‘Just wanted to give you an update,’ David said.
‘Sure.’
‘Ed’s been looking into the question of the young man.’ David went to the glass and looked out at the sea beyond the dunes. There was a light moving in the distant sand hills. The tree at the point was like the black outline of a man, arms outstretched. ‘Ed can’t interfere in operational police matters.’
‘No.’
‘But he can enquire. He tells me there’s potential here for inconvenience. It’s the kind of thing that could be picked up by the media.’
‘Potential for inconvenience . . .’ Simon almost felt like laughing.
‘A lot of inconvenience.’
Simon looked down at his hands. ‘You think they might invent some nonsense around the fact he was writing about a prime minister? One who looked like you, the limp and so on?’
‘I really don’t know, but if there’s material on which to base nonsense, they’ll use it. Ed will do what he can, and just between you and me, he can do a lot more than we’d ever admit to. Do you know what I mean?’
‘I think so.’
‘We have to preserve appearances; the separation of the powers must be maintained.’
‘I understand.’
‘But I want you to know Ed’s on the case, and Ed’s the best person to have on your side. One of his special talents is calming things down.’
‘Calming things down. Sounds good.’ Simon was about to say ‘thanks’ but stopped himself. Instead he said, ‘That must be a relief for you. You won’t want hacks making up ridiculous stories about you and a dead stalker.’
He glanced up. David was looking oddly at him. He went on, ‘You don’t need that kind of distraction, with all you want to achieve. And what if Cahane got hold of it? The guy’s so ambitious he’s about to explode.’
David made an amused sound. He came close. ‘You look tired. Go to bed. I’ll see you for breakfast.’
‘I will. Thanks for filling me in.’
‘There’s one other thing. I’ve been talking to Roza.’
Simon felt his hands twitch. He flexed his fingers. ‘Oh yes?’
‘I think it would be good if Elke came to us when we go back to Auckland.’
‘Came to you. You mean to live?’
‘If anything inconvenient were to come out of this, Simon . . .’
Simon said blandly, ‘But it won’t. You said it yourself, it’s a non-issue.’
‘We hope it is. Nevertheless . . .’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Roza thinks Elke’s at a bit of a crossroads. She’s worried about her psyche.’
Simon raised his eyebrows. ‘Her psyche? The girl’s hard as nails.’ He added hurriedly, ‘I mean that in a good way. She’s totally positive. Bouncy. Rock solid.’
‘Her mother doesn’t think so.’
‘Karen does.’
David lowered his voice, ‘Right. But don’t you think her real mother would have the surest feeling? I agree with Roza. Elke shouldn’t be exposed to anything potentially upsetting.’
‘Nothing upsetting is going to happen.’
David’s tone was mild, soothing, ‘But we don’t know that. At the moment Ed’s described the situation as inconvenient. That means it has the potential to go pear-shaped. We don’t know that it will, but best to be prepared, eh?’
Simon was silent. David put his hand on his arm, squeezed. ‘I can say this to you too, just between us, because we’re friends. I worry about Roza’s state of mind too. I need her. And I need her to be happy.’
They looked at each other.
‘You’re tired. Go to bed, have a rest, and in the morning you can tell Karen what we’ve discussed.’
‘Yes, sure,’ Simon said.
‘One more thing: Elke’s nearly grown up. She can choose for herself where she lives. So you’ll have to encourage her to make the right choice.’
Simon wished him goodnight. When he approached the door, Ed Miles opened it from the other side.
He limped out to the point and sat on the wooden seat. It didn’t make sense: the Weeks problem had the potential to cause the Hallwrights as much unpleasantness as it did the Lamptons, so Elke would be no less protected if she was living with them . . . But how strange that he kept forgetting! He was the one who’d killed Weeks, who could be charged and tried, even jailed. Or at least shamed, struck off and ruined. David didn’t know that; he had no idea that Weeks and Simon had met. Or had he? How thoroughly had the Police Minister delved into the evidence? It was another terrible aspect of crime, the not knowing.
