of Dad’s. I used Mum’s fluffy dressing-gown.
Mum hadn’t been killed. Dad was probably alive – he would be, he definitely would be still alive.
Morning happened before I was ready for it. It turned out you couldn’t keep an emergency response worker in bed when there were people to help. Mum was up and rattling around far too early.
I opened my eyes. ‘Dad? Has he texted?’
Mum shook her head. ‘No, but texts aren’t getting through yet. Don’t worry, darling. They’ve called on all medical staff to go to the hospital if they possibly can. You know Dad – that’s where he’ll be.’
I burst into tears. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’m just so scared! I saw all that stuff in town and there were dead people and blood and there’s people stuck in that building and…’
My mother hugged me until I stopped crying. ‘Sorry.’
‘Shh,’ she said. ‘Nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry you had to see such terrible sights. Were Katie and Shona with you? Are they okay?’
I shivered. ‘They were, but I can’t get hold of either of them now. Shona was worried about Greer too because Tuesday’s her cleaning day and she didn’t know where she’d be. I don’t know about Joanne, either.’
Mum stroked my head. ‘It could just be that Shona and Katie’s families have had to relocate. The damage and liquefaction are terrible over in Dallington, and it’s pretty bad in streets near the Avon.’
That made me feel marginally more hopeful, but I couldn’t bear to tell her Joanne had been in town, possibly in a multistorey building.
Mum tipped my chin up so that she could drill me with her Mother-Gaze. ‘Honey, I should go back to work. But tell me the truth – will you be okay or will you worry yourself sick about Dad?’
I tried to smile. Epic fail. ‘I’ll be okay. Leo and Henry are good distractions. Matt’s here too, don’t forget.’
She looked uncertain but turned to Blake. ‘What about you, Blake? What’s happening with the army?’
She meant the Student Volunteer Army that got set up via Facebook to help after the September quake. Blake had joined thousands of other students armed with shovels and wheelbarrows to dig liquefaction out of houses and streets. By the sound of it, all the liquefaction they’d dug out was back.
Blake actually sat up. ‘Dunno yet. But I’ll go if things are up and running.’
‘Mum, those doctors you brought with you last night – are they on holiday?’
She gave up trying to make her hair look halfway decent. ‘No, they were here for a conference. Karen’s from Adelaide. Winston’s a Tasmanian.’
I thought back to yesterday. The woman who’d tended to Ian in Latimer Square had an Aussie accent. ‘Are they emergency doctors?’ It seemed too good to be true.
Mum gave a bit of a grin. ‘Not so much. They’re urology surgeons. There’s a bunch of them here for a conference.’
Blake patted my head. ‘Urology, my innocent little sister, is human plumbing. Wees and associated organs.’
Huh? ‘But…how would they know about triaging injured people?’ You wouldn’t meet any injuries being a wees doctor. I didn’t think so, anyway.
Mum changed the subject. ‘Lyla, do you want to go to Wellington? The grandparents would love to have you.’
I knew that was true. ‘No. I want to stay here. I want to help.’
‘Not with the Student Army,’ Blake said. ‘I’m not babysitting you, so don’t even think about it.’
That wasn’t w
orth wasting words on, but in any case Mum agreed. ‘No to the army, Lyla.’ She held up a shushing-type hand. ‘Not because you’d need looking after, but you are only thirteen and they’ll be doing extremely heavy and exhausting work. There’s plenty to do round here if you want to help.’
‘I can do it! And I’m nearly fourteen. My birthday’s next month, just in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘The students are older than you. Yes, I know – some high-school kids were among them, but you’re not going to be one of them.’
I opened my mouth, then shut it. Mum was tired, and there were new lines on her face. Don’t add to the stress, Lyla. I wanted to say it’d keep me from worrying myself sick about Dad, but I managed not to.
‘All right, I’ll stay here. I don’t want to, but I’ll do it.’
Her whole body relaxed and tears came to her eyes. I got hugged. I felt like a noble martyr until Blake said, ‘You’re not strong enough to man a shovel anyway.’
I still didn’t bother wasting words on him.
We went out to join our refugees in the lounge. Everyone was up off the floor. The mattresses were stacked in a corner with Henry, Leo and the Chan kids using them as a trampoline. We followed the scent of food floating in from the barbecue.
The Aussie doctors were out there looking tired, hands wrapped around steaming mugs. Matt was sitting on a cushion from the sofa. A large crack ran from the roofline of the wall he was leaning against and disappeared behind his back. His ankle was neatly bandaged. Dad’s industrial-sized first-aid kit was beside him. ‘Sprained, not broken,’ he said when he saw me looking.
Silent questions zapped between Marlene, Natalie and Mum; a tipping of the head plus raised eyebrows meant any news of Geoff?
Mum’s quick headshake said far more to me than just no.
I had to do something, find a distraction. I went to see if Marlene needed help at the barbecue. She grinned at me. ‘Fancy pita bread for breakfast, Lyla? Fillings over there.’ She waved her spatula at a heaped plate of bacon, tomatoes, sliced pizza and potato fries. I filled three pitas for Matt, one each for the little boys and forced one down my own throat, but only because I knew Mum’s eagle eyes were watching me.
