by Fleur Beale
Matt was grinning his stupid head off. ‘Stuck between a rock and a hard place.’
Not. I wanted a shower, and Mum had guessed enough to make her suspicious anyway. ‘Nothing much. Just went into a cordoned-off high-rise to get Greer’s laptop.’
Blake’s mouth dropped open. ‘Sheesh! You’re an idiot. And Matt – you’re an even bigger one. I feel like I should stay here and keep an eye on the pair of you.’
‘You can do what you like,’ I said. ‘But just tell me where I can get a shower.’
The rat – he didn’t even give me a specific address. ‘Head over to the west side of town. There’s water on over there. You’ll find somebody to let you have a shower.’
Huh, I’d already worked that out for myself. ‘You two get outta here. I want to get dressed.’
Matt scuttled off – well, as much as you can when you’ve got a sprained ankle. But Blake stayed on the sofa and on his phone. ‘Not going anywhere just yet.’
A five point six might make him look up – but possibly not. I pulled on yesterday’s disgusting clothes, to save my clean ones for after my shower.
Matt reappeared and went to the phone. ‘Myra? Matt here. Any chance your friend with the car would help us locate a shower? We’d walk but my ankle’s not really up to it yet…Brilliant! Thanks.’
I didn’t listen to any more because I got busy collecting clean clothes, towel, soap and shampoo.
‘Any towels left?’
From which I figured that a) Matt wanted a shower too and b) Dave and Myra or their car man knew where we could get clean.
Half an hour later, Dave, Myra and friend arrived. Car Man was called Neville and he lived in a retirement place across town. It had water.
We were silent as Neville drove us through a city no longer familiar. So many roads were blocked off. Portaloos dotted the verges of suburban streets. Bridges were unusable. Surfaces that had once been smooth now were shattered. Men driving tractors with big bucket things on them scooped up liquefaction. Myra said, ‘The Farmy Army, god bless them.’ Farmers, coming in from the country to help us. I waved and blew kisses.
I’ll remember that shower for the rest of my life. Te waiora, the healing waters.
Water was precious, so I hurried, but I still had time to savour the warmth along with the sight of dirty suds sluicing off my skin and hair.
I returned to the adults, my hair wrapped in the towel and a grin on my face.
‘Feel better?’ Neville asked.
‘Better doesn’t begin to describe it. Thank you so much.’
Matt’s phone rang as we were walking back to the car. He checked the screen – and turned the phone off.
‘Your mum?’ Stupid question – of course it was.
He grunted, then said, ‘What’s the betting she’ll be ringing the landline by now?’ He was looking black and fed up. I was glad we were having lunch at Dave and Myra’s, because I’d noticed Matt always dealt better with his mother on a full stomach.
Dave and Myra’s street had acquired portaloos while we were away. There was one outside their neighbours’ place and another one down on the corner.
Matt said, ‘If there’s one outside my house Mum’s going to go ballistic.’
Yeah. She’d think it was so vulgar. I was a bit sorry to discover the one in our street was outside the wreck of the Chans’ house.
The message light was cheerfully signalling when we got inside. Matt flopped down on the sofa.
‘You want to listen?’ I asked.
‘No.’ He slumped further into the cushions. ‘Yeah. Get it over with. Hit me with it.’
His mother’s voice powered into the room. ‘Matthew darling. Call me as soon as you get this. Your father and I aren’t going to be living together for the foreseeable future. He won’t leave his work and I can’t cope with living in Christchurch now. I’ve bought a house in Timaru. You will live with me, of course.’
Sheesh!
Matt didn’t say anything for ages. He scrubbed his hands over his face, then rubbed them through his hair. ‘Delete it.’
I hit the button. Okay, his mother was a complete nut job, but really? That was another flaming earthquake.
Then I heard myself say, ‘You can stay here.’
The next morning I was up and ready for the day, however many aftershocks it decided to throw at us. My mind was busy thinking about Matt being around for the next few weeks or however long. Funny, I didn’t regret it, even though he was still sprawled on his mattress. ‘Heard from your dad yet?’
