Huia Short Stories 10 (21 page)

The cage is round, the size of a bicycle wheel, and its depth of a few feet is filled with writhing crayfish. ‘So many,' he says.

‘And mostly good sized males by the look of it,' Jack says, hauling the pot into the boat. ‘Here, you hold the sack,' and one by one Jack grabs the biggest crayfish and plops them in the sack where they thrash their tails in protest.

The next pot is similarly full, and they have over thirty crayfish, but in the last pot an engorged octopus is wound around the inside of the frame, filling the entire space.

‘That's the biggest octi I've ever seen,' says Jack, ‘Have to kill it, or just leave it to starve to death.' He looks up. ‘What do you reckon? Fast death or slow?'

‘Fast,' he says, ‘Definitely fast.'

‘Want to do it?'

‘Yeah,' and Jack passes him a long screw driver sharpened into a spike.

‘Push it hard right between the eyes.'

The octopus's head is squeezed against the wire mesh, and knowing black eyes watch him aim the screw driver. He lunges, but the octopus's head slithers away, eyes glistening before they narrow to slits.

He aims again, but as he does so, the water around the boat suddenly glistens with the brightness of a mirror reflecting full sun, and he looks into a shimmering void with the sense something is looking back at him.

‘What's that thing?' he says.

‘What thing?' says Jack.

‘Something …' and without thinking, he says, ‘We must let it go.'

‘You want to let the octi go? It's the biggest I've ever seen.'

‘Yeah. We don't need to kill it, so we must let it go,' he says.

Jack groans as he pulls the wire mesh apart.

Callum sees what Jack cannot see – the octopus swimming away, side by side with a glistening, fleshy mass, the shape of which keeps changing, from an arrow to a disc and back again.

‘Strange boy,' Jack says, smiling, and he smiles too, knowing they both feel better for not killing the octopus.

On the way back to the beach he leans over the bow of the boat so his head is the prow, and he extends his arms out, imagining he's a gannet skimming above the waves.

Jack slows the boat when they near the shore. The tractor and trailer look like Dinky Toys parked up on the sand, and between them, wave upon wave lumber their way to land.

‘I'll tuck behind a big one. Just hang on tight. But, if anything happens, stay with the boat.'

Jack steers into the trough behind a swelling wave, which rises higher and higher until it towers in front of them, and when its top crumbles, the roar is deafening. As if it has eyes for them, the wave suddenly collapses, and snatches at the boat, pulling them into its grip.

‘Hang on tight,' Jack yells above the roar, but the boat slews violently to one side. Callum loses his grip, falling painfully before being tipped into the water. Gasping at the impact, he sucks water into his lungs. He's coughing and gulping for air when another wave crashes over him. One arm hangs limply and will not move, but with the other he grabs a rope trailing behind the boat. The rope is ripped from his hand as he sees the boat picked up and thrown into the air. Jack is falling backwards in slow motion, his arms flapping like a wounded bird.

Callum is pushed under the water by a crashing wave. His eyes are open and all around him millions of tiny bubbles sparkle like the Milky Way, and coming towards him is the pulsating glittery presence he had seen with the octopus.

21

His eyes won't open properly and his sight is blurred as if gauze is stretched across his face. Behind the veil, Jack Madden and his mother sit on chairs close together beside the bed, and behind them stands a white-coated doctor with ginger hair.

His head is cushioned with pillows, his arm strapped across his chest. He hasn't spoken yet.

‘We have a compression fracture of the wrist with severe bruising, three broken ribs, luckily no lung punctures, but he did take in a lot of water,' the doctor says mechanically.

‘When will he be able to talk?' he hears his mother say.

‘In his own time,' the doctor says. ‘He's on painkillers and still in shock.'

He closes his eyes when he recognises the blurry figure that appears beside the doctor.

‘What the hell have you done?' his father barks.

‘He's going to be OK,' Jack Madden says.

‘And you,' his father says, ‘What were you thinking to let this oaf take Callum out in a boat?'

‘Please, John,' his mother says.

‘It's OK, Kathy,' Jack says, rising to his feet. ‘He's right. It was too much of a risk to take.'

‘Is that some sort of apology?' he hears his father say before their voices fade away.

‘I know your whakapapa,' he hears a deep voice say.

‘Eh?'

‘I know who you are.'

The dullness of his senses makes him think he may be dreaming.

‘Over here.'

His eyes find the voice. The curtains have been pulled aside, and an old man is sitting on the bed beside his. He's wearing a long white nightgown, and his feet don't reach the floor. His thick hair is cut short and sits atop a polished bronze head like a silver beret. His blue lips are moving.

