Gith (10 page)

'You know that bloke there? The one with the shaven head?'

'Yep. Wayne Wyett,' Hemi said.

'He lives in Ramp Street.'

'That's right. Number 16. What you want with him?'

'He drives a white van. He's on my list.'

Hemi turned and looked at me. 'Careful,' he said.

'Well, you jokers have got it all wrong and somebody has
to do some real investigating.' I wasn't sure I should be saying
this.

'It's not your job, bro,' Hemi said quietly.

I said nothing. Took a pull at my beer.

'Who else is on your list?' Hemi asked.

'Rick Parline and Colin George. Plus Ray Tackett.'

No answer.

'They're not going anywhere if they're looking for a white
wagon,' I said.

Hemi shifted from one foot to the other, wriggled his
shoulders. 'I told them what you said. I had a word to the
boss man, Inspector Ryan.'

'And?'

'He's going to take it into consideration.'

'Yeah right.'

'I don't know, bro. They seem to be making good progress.'
He sipped his beer. 'She could be wrong.'

'She could be but she's not.'

'They reckon two witnesses say Anneke got into a white
wagon.'

'Two?'

'Mavis Blake and Monty Praguer.'

Monty? Bugger Monty, I thought. Who needs enemies
when you've got mates like that?

'And just a word of advice,' Hemi said. 'You go around
talking about your list, you're going to get all sorts of people
agitated. I mean, it's not a nice thing, eh, accusing people.'

'Fair enough,' I said. He was right. I felt a bit ashamed of
myself.

Hemi looked at his watch and knocked back the last of
his beer.

'I gotta go meet the missus,' he said. 'Give her a hand with
the kiddies.'

'See you, mate.'

'What's with the teddy bear anyway?' he asked. I still had
it under my arm.

'Gith won it. First prize beginners' skeet.'

'Whoa!' His eyes widened.

'Anything wrong?'

'Sweet as, bro. Fine by me.' He turned away towards the
bar. I watched him get rid of his empty glass and then walk
out into the sunlight. He waved to me as he went by.

***

I FINISHED MY beer and left. I could see Gith about fifty
metres away over by the coffee stall. She seemed fine, panhandling
a donation from a woman who I thought was Susie
Smeele. The jazz quintet was into another set now. The music
drifted on the air, twisted out of shape by the little breeze. It
could have been 'McNamara's Band'. A cheer went up from
somewhere near the show-ring. The pony club was taking to
the jumps, maybe. If so, Joanne would be down there rooting
for Matthew. He was a clever kid on a horse.

'Oh, Mr McUrran. Sir.' It was Billy Cleat shuffling towards
me, leading with his right shoulder like he was scared I was
going to hit him. I was tempted.

'What?' I said.

'About that job.'

'There is no job. I told you before.'

He looked at me with big soft eyes. 'Oh.' He sounded real
disappointed. 'Well. Your toilet, you know. Round the side of
your place. I could clean that. Sir.'

'I don't need you to clean it. And I don't want you near my
place. Okay?'

'Oh. Okay.' His mouth was doing the chewing thing, the
way his mother did. His eyes got rounder. 'A job would be
excellent, sir.'

Christ, I thought. How do I get rid of him? I pulled out my
wallet and gave him a ten dollar note.

'Here,' I said. 'Just stay away from my place, okay?'

He grabbed the note and stuffed it into the pocket of his
jeans. 'But I can't take your money, sir. Unless I do something
for you.'

'Just keep out of my way. That'll be fine.'

'Oh, well . . .'

'Bugger off!'

He turned, wriggled away. I watched him go. At the
corner of the drinks tent he stopped, stared at a girl who
was walking past. She was plumpish, wearing shorts and a
T-shirt. Billy had his mouth open. I guessed he was licking
his lips. Then he saw me watching him. He gave a weird sort
of grin, half saying sorry and half thinking it was funny, and
then he shuffled off.

What the hell had I done? Why for Christ's sake had I
given him money? I couldn't make it out. Did I feel sorry
for him? No, the opposite. He was disgusting. I wanted to
wring his neck. Was I scared of him then? The creepy way he
moved around. The way he called me sir. Like he was trying
to make out he was so low and worthless when all the time
underneath . . . He's like me, I thought. The words just popped
into my head like a voice had said something. And then I did
feel scared.