‘He’ll be here in about an hour.’ Then he shot me a lightning-quick look. ‘Did you mean it?’
‘Yeah, I meant it. Still do.’
He heaved a huge sigh, then I got an almost-grin. ‘I’ll teach you how to kick a rugby ball.’
‘Don’t push your luck.’
Don, Natalie and the kids disappeared next door and we turned on the radio. I didn’t want to hear more bad news, but couldn’t stand not knowing, so I listened.
The death toll had risen. A hundred and forty-five people confirmed dead. Just as bad was the news that the rescue phase had ended and become a recovery operation. I couldn’t bear to think about it because it meant they believed nobody in those buildings could still be alive by now. USAR teams were now searching for bodies in the collapsed multistorey office blocks in the city. They were to start the search in the cathedral today. How many had died under those heavy stones?
Mum bent one of her laser-eyed looks on me and shook her head at Dad, who promptly switched the radio off and asked me, ‘Lyla, what’s the name of that man you helped in Cathedral Square?’
It took me a moment to recall. ‘Ian. His name was Ian. MacKenzie. Why?’ Don’t tell me he died.
‘I’ll see if I can find out what happened to him. If you’d like me to?’
I truly didn’t want to know if Ian was dead. But there was only one way to find out. ‘Yes. I’d like to know.’
The house emptied out till it was just me and Matt left as usual. I washed the dishes in a bowl – we still had no drains, so the waste water was ending up on the garden. Matt dried them without being asked. Matt Nagel, domestic god. Who’d have thought? ‘I’ll disappear when your dad arrives,’ I told him. They didn’t need an audience for private family talk.
I contacted Joanne and we ended up with six of us from school sitting around outside making popcorn on the barbecue. The things you do.
It was good just hanging out, but it made me miss Katie and Shona so much that I ached.
They all went home for lunch. I went inside and discovered Matt’s dad had brought a load of groceries with him. We ate smoked chicken salad, potato salad and fresh bread.
I opened the pantry to find tins of beans, spaghetti, soup, tomatoes, peaches and more all lined up on the floor. There were paper towels, wipes, toilet paper and tissues as well. ‘Best on the floor. Saves picking it all up,’ Matt said.
I got all choked up. ‘Thanks, Mr Nagel. All this stuff…thank you!’
He shook his head. ‘Least I could do, Lyla. You two have been in the thick of it.’
Matt said, ‘It’s going to get worse. Mum’s on the warpath.’
‘Tell me when,’ I said. ‘I’ll leave you to it again.’ I hoped his dad would stick around.
But Mr N had gone and I’d just filled the bowl to do the washing up when she hammered on the door.
I shut myself in my bedroom and turned my music up loud enough to drown her out when she started shouting.
I heard the front door slam after about half an hour. Once I was sure she’d gone I went to find Matt. He was sitting on the sofa looking like he’d just finished a full-on tug-of-war. It was hard to tell if he’d won or lost.
‘You okay?’
‘I’ll live.’
‘Here? Or Timaru?’ I was reasonably interested in his answer.
He shut his eyes and slumped down into the cushions. ‘According to Mum, I can stay here during the week and get th
e bus to Timaru weekends and holidays.’
She probably saw this as the perfect way to break her darling’s rugby habit. ‘Not happening?’ I asked.
He grunted, then said, ‘Dad’s going to talk to your folks about me staying here.’ There was almost a question in his voice.
I squashed down the temptation to pay him back for past torture. ‘It’s okay with me.’
He sat up a bit. ‘Some schools are opening tomorrow.’
‘Not ours?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah. The word is that they’re both wrecked. Totally munted.’
Gloom descended. I’d never moan about school again. I liked school, but I guess you don’t get how important something is until it’s not there. I wouldn’t think about GG Block. It had been fully strengthened at the end of last century. It’d be okay, surely. ‘Any word about when we can go back?’