No matter how much David knew, he had made it plain Simon was compromised, and would be obliged to do as he was told. And if Elke didn’t want to live with the Hallwrights, he would have to persuade her.
Something rustled through the dune grass, pattering this way and that over the rocks and shells. A cold feeling. ‘Nothing’s fair,’ Ford liked to say. ‘It’s just another day in the jungle. If you’re weak, watch out.’
David had made the kind of decision he made all the time; he would help Simon, he would deploy Miles, and in return he would have Elke, because Roza wanted it. If Simon didn’t comply, he’d be on his own. He remembered what Claire had said to Karen: ‘The Hallwrights couldn’t care less about you. You know who they care about? Each other.’ He remembered the darkness he’d perceived in Aaron, something competitive and watchful that was worse than lack of love.
Just for a moment, alone on the cold dune, he allowed himself to let go. His face pressed into his sleeve, emotion shaking him. He’d begun an affair with Mereana because he loved Roza so deeply he’d lost his way. His troubles were caused by love. The wry thought came to him: at least it means I’m not that bastard Aaron Harris.
He listened to the waves breaking over the shells. A shooting star crossed the sky, making a white scratch in the blackness. There was no light pollution out here; he watched a satellite travelling through the glittering chaos of the Milky Way. These nights when the stars were so bright it seemed strange that they should be fixed and still, the only movement the satellites nosing between them. He had a sense of the vastness and indifference of the cold void above and all around him the dunes were alive with sounds, the scuttling of small creatures, shifting of sand, the wind hissing in dry seed pods and rustling in the marram. After a long time he limped back on the path through the dunes, crept into the warm silence of the Little House and opened the second bedroom door.
Elke was asleep with the window open, the blind blowing in the breeze and the moonlight shining in. The bedclothes were rumpled, one of her feet was uncovered; she sighed, turned, sprawled, lay still.
Dawn came, and with it the tuis. Was any other creature such a relentless critic? They started before 4 a.m., even before the sun had come up; they were madness, fever, insomnia, yearning, and they let him have it when he was low. The self-righteous bastards. How did they always know how he felt?
Now, the usual dialogue took place in the Lampton bed.
‘What’s wrong? Stop fidgeting.’
‘It’s the tuis. I hate them.’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s just birdsong.’
‘Song? You call that song? That dirge? That criticism?’
He lay awake, trying to keep still. He needed to talk to Ford but couldn’t face the prospect of telling his brother what David had asked. Pictures surfaced in his mind: Roza’s expression as she talked to Elke, Roza smiling at Karen, David watching Roza. Overcome with weariness, he felt he’d never sleep again.
At six he got up and walked down to the beach, waded in and swam along the shore, kicking with his good leg. When he got back he showered, making enough noise to wake the others, and sat down to wait on the deck.
Karen roused Elke, who was booked for a tennis lesson. They wandered out onto the deck in t
heir tiny Lycra dresses, both drinking coffee, Karen with yesterday’s paper. Elke had a little infection on the side of her mouth and a piece of food stuck on her front tooth, her beautiful eyes were puffy with sleep and her hair was wild, with yesterday’s hair tie tangled in it. The sight of her made a pressure swell in Simon’s chest.
‘By the way . . .’ he said.
Karen frowned over the paper. ‘Seven down.’
Elke leaned on her shoulder. ‘Disinterested.’
‘Doesn’t fit.’
‘Uninterested?’
‘No.’
‘I hate crosswords,’ Elke said. She flopped down on a deck chair and put her feet up on the veranda rail. She threw a crust onto the grass, the birds swooped down and started to hop and squabble. ‘Look at the beautiful tuis.’
‘Fuckers. Don’t encourage them,’ Simon said, his mind on automatic. Karen clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Elke laughed.
He said, ‘By the way, I talked to David last night.’
‘Hello, lovely tuis. Dad hates you but I think you’re beautiful.’ Elke ran in and fetched the bread, broke up some slices and threw a spray of crumbs. Three sparrows landed, followed by two aggressive mynah birds.
