Where Cuckoos Call (13 page)

Again I watched the news by myself. The previous night I’d been in the depths of despair—now, I was over the moon. It was my big moment. Soon the whole world would find out about the special birds of Mansfield Bay. I sat on the edge of the sofa, shaking with excitement.

The story began with a view of our bay filmed from the helicopter—it looked incredible. Tim’s voice was in the background. ‘This is Mansfield Bay in the Coromandel. Just a few short weeks ago this was the scene of an archaeological hoax unprecedented in New Zealand history.’ The image changed to show Professor Waghorn with the two pieces of Lapita pottery. I had prepared myself for this, yet the picture of Waghorn still upset me.

But the professor soon disappeared, and Tim continued. ‘Today, I revisited the bay, and I now understand why someone would go to extreme lengths to try to preserve this place.’ The scene changed to a shot from Treetops, showing the rock wall. ‘At the height of Tuesday’s storm, a boy and his father fought for hours to stop the sea from flooding the birdnesting area here on the sand spit. It almost cost the man his life. He was only saved by the resourcefulness of his son, and the bravery of an old dog called Peg.’ We were then shown a video clip of Peg. She smiled and wagged her tail, as she always does.

‘And why did they do it?’ asked Tim. ‘It was to save this little fellow.’ The screen filled with a close-up of the chick. The cameraman must have filmed it from over my shoulder. ‘It is a phalarope chick—one of four which are now the rarest birds on earth.’

The photo was a masterpiece. Nobody could look at it
without feeling affection for the cheeky little thing. I knew then that this photo would become the image that people would have of Mansfield Bay. The Lapita would be forgotten. This little fellow tugged at the emotions: he would be the saving of the bay and its wildlife.

Most of the rest of the news passed in a blur. I know they covered the story of Tiny-M and T-Boy. They also had footage from the arctic wastelands. I saw the pictures and yet took little in. My feeling of relief blocked out almost everything.

Later, when I watched it again on video, I discovered there was an interview with an unhappy-looking Bill Wiltshire. He kept on saying that, yes, the plans may have to change, but it was too early to say anything definite one way or the other. Then came a spokesperson for the Society for the Protection of Coastal Birds. She said that the development had to be stopped, no matter what. ‘We’ll oppose it with every means we have. We’ll make sure it’s tied up in the courts for ever.’

Finally there was the panel of experts who explained how, why and when the chicks would become a new species. They’d even agreed on a possible scientific name:
Phalaropus mansfieldus
was their choice. At that I burst out laughing and couldn’t stop.

Peg looked up at me as if I was weird.

‘That’s not what Dad and I’d decided to call it,’ I told her.

Still she looked at me.

‘Do you want to know what we’re going to call it?’ Peg cocked her head to one side. ‘We’re going to call it
Phalaropus tittytowers
,’ I announced, laughing. ‘What do you think of that for a name?’

I never got her answer, because at that moment Mum rang. Towards the end of the following long conversation, I told her the new species’ name.

‘Over my dead body,’ she said, with a chuckle. ‘You call it that and I will personally kill every one of those chicks, so you’d better start thinking of another name.’

I didn’t need to. Mum and the scientists could use whatever name they liked. I knew what I would always call them, and I hoped Dad would do so too.

The next day—ten days before Christmas—I was taken to Auckland in Wiltshire’s helicopter. I was surprised he was still prepared to help us. I expected him to be peeved about the TV story (to put it politely), because now he would miss out on his ten million dollars.

I thought about these things during that helicopter ride. Bill Wiltshire’s loss also meant our loss, of course. We, too, would miss out on millions of dollars. How would my parents react to that? Mum had not said anything during our phone conversations, yet I doubted she was feeling good about it. While that was a concern, I was more worried about what would happen when I met Dad. I had promised not to interfere. Not only had I interfered, I had interfered and won. I had stopped the development. In his current state of mind that could trigger all sorts of reactions.