But of course there wasn’t. The new normal sucked – no clear answers, nothing to pin your life to. I made us hot chocolates loaded with sugar. I figured we needed it. I put Matt’s in his hand – we didn’t put full cups down in the new normal in case an aftershock rattled on through. ‘What’s your dad going to do? Is his office okay?’
‘Yeah. Town’s not so bad over there. He’s going to bunk down in the tea room for now.’ He buried his face in the choc mug. I got the message. Topic Parents = No Go.
Boys. They just didn’t do talking. I wondered how Shona felt about her father turning up. He’d only kept in vague contact since her parents split when she was five. She often said she didn’t really know him now. It was good that he’d joined them – you needed to know both parents loved you. I glanced at Matt. Maybe not the sort of love his mother dished out, though.
‘Text your dad,’ I said. ‘Tell him to eat here tonight. He might as well. He’s brought all the supplies.’
So that night we ate a dinner a proper chef wouldn’t think much of. These flavours just do not go together, Lyla. How could you think they did? But my diners were properly appreciative and chowed down merrily on salad out of a bag, pasta bows and chilli followed by rainbow cake and lamingtons.
I managed not to listen to or view any news that evening. I didn’t want to know how many people had died in the ruins of the cathedral.
Dad had good news for me. ‘I found Ian at the hospital,’ he said, giving me a hug. ‘He was five minutes away from going home when I discovered him. Here. He wrote you a note. He hopes you won’t mind the recycled card.’
I opened the envelope to read the card inside. A message to him from somebody called Clarry had been crossed out and another one written below it.
My very dear Lyla, I am so delighted to be able to thank you for saving my life. They tell me I’d be pushing up daisies by now were it not for your brave and prompt action. You are my hero.
Yours with deep appreciation,
Ian MacKenzie
I sniffed and looked at Dad. ‘Is he really all right?’
He ruffled my hair. ‘Sure is. His wife cried all over me when she found out I was related to you. Couldn’t thank me enough for having the wit to father such a heroic child.’
I laughed, then leant against him. ‘Is it still horrible? At the hospital, I mean?’
He stroked my back. ‘It’s not good, honey. This whole thing, it’s just not good.’ Then he took my shoulders and held me away so he could look me in the face. ‘Tell me the truth. Are you happy for Matt to stay here for however long?’
I knew why he was asking – I’d moaned and complained about idiot Matt Nagel enough times before all this happened. I gave him a grin. ‘I can’t believe it myself, but yeah, I’m okay with it.’
Because right now idiot Matt Nagel was almost good to have around. He’d been great about getting Greer’s computer. He’d helped with Leo and Henry. People did change, so maybe he was growing up.
I messaged Katie and Shona. Matt N moving in. Lucky he doesn’t snore.
Katie: You all still on lounge floor??? Why???
Me: Too scary to be by self in rockin-rollin bedroom.
I stared at her message. It made me sad. Unless you were here in the city that never stood still, you didn’t understand the comfort you got from all being together. My friends were drifting away.
I messaged Shona. How’s Greer? The subtext being when are you coming back to Chch?
There was a message from Shona in the morning. Greer heaps better. THANK YOU.
Me: Great. So when are you coming back?
Shona: Don’t know.
I could jump on a bus, trundle all the way down to Dunedin to visit her and Greer. How long would that take? I looked it up. Nearly six hours. I’d have to be away overnight. I couldn’t face sitting on a bus for six hours, plus the thought of leaving my family for that long terrified me. What if another quake hit, another big one? I wouldn’t know if they were okay.
I gave up on the visit idea.
Katie had messaged too. Starting new school today. Nelson Girls. I HATE moving!!! Luv ya both.
I sat staring at the screen for ages. All over the rest of the country, life was tootling on as normal. You got out of bed, jumped in the shower. If you wanted to wash your hair, you did. The water burbled its way down the drain without you giving it a thought. You could travel to work or school the same way every day without detouring when yet another road was closed for repairs.
There probably weren’t any road cones or high-vis vests in any of those other cities – Christchurch had quite likely grabbed them all. We definitely had all the portaloos. Soldiers, cops, USAR teams, fire and ambo people – well, too bad for the rest of New Zealand.