Simon fixed his eyes on Elke’s back as she leaned over the rail. ‘David and Roza are keen for you to go and stay with them when we get back to Auckland.’ He didn’t look at Karen. ‘I think it’s a good idea.’
Karen put the paper down. ‘What? Simon, we’ve been through this.’
Elke’s face had gone blank, she opened her eyes wide. ‘Oh.’
‘It’s lovely that they’re so keen to have you,’ Simon said.
‘She doesn’t want to,’ Karen said. ‘She wants to stay with us. Where she belongs.’
Simon got up and walked to the rail. He looked down at his hands; they were steady. ‘I don’t know why you’re so insistent about it, Karen. It seems like a good idea to me. She’s going to travel with them, go to America. And Johnnie loves her, and their house is closer to the university than ours, so it’s nice and convenient.’
Silence. The birds hopped and pecked. He looked at Karen, then quickly away. There wasn’t only anger in her expression, but confusion, dismay.
‘I think we should be flexible,’ he said.
Elke said, ‘So you want me to.’
‘I . . .’ His throat closed over, he swallowed. ‘I think it’s a nice idea. Spend some time with your mother.’
Karen made a sound. He didn’t look.
Elke shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘No problem, Dad. Anyway, I’m going to tennis.’ She threw the rest of the crumbs onto the lawn, ran down the steps and away up the path.
Karen went to the edge of the deck, turned to Simon. ‘How could you say that?’
‘Listen—’
‘No.’
‘We have to let her go.’
‘She doesn’t want to go. She thinks you’re throwing her out, that you’ve rejected her.’
‘We should let her be with Roza. That was the deal when we got her.’
‘No it wasn’t. Roza was nowhere around. She was completely abandoned. She’s my daughter.’
‘She’s Roza’s too.’
‘No.’
‘Karen. If you want to have anything more to do with the Hallwrights, you should let Elke live with them. If you don’t, they’ll cut us off.’
‘Then let them cut us off. Let’s have nothing more to do with them.’
Simon spread out his hands. ‘You’d give up the friendship? Give up . . . all this?’
‘All this? You value all this over Elke? Over our daughter?’
‘We don’t have to give her up; we’ll still see her if we stay friends with the Hallwrights. If we don’t, we risk losing her and them.’
‘No.’
‘Just think about it. Don’t do anything silly. Stay away from Roza today and try to put it in perspective. ‘
She stared. ‘I don’t think I know you at all.’
He hardened his tone. ‘This isn’t some . . . Victorian melodrama. Just promise me you’ll think about it. And don’t go near Roza or David until you have.’
She didn’t say anything.
He said, ‘Do you really want to give it all up? Rotokauri? Everything we’ve shared with them? What are we losing really, if she swaps houses? It’s a minor readjustment. The closer we stay to them, the closer we’ll be to Elke. And vice versa.’
She started to say something, he cut her off. ‘Don’t do or say anything that will make us all worse off.’
The birds had lined up on the veranda rail, fluffing out their feathers. Karen gave him a numb stare. He put his arms around her. ‘I’m trying to work out what’s best.’
She said, ‘Perhaps you take after your father after all.’
He waited then said, ‘Sit down, darling. Just sit down for a minute.’
She allowed him to push her into a deck chair. He took her hand. ‘Elke’s eighteen. She’ll be wanting novelty, experience, travel, all that. The next thing she’ll do is find a flat with one of her five thousand closest friends. On the other hand, if she moves in with the Hallwrights, we’ll keep her close. All we have to do is maintain our friendship with them. And you don’t really want to give them up, do you? There’s a lot to look forward to. That ball you and Roza are working on, the fundraising thing with Trish Ellison. The other thing, for the children’s hospital. All that work’ll go to waste if you cut Roza off, the effort’ll be for nothing. Roza can’t do it, she’s so disorganised, she barely pays attention — I know she swans about getting her nails done and leaves you lot to do the work, darling, everyone notices that. She needs you and Trish and Sharon and Juliet to carry out your plans. People are depending on you. You’ve got to think about that.’