‘I knew your grandmother.'

‘Eh?'

‘Mōrehu. She's here with Manu.'

‘Who?'

‘Your tipuna. He's here to make sure you're OK. He knows what happened to you.' The old man has no teeth. His gums are grey.

‘Something saved me,' and he tells the old man about what he saw when he was trying to kill the octopus.

‘Ah, killing te wheke,' the old man crouches forwards. ‘Go, on.'

His memory of what happened is as vague as his dreams where images merge and time makes no sense.

The old man's eyes sparkle. ‘Sounds like Moremore to me,' he says.

‘Who?'

‘Moremore. He's the child of Pania and Tangaroa.'

‘Pania, like the statue on Marine Parade?'

‘Yes, that's her. I saw Moremore when I was a boy,' the old man says. ‘We were collecting kaimoana in the estuary. Just over there,' and he points out the window. ‘This was before the earthquake.'

Through the darkness he can see lights at the airport shimmering in the distance, and he knows where the airport is built had been a tidal lagoon before the earthquake of 1932 heaved up the land.

‘First we knew about it was hearing the old people yelling. They saw Moremore was making the tide come in very, very quickly. We had to cross streams in the mud flats to get back to land, and they were filling up fast. One of the them yells out, ‘Who's got a dirty kete?' We all look at Tama and make him throw back his pipi. But the tide was still pouring in so we all emptied our kete, and suddenly the water stopped. That's when I saw Moremore. To me, he looked like a shark with pink skin like a baby, mind you, that's what the old people told us we would see if we ever saw Moremore. But he can be any shape, you know. He's from the other world.'

A nurse in a white uniform comes between them. ‘Enough talking, you two,' she says, and she pulls the curtain.

22

Breakfast is brought to him on a tray with metal arms that hug the mattress.

‘No breakfast for you, old soldier,' the nurse says to the old man in the bed next to his, ‘your op's for ten o'clock,' and her shoes squeak on the polished linoleum floor as she efficiently walks away.

He puts down his spoon and cranes forward so he can see the old man.

‘Were you a soldier in the Great War?' he asks.

The old man slowly turns his head and meets his eye.

‘Did you know Ralph Gibson?'

The old man's cheeks bunch and his lips pinch.

‘I'm sorry,' he says.

In the ward there are four beds, the two opposite unoccupied. One wall is windows from hip height to ceiling, and at the swing doors leading to the passageway, a girl is waving. ‘Grandpa,' she shouts.

The old man raises his arms, and the girl runs to him. Her feet are bare and brush the floor without a sound. Three more children follow, and he knows them. They're his cousins. And the tall woman wearing a long shawl is his Aunty June, and beside her is his Uncle Mo.

He tells them what happened to him, and the old man says, ‘It was Moremore all right, no doubt about that.'

His cousins stare so fiercely he looks out the window.

‘I should have known this boy before now,' the old man says.

‘He's Hiraani's mokopuna, and GT's.'

‘Yes, I know.'

‘The father doesn't mix.'

‘Shame.'

‘Probably,' says his Aunty June, and she sweeps her hand over her father's brow. ‘You all ready for your op, Dad?'

‘As ready as I'll ever be,' the old man says.

Orderlies come, and a nurse says, ‘It's time, Mr Wallace.' The old man hugs his daughter and grandchildren, and he shakes Mo's hand.

‘Good luck, Mr Wallace,' Callum says.

‘Thank you, boy. We'll talk later,' Mr Wallace says, and Callum's cousins, aunty and uncle follow the bed being wheeled away.

Later they return, surrounding the bed being wheeled back in to the ward. In the meantime, the doctor with ginger hair has looked into his eyes with a torch.

‘Everything went well,' says his Uncle Mo.

‘When can he come home?' asks one of his cousins.

‘In a few days,' says his Aunty June.

Mr Wallace is fast asleep, and when a nurse pulls the curtain around the bed, she tells his visitors they must leave. ‘We've made enough concessions for you already,' she says huffily. Later she returns, and he hears her say, ‘Ah, you're back with us.'

In the afternoon his mother brings the first cherries of the season cradled in a paper box, and a bag of Minties and Herodotus.

‘How's Granddad?' he asks. ‘Have you told him what happened to me?'

His mother looks away when she says, ‘We're very worried about Granddad.'

‘You're just worried about the merger with Selby's,' he says. ‘You're not really worried about Granddad.'

‘It's for his own good. We're doing what's best for him,' his mother says earnestly, looking at him now, but in her eyes he sees betrayal.

‘You can't put Granddad in a home for old people.' His voice is raised. ‘He just talks to Ralph, that's all.'