We landed at the downtown helipad where Wiltshire’s limo waited for me. He sure was laying on the treatment. Mum was staying at a hotel near the hospital. I hadn’t recognised the name, but when the limo drove up to the front, I realised it was one of the poshest in the city. By then I should have been suspicious. This hotel was well outside our price range, even with Wiltshire’s one hundred grand.

A bellboy rushed out and took my bag. The lift was a glass bubble that went up the side of the building, giving magnificent views of the harbour and its islands. We rose right
to the top—Mum’s room was the penthouse. The bellboy knocked on the door and we waited silently. The door opened and a woman peered around at us. It was Lucy Petersen. My heart started doing flips inside my chest. If Lucy was here, then so too might be Sarah-Lee. I was not prepared for any of this.

‘Hi, Ben,’ said Lucy, giving me a big hug. ‘Hazel’s getting changed at the moment. I guess you’d better come in.’

We moved through into a lounge area. The place was more than a hotel room, it was like a house. Sarah-Lee was standing with her back to me, looking out the window. She turned as I entered and smiled. ‘Hi, Ben. You look surprised to see me.’

I sure was. ‘Yes,’ I managed to blurt out.

‘You shouldn’t be. I’ve sent three emails saying I was coming and two since I arrived. You haven’t been reading your emails, have you?’ She tried to make out she was annoyed with me, but I could see that she was as thrilled as I was starting to feel. We stood for a moment staring at each other.

Just then Mum poked her head around a door. ‘Lucy, come and have a look at this,’ she called. ‘Hi, Ben,’ she added as an afterthought.

Now Sarah-Lee and I were by ourselves. I moved to the window and made out I was admiring the view.

‘Don’t I deserve a hug?’ asked Sarah-Lee, moving alongside me. ‘You’re not still mad at me?’

‘No!’ I said turning.

‘Then cuddle me.’

I did. At first it started out as one of those welcoming hugs. Then our cheeks touched and things started changing. I pressed my hands into her back and pulled her tight against me.

‘Mmmm. That feels nice,’ she said, pressing back. It did feel nice too—nice and a bit strange. Things were happening
inside me that I wasn’t too sure about.

‘Ah, it’s good to see you two are getting to know each other again.’ That was Lucy. Both her and Mum had stupid, knowing grins on their faces. As we separated, I could feel the blood surging into my face. I must have been glowing as red as a brake light.

‘It’s good that you get on so well,’ said Mum. ‘Sarah-Lee is coming to stay with us for a couple of months while Lucy and Steve do some work at Te Papa. They’ll be joining us for Christmas.’

I looked at Sarah-Lee: as they say in the novels, she looked radiant. Again my body started doing funny things. We’d only been back together for five minutes and already I knew that things had changed between us. What was it going to be like after a couple of months?

Mum and I walked the short distance to the hospital. My mind was a mix of emotions. I wanted to keep thinking about Sarah-Lee, but thoughts of Dad kept butting in. What would his reaction be when we met? Would he be Real Dad or Bacteria Dad? Oh, how I hoped it would be the first.

Mum interrupted my thoughts by handing me an envelope. ‘Here, a nurse delivered it to your dad’s room. It’s from Darryl Whitaker. I went and saw him, and he says he wants to meet you.’

The name shocked me. I had forgotten he was in the same hospital. I opened the letter, wondering what he wanted to say. The letter was handwritten, and in much better English than any of the emails. It made me wonder if the bad grammar of the emails had been like the helmets—another way of the bikers not revealing their true selves.

Hello Ben,

I want to thank you for saving my life. I’ve been told that another few hours on that sandbank and I would have died. As you can imagine, I’m very pleased that you found me.

I also want to apologise. We did some terrible things to you without ever thinking of it from your point of view. I’m ashamed of what we did. I would like to meet you so you can look me in the eyes and see how I feel. So, sometime when you are visiting your dad, come over to Room 4 on Ward 35 and we’ll have a chat. I’ll be there. I’m not going anywhere for a long time.

Darryl Whitaker

I folded the letter and put it in my pocket.