'Ay up.' It was a real voice now, behind me. The Old Man.

'Hi.' I turned towards him. The light seemed extra bright
suddenly. It made me screw up my eyes.

'What's that then?' He pointed his stick at the bear.

'Gith's prize for the skeet.'

He laughed. 'Boy, that was good. That made my day.' He
looked at me. 'Feel like a beer?'

'Just had one,' I said.

'Beat me to it, did you?' He jerked his head towards the bar.

'Have another?'

'Might as well.'

We started walking. He looked at me.

'Your shout,' he said.

'Bloody cheapskate.'

We were nearly at the tent when our way was blocked by
Gray Tackett and his two sons. Gray looked like something
had bitten him.

'She shouldn't have got that,' he said, pointing at the bear.

'Why not?' I asked.

'Completely bloody irresponsible, putting a gun in the
hands of a handicapped person. What sort of precedent d'you
think that's setting?'

'Oh,' I said. 'So you're the protester, are you?'

'She won it fair and square,' the Old Man said.

'Completely bloody irresponsible,' Gray said again, staring
at us. His son Ray was standing next to him with his arms
folded and a frown on his face. He was a big bloke, Ray. Bobby,
beside him, stared at us wide-eyed. I guess he was upset by the
tone of our voices.

'You're talking crap,' the Old Man said, taking a step
towards Gray.

'I bloody am not.' He turned to me. 'You've got a gun at
home. What happens now? You get her interested in those
things and the next thing is she wants to play with them. No
way I'd let Bobby handle a gun.'

'Gith's not an idiot like Bobby,' I said. It just came out.

'Hey!' Ray balled his fists and leaned forward, pressing up
close to me.

I lost it then. Just for a second. 'Fuck off!' My hands were
on his chest, pushing him back. He took a swing at me. I
ducked and his fist whistled past my left ear.

'That's you Tacketts all over,' the Old Man said. 'Just can't
take it, can you?'

Ray spun round towards him, fist up.

I figured it had all gone far enough. I stepped forward,
stretched out my arm as a barrier between Ray and the Old
Man. They were staring at each other, mad as hell. The Old
Man wasn't going to back down.

'Steady on,' I said.

Ray grabbed my wrist and swung my arm out of the way.

I put it back.

'No call for violence,' I told him. 'Sorry for what I said.'

'Easy up.' Gray was on the other side, his hand on Ray's
shoulder.

Ray stepped back, gave a flick of his head.

Bobby was hunched up, making a moaning sound.

'Sorry, mate,' I told him.

He looked at me with big scared eyes. He reminded me of
a little kid, or a puppy even.

'Come on.' Gray turned away. After the three of them had
gone a few steps he looked back at us. 'Mark my words,' he
said, shaking his finger. 'You'll live to regret this.'

Yeah right, I wanted to say.

'Bloody wankers,' the Old Man muttered.

We went to the bar and I bought him a beer. Pretty soon
he'd found one of his mates to talk to and he was sweet again.
I took a lot longer to calm down. I was sorry about calling
Bobby an idiot but, in fact, he was, and it riled me to have
anyone thinking Gith was the same. She could be trusted
with the gun just as she could be trusted with anything else.
It wasn't much of a thing anyway: an old twenty-two. I wasn't
like half the other blokes in the town, with a .303 and a
shotgun stashed away in the hall cupboard. With all the pig
hunting and duck shooting I figured there were more guns
per head in Te Kohuna than any other place in the country.
Who the hell was Gray Tackett to be worrying about us when
there were so many morons around the place with easy access
to worse weapons?

In the end I was too wound up to hang around chatting.
I knocked back my beer and put my hand on the Old Man's
arm.

'You all right here?' I asked. 'I gotta go find Gith.'

'Yeah,' he said. 'You go. Tell her she's a little ripper.' As I
walked away I could hear him start into the story of the skeet
shooting.

Back outside I stood looking round, trying to spot Gith in
the crowd. I was not sure why I had to find her. Something
was bothering me. Was it Gray Tackett saying we would
live to regret it? Or something Hemi had said? Looking
back on it now, I think maybe it was just a mind-reading
thing.

I took a few steps down the line of tents towards where
I'd last seen her. Still no sign. Then I saw Brenda Paddigon
hurrying towards me. A look on her face.

