All Saints: Love and Intrigue in the Stunning New Zealand Wilderness (The New Zealand Soccer Referee Series Book 1) (21 page)

Larry got off me and reached for
the handset, listening before replacing it. “Probably just kids,” he gasped.
“Nobody there.”

I rolled onto my side and
shrieked in pain. My torso plunged into a debilitating spasm of pins and
needles and I sobbed with the agony of it.

“Get up!” Larry tugged on my arm
and my words emerged without meaning as I begged him to leave me alone.

One second he stood there, pulling
on my right arm and bending over me and the next he disappeared like a magic
trick with an enormous bang which left splinters and dust in the atmosphere. My
airborne arm crashed back into my side and I wailed, noticing a small puddle of
blood beneath my face, sticking my left cheek to the floor. The inside of my
mouth swelled so I couldn’t speak and then a knee appeared in the blood with a
shoe next to it. The black work shoe nestled against the navy blue knee and I
heard his voice. “Ursula, speak to me.” Clicking and chattering ensued as Teina
called for an ambulance and I willed the pain to draw me into oblivion.

I didn’t
lose consciousness because good things don’t happen to people like me. It
would’ve been preferable to the zombie like state I became pinned in as cops
and ambulance staff crowded my tiny hall, stepping over me as though I was the
bristly doormat. I screamed in agony as they laid me on a backboard and braced
my neck, clamping my swollen, bleeding tongue forward so I didn’t swallow it in
my shock. I remember the ambulance ride and the technical x-ray machine as it
hovered around my sitting body.

Three broken ribs had detached
from my spine but would allegedly fix themselves, the doctor hoped. After two
nights in hospital and a painful stitch in my tongue later; I sat on the bed
awaiting my ride. Nurses bustled around the busy ward, changing sheets and
wishing me gone so they could return my tiny space back into a sterile area
again.

“There’s a guy outside,” Helen
said, gathering my blood-soaked clothes into a carrier bag. “The nurse said
he’s been here the whole time.”

“I don’t care.” My hair hung
lifeless around my face and she didn’t push her luck, privileged to be the only
person I’d allowed near me in the last few days.

The ride home felt like agony
despite the painkillers and I insisted Helen drive me to my apartment, refusing
her kind offer of sanctuary. The normal jolting of the lift caused multiple
groans to issue from my pursed lips and I stood in the hallway and stared at my
reinstated front door.

“Do you have a key?” Helen asked
and I shook my head, not having thought that far forward.

“Someone put the door back on,” I
said with a sigh, grimacing as the stairs' door clanged shut behind me. Edgy
and nervous, every harsh sound brought panic to my brain which went into
overload and tried to force my damaged body to hide, run away, anything to
avoid further injury.

“It’s ok.” Helen placed a gentle
hand on my arm. “It’s your neighbour from downstairs.”

I turned and saw Ahmed hovering
behind me, his face shrouded in awkwardness. He pointed to the door and gave a
watery smile. Helen patted my shaking wrist. “He rehung your door and helped
clear up. It was his wife who called me. My phone number was in your fruit
bowl.”

I smiled at Ahmed and nodded my
thanks, my tongue swollen and the ends of the stitch catching every time I
tried to speak. “I’m grateful,” I said and he nodded with understanding,
holding out a new door key.

“Change lock,” he said.
“Smashed.”

“Thank goodness it was!” Helen
replied, taking over and slipping the key into the shiny, silver lock. “If that
policeman hadn’t decided to call round here, you could’ve been dead.” She
winced and bit her lip. “Sorry. I’m not known for my tact.” She busied herself
letting us into the flat and Ahmed stooped to collect the bag.

“Wife wash,” he said, dangling
the bag in front of his face and turning to leave.

“Thank you.” My voice sounded
feeble in the echoing hallway and I offered him a more genuine smile, marred by
a swallow. “I can pay you for your time and the lock,” I slurred and he
shrugged.

