by Fleur Beale
When she saw I was eating, she turned to Marlene. ‘Where’s Robert?’
‘Getting what he can out of our house. He’s borrowed Geoff’s gumboots.’ She whacked the spatula down against the hot plate. ‘I wish I could stay and help, but with the kids it’s just not practical.’
The radio was on. There was an announcement about the Student Army. Basically it said don’t come until tomorrow. Blake shrugged. ‘Fine. I’ll check on a couple of mates. Might stay at theirs tonight. They’ve probably got water.’
Water. Showers. Envy.
Useless to think about it. I longed to ask the doctors about yesterday, about who they’d helped – but there would have been people they couldn’t help. I kept my mouth shut.
I’d find some way to help, and it wasn’t going to be just hanging around home looking after Leo and Henry. Mum was out there making a real difference. Tomorrow, Blake would be too. I hoped that was what Dad was doing right now.
Life doesn’t get put on hold for an earthquake – well, normal life does, but the new normal gets into gear and launches off at a million kilometres an hour.
Things kicked off with Natalie. She looked at her boys, glanced out the window (the weather had improved on yesterday’s effort, cloudy with sunny patches), back at her boys, took a deep breath and said, ‘They want us at work if we can possibly get there.’
The boys wailed. It was my turn for the deep breath. ‘It’s okay, Natalie. I’ll look after them. They’re awesome dudes. I’m glad they’ll be here to keep me company.’
I got a massive hug from her and then from both boys. ‘I love you, Lyla,’ said Leo.
‘I really love you, Lyla,’ said Henry.
Great – competitive loving.
But from Matt: ‘I don’t love you, Lyla.’
Oh yeah, he’d be hanging around too.
We watched all the big people, the ones who could be in charge of their own destinies, depart and the Chan girls grizzled about going with their mum. ‘Daddy’s staying, so why can’t we?’ Imelda glared at Marlene, hands on her hips.
Then Henry and Leo turned to me. ‘What are we going to do? We can’t go to school.’
And there was Matt grinning away all over his smug excuse for a face clearly relishing the prospect of watching me kid-minding all day, plus he’d be sliding in the snarky comments whenever he could which would be every two seconds.
I ignored him. ‘We’re going to be just like the Student Volunteer Army. We’re going to be the Street Volunteer Army, and we’re going to clean up around here.’
I swear Matt looked disappointed, but I could have wronged him because after a few seconds of deep thought he said, ‘That’s not a bad idea. We’ll get stray kids to help.’
I liked his use of the word we. I liked it so much I found a tramping pole to help him hobble around.
‘First, we scout the neighbourhood,’ I told my troops.
And off we went, with me trundling the wheelbarrow as best I could over the broken street. The boys carried their beach spades – metal ones, not plastic, thank goodness. To begin with, they stuck close to me and Matt, but by the time we reached the end of Ireland Street they were competing to see who could jump the furthest over the cracks in the footpath. The shaking ground didn’t spook them the way it did when they were in the house.
The immediate neighbourhood was just like our street – some places fully munted, some looking liveable and some drowning in liquefaction up to their windowsills. Matt stomped along, swearing just loud enough so the kids could hear. They giggled and jumped – excellent. But he looked at me and pulled a face. I nodded. Yes, it was bad here, and worse in the city. He didn’t say dumb stuff about Dad – just one muttered comment. ‘Geoff had better bloody well turn up today.’
For some reason that was hugely comforting. Weird.
We passed lots of people out with shovels and wheelbarrows but they all had plenty of manpower until we got a couple of streets away, where we saw an old couple digging a path through the gunk from their front door. They hadn’t cleared much. You could tell the work was too heavy for them.
‘Hi there,’ I called. ‘Can we help? I’m Lyla, this is Henry and this is Leo.’
Matt could introduce himself. And sure, he did the hi I’m Matt mumble but then off he hobbled. Seemed that the transformation from Matt the Horrible to Matt the Okay had only lasted a day. Oh well, what did I expect?
The old couple said to call them Dave and Myra. ‘You absolute darlings,’ Myra said. ‘You’ve no idea what it means to see your smiling faces.’
‘And we’re mighty glad of the help,’ Dave said.