Mum asked, ‘Was that an apology?’ I nodded. ‘Then why don’t you go and see him first? Graham and I have plenty of things to talk about. We’ve got some papers to sign. It will help if we do that before you arrive.’

So, without much thought, I headed off in the direction of Ward 35 while Mum went to Ward 21. Then I realised what she had just said: ‘We’ve got some papers to sign.’ What papers were there to sign? I had thought all that business was finished with. Then I grasped the significance of the date. It was December the fifteenth—the last day for us to sell Mansfield Bay. They were still going to do it. After all that had happened, they were still going to sell. No wonder Wiltshire had provided the helicopter and his limo. This was his day of celebration. This was when he took control of Mansfield Bay.

If my mind hadn’t been such a mess of other things, I would have given more thought to what might happen when I met Darryl. I might have realised that there was a chance that Blue and Red could also be there. Instead, I walked into that hospital thinking it was the safest place on the planet. What a mistake
that
was.

It’s a big hospital and I soon found that every corridor looks much the same. I didn’t get lost: I knew I was on the right floor, but I just couldn’t find Ward 35. It seemed like I was going around in circles.

I turned one corner, which looked just like all the others, when a toilet door burst open into my face. I walked straight into it. Two guys came out.

‘You ought to look where you’re going, kid,’ said one of them.

‘Yeah, you might get hurt,’ said the other. Then he stopped and stared at me. ‘Hey,’ he sneered. ‘Look who it is—this is our lucky day.’

I decided to run.

‘No you don’t, Bird Boy.’ It was Red Honda: only he could say ‘Bird Boy’ with such menace. A hand grabbed my clothes, pulling me back. I swung around and chopped down with my fist. It was enough. I was free. With more speed than I thought possible, I sped off around the corner. For a while I heard footsteps behind me and then nothing. Still I kept running, down the corridor and around another corner. Only then did I dare take a look back—there was no one. I’d got rid of them. Yet I didn’t feel safe. The corridor was deserted. I had to get to where the people were. Nurses, doctors, visitors, patients—who cared?—so long as there were people.

Unfortunately, I was in a part of the hospital that was between wards. It seemed to be all storage rooms and no humans. I decided to find the lifts and get down to the foyer where there were sure to be people. But where were the lifts? If I wasn’t lost earlier, I was now. I had no idea which way to go.

I wandered aimlessly for a while, before hearing the chime of a lift stopping. It was around the next corner. Cautiously, I took a look, and yes, there it was, with the door still open. Then the chime dinged again and the door began to close. I sprinted forward, sliding the last few metres to jam my foot in the door. It wasn’t needed: an arm stretched out from inside and forced the door open for me.

‘Come in, Bird Boy.’ It was Blue. He reached out and grabbed hold of my arm. His other hand held a cellphone. ‘I’ve got him here in the lift,’ he told the phone. ‘We might as well do him here.’ Then he turned to me. ‘What floor would you like, Bird Boy: broken bones, blood transfusions, or morgue?’

At that moment the door started to close again. There was an instant when the only thing stopping it was my arm. I pulled with all the strength I could find. I felt Blue crunch into the other side of the door and instantly his grip relaxed. I twisted around and wrenched his arm sideways. He screamed. Then the safety switch was triggered and the door began to open. I caught a glimpse of Blue, doubled up and holding his shoulder, before I took off back the way I had come.

I could hear Blue coming after me. ‘He’s got away,’ he was saying. ‘He’s heading in your direction.’ I raced down corridors, slid around corners, bashed against walls. I couldn’t let them catch me again. After what I’d done to Blue, I was in for a beating, for sure.

But I knew I couldn’t keep running for long—I was already having trouble breathing. I had to find somewhere to hide. I started testing doors—they were all locked. Plus it was
slowing me down. Blue was getting closer by the second.

I rounded a corner and there was the toilet. I was back where it had started. And there, also, further along the corridor, was Red, with his back to me, talking on his phone. There was nothing for it but to duck into the toilet.