“Man already did.” He waved over
his shoulder and the door clicked behind him. I listened to his footsteps skip
down the stairs and the loose window in the hallway clanged against its frame.
Curiosity budded in the back of my brain, wondering who the mysterious man was
who slept in a hospital reception and paid for my damages. I shuddered as
Jack’s face drifted through the halls of my inner vision and I dismissed it, not
wanting to think of his betrayal.

My apartment looked spotless;
much cleaner than I left it. My eyes followed the marks of a mop on the tiled
floors and gentle Syrian fingers had wiped and cleaned every surface. My dead
phone sat next to the kettle and I remembered the sight of my hands putting
Helen’s new mobile number into the fruit bowl; my chosen go-to place to find
lost things when all else failed. The scrap of paper sat next to a browning
apple and a lurid, overripe banana and I felt a flash of gratitude to Mrs
Ahmed. Of all the people she might have called, Helen would’ve been my first
choice. The couple’s kindness made me glad he’d nicked my parking space
although shame still blossomed at my behaviour over it. It seemed like such a
stupid issue against the backdrop of the past week.

Helen left at my insistence,
popping back and using a spare key to furnish me with a bag of groceries. I
spent a week by myself, growing used to her visits after work and her easy
chatter about school and the children. One evening she brought cards made by my
class and I waited until she’d left to sob over the sweet messages copied off
the blackboard and their depictions of me in various states of injury and
undress. Lawrie seemed to think hospital involved nakedness apart from a
mummified head wrap. Laughing hurt my ribs, so I cried instead.

After two weeks of isolation,
ignoring the door bell and keeping my phone off, boredom finally bit and I
decided to return to work on Monday. Helen’s eyes widened in horror as she sat
on my sofa and drank tea. “The hospital said three weeks!” she chided. “It’s
too soon. Free flowing breaks can lead to other problems. What if one of the
children wants to sit on your knee, or you get hurt by accident? You could
puncture a lung!”

“I’ll be living my life,” I
muttered, hearing the sullenness of my tone. “Instead of hiding here.”

“That detective keeps ringing
me,” Helen confessed. “Every bloody day. He asked for the spare key yesterday
and I said I didn’t have one. He said he’s been coming here daily, but you
won’t open the door.”

“I don’t want to know what happened.”
My breathing hitched and I winced in pain. “I don’t care anymore.”

Helen nodded, not mentioning the
gossip I could see crowding in her face and showing her allegiance to our
friendship by squashing it. I’d avoided all forms of news and social media, reading
books and watching reruns of old serials on the ancient DVD player. Baths
helped the pain and I’d weaned myself off the medication once it started making
me throw up.

“Have you seen your father?”
Helen asked, sipping her tea. I realised I’d made it too strong for her taste
but my right arm still locked if my brain thought the action might jar my ribs.
I didn’t take the bag out quick enough. I watched her nose wrinkle like a
rabbit and felt useless.

“No. I haven’t seen anyone.” My
voice sounded hard. I knew they’d all tried, Dad, Aunty Pam, Alysha, Jack,
Detective Inspector Odering. Senior Sergeant Teina Fox.

The detective managed to get past
the downstairs door by flashing his warrant card at my Indian neighbour, but he
only got as far as my front door. His incessant banging sent me into the bath
with a book and my CD player turned up and I didn’t hear him leave. He put a
note outside on my doormat but I threw it away without reading it. I couldn’t
face anything he might have to say and didn’t want to talk.

Helen picked me up on Monday
morning and I admitted to feeling much better. Getting out of bed hadn’t been
such an ordeal and I’d even managed to get a bra on without passing out. The
children greeted me with enthusiasm and kisses and the staff behaved with
awkward cordiality.

“Someone’s very quiet,” I said to
Helen as Lawrie snuggled on my knee with his thumb between pink lips. “Has he
been like this the whole time?”

She shook her head. “No, we’ve
had a few meltdowns, but I used the strategies we put together and everything
seemed fine. He missed you, but we all did.”