'Come,' she said, grabbing my arm. 'Quick!'

Gith was on the ground between two tents. She was curled
into a ball and her eyes and her head were going. Ireleen Loft
was crouched beside her looking useless. I went down on my
knees and wrapped Gith in my arms.

'Sweetheart, sweetheart,' I said. 'What's wrong?'

She tightened even more, scrunching herself smaller.

I looked up at Brenda. 'What happened?'

'Don't know. I was in the tent. I could see the shadows
through the cloth. She was talking to someone. Next thing I
knew she was down on the ground.'

'Did you see anything?' I asked Ireleen.

'No. No.'

Gith gave a moan. Her head went back. Her eyes were
wide, with only the whites showing.

'Oh God!' Ireleen said.

I slid one arm under Gith's knees and lifted her, stood up.
'I gotta get her home.'

The collection bucket and bag of ribbons were lying on the
ground.

'Can you look after that?' I asked.

'Sure,' Brenda said. 'Absolutely.'

'Come on, sweetheart.'

Gith twisted in my grip. For a second I thought I was
going to drop her. Then her arm went up around my neck and
she pulled herself hard against me, her face turned into my
collarbone. I started to walk away, the crowd opening up in
front of us. Looks on people's faces. Dolly McKenzie reached
out and patted Gith's shoulder as we walked past.

When I got to the Riley I had to half lower her to the
ground while I got the keys out. It was then that I saw the
beginnings of a bruise on her wrist — a blue band across the
white skin, one end of it rounded. A thumbprint.

I TOOK HER home, got her out of most of her clothes and
put her in my bed, where she curled up tight. Then I took off
my own shoes and jeans and climbed in behind her. I put my
arm round her and held her close. She was icy, her body stiff
like she was frozen. I started to talk to her, whispering into
her hair, telling her I loved her and saying it was all going
to be okay and I'd always be there to take care of her. The
first of these was true and I hoped the others were too. She
didn't move. She hardly seemed to be breathing. I put my hand
on her chest to feel her heart and the beat was scarcely
there. I think what scared me most was the thought that
she had gone back into a coma and wouldn't come out. That
fear was even stronger than the rage I felt at whoever had
done this to her.

The telephone rang and, a few minutes later, my mobile. I
knew it would be Ma. She'd have heard and she'd be worried
but I couldn't let go of Gith. I stroked her knees and her shins.
I kissed her hair and the smooth skin of her shoulder. I kept
saying I loved her and asking her to please, please, please stay
with me because I couldn't live without her. And that was
true too.

Bit by bit she started to relax and the warmth came back
into her. I could feel the breathing in her ribs now.

'Are you asleep?' I asked.

She gave a little wriggle, pressing herself back closer against
me. Her hand came round and rested on the top of my leg.
The relief I felt brought tears to my eyes. I didn't move though.
I didn't want to disturb her or to change anything about how
we were. Maybe we both went to sleep in the end.

The knocking on the door woke me up. I got out of bed
and pulled my jeans on, walked out of the room and closed
the door to a crack behind me. I could see the two shadows,
vague in the ripple-glass pane of the front door.

'Is she all right?' Ma's voice was full of worry. She was still
wearing her Victorian outfit.

'Yes, I guess so.' I stepped back, swinging the door wider.
'Come on in.'

The Old Man had a grim look on his face.

'That skinny girl from the Tearooms told us what happened,'
Ma said over her shoulder as we followed her down the hall.

'Right.'

'I called.'

'I know, yes. Sorry about that.'

'Getting out of that car park was a bloody nightmare,' the
Old Man said.

I showed them into the kitchen. They sat down at the table
while I put the kettle on.

'What happened?' Ma asked.

'I don't know. I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet. She
was kind of out of it. Now she's asleep.'

'That's good.'

'Those bloody Tacketts!' The Old Man exploded. 'I'll shoot
the bastards myself!'

'Watch it! Watch it! What are you saying?' Ma turned to
him.

'We don't know it was the Tacketts,' I said.

'Who the hell was it, then?'

'Could have been someone after the money,' Ma said. 'You
know — the collection.'

'But the bucket was still there,' I said.

'Was it empty?'

'I don't know. Brenda would know. She took it back to the
RW tent.'

'Brenda?'