The first cubicle had no lock, the second had a lock that was broken, and there was no third cubicle. The only other place was the janitor’s cupboard. I pulled on the handle and miraculously it opened. And, yes, there was enough room in it for me. Quickly I slid inside, and closed the door behind me. In the dim light I could see boxes of toilet rolls stacked at the back. With a bit of rearranging I managed to squeeze behind them until I was hidden.

After all the exertion, my breathing sounded like a steam train and my heart thudded like a jackhammer. I might be hidden, but was I safe? Had Blue been close enough to see me turn the corner? If he had, then it wouldn’t take long to work out where I was. I crouched and waited and hoped.

Some minutes passed before I heard the door to the toilets hiss as it opened. There was a pause and then the crash of a cubicle door being slammed back. Then the other. Next the cupboard door opened, and my space was filled with light. I held my breath, yet could not still my heart—they had to be able to hear it. Ages went by before the light dimmed as the door closed. Shortly afterwards the outside door hissed again, and there was silence.

I started breathing normally once more. I was safe—they’d looked and hadn’t found me. All I had to do now was wait until they’d left the building and things would be fine. I’d give them half an hour. Even if they decided to hang around, that was long enough for them to get bored and give up.

My first stop was one of the cubicles to relieve my nervousness. I sat working out my next moves. The thing to do
was to contact one of the security guards. Then I would go and see Dad. Darryl could wait for some other time.

With this plan in mind I walked out of the toilet into the corridor. I’d gone only a couple of metres before there was a yell: ‘There he is!’ I looked up to see Red running towards me. I turned and there was Blue. My best bet was past Blue as he was already injured. I ran straight at him and then veered so that I was dodging past his injured arm. He didn’t even attempt to put a hand on me. Instead, he stuck out his foot and I sprawled onto the floor.

Instantly, Red had a hold of me, dragging me to my feet. A hand clamped over my mouth and my arm was forced up my back.

‘Well, well, well,’ gloated Red. ‘It’s Bird Boy again. Just when we were about to give up.’

Blue moved around to face me. ‘And no dogs and no tractor and no daddy to look after him.’ Then he hit me in the stomach. ‘That’s just for starters, Bird Boy. They’ll have to find a bed for you when we’ve—’ He stopped. There was someone coming along the corridor, whistling. A man by the sound of the footsteps. My hopes rose.

Blue nodded towards the toilet door. ‘Get him in there,’ he hissed. Red gave me a shove forward, and for a moment his hold over my mouth loosened. It was enough for me to let out a bit of a yell. Then I struggled—no way was I going to be taken into that toilet. I’d be dead if I went in there with them.

I lifted my leg, jammed a foot against the wall and pushed with every muscle I had. Red wasn’t expecting it and he stumbled backwards, letting me go. I lost my balance and crashed towards the floor.

I never made it: two big arms reached out and grabbed me just before I hit.

‘Whoa! Take it easy there.’ The voice sounded vaguely
familiar. ‘You’ll hurt yourself doing that sort of thing.’

He lifted me in the air and dropped me onto my feet. Then he smiled at me. ‘Kia ora, Ben. Your mother said I’d find you around here somewhere.’

I stood and gaped. It was Cole Smith. The two bikers were doing the open-mouth act too. It was not just the shock of seeing him, it was also amazement at his size. I was used to seeing him on TV playing rugby. He looked big there, but that was amongst other big players. Next to normal-sized people he was huge.

Red was the first to recover. He backed away, getting ready to take off. Cole stretched out a long arm and placed it on his shoulder.

‘Hold it! I think you and I have some talking to do.’ He turned to Blue: ‘You, too.’ They both froze—Cole was not the sort of person you argued with. ‘So where’s the room your mate’s in? Would somebody like to show me?’

Red and Blue looked at each other before hanging their heads and moving off down the corridor.

Cole caused quite a stir as we walked through the ward and into the room that Yamaha shared with five others. Nurses nudged each other, patients choked on their pills, and visitors strained to get a look at the famous giant.