The child groaned when I tried to
move him off my knee and I found myself pinned on the tiny chair for the whole
of morning tea. Helen brought me a drink and the boy fell asleep, enabling her
to carry him to the beanbags in the corner and cover him with a blanket. “I
think he’s sick,” I commented as the children filed off the carpet to begin
putting their new mathematics skills into practice. “Can you manage if I ask
Julie to call his aunt? He needs to go to the doctor.”

“I’m good here.” Helen gave me a
smile of contentment and moved around the classroom, breaking up scraps over
pencils and setting the children to their task with a few, well-placed looks of
fake irritation.

I found Julie at her desk and
asked her to make the call, popping my head around Vanessa’s door. “Ah, glad
you’re back,” she said, barely looking up from her emails. Her face showed
strain and I felt a flicker of sympathy. “Just make sure you take it easy this
week,” she said. “I know you didn’t have to come back so soon.”

I tensed, expecting her to
venture into the questions surrounding my absence and the carefully worded
medical certificate but she put her head down and went back to her emails.
“About Lawrie,” I said. Vanessa looked up as though surprised I was still
standing there. “You were going to book him an assessment.”

The principal slipped her glasses
off, dropping them to the desk with a clunk. She squeezed the bridge of her
nose in a painful finger vice. “There’s no money,” she said with a sigh. “His
family will have to pay. I can ask around and see if anyone will do me a favour
but the going rate is four hundred dollars.”

“I think he’s autistic.” I balled
my fists in frustration. “He only lets certain people touch him, doesn’t like
eye contact or changes in routine and he suffers from significant communication
problems. Yet he’s highly intelligent.”

“Then he should be at another
school,” Vanessa concluded, reseating her glasses on her bony nose. “You know the
game, Ursula. We’ve been here before. We’re teachers, not social workers,
police officers or doctors. His family will have to pay for the initial
assessment and then the gates to the money might just slide open enough to get
him some help. I’ve got too many other children on the list waiting to be seen;
I can’t shunt him ahead of them. It’s not fair and it doesn’t work like that.
Some of these mothers come to see me weekly, shouting, crying and threatening.
Lawrie’s hasn’t been in to see me and at the moment, the ones who shout the
loudest get the attention.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I said,
swallowing at the memory of my cornflower blue car still sitting in the parking
garage at home. I didn’t know if I would be able to feed myself next week, let
alone source a special needs assessor for a child with nobody to shout for him.

“That would be highly
unprofessional.” Vanessa’s reprimand coincided with the lowering of her eyes
back to her emails and I accepted the dismissal.

“No answer,” Julie said as I
turned to face her. She sat at her desk outside Vanessa’s office. “She’s
probably still at work. I think she’s got more than one job.”

I nodded in thanks and walked
back to the classroom, working hard to keep my torso still as I moved. My back
ached from standing and the merits of my early return seemed foolhardy.

Lunchtime arrived and Lawrie
surfaced, his cheeks pink and the rest of his face pained and grey. “Where does
it hurt, Lawrie?” I asked, squatting next to him as he slid from the bean bag
to the carpet.

“Hurt, Lawrie,” he repeated
through lips which looked dry and cracked.

“Do you think it’s bad enough for
the ambo’s,” Helen asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” I replied, fixing
a smile on my lips for the child’s benefit. “Try his family again. Talk to the
other children; I think he’s got a cousin in Year 5. Ask her for an alternative
number.”

Helen nodded and I stroked the
tiny boy’s damp hair away from his forehead as he balled himself up, knees
raised and his chin resting on them. “What am I going to do with you?” I
whispered and he blinked.

“With you,” he repeated.

“Hey, Urs.” The gentle tones send
a wave of disquiet through my soul as I cuddled the sleeping child to my breast
and rocked him, aware of his soaring temperature.

“Go away!” I hissed, not wanting
my work self and my messed up love life to mix in a swirling mess of greasy oil
and dirty water. “I’m busy.”