'Brenda Paddigon. From the café.'

'Ah, yes,' Ma said.

I made the tea and brought it to the table, fetched the milk
and sugar.

'And this Brenda, did she see anything?' the Old Man
asked.

'Not much. Some shadows on the wall of a tent. She was
inside. Gith was outside.'

'What about this other girl?'

'No,' I said. 'Don't think so. Did she say anything to you?'

'No.' The Old Man hit the table with the side of his fist.
'Bloody Christ! Somebody must've seen something. All those
people. Are they all bloody blind?'

'It's weird what people don't see.' I was thinking of a white
van.

We drank our tea. I was glad they had come and that they
cared but there wasn't much to say. I didn't want to tell them
my own ideas about what had happened, partly because I
didn't want to worry them and partly because it would have
led to a long talk and I had to get back to Gith soon as. In the
end, Ma got the point like she usually does.

'Come on, Ted,' she said. 'We'd better be going.' Then she
turned to me. 'Unless you want me to make you and Anna
some dinner.'

'We'll be fine.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' I said. 'Though there is something you could do. Stop
off on your way past and have a word to Pita. Tell him to lock
up at six and ask him to bring the keys up here to the house.
I'll do the till and the alarm later on.'

'Will do,' the Old Man said.

I showed them out. Ma turned on the doorstep and gave
me a big hug.

'Take care of her,' she said.

'I will.'

The Old Man still looked a bit wound up. He shook my
hand and said nothing.

Back inside, I made Gith a cup of tea. Milk and two sugars.
When I took it in to her she moved and then sat up. I opened
the curtains to let a bit more light into the room.

'Ma and Dad were here,' I said.

She nodded and reached out for the tea, wrapped her hands
around the mug and drank.

'How are you?' I asked.

She gave a little shrug. Then she patted the bed beside her. I
went and sat there, on top of the covers. I wasn't sure whether
that was what she meant.

'Do you want to talk about it?' I asked.

She gave a maybe kind of shift of her shoulders. Any words
she had were gone for now. This sometimes happens if she's
seriously upset.

'It was the man from the van. Right?'

Yes.

'Was it Ray Tackett?'

She didn't know.

'Do you know Ray?'

No. She made a sign for pen on paper. I went and fetched
the pad and the ballpoint. She put her mug of tea down on
the bedside table and drew her knees up under the covers to
form a base for the pad. She bent over it and started to draw,
slow and tense. I sat down beside her again and waited.

The picture looked like this.

I felt useless looking at it. 'I don't know this bloke.'

'Argh!' It was a scraping sound from back in her throat.
She hit her knees with her fist and twisted her head from
side to side.

'Sorry,' I said. 'Sorry.'

She waved the drawing at me and then patted her head,
pulled at her hair. I didn't get it. I kept looking at the big, stare-y
eyes. They were like glasses. Was that what she meant?

'Does he wear glasses?'

Gith let go of me and flopped back on the pillows. I felt
like an idiot. Then I caught sight of the bruise on her wrist
again. I reached out and took her hand, turned it so that we
could both see the mark. It made me mad.

'He hurt you.'

Yes. She was looking down at it.

'Here? Nowhere else?'

No.

'And he said bad things?'

Yes.

'He said if you told anyone about seeing him the other
week, he'd do things to you?'

Yes. She squeezed her eyes shut. I could feel the trembling
start in her arm.

'Okay,' I said. 'That's enough.' I moved close and hugged
her. The pad and pen slid to the floor. She leaned into me.

'I'm dumb,' I said. I felt her nod. It didn't make me feel
good.

***

WHEN THERE WAS a knock on the door at five past six,
I guessed it was Pita. Instead, I found Brenda Paddigon. She
had the pink teddy bear under her arm.

'Ah.' I took it from her. 'I'd forgotten all about this. She'll
be glad to have it.'

One of its paws had a dirty mark but otherwise it looked
okay.

'And I have to give you these too.' She held out the keys to
the service station. 'Your bloke down there said as long as I
was coming up here . . .'

'That's a bit bloody casual of him,' I said.

'Quite.' She smiled. She had a nice smile. It made me see
what a good-looking woman she was. She was a few years
older than me, I guess. Brown eyes and wavy deep red hair
cut to her shoulders, brownish skin dotted with even browner
dark freckles. She was wearing a pale blue shirt with the top
buttons undone. Freckles there, too, and a good length of
cleavage. I felt awkward, like I'd somehow got her all wrong
before.

