Heart of Danger (17 page)

Well done, Juno. Full marks.

I got to my feet, picked up the tools and trudged back to the school. I didn’t feel good about Thomas. I put the tools away and went to see if I could talk to Willem in his office.

‘Come in, Juno. You talked to Thomas?’

This place was Taris all over again – there was nothing so fast as the speed of gossip. ‘Tried to. Mucked it up big time.’

He waved me to a seat, so I told him what had happened.

He smiled at me. ‘Don’t look so tragic. It’s good that you’ve broached the subject with him, but now you must leave it to me. You don’t have the skills to help him access any influence Hilto may have planted in his mind.’

Relief surged through me. ‘Really?’

‘You have much to learn, my child, before you’ll be able to help Thomas with the work he needs to do.’ It was quite clear he was not going to explain how or when I would learn, and that suited me fine. My mind still scared me.

 

I talked to Vima that evening. She wasn’t furious I’d got off so lightly, just wistful. ‘You’re lucky. But then, you didn’t cause the problem.’

‘Are you okay?’ Dumb question, and not what I wanted to ask.

‘Not really, but better than a couple of days ago. James and I talk now.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘That’s your fault for yelling at me.’

Well, that must be good.

At dinner that evening I told my family about Thomas and what Willem had said. Danyat reached across the table to press my hand. ‘Well done, Juno. I’m pleased you don’t have to deal with it. And now we will talk of something much pleasanter. Leebar, will you tell everyone our plans, please.’

‘We’re going to celebrate Christmas,’ Leebar announced. ‘We’ll teach you the songs – carols, they’re called – and we’re going to prepare a sumptuous summer feast. It’s always been a highlight of the year Outside.’

‘I know a carol,’ Hera said. ‘“Away in a Manger” – that’s a bed for cows and sheeps and donkeys.’ She sang the whole song and the grandparents joined in, singing softly so as not to drown her voice.

‘Bravo!’ Leebar said.

‘And a Christmas tree,’ Hera said. ‘Atarangi says we’re going to have one at my school and she says people have them at home too.’

Bazin blew her a kiss. ‘We shall have a tree, Hera, and you can help decorate it.’

They told us the story of Christmas and how, at the time they left to settle on Taris, the Christmas festival was celebrated right around the world. ‘Not as a religious festival everywhere,’ Bazin said. ‘But decorations, trees and Father Christmases popped up all over the globe. And families and friends would gather to eat special food and exchange gifts.’

I thought of Ginevra, in a house without a mother for the first time at Christmas. ‘Could we invite others? I’d like to ask Ginevra and her family. Her mother died in the pandemic, and she really misses her.’

‘Of course,’ Mother smiled at me. ‘That’s a lovely idea.’

‘Oban too,’ Hera said. ‘I want Oban.’

That was funny because if they all came, and Ginevera and Oban liked each other, it wouldn’t have been because of any manipulation on my part. Then I laughed at myself. I was getting as bad at matchmaking as Mother was.

But she didn’t seem to have matchmaking on her mind right now. ‘I’ll invite Gilda and Thomas too,’ she said. ‘They have no family here, and she’s become my friend.’

Strangely, the idea didn’t worry me, not now that I knew Willem believed Hilto still influenced Thomas. The two of them might even have completed the work of discovering just what the influence was before Christmas arrived.

‘No problem,’ I said. ‘I’ll be nice to Thomas. He mightn’t be nice back though. He’s probably still mad at me.’

‘You’ll cope,’ Leebar said. ‘Let’s get these dishes out of the way, then let’s talk decorations. We used to make our own and put them up all over the house. I’m pretty sure I remember how to do it’

We were in the middle of constructing paper chains when nine o’clock came and it was time to log on to hear how Marba had fared.

‘Report please,’ Silvern ordered. ‘Did you talk to her? That girl you’re in love with.’

His face filled the screen – he looked weird, so unlike Marba. Kind of dazed and stunned. ‘Yes, I did what you told me,’ he said, and stopped.

‘Marba!’ At least six of us howled at him, and Rynd said, ‘Take it slow, mate. But put us out of our misery. What happened?’

He made an attempt to pull himself together. ‘I went up to her after maths. I said,
Excuse me, Clementine. Can I walk you home? I’d like to talk to you.’
He stopped again.

Oh goodness, had she turned her back on him? Mocked him?