She lifted her chin, stared off into the distance. ‘That’s all true . . .’
‘Come on then. Let’s go and have breakfast.’ He squeezed her hand.
She pulled away. ‘You’re talking about our daughter leaving us.’
‘She’ll do that anyway.’
‘Claire hasn’t.’
‘No, but she will. Kids grow up and leave. What you have to do is stay in touch.’
——
They crossed to the main lawn, where Saturday breakfast was being served under the pohutukawa. Ed Miles was dressed in khaki and shoes without socks. He seemed to be trying to get at something stuck between his teeth, his tongue working around his pale gums. Without joining in the conversation he glanced continually from one person to the next.
The Cock, wearing mirror sunglasses, was peeling an apple with a knife, his long, thin fingers working spiderishly, the twist of peel dangling and jerking above his plate. David laughed at something he’d just read in the newspaper, nudged the Cock and put his big blunt finger on the article. His guffaw was crude, blokey, too loud; his face looked rough with sunburn and faintly thuggish. The Cock gave a thin smile. The sun shone through a gap in the branches, playing a white lozenge of light on the Cock’s big bald forehead. Simon suddenly felt he was looking at people he’d never seen before. There was something grotesque, venal, ugly about them.
David laughed again, a harsh sound. ‘All right, Simon?’
‘Morning.’
Roza and Sharon were eating fruit salad with long spoons and Juliet peered out at them from under a floppy hat.
Sharon inspected her reflection in the back of her spoon. ‘Juliet says there’s a spike in UV today. Treble the risk of melanoma.’
‘Hi guys,’ Karen said.
There was a silence. The spoons clinked on the glass bowls. Sharon and Roza glanced at each other.
Karen sat down, hesitant.
Simon gave Roza a cold look. She returned it with her usual coy and wicked smile but there was something behind the smile, a care
lessness.
‘Coffee’s preventative,’ Juliet said to Simon. ‘I read it. Stops you getting skin cancer.’
‘I’d better have one then.’ He looked at Trent, who appeared to be sending a text. ‘Trent?’
The young man put the phone in his pocket.
‘The only trouble is, coffee makes me so jumpy,’ Juliet said. She tugged on her hat brim, looking unhappy.
‘Don’t forget me, Trent,’ Sharon said, touching her cup with her spoon, a light ping. Trent poured the coffee with a sly flourish. The Cock watched them.
A magpie burst out of the bushes, sudden flurry in the air, squawking.
‘Hello, and how’s your wife?’ the Cock said to Trent.
Sharon turned to him. ‘Eh? Who are you talking to?’
The Cock smiled around the company. ‘It’s astonishing what my wife doesn’t know. It’s what you say, my dear, when you see a single magpie. It’s bad luck to see a single one, good luck to see two. When you see
one, in order to ward off bad luck you say: hello, and how’s your wife?’
The sarcastic ping of nails on glasses.
‘What a mine of information he is.’
‘He’s a walking encyclopaedia.’
‘It’s so useful, having him come out with things like that.’
Roza said sweetly, ‘And what are you planning to do today, Karen?’
Karen’s smile faded. ‘I thought we were . . . tennis?’
‘Change of plan. Sorry, didn’t we say? Juliet and I are having a session with Garth.’
‘Oh.’
Ed said, ‘You must be getting fit, Karen, playing all that tennis. Great for the figure.’
Karen twisted in her seat. It was painful to watch. Simon was keeping his anxiety at bay but a little flare of anger started up in him, threatening his control. All this was his fault; Karen’s suffering was his fault.
‘We’re going to miss you after this holiday, Colin,’ Roza said, patting the Cock’s sleeve.
‘But we won’t be far away,’ the Cock said, still eyeing Trent, who was busying himself with cutlery. ‘David and I will be back at work. Tackling the big problems. Unemployment, for example. The tragedy of job loss.’
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