Teina approached me and I heard
the chatter from his radio buzzing through the earpiece like wasps around an
overripe apple. “I needed to see you,” he said, his tone laden with guilt and
regret. “I wanted to apologise. I waited in the hospital but you wouldn’t see
me.”

I snorted and the child in my
arms jumped and whimpered in his discomfort. I shifted the cold flannel on his
burning forehead and stroked his cheek. “It’s ok, Lawrie,” I whispered. “Whaea
will be here soon and she’ll take you to the doctor.” He groaned and put his
small hand over his stomach. “I know it hurts, baby,” I whispered. “It’ll all
be over soon.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Teina
asked, stepping closer. He peered over my shoulder at the fitful child and his
brown eyes narrowed.

“We thought it was a stomach
upset,” I confessed, glancing at the newspaper covering the mopped space where
the child vomited a few minutes earlier. “But I think it’s more serious;
appendicitis maybe.”

“Is someone coming for him?”
Teina asked with concern in his voice.

“I hope so.” I shrugged. “His
aunty looks after him but she’s got six of her own. She works on the North
Shore and does her best.”

Helen poked her face around the
classroom door. “I’m still getting voicemail from that other number,” she said,
glancing at Lawrie. “I’m not sure what to do. What do you think?”

I stood, hoisting the tiny boy in
my arms with a grunt of pain. For such a big personality Lawrie seemed so frail
and I clutched him closer. “I’ll take him to the hospital in a taxi. This
doesn’t feel right. Tell Vanessa I’m sorry and send my class in with the Year
2s.”

“How will you pay for a taxi? Do
you have cash?”

I shook my head but having made
the decision, stuck to it. “I’ll work it out somehow. They might take a card.
Tell his aunty what’s happened and maybe grab her other children at the end of
the day and put them in the after-school club.”

Helen shook her head. “They won’t
take them, Ursula. She still owes them for last time.”

“Tell them I’ll pay!” I snapped.
“Make them understand; she can’t be in two places at once.”

Helen’s head disappeared and I
bobbed down to collect my handbag from the bottom drawer of my desk, upending
it in my efforts not to make Lawrie’s body heave out another pitiful wail.
Teina’s fingers touched mine as he righted it and shoved fallen objects back
into its copious folds. “I’ll drive you,” he said, his brown eyes soft as he
looked at the stricken child in my arms.

He went ahead of me through the
corridors to the front gate and I followed, my eyes straying to the neat bum
encased in police issue blue trousers. The uniform made him seem even more
capable as he held doors open for me and waited as I ducked under his arm. Once
he brushed my shoulder with his fingers and I sensed something spark within my
gut at his touch. I hardened my resolve; he’d lied about his chosen career and
I’d grown tired of being a victim of my own bad choices.

Teina’s torso looked stockier
with the stab-resistant vest encasing his muscles. The tools hanging around his
waist and from the wide pockets seemed to accentuate the width of him, making
me crave a hug from the powerful biceps. I hugged the floppy child to my chest
and followed Teina through the front gate, baulking at the sight of the police
car in the visitors’ car park. “Sit in the back,” he said, authority in his
tone. He held the rear door open and leaned across me, belting me in and
allowing Lawrie to perch on my knee.

“Something’s wrong!” I leaned
down and listened at the tiny, snatched breaths coming from the small mouth and
panicked. Teina put a finger under Lawrie’s jaw and nodded, measuring the heart
beats in his head.

“He’s got a slow pulse. I’ll use
the sirens and call ahead.” He slammed the door and Lawrie moaned and flapped
his hands.

“We should have called an
ambulance,” I said, my voice breaking. “This is my fault.”

“They’re backed up,” Teina called
over his shoulder. “An accident on the motorway sent eight of them there half
an hour ago.” He started the engine and cranked the gear stick into reverse. He
put his left arm around the headrest of the passenger seat and looked over his
shoulder as the powerful car moved backwards. My eyes raked his face for help
as my bottom lip wobbled in misery and Teina gave me a look of pure kindness,
his brown eyes soft and filled with compassion. “It’ll be ok, babe,” he said.
He dropped his hand and squeezed my knee, offering companionship and
consolation.