‘Shhh,' his mother says.

‘If you do this to Granddad, I'll hate you, Mum,' he says, turning his head to the pillow, and when his mother strokes his hair, he brushes her hand away.

He watches the last of the day withdraw, and knowing the Earth is traveling at about 67,000 miles per hour around the sun is a fact he comprehends with no more surety than the gravity pressing with a force of 14 pounds on every square inch of his body. However, it comforts him to know that their darkness is someone else's light.

When the nurse says goodnight, the curtain is still drawn around Mr Wallace, but as soon as she leaves the room, the old man says, ‘You awake, boy?'

‘Yes. Are you feeling better?'

‘Good as gold,' Mr Wallace says. ‘Now what's this about Ralph Gibson?'

His words come in a torrent. ‘Granddad talks to Ralph, and Dad says he's gone senile and wants him put in a home. If I knew what happened to Ralph, I'd know why Granddad talks to him, and I could tell Dr Stockby and Mr Grosser, and they'd understand because Granddad and Ralph were best friends, always.'

After a long silence Mr Wallace says, ‘Ralph and George joined up straight away. They rode their horses down to Wellington. Did you know that? All the way from Hastings to camp, on their horses. And silly thing was they had to give them up when they got there, and next thing they're on foot, and officers are riding their horses. They were both under age, you know. After Gallipoli, they became part of 1st Battalion. That's when I got to know them, in Egypt, before we got shipped to France.'

‘Could you tell me what was Ralph like?'

‘He was a tall man was Ralph. Over six feet and as skinny as a bean, but my word, he was strong. He was lightweight boxing champion for a while, because of his reach, but he gave that up. They wanted to make him an officer, but he didn't want that. GT didn't want to be an officer either. By France, they were both sergeants, and we all wanted to be in their platoons. They managed to stay together in the same company all through, right until the end.'

‘So what happened to Ralph Gibson?'

‘Ralph was killed, that's what happened. Dead. Gone. That's all that matters. A good and decent man gone. That's all you need to know, son. No death in war is a good death, and how we die is between us and our creator, no one else. We should remember the living man, not how he dies. You understand?'

‘Yes, I understand,' he says, because without saying so, Mr Wallace has confirmed what Stumpy said; Ralph Gibson killed himself, and that's private, not something you talk about because it's upsetting to think Ralph went all through the war without being killed then in the end killed himself. But he still wants to know why.

‘Yes,' he says, ‘And now I understand why Granddad talks to Ralph.'

‘Of course he talks to Ralph. They were the best of friends.'

‘And they rode their horses from Hastings to Wellington to join up.'

‘That's right, and, you know, I remember when we were in Egypt those two exchanged a case of whiskey stolen from the officers' mess for a pair of Arabians. We'd take the transport into town, but they'd ride their horses and tether them outside the bar. And, you know, they always paid a boy to stay with the horses.'

‘Good and decent men.'

‘Indeed, they were.'

A Promise Fulfilled

Erin Thompson-Pou

If ever there was a day to call on one's willpower, today would certainly be that day. Pity no one mentioned that when the sun kissed the earth with its morning glow.

A swim session is in preparation. Only the most promising local athletes have been invited. Oh, and Shelley. A tomboy from the local neighbourhood. Ever rebellious to the rigidity of squads and clubs. But talented. Boy, is she talented!

Of course this elite session has been set for a 5.45 a.m. start. For some strange reason swim coaches have always scheduled their trainings for such ridiculous times. Apparently it calls for a great start to the day. Shelley's scowl begs to differ.

Her good friend Jamie and her mum arrive early to pick her up, to make sure they arrive in good time. Jamie is so excited! She's been swimming since before she could walk. Unlike Shelley, she's tall and lanky, shoulders broad, athletic build. And flipper feet. Yup, she's got those flipper feet. Shelley's more of a robust kinda machine. Stocky, stout. Strong thighs. Chunky arms. She's built for grunt.

But today they're on equal par. They've both been shoulder-tapped for this invite-only swim session. Shelley's not sure why.

The coach has arrived early. Around a quarter past five. Not that she needs to. She's been running these squads for years, knows the drill like the back of her hand. But she likes to get a short swim in before the squad arrives. It's her only chance in the day to touch the water.

The coach is a little frumpy these days. Years of epic highs and lows have aged her. Grey hair now protrudes through a botched-up dye job. You can see the swimmer's frame underneath her wobbles and jiggles, but at a first glance you would never believe that she was once an Olympic athlete.

She climbs to the top of the starter block, dons her cap and goggles and slides effortlessly into the water. It barely breaks with her dive. As she glides under the water, bubbles rhythmically rising to the surface, she slowly releases her morning sigh and surges upwards and onwards. Her day has begun.