We got to work. Liquefaction is heavy, and when it dries out the dust gets in your mouth and nose. This stuff was still wet enough to stick together in clumps, a bit like digging wet sand at the beach. I thought the boys wouldn’t keep at it for more than five minutes, or else they’d get spooked again by the shaky ground, but they didn’t give up. They dug those spades into the gunk and slapped it into the wheelbarrow.
‘What excellent workers you’ve brought us, Lyla. We’re so lucky!’ Myra said.
We’d cleared maybe a metre of the path when Matt came limping back, followed by a whole tangle of kids armed with wheelbarrows, buckets, spades and grins.
‘Your brain’s not damaged then?’ I said, but I was grinning too. More was definitely merrier, especially as I recognised Millie and Jessica from the year below me at school.
Millie dug into the sludge beside me. ‘Dad says Avonside Drive’s a total disaster. He reckons the school will be badly damaged.’
It couldn’t be too bad, surely. It had survived the September quake and we’d only had a few days off until it reopened. GG Block would be fine this time too. It had to be, it was our history – the school’s and my family’s.
Dad would be alive and well too. He would be. He absolutely had to be.
I concentrated on the shovelling, barrowing and dumping of gunk onto the kerb.
Matt perched himself on an intact part of the stone wall, making jokes and encouraging the little kids with dumb remarks. ‘Look at those muscles, man! Hey, you can join my de-gunking gang. Not much pay, but excellent gunk to shift.’ It seemed to work.
Dave and Myra worked alongside us, but they had to pause several times. ‘You don’t know how good it is not to be alone. Thank you a thousand times.’
Once the entire front path was visible again we stood round leaning on our shovels and trying to look like properly humble heroes, but Matt got off his chuff and hobbled towards Dave and Myra. ‘How’s the long-drop situation?’
They glanced at each other. ‘We haven’t been able to get to it.’
Ick! I didn’t ask what they’d been using instead, and I didn’t argue when Matt beckoned to three boys he seemed to know. ‘Come on, guys. Follow me.’
The rest of us began the Great Garden Clearance. I deployed my troops strategically. Millie and Jessica got helped by the eight-year-old twins Jendi and Paul. Henry and Leo stayed with me. I set the five slightly older kids to work on the rockery.
Dave and Myra walked along their newly cleared path and off down the road. ‘Back soon,’ Dave said.
We watched them go, just walking away as though nobody was slaving away for their benefit. Paul said, ‘They should be helping.’
‘They’re old and they’ve had a big shock, so don’t be mean, Paul Marsh,’ Jendi said.
‘We’ve had a big shock too, so you shut up, Jendi Marsh.’
That’s all I needed – twin warfare. Things got worse. ‘I’m thirsty,’ Leo said.
And so was everybody else. ‘This isn’t fun,’ one of the ten-year-olds said.
I called a halt. ‘Take a break, soldiers. Earthquakes aren’t fun. You’ve all been totally awesome. But it’s fine if you want to go home.’
Jendi prodded her brother. ‘Nah, we’ll stay. Home’s no fun either.’
One by one, those kids picked up their shovels and we got to work again
.
Matt had just led his loo crew from the backyard when we heard a car pull up at the kerb. Somebody we didn’t know was driving, but it was Dave and Myra who hopped out of the passenger seats. ‘Anyone want a lemonade? We’ve got cake, muffins and biscuits too.’
And hand sanitiser. All of us knew the drill from last time round when there’d been no water for washing – keeping your hands bug-free was essential if you didn’t want to get sick.
I ripped the tab off my can. ‘Don’t tell me there’s a supermarket open already!’
Dave shook his head. ‘We found a dairy. The front of the shop had a big gap where the window had come away from the frame, but they were letting people in two at a time, cash only and no change given.’
Same old, same old – no electronic transactions for goodness knows how long. Lucky for us that Dave and Myra still used old-fashioned cash.
That was the best can of lemonade ever. It washed the grit from our mouths, dealt with the thirst and put grins on our dusty faces. I discovered, though, that eating a lunch of sweet stuff makes you long for meat and veg.