Darryl Whitaker would have fallen out of his bed if he hadn’t been tied in place. His leg was raised and connected to a frame with ropes. I smiled to myself: there was no way he was going to cause any trouble now.

‘Right,’ said Cole. ‘We’ve got a few things to sort out here. First of all, let’s have some introductions. I gather you all know Ben’s name and mine, but we only know Darryl’s. So who are you two?’

He had to repeat the question before Blue grudgingly answered. ‘Aaron Blakeson.’

‘Josh Hutley,’ added Red.

It was then that I knew the whole business with them was over. No longer could they hide behind their helmets or their emails and get away with things. We knew their names, and if they did anything from now on they would get caught.

‘And you’re both in the same rugby team as Darryl?’ They nodded. ‘Then I would have seen you play in the curtain-raiser to the Fiji versus Maori test?’ Again they nodded. ‘So why are a couple of rugby players beating up my friend Ben?’

They were silent; neither of them would look at me or Cole.

‘Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s because you haven’t got the guts to take the blame for what happened to Darryl. Look at him. He’ll probably never play rugby again. And where were you when he needed help? Sitting inside drinking yourselves stupid, I bet. If it hadn’t been for Ben, Darryl would now be dead. You both know that, don’t you?’ They each gave a slight nod. ‘So instead of beating Ben up, you should be thanking him and apologising.’

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Josh.

‘Yeah, same here,’ added Aaron.

‘Oh no!’ said Cole. ‘You’re not getting off like that.’ He turned to me. ‘Your mum said you got a letter from Darryl. Was that an apology?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you can expect one from each of these other two. Do you understand that, Josh? Aaron?’

Josh raised his head and looked at me. ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’

Aaron wouldn’t look at me, but said, ‘Same here.’ Then after a pause, ‘I just want the whole thing finished with. We never intended it to get like that. It just happened.’ Then he looked at
me and I saw that his eyes were moist. At that moment I saw an ordinary guy who had made stupid mistakes. He was not the monster I’d imagined. I doubted that he was a lot different to me. I stretched out my hand and we shook. Then Josh and I did the same, and finally Darryl.

‘That’s good, so far,’ said Cole. ‘Tell me, Darryl, have the police been to see you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So what happened?’

‘They knew about the emails and stuff. They told my parents and said the information would be entered against my name. They haven’t yet decided whether to lay charges.’

‘OK,’ said Cole. ‘Then I’ll make sure they get Josh’s and Aaron’s names as well.’ He turned to Red and Blue. ‘You can expect a visit over the next few days, so you’d better get your parents prepared for it. And you better start hoping that the police decide not to lay charges. If you end up with a criminal conviction, you can kiss your rugby careers goodbye. No professional wants to play alongside a criminal.’

Red and Blue stood there looking dejected. I got the feeling they were just starting to realise how bad their offending had been.

‘Now, let’s talk about some victim reparation. What does Ben get out of all of this?’ Cole turned to me. ‘Do you have any jobs in the bay that these guys could do for you?’

I thought for a while and then an idea popped into my head. ‘Yeah! They could clean out the pigsty,’ I said. ‘And the hen house.’

Cole grinned. ‘Perfect! And how often does this need to be done?’

‘About every three months.’

‘Even better. Then you can expect the school holiday visits to continue. But this time they’ll be there to clean out the
animal houses and not to bully you. If they do any more of that, just let me know, and the police will get to hear of it. You happy with that?’

‘Yep,’ I replied. ‘I’m happy with that.’

‘Great,’ said Cole. ‘Then so am I. Now if you go off and see your dad, the rest of us can talk a bit of rugby. I know you find it boring, but I bet these guys don’t.’

I turned to leave.

‘Ka kite,’ called Cole. ‘Keep in touch, won’t you? And keep looking after those birds.’ I nodded and gave a little wave. ‘Hey, and one more thing,’ he called just as I got to the door. ‘Why did the cuckoo go to hospital?’

I smiled: I knew the answer to that one. ‘Because it had the flew.’

‘Nah. You don’t know anything. It was because it needed tweetment.’