There's no one there at this time of the day. Only her, and that's exactly how the coach likes it. This is her one time to be quiet, be relaxed, be easy. Lap after lap, her movement is like a well-executed waltz. Rhythmic, elegant, amazing. Though years have passed since her Olympic successes, time certainly hasn't diminished the grace of her glide. If anything, it has enhanced it. Yes, she's ready for the day.

One by one, a troupe of eager children arrives at the pool. Sporting the latest swim gear, matching kitbags, the shoes, the goggles, the hairdo, the saunter. They're all very confident. They've certainly already had many years of their parents telling them how amazing they are. ‘You could go all the way. Train hard. Do what your coach tells you. There's no time to be tired, you could go all the way.' You hear it enough times, you certainly believe it.

Shelley rolls out of the car with her towel under her arm and a plastic bag with some clothes in it. Jandals, a hoody and a pair of board shorts over togs her mum picked up at the Sallies for $1.99. A bargain. Shelley's not feeling so great. These kids look mean.

‘Hey Shelz,' says Jamie. ‘I gotcha a swim cap if you want it? Oh, and some goggles too. Here ya go.' Handing over her gear.

‘Gee, thanks. How do you wear these things?' Shelley's more nervous now.
What am I doing here
, she thinks to herself.

‘Don't worry Shelz, I'll help you.' And they fuss over the cap and goggles till Shelley is all sucked up in this latex suction cup.

Shelley follows closely behind Jamie to the pool. Jamie takes some time to catch up with her mates, all the while keeping an eye out for her good buddy. No one knows how excited Jamie is that her friend has been invited to swim today.

The whistle blows, and all the kids hustle to the seats, sitting in an orderly way. Shelley parks herself at the end of the row, at least a metre away from the rest of the crew. The coach steps forward, eyeballing her latest protégés.

‘So,' she exclaims. ‘So, you think you all can swim, huh?' As confident as this bunch is, they sure don't look it right now. The coach has a strong presence – not to mention her reputation for being a hard-arse. Her glare burns right through them all.

‘You!' Coach has her eyes sharpened for the stout-looking thing at the end of the row. The one with the hand-me-down swimmers. ‘You! What are you doing here?' Her tone of voice commands an answer, but Shelley's throat has clammed up. Her palms are sweaty, and the hairs on the back of her neck have almost jumped out of her skin. She's embarrassed.

‘Are you deaf, girl? Can you hear me?'

‘Um Coach, this is Shelley, she's …' Jamie is cut off before she can complete her polite introduction.

‘I wasn't asking you. I wanna hear from this girl here. Why are you here?' By now the coach has positioned herself directly in front of Shelley.
C'mon Shelley, pipe up and answer the question.
She reaches deep for an answer.

‘I got a letter, Miss.' Shelley's eyes are firmly fixed on the smooth calm water of the pool. She won't dare look the coach in the eye.

‘A letter, eh? And what does this letter say? C'mon, now! I wanna know!' The coach's gaze is even more fixed. She's picked her prey for the session.

‘My mama said that I got a letter, and to come to this swimming thing. I dunno why I got it, Miss. My mama just said.' Rocking from side to side now, Shelley wishes she had just rolled over this morning and pretended she didn't want to come here.

‘You dunno why you're here. Hmm. So you've wasted everyone's time. Great!' The coach looks around at the rest of the young swimmers. ‘Do any of you know why you're here?' The room is dead silent. They're all too scared to answer for fear of saying the wrong thing.

‘Hmm. Well, if you don't know why you're here, what did you come here for?' The coach paces up and down the row. ‘You all think you're here because you're the best in your club. You think you're the best in the region. You think you can be the best in the country. Ha ha ha ha. You think you've been hand-picked because you're special, don't ya?' The coach is just warming up now. ‘You think YOU CAN SWIM!'

There is utter confusion now. Some are wondering what planet this crazy woman is on. Others are challenging her words in their head, saying ‘I can swim, I can swim.' Shelley just wishes she stayed in bed.

‘I'm gonna tell you why you're here,' says Coach. ‘No. I'm gonna tell you why SHE'S here.'

No one ever likes to be singled out in a crowd. And the coach has her focus fixed on Shelley. For all the experience and technique that the other kids bring, Shelley brings something different. She is the sole purpose of this invite-only swim squad.

Nine months prior, Shelley and her mama were heading north to a family festivity. A solo parent, Shelley's mama had saved for months for everything they needed for the trip. Petrol, food, clothing and a small gift. They were prepared and excited and on their way up north.