We stopped work around the time we’d normally finish school. Dad could be back home by now, but if he wasn’t I’d need to keep busy or I’d go nuts. Last night it had been good to have lots of people around, so I sent the kids off home with instructions to tell their parents there’d be a barbecue in our street if they wanted to come.
Myra and Dave held hands, their eyes full of tears. ‘We’ll be there. It’s just so good not to be alone.’
We set off for home. Henry leant against me. ‘I’m tired, Lyla. Can I ride in the wheelbarrow?’
‘Don’t think so, buddy. I’d probably tip you into a sinkhole.’ I gave the barrow a heave over a chunk of footpath. ‘It’s not far. Reckon you can make it?’
He kicked a lump of concrete to send it splodging into the road. ‘I hate earthquakes!’
Didn’t we all.
Matt clomped along with Leo beside him. All of us were tired, filthy and thirsty again.
There was a light on in the lounge when we reached my house. Matt and I stopped dead, staring at it. ‘Electricity? We’ve got power already?’ Dad might be home too.
We hurried inside and Matt flicked a switch. The lights came on in the entry hall. ‘Yes. Real genuine electricity.’
I ran to my parents’ bedroom. It was empty. Worry and disappointment crashed into me.
I felt sick as I trudged back to the others. Matt did the raised-eyebrow thing. I did the headshake.
Leo plonked down on the sofa. ‘Can we watch telly, Lyla? Please!’
They weren’t allowed to watch television in the daytime normally, but this was the new normal. ‘Sure can. Let’s see if it still works.’
Matt helped me get the TV upright and set it up with the right cables in the right holes, but we left it on the floor. The aftershocks we were getting would only knock it off its cabinet again.
We turned it on and squished in with the boys to settle down to whatever kids of six and eight like to watch. But this was the new normal, and what we got was earthquake coverage. It was ghastly seeing the devastation in the central city. Henry started crying. Leo’s body shook in great tremors. Matt pointed the remote and the screen faded.
‘Let’s go over to your house,’ I said to the boys. ‘We’ll see if we can find your DVDs.’
I knew Matt would turn the telly back on the second we were out of the house. I’d have done the same.
We took our time sorting through the mess next door and I made sure we created enough noise when we came back to warn him to switch it off again. But it wasn’t off. Matt had paused it on a quake image. ‘Um?’ I looked at him. ‘What? Why the grin?’
He picked up the remote. ‘Take a look at this.’
The picture rolled for three seconds before he paused it again – on a close-up of my father’s face. He was talking to a kid of about four, showing her something out of shot.
‘Dad! He’s alive! Matt, he’s alive!’ I wanted to reach into the telly and hug Dad. I wanted to cry and shout and dance. I just danced.
‘Thought you’d be pleased,’ Matt said. ‘There was just that one shot and he’s at the hospital. I only had the recorder going because I wanted to check everything was working okay.’
I grinned at him. ‘Shall I hug you?’
‘Um. No.’ Matt gave a shudder of horror. It made me laugh.
‘Lyla, can we watch Toy Story now?’
For a horrible moment we thought the DVD player was broken, but between us we got it going. The kids went into zombie mode, staring at the screen. Leo hugged a cushion. Henry had his thumb in his mouth. Too bad about the dirt.
Dad was alive. My father was alive and well, he really was.
I got everybody a drink of water. Our supply was dwindling.
Matt and I relocated to the kitchen once the boys were fully absorbed in the telly.
Good news does wonders for the appetite. We sat at the kitchen table scoffing a bag of kumara chips. ‘Looks like you’ve got messages.’ He nodded towards the landline phone.
I picked up the receiver and pressed the appropriate buttons. ‘Matthew, it’s your mother. Your father’s going to check our house and you’re to come back to Oamaru with him afterwards. No arguments. You can stay here with us. Jed and Fiona say they’ll love to have you.’
‘Not happening,’ he said. ‘Absolutely zero not happening.’ He deleted the message.
‘Plenty of floor space here,’ I said. Huh, the quake must have affected my brain, but when I thought more about having him around it felt okay. Strange, weird and unbelievable.
There was another message, for me this time. It was from Katie. She was crying. ‘Lyla, we’re leaving Christchurch. Our house is wrecked. We’re going to Nelson. We’re going to live there for good.’