The thing with disasters is you keep thinking they’ll get better, that you’ll wake up and everything will be back to how it used to be. But they don’t get better, and you have to keep bracing for the next aftershock, the next news update.
I hated feeling useless. So much needed fixing. It didn’t seem important enough to just shovel liquefaction and look after Leo and Henry. I took charge of the food situation. Each morning I set out for Dave and Myra’s house with the boys, big and little varieties, tagging along too.
The conversation went something like this each day:
Myra: What’ll we cook tomorrow, boys?
Henry: Spag bol!
Me and Matt: We’re sick of spag bol. Think again.
Dave: You need veges, Henry. Got to grow those muscles.
Leo: We could have spag bol and veges.
Matt: Roast chicken and veges.
Me: Only if Myra tells me how to cook it.
Myra: Of course I will, dear. And I’ll make an apple sponge pudding.
Leo wrote the list and Matt texted it to his father to buy at the one open supermarket on his way back to ours for dinner.
My mind was finding it hard to cope with the new Matt. He was brilliant and great company unless I strayed into a no-go area such as family break-ups or mothers. The little boys worshipped him – he was definitely the flavour of the month. Not that I cared. Well, to be truthful, I did. A bit. Which was so dumb, because it would have been pretty hellish trying to keep them calm and busy all by myself.
They wanted to do everything Matt was doing, so the three of them got busy every night peeling, chopping and stirring. I’d be doing something like browning meat for a casserole and I’d start wondering if I’d slipped into a parallel universe where Matt Nagel was almost a hero.
‘What’s with all the head-shaking?’ he asked, suspicion in his voice.
‘Onions. They get to me every time.’
A couple of days of continued saintliness from him and I finally figured out what it was all about. Matt Nagel was loving being part of a real family. Well, that was my theory and I thought it was a pretty good one.
His friends started coming over to hang out, and so did Millie, Jess and Joanne.
If the boys were with Natalie we all took off on our bikes searching for things to do. There were showers to be had, too – public ones at Pioneer
Stadium. We didn’t worry that it took ages to ride there; it helped fill in the day.
The Press published news about our schools, none of it good. Serious structural damage to both of them. The grounds of Shirley Boys’ were awash with silt. Both principals said we wouldn’t be back in either school, maybe for the rest of the year.
Joanne stabbed her finger on the article. ‘They’re looking at site-sharing. How will that work?’
Millie went pale. ‘We might have to squash in with another class. There’ll be no room and they’ll hate us.’
Clancy – feral Clancy, who’d been on his bike since his dad found out about his driving stunt – said, ‘Nah. It’ll be one school in the morning and the other one swanning in at lunchtime when the first school packs it in for the day.’
Millie groaned. ‘But which schools? And when can we go back? I just want to know. Nobody knows anything in this city anymore.’
There was good news on the second Saturday since the quake. All the rubble had been cleared from the cathedral. There were no bodies. Nobody had died there. Why does good news make you want to cry?
That evening Mum and Dad announced that they both had the day off on Thursday.
‘About time,’ I said. ‘But what’s so special about Thursday? Why not Wednesday? Or tomorrow?’
The only answer I got was two identical grins and, ‘You’ll work it out, darling,’ from Mum.
Judging by the smug looks, everyone in that room over the age of eighteen was in on the joke – Myra, Dave, Robert, Blake, Matt’s dad, Natalie and Don – all of them grinning away. Oh well, Thursday would turn up sooner or later and the mystery would be revealed.
I was pleased the parents were having a day off – finally. Both of them seemed kind of stretched thin. Their eyes were clouded, as if they’d seen too many bad things.
I worked out the Thursday thing during the night when an aftershock shook most of us awake.
‘Thursday! Oh my god, it’s my birthday! My fourteenth birthday!’
‘Well done, honey,’ Dad muttered. ‘Now go back to sleep.’
How cool was that, though – I’d totally forgotten about my birthday but the parents had remembered. I think I slept the rest of the night with a grin on my face.