The vehicle thrummed beneath my
bum as the Holden took off, wheels squealing on the turn onto the main road. I
saw the blue and red lights flash their reflection in the windows of shops and
parked cars as the police car travelled at speed, calling out its screeched
warning. Other vehicles pulled out of the way and we cruised through,
navigating red traffic lights and dangerous junctions. Teina used his radio to
speak to the control room and the operator confirmed she’d warned the emergency
room at Auckland General hospital of our imminent arrival.

The traffic warden raised his
eyebrows as Teina shunted the car into a narrow parking space outside the
emergency room doors. The man moved on to find other unwitting victims, not
wanting to tangle with a cop. Oblivious, Teina killed the engine and dashed to
the curbside to open my door. Lawrie woke and muttered my name as we hustled
through the automatic doors and I forced a bright smile onto my face and kissed
his forehead. “It’s ok, Lawrie,” I promised. “We just had a little ride in a
police car, sweetheart. You’ll be all better soon.”

“Bet soon,” he repeated, his
voice slow and hushed. “Bet soon, Saint.”

I felt my heart clench. A nurse
met us half way across the waiting room and Teina’s uniform gained us immediate
entry to the inner sanctum and medical help. I described Lawrie’s symptoms and
explained my fear that this was something more. I pointed out the site of his
pain and suggested appendicitis, willing the nurse to fetch someone more senior
and act with greater urgency than she appeared to possess.

I held my breath as sharp needles
pierced veins I couldn’t see and Lawrie slipped into a deep unconsciousness. I
fretted and worried and the nurse sent me outside the curtain as the doctor
arrived. Teina leaned against the wall, his thumbs wedged into the bottom
pockets of his vest as I’d seen other policemen do and he watched me through
calm, brown eyes as I paced and gnawed on my thumbnail. “Why didn’t I do
something sooner?” I wrangled, blaming myself. Teina’s fringe flipped into his
eyes and I fought the urge to push it backwards on his head and savour the
silky tendrils against my skin.

Waiting for him to say something
seemed to make my anxiety worse and I jumped and grabbed my side as a male
nurse touched my arm. The pain radiated through the broken bones and sent
electrical pulses into my spine. “There’s a kitchen around the corner,” the
nurse said, his voice soothing. I focussed on the kindness in his eyes as I
blinked and tried to listen to his words amidst my clanging panic. “Get a
coffee,” he urged. “They’ll be checking the wee man out for a while. You’ve got
a few minutes.”

I nodded and followed the
direction of his pointing finger, surprised to hear Teina’s shoes tapping the
floor tiles behind me as he kept pace. Anger flared in my chest and I darted
into the tiny kitchenette and tried to slam the door in his face. “You’re
making me look like a bloody pedophile!” I hissed as he stopped it with his
foot.

“How’d you work that out?” His
eyes widened, matching the look of astonishment on his face.

I put my hands on my hips and
postured, no longer able to work out how I came to the bizarre conclusion,
rummaging in my vocabulary for possible solutions. “Well! Well!” I managed and
Teina smirked and closed the door with his heel. I backed up until the counter
pressed into my back and he stepped towards me until I could feel his breath on
my cheek. I used the heel of my hand to halt his progress and the sharp angles
of his vest felt rigid beneath my flesh. “I brought a comatose child onto an
emergency ward and now I’m being followed around by a policeman!” I flushed
with embarrassment from chest to neck. The heat spread into the underside of my
jaw.

“Idiot!” he snuffed and put his
large hands either side of my face. “You’re a complete nut job, ya know that?”

“And you’re clearly not a
lawyer!” I left the barb in my voice and Teina tipped his head to one side,
studying me with concentration and something I couldn’t read.

“I work in law enforcement,” he
offered, his inner amusement making my hand itch to slap his smug face. “I
never claimed to be a lawyer. I didn’t lie to you.”