‘Well?’ Brex demanded. ‘Come on, Marba – did she say yes?’

We relaxed – he was smiling. ‘She said,
About time! Come on, let’s hit the road before you chicken out.’

‘That’s good. Well done.’ Silvern clapped her hands. ‘Keep talking. We need the whole story here.’

We saw him take a deep breath. ‘I told her everything. I told her about Taris and that it would mean we’d get married if I’d walked her home like this.’ For a moment he was his old self. ‘She laughed and she kept bursting out laughing even when we talked about other stuff which I’m not going to tell you about, so don’t ask.’

Biddo waved a hand in the air. ‘Yay, Marba. High five, bro!’

‘Did you tell her about us?’ I asked.

‘Of course I did, and that reminds me, she wants to meet you all.’

Pel said. ‘Excellent. Conference call tomorrow, people. Same time as usual.’

Before he logged off, Marba said, ‘Thanks, guys.’ Then he stopped and got the thinking look on his face so we waited. ‘You know, I’m really finding that Outside is making me understand emotions a little bit better.’

‘You don’t say!’ Paz laughed at him. ‘See ya, mate.’

The next night I was online in plenty of time but Marba didn’t log on until one minute past nine.

‘He must be in love,’ Paz said. ‘First time ever he’s been late.’

Then he was there, looking proud and happy. ‘This is Clementine. Clemmie, meet my stratum.’

One by one, we said hi and gave her our names. She was pretty, small and slight, and we could see the energy fizzing out of her. He was right that she laughed a lot, but I reckoned she was shrewd enough under it all.

The fifteen of us talked for an hour. We laughed more in that time than we’d normally laugh in a year.

T
he school year ended. Five whole weeks of freedom. On the final day of term, I invited Ginevra and her family to spend Christmas Day with us.

‘If you’d like to,’ I added, uncertain about whether they’d want to come.

But she threw her arms around me. ‘Thank you, Juno! Please tell your mum we’d love to.’ She scrubbed a hand across her eyes. ‘I’ve been dreading Christmas. Mum always made it so special, and Dad’s trying but he hasn’t got the heart for it.’

That was all right then. This 25 December would be so different for me too. I felt myself changing, becoming an Outside girl of Aotearoa. Taris was fading.

 

When Dad and the grandfathers came home from the gardens on Christmas Eve, they brought a stranger with them.

‘Looks like we’ll have an extra guest for Christmas,’ Leebar said.

As soon as Mother saw them, she added another handful of potatoes to the pot.

The stranger was young – probably around Oban’s age – but he looked as though he’d lived for a long time in the clothes he was wearing. They were torn and dirty, and his long hair tangled with a full black beard. He looked like a pirate, a weary and really skinny one.

Hera watched him as they walked up the path. I half expected her to yell, but all she did was pick up more tinsel and go back to decorating the tree. Mother’s shoulders relaxed and she went forward to welcome him.

Dad introduced him. ‘Sheen, this is Nash. Nash – my mother Leebar, and my daughters Juno and Hera.’

Mother held out both hands. ‘You are welcome, Nash. Come in, you must be hungry.’

He took her hands, gave a funny little bow and said, ‘You’re very kind. I have to admit it’s a while since I’ve sat down to a proper meal.’

‘It’ll be ready in half an hour,’ she said. ‘Can you wait that long?’

‘Half an hour?’ He suddenly looked shy. ‘Could I … would you mind if I had a shower?’ He turned to Dad. ‘And if you could lend me a razor strong enough to attack this hedge?’ He tugged at his beard.

‘No problem,’ Dad said, heading for the bathroom. ‘Follow me.’

‘Wait!’ I said. ‘Who are you? Why have you come here? You’re not some random stranger.’ Of that I was sure.

He turned to look directly at me. ‘No, I’m not. But I’m not sly either, Juno. Your dad and grandfathers know. They’ll tell you while I tidy myself up.’

I had the feeling I knew who he was and that I could discover it if I cared to dig down, or reach up to the knowledge hovering just out of reach. I stilled my mind. Derrick Api, Hera’s genetic father. This man couldn’t possibly be him, but he could well be a descendant.

Dad came back, took one look at Mother and put his arm around her. ‘Relax, Sheen. All is well, I promise you.’

I couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘Dad! This Nash – is he a descendant of Derrick Api?’