'Come in if you like,' I said, stepping back.

'Thanks.'

'Gith's asleep.' We went into the living room.

'A cup of tea?' I asked. 'Or a drink?'

'Oh, a drink. Why not?'

I figured I might have a problem then. 'It'll have to be beer,'
I said. 'We're not real civilised round here.'

'Oh.' She wasn't sure but she gave me a grin, like she was
telling herself everything was fine. 'Beer it is, then.'

I put the bear down on the sofa. 'We could go out onto the
verandah. It's nice out there at this time of day.'

'All right.'

I fetched the beer, remembered that she might want a glass.
Her café was a smart sort of place. It was right next to Bank
Antiques and it had a wine list and everything. I hadn't been
there too often, not sure why. Gith liked it and so did Ma. Bill
and Leece went there, too, when they were in town.

We settled in our chairs and I raised my beer to her. 'Thanks.

For what you did today.'

'Is she all right?'

'Yeah. She's fine now.'

'Only it looked . . . you know, well, like some kind of fit.'

'It is,' I said. 'Only not the usual kind. Her brain circuits get
overloaded. It used to happen all the time. Now it's only when
she's real stressed.'

'And it's because of an accident, right?'

'Car accident. Eight years ago. Both her parents were
killed.'

'Oh God.' She screwed up her face at the thought of it. It
seemed she really felt it and wasn't going to start in on some
pity thing. I liked her for that.

'It's been a long road back for her,' I said.

'I bet.' She looked at me, a look that I couldn't figure out.
Like she thought I was something special? It felt weird sitting
there with her, seeing that look.

'The thing is, though, she's real smart.' I went on, just
needing something to say. 'And it riles me when people don't
see it. Some people think she's dumb, like she's got a low IQ
or something, but it's not like that.'

'She can't talk, though, can she?'

'No. Not normal. She's got words, usually, but she can't
string them together right.'

'Does she do sign language? Like deaf people?'

'No, because that's a language too, eh. The psychologists
and so on, they told me she can't figure out how to make
sentences. In any kind of language. I guess it's like when you
or I know what we want to say but we can't find the words,
like it's on the tip of your tongue kind of thing? With her
that happens all the time, with everything she wants to say. It
pisses her off big time.'

'I bet. So she can't tell you what happened today?'

'I know what happened. Somebody threatened her.'

'That bloke.'

'Yeah. What did you see?' I asked.

'Not much. The side of the tent was sloped, so the shadow
was sharper at the bottom than the top. But I guess he was
about her height. Nothing special about him.'

'She's a metre seventy-five.'

'Well, then.' She sipped her beer. Then she asked the
question I knew was coming. 'Why did he threaten her?'

I had nothing to say except the truth. Anyway, it would be
good to talk to somebody about it, and I liked her enough to
want it to be her. So I told her.

'I thought the cops were looking for a wagon,' she said.

'They are. They've got two people who say that's what it
was. It's Gith's word against theirs . . .' I shrugged, meaning it
was clear what the cops were going to think.

Brenda didn't answer. She was working on it, I could see,
trying to figure out what to believe.

'That collection bucket. The money was still in it?' I asked.

'Yes.' She nodded. 'Quite a lot, actually.'

'It wasn't robbery then.'

'No.'

'And she didn't make it up.'

'No.' She looked at me. 'No, she didn't make it up.' She let
out a big breath. 'God,' she said, 'this is scary. I'm not sure I
want to know about this.'

Suddenly, for the first time, I felt it myself — the fear, like
a rush of cold blood. I was scared for Gith mostly, seeing how
she might be the only person between this bloke being caught
and him getting away with it.

'Have you talked to Hemi?' she asked.

'About today? No, not yet.'

'You going to?'

'I guess.'

Then another thought struck her. 'It's weird, eh? The guy
taking a risk like that. Confronting her in public. Anyone
could have seen him.'

Something must have pushed him, I started to say. But
then I asked myself, why was he being pushed? Because
somebody had told him that Gith saw Anneke Hesse getting
into a white van. And why had they told him that? Jesus, I
thought. It's my fault. It's all because I've been shooting my
mouth off.