“You wouldn’t know the truth if
it bit you!” I snorted, realising I’d spun my own fantasy around him.  I
glanced at the door behind him and felt a tug in my breast, connecting me to
Lawrie and knowing through instinct he was having a meltdown. “I need to go.” I
gave the solid chest a shove and heard the radio cackle. Teina glanced down at
it and then back at me.

“This isn’t over,” he whispered,
running his thumb over my bottom lip. “We’re gonna talk, whether you want to or
not.”

“Not!” I said and blanched as the
kitchen door opened and a face pushed its way through. I swallowed and gave a
watery smile to the tired, grey complexion being worn by a woman in her mid
-thirties.

“Is there coffee?” she asked,
bouncing a baby on her hip and I nodded and moved aside in the small space.

Teina dropped his hands to my
neck and bent down to press his lips over mine. The radio chattered again on
his chest and he pulled the curly cable from behind his back and shoved the
earpiece in, his other hand lingering on my shoulder. Giving his call sign, he
lowered his lips to the black receiver and spoke to the controller. “Yeah, I’m
five minutes away; show me responding.”

I watched the generous
proportions of his body as he winked at the baby on the newcomer’s hip and
turned away from me. My heart pounded in my breast and the woman clunked
polystyrene cups and dug a spoon into the coffee. “Lucky lady,” she said, her
expression wistful as she glanced at Teina’s retreating back. “Half your luck.”

The child let out a miserable
wail and rubbed his eyes. I noticed then the deformed legs which wrapped around
his mother’s body and the way he keened with his head on one side. “I know, I
know, baby,” she crooned, rubbing his shoulder and kissing the tear streaked
cheek. The woman looked exhausted but the love in her face overrode any other
external factor; trumping her rumpled clothing and lank, unkempt hair.
Everything she wanted nestled in her arms.

“Good luck,” I whispered and
touched her sleeve, sending sparks of compassion through my fingers and praying
she understood.

“Thanks. You don’t need any
though.” She grinned, her eyes glittering. “He’s hot and obviously has it bad
for you. Hold onto him or there’s plenty will have ‘im off ya.”

I nodded and made my way around
the nurses’ station and found Lawrie’s cubicle, working by sound alone. His
hysteria projected through the curtains, the familiar wail deafening the closer
I got. I burst through the fabric to find a nurse trying to settle the small
boy with a back rub, her torso leant across him, obscuring him from my view.
His whole body juddered and shook and I recognised an adult in trouble as the
nurse appealed to me with her eyes. “I don’t understand what he wants,” she
said, rising and letting go of the thrashing hand in her grasp. She turned, so
her back screened Lawrie from her confession. “He’s saying something over and
over and I can’t catch the words.”

“It’s ok.” I passed her,
approaching the bed with trepidation in my heart. “Lawrie.” I said his name and
stroked the hot cheek, feeling the atmosphere change as he recognised me and
held his breath. “You’re safe, buddy,” I said, squatting next to the bed.

The child’s chest hitched and
tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes. “I yop mane,” he cried, his voice
rising. The nurse widened her eyes and I used my sleeve to brush the tears away
from his cheeks.

“I know you have, Lawrie,” I
said, lowering my voice. “This lovely nurse knows you’ve got a pain, baby.
She’s trying to fix it. Will you give her a chance?”

“A yance,” he repeated, his blue
eyes wide with terror. Trying to put his arm around my neck, the action met
with resistance as the cannula in his tiny vein pulled taut and caused him
pain. Lawrie let out a wail and I stood, slipping onto the bed next to him and
hoisting him into my lap. The tube of fluid and antibiotic relaxed and he
crumpled against my shoulder like a floppy newborn. My ribs tugged at the
healing break and took my breath away for a moment.

“All better soon,” I whispered
and held him, feeling the knotty bones through his hospital gown. I closed my
eyes, leaned back against the pillows and settled, hearing the boy’s sigh of
relief as he snuffed a few times and then stilled.