Dad and Bazin looked surprised, but Danyat laughed. ‘Right first time, Juno. Nash Mazely is Derrick Api’s grandson.’

Leebar frowned. ‘So he says. But how did he know to come looking for us?’

Hera turned around from the tree. ‘Is that man my brother too?’

As I was struggling to work out exactly what Hera’s relationship to him must be, Bazin knelt down beside her. ‘Not exactly. His mother would have been your sister. So that means you’re his aunt.’

She thought about that, then shook her head. ‘He can be my brother.’

‘Explain how he knew to look for us, please,’ Leebar ordered. ‘This story had better be watertight or I vote we show him the door.’

‘Did he see the notice Biddo put on the net?’ I asked.

Danyat answered. ‘So Biddo did that, did he? We should have guessed. Nash said he’s been out of touch all year – he’s been in the countryside. He got back a month ago, started catching up with events via the net. Found the story about Taris. Found a message asking for descendants of Derrick Api to contact us.’

‘We liked him, Mum,’ Dad said. ‘He’s gone to considerable effort to find us and he was straight up about who he was and where he’s been.’

Mother looked at Leebar. ‘I think he’s trustworthy.’ She nodded in Hera’s direction. ‘And our in-built alarm system is happy.’ She stood up and went to see to the dinner.

Leebar and I fell into our normal routine of setting the table and making the dressing for the salad. Bazin fetched an extra chair. Leebar said nothing more, but her lips were compressed into a straight line.

Nash came back just as Mother was taking the pie from the oven. We just gaped at him, he was barely recognisable as the same person, but Hera took his hand, smiled up at him and said, ‘You’re my brother.’

Tears came to his eyes. He dropped to his knees to look at her. ‘Thank you, Hera. I’m honoured to be your brother.’

‘You look different,’ I said, and immediately felt dumb. The beard had gone, and his hair was now short, gleaming dark and curly. Exactly like Hera’s.

He stood up, still holding Hera’s hand. ‘You’ve no idea how good it is to be clean and shaven again.’ He gave Dad the same funny bow he’d given Mother when he arrived. ‘And the clean clothes, man! They’re pure gold.’

‘We’re happy you’re here, Nash,’ Mother said. ‘Come and eat, before it gets cold.’

His eyes lit up and he sighed with pleasure, but he waited until Mother, Leebar and I were sitting before he took his seat. We began serving ourselves as we always did, passing dishes to him first. Mother tutted over the small amounts he put on his plate, took matters into her own hands and served him generous portions. We began to eat, but Nash sat silent with his head bowed.

‘Why aren’t you eating, Nash my brother?’ Hera asked. ‘Don’t you like eating?’

He lifted his head and smiled at her. ‘Oh yes, I love to eat. I was just saying thank you to the universe.’

Hera was intrigued. Me too. ‘What did you say?’ she asked.

Nash bowed his head again and this time spoke aloud. ‘Thank you, universe, for leading me safely to these good and generous people. Thank you for the bounty on this table. Thank you for food, fellowship and family. I remember with love those who are no longer with me. Go well, beloved people.’ He picked up his knife and fork and began eating.

We did the same, but I couldn’t have spoken around the tightness in my throat. He had lost people dear to him, as we had.

Mother said quietly, ‘That was beautiful. Thank you, Nash. Now, enjoy your meal.’ She shook her head at me and Hera. ‘Girls, save your questions until tomorrow. Nash is tired.’ She turned to him. ‘We’ll hear your story when you’re ready to tell it. You’ll stay with us tonight if you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa, although I’m afraid it will be much too short for you.’

‘Thank you! The sofa will be a luxury, believe me.’

‘And you’ll stay for Christmas,’ Dad said. It was an order not an invitation.

Nash bowed his head. ‘Thank you. From my heart, thank you.’

 

Nash was already up when the rest of us came into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’d fed the hens and brought in the eggs. Mother, Leebar and I started preparing breakfast.

‘So, Nash, tell us about yourself.’ Leebar gave him one of her challenging looks.

He sat at the table so that he could talk to all of us. ‘Okay. Short version. Name: Nash Mazely. Age:
twenty-three
. Occupation: I’m usually an agricultural scientist, but I’ve gone awol for the past twelve months.’

‘Absent without leave,’ my grandmother said, her suspicions alive and shouting. ‘Explain why, if you please.’