The trip was long. Shelley's mama wanted to show her girl some sights on the way. They stopped to take in some wonderful views, including the best ice creams ever at an out-of-the-way dairy. Some good ole road journey fun.

Travelling down a secluded windy road, they came across a horrific accident. A lady had swerved across the road, trying to dodge a cow. Her car had gone head-on into a tree. Who knows how long she had been there? It was getting cold and dark on this lonely road.

‘Stay here,' said Shelley's mama as she swung the car door open. She rushed to look over the scene and check whether anyone was in the car. ‘Oh my gosh, Shelley! Come here bub, quick!' Shelley ran over to the crash scene, standing back a little, but curious to see what her mama had found.

‘Shelley, this lady is hurt. Really, really bad, darling. We need to help her.' The woman had suffered some injuries to her face and legs. She looked dazed and uncomfortable. It scared Shelley. She had never seen anything like it.

‘Shelley,' said her mama, ‘look at me, honey.' Not really paying attention, Shelley drew closer to her mama. They have a close bond. She trusts Mama.

‘Shelley, we need to help this lady. I want you to do something for me, but you have to be very brave.' Her mama looked her in the eye with conviction, trying not to look overawed. ‘OK, Mama,' Shelley said.

‘This lady needs help from the hospital, but I will have to drive up to the top of the hill to ring them. If we don't ring the ambulance, this lady may get very sick. I want you to stay with her for me, please. I promise I won't be long. Stay with her and hold her hand. Her name is Chalice.'

Tears started to well in Shelley's eyes. She didn't want to stay with this strange lady, in a strange car, in a strange place. She couldn't even tell what the woman looked like. Her face was covered in blood. But she trusted Mama, and agreed to stay.

Shelley's mama made sure they were safe, and raced off in the car. Cell phone coverage was at least five minutes away.

It was quiet, although the woman's breathing seemed loud. She was struggling with some pain in her leg, and grunted every now and then. She drew some strength to talk.

‘What's your name, young lady?'.

‘Shelley.'

‘And where are you from?'

‘A small place. Called Cavern.'

‘Oooh. I know that place. I grew up there too.' Chalice shuffled a little to try and get comfortable.

Shelley examined the car, and how it carefully moulded to the tree that brought it to a halt. ‘What happened, lady?' The question that had burned in her since they had arrived at the scene.

‘Oh dear. I wasn't careful, that's what. I took my eye off the road.' Chalice's discomfort seemed to irk her even more. But she was thankful for some company, and didn't want to scare this young child any more than she already was.

‘Where were you going?'

‘To a place called Kaupapa,' said Chalice. ‘I teach people to swim, you see.'

‘Oh,' said Shelley. ‘Sounds like fun.'

They sat in silence for a short while. Chalice's strength was wavering. Talking seemed like a huge task.

‘My mama says I can swim. I can be whoever I wanna be. I love swimming,' Shelley declared. ‘I watch the kids at the pool all the time. They look like dolphins playing in the water. Pretty.'

Chalice grinned. She understood. ‘You don't swim as well?'

‘No,' said Shelley. ‘No, I don't swim. Not with those kids. My mama and I, we don't have a lot. A little bit of money. We saved up for this trip to go see my family. They live in Kaupapa too. But I can swim!' Shelley is excited about the topic. The water is the one thing that sets her spirit alight. ‘I dive in the water, and watch the bubbles rise to the top. It's so pretty.'

Chalice listened intently. This kid had a wealth of dreams.

‘My mama says, one day she will save up for me to go to lessons. Then I can look like those dolphins playing in the water. I love my mama.'

‘I'm sure you do,' said Chalice. ‘I'm sure you do.'

The ambulance arrived, Shelley's mama following closely behind. She ran to her mama's embrace and watched closely as the paramedics took Chalice from her vehicle to the ambulance.

Chalice signalled for Shelley. ‘Shelley, I think I will be able to help you. You will swim like the dolphins. I promise.' With a comforting smile, Chalice was whisked away. Shelley and her mama continued their journey.

Shelley's mind races back.

Sitting there, at the edge of her seat. Shelley remembers that day. ‘Chalice?' She looks up at the coach. A detailed crease lines the side of her head where she'd once suffered a head injury.

‘To swim like the dolphins. This is why you are all here. This is what you will learn today.' The coach breaks a slight smile and winks at Shelley. She's finally able to fulfil a promise.

Shelley's heart warms, and she firmly studies the face of this confident woman who she met months past in a beat-up car on the side of the road.

Among the dolphins, Shelley unleashes her fins. Focusing on the coach's every word, she glides and soars, watching bubbles rise to the surface.