No! I couldn’t be losing my friend.
I put my head down on the table. The three of us had been friends forever. Life wouldn’t be the same without Katie. What if Shona, Greer, Joanne…
A savage wave of earthquake hate hit me with seismic force. Why did this have to happen to my city?
We heard a car pull up outside. The little boys rushed into the kitchen, huddling into me, watching wide-eyed as Matt hobbled to the front door. He yanked it open and there was Mr Nagel, arms out to hug – which Matt let him do for at least half a second. ‘Good to see you’re fit and well, son,’ his dad said with a crooked grin. ‘Thanks for putting up with him, Lyla.’
‘S’okay.’
Leo, Henry and I stayed at the front door, staring at the two of them. Matt leant on his father and limped across the gluggy road.
‘Is Matt going away?’ Leo asked. Poor kid, he was trembling all over.
I put an arm around him. ‘He wants to stay here with us, but his mother wants him to be with her.’
Henry sniffled. ‘I don’t want Matt to go away.’
‘He should stay,’ Leo said. ‘He doesn’t want to be with his mum. She’s a nutcase.’
I winced, but let it pass. Anyway, Leo possibly heard that from Matt himself.
The phone rang and of course I grabbed it – it could have been Katie or Shona or Dad. But I’d barely got the receiver to my ear before I copped another blast from Mrs Nagel. ‘Put Matthew on, Lyla.’
No please or thank you. I should tell her it was me who rescued her little darling. ‘He’s over at your house with his dad.’
‘Go and get him. At once, if you please. I need to speak to him urgently.’
Wow! She’d never been as rude as this before; she must be seriously bent out of shape. ‘I’ll give him your message when he gets back. Sorry, gotta go now.’ I put the phone down while she was mid-squawk. It rang again straight away.
The boys swivelled their eyes between it and me. I grinned at them and they fell about giggling as we listened to it ring, laughing all the harder when we heard her voice boom from the answering machine. ‘Pick up, Lyla. At once. Do you hear me?’
When the message finished I took the receiver off the hook. Spare me from panicking mothers.
Matt and his dad came back eventually, lugging a box full of semi-frozen food, a water container and a bag of Matt’s clothes.
Leo bounced up to Matt. ‘Your mum’s real mad with Lyla.’
Matt lowered himself onto a chair. ‘Jeez! Why can’t she leave me alone?’
Henry pressed play on the answer phone. Mr Nagel sighed. ‘Give it here, will you, Henry?’
He wiped the message, then dialled his wife. It probably rang for a nano-second before she answered. ‘Matthew! Have you packed? Don’t forget your…’
Mr Nagel said, ‘Cut it out, Liz. Take a deep breath and listen. Matt’s fine here. He’s doing a great job helping out. No – he wants to stay and I’ve said he can. And please stop harassing these good people. No more calls.’
He put the phone down, then turned to me. ‘I’m very grateful to you, Lyla. Thank you for rescuing my son.’
What could I say to that? No worries – he was just lying around? I settled for staring at my feet and muttering something dumb. Mr Nagel reached out and gripped my shoulder, then did the same for Matt – on his unbruised side. ‘Take care, son.’
The boys ran to the window to watch him leave. I looked at Matt. ‘Your mum a bit overprotective?’
‘Whatever gives you that idea?’ He shrugged – then winced. ‘Must remember not to do that for a bit. Dad’s good. Tries to keep her off my back.’
Blake arrived home. I ran to meet him, yelling, ‘Dad’s okay! He was on the telly. He looked fully tired, but he was still working.’ I rattled off the details.
My brother stopped dead, let the news sink in, then grinned at me. ‘Awesome. Best news ever.’
‘You didn’t find a shower then?’ He wouldn’t have got quite so filthy just riding home on his bike.
He waved a newspaper at me. ‘Can you believe it? They published The Press this morning!’
‘Impressive!’ Matt spread it open on the table. I took one look – so many photos, so much destruction and so many deaths. There were sixty-six as of last night, but there would be more by now. This was my city. It was real. This had happened to us. I don’t know if I was finding it too hard to believe or if I just didn’t want to believe it.