‘It’s all right,’ Mother said. ‘You don’t have to tell us.’

‘I must. You need to know if I’m to be part of your family.’ He didn’t add that he’d dearly like to be part of it. He didn’t need to say it. We heard it in his voice, saw it in his demeanour.

Before he could continue, Oban arrived. Hera rushed up to him. ‘Oban, this is my brother. My other brother!’

Oban treated Nash to a searching look, then held out his hand. Nash took it, looking right back at him. Then they nodded at each other and relaxed.

‘A pair of fighting cocks,’ Leebar muttered. Aloud she said, ‘Nash is just about to tell us why he went bush for a year, Oban. Take a seat.’

Nash started talking straight away, as if he wanted the story to be over and done – the memories put back to sleep. ‘From the time I was about ten, my mother started teaching me how to look after myself, although I didn’t realise that was what she was doing till later.’

‘She taught you to cook?’ Mother asked.

‘That, and how to grow my own food, butcher sheep and hens, handle money, mend my clothes.’ He laughed, and in that moment looked younger. ‘I ran out of mending supplies a couple of months back.’

‘Your clothes are beyond repair,’ Mother told him.

‘Yeah, I know. Barely decent actually. Just as well the weather’s warmer now.’

‘Admirable of your mother,’ Leebar said. ‘But not all that unusual. It’s how we raised our children on Taris. Except for the money, of course.’

‘Perhaps not.’ Nash stopped, and I got the feeling he was weighing up how much to tell us. He went for the bare facts. ‘My parents and my grandparents all died in the pandemic seven years ago. I had my sixteenth birthday three days before Mum got sick.’

The room went quiet, except for the click of the blocks Hera was stacking. Mother walked over to Nash, gave him a brief hug but said nothing. Bazin, his deep voice gone husky, said, ‘We are sorry for your loss, Nash. That’s a terrible burden for a kid to bear.’

Yes, of course we were sorry. I knew I should say something, but instead I blurted out the question hammering in my mind. ‘Your mother – she
knew
they were all going to die? She knew that six years before it happened?’

He looked startled. Oban’s attention sharpened, Leebar and Bazin frowned, Danyat’s eyebrows went up and Dad said, ‘Nash, tell us. Did your mother have a history of knowing something would happen before it did?’

He was more than startled now – more like stunned.

Oban took pity on him. He tipped his head towards Hera. ‘She does too. We wondered if there was a history of it in her genes. Seems like there is.’

Nash sat there, shaking his head, his face growing lighter and relaxing as the news sank in. ‘It’s true then? We are related? This makes it feel much more real in a weird sort of way.’ He watched Hera for a moment. ‘My grandfather’s genetic daughter. How surreal is that?’

I was almost hopping with impatience. ‘Tell us about your mum, and we’ll tell you about …’ I jerked a thumb in Hera’s direction.

‘It wasn’t just Mum. My grandfather had the gift too.’ He seemed easier with the telling now. ‘We kept quiet about it. A few people were getting spooked back then by anything unusual. It got to be dangerous to be different.’

Mother shuddered. ‘It’s no better now, believe me.’

I was almost bursting from wanting to drag the information out of him. Danyat shook his head at me, just as Nash began speaking again. ‘Grandad was great with stuff like the weather. If he said he sniffed a high wind coming, or his bones told him heavy rain was on the way, everyone would rush around and protect their crops.’

‘People were okay with that?’ Dad asked. ‘Nobody got spooked?’

‘No. He was a canny old guy – always said the weather affected his bones. People bought it because he was so useful.’

‘Your mum?’ I asked, trying not to sound demanding and probably failing. ‘What about her?’

‘She wasn’t so clear cut,’ he said, looking back into a past we couldn’t begin to imagine. ‘With her, it was more of a sense of what was to come. Like I asked her when I was about fourteen why she was making me learn a whole lot of dumb stuff I wouldn’t need till I was too ancient to care. She just ruffled my hair and said hard times were coming. Best to be prepared, she said.’

The adults stayed silent, respecting his grief. I wanted to know more. ‘Do you think she knew they’d all die?’ That sounded so harsh, so insensitive. I blushed. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’ We could see it wasn’t, but he kept going. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think, yes, she knew exactly what was going to happen. Other times I think she just had a sense of darkness coming.’