Amber (12 page)

Kitty opened her mouth to speak, but Sarah cut her off again. ‘No, please, I need to finish. I have asked God for forgiveness, and He has seen fit to grant that to me. Now I’m asking you for forgiveness also. I do not expect it, Kitty, but I would like it.’

Kitty reached out and hugged her aunt tightly. ‘Oh, Aunt Sarah, of course I forgive you. And I’m sure Wai would too, if she could. It wasn’t your fault that we had to leave. Please believe that. We had to go anyway, because of Tupehu.’

Sarah burst into tears, sobbing damply on Kitty’s shoulder while Rebecca and Mrs Williams looked on, dabbing at their own eyes.

Kitty awkwardly patted Sarah’s back until her aunt finally stepped back, fumbling for her handkerchief. ‘Oh dear, I’m so relieved,’ Sarah mumbled, then blew her nose. ‘I’ve dreaded this day.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have,’ Kitty admonished, feeling that a weight had finally been lifted from her own shoulders. ‘How have you been faring, Aunt Sarah? Has there been any news of Uncle George?’

Her aunt’s face changed, and for a second the old Sarah was back. ‘No, there has not,’ she said testily. ‘But in his case, no news is definitely good news. And I hope there never
is
any news, come to that.’

Kitty stared, shocked by the vehemence in her aunt’s voice, even though God knew she had reason for it.

Sarah’s tone softened and she added, with a twinkle in her eye, ‘You see, dear, I have a suitor. I believe one is supposed to wait seven years until one’s missing spouse can be declared dead, and I’ve still got two years to go. Still, I am hopeful.’

Kitty exclaimed, ‘Aunt Sarah!’ and burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, but that sounded really funny.’

Sarah said, ‘I know that’s a dreadful thing to say about the man I once loved, and I did love George for many years, I truly did. He was a good man, and very devout, and he was so inspiring in the pulpit. But something went terribly wrong with his mind. Well, you know that, Kitty, you saw him.’

Kitty said nothing, recalling with a shudder how progressively
more deluded, demanding and frightening George had become during his time as a reverend at Paihia.

Sarah’s face hardened again, but in it Kitty could also see a shadow of sadness for the man her aunt had once loved. ‘In the end he was evil. There is no other word to describe him. He must have been to…to do what he did. Not even the Lord could forgive him for that. But now he has gone, and I believe that is for the best.’

Kitty nodded, but now she was thinking about someone else, someone she very much wanted to speak to but with whom she had absolutely no intention of reconciling. ‘And Amy? Is Amiria still here?’

Amy—cunning, wilful and hot-headed—had been a housegirl in the Kellehers’ Paihia household at the same time as Wai, her cousin, and it had been Amy who had told Tupehu that Wai had become pregnant by the Reverend George Kelleher. Tupehu had gone insane with rage and chased Kitty and Wai, and his own brother Haunui, down the beach and hurled spears and curses at them as they escaped out to the
Katipo
.

‘Amy has gone as well,’ Rebecca said, her tone suggesting that this wasn’t a bad thing either.

‘When?’ Kitty asked, a horrible notion taking shape in her mind.

Sarah saw it. ‘No, she went about six months after George disappeared. That was the same day you and Wai left. He was last seen on his way home from Waitangi, on this side of the river. He was walking around Ti Point at Te Ti Bay, apparently.’

Kitty wondered whether Tupehu had come across him, and her uncle’s bones were now lying hidden somewhere between here and the mouth of the Waitangi River. ‘And nobody has seen him or heard from him since?’

Sarah shook her head. ‘Not a single word.’

‘We have had word of Amy, however,’ Rebecca said. ‘She
left the village here when Haunui came back with the child, and apparently went out to Hone Heke’s settlement at Pakaraka. I’m not sure if she is still there now. It’s rumoured that she has been seen with the rebel Maoris.’

‘What rebel Maoris?’ Kitty asked.

‘Heke’s people. The ones who have been cutting down the flagstaff at Kororareka.’

Kitty opened her mouth to ask more, but suddenly noticed that the last of the Maoris were leaving the beach and heading back to the village. Her questions would have to wait.

Wai’s tangi began that afternoon and went on for two days and two nights. The population of Pukera had increased considerably for the occasion, swelled with visitors come to pay their respects to Wai and her family. But there was plenty of food—pork and kai moana and kumara and potatoes—and the weather so balmy that most people slept outside.

On the first night were the formalities. As the wharenui was too small to hold everyone, Wai’s waka taonga was laid in the porch and the people gathered on the paepae before it to hear the speakers and take part in the grieving. First came the speakers from Pukera, including Te Rangi, Haunui’s half-brother who had ascended to chief when Tupehu died, then at least half a dozen orators representing the manuhiri. Then Reverend Augustus Dow, the Church Missionary Society minister standing in for Reverend Henry Williams, who was away, said a prayer and read some passages from the Bible, followed by Pukera’s tohunga, who also led prayers, although they were definitely not Christian. Wai had been baptised, and was therefore entitled to an Anglican service, but Haunui had evidently insisted she also have a traditional Maori farewell.

Kitty’s old friend Simon Bullock arrived at eight in the evening—she recognised him immediately, hovering with his
hat in hand and waving discreetly at her across the paepae.

‘Look, there’s Simon,’ she whispered excitedly to Rian. ‘I’m going to say hello.’

Rian lifted his hand in greeting and Simon replied with a salute.

Kitty waited until the current speaker paused to contemplate his next words, then wove her way to the back of the sitting crowd towards Simon.

Grinning broadly, he took her hands and kissed her cheek. ‘Kitty! It’s marvellous to see you! I heard this morning that you’d arrived. How are you?’

‘I’m well, Simon, thank you. It’s lovely to see you, too.’ Noting that he looked as sartorially uninspired as he always had, she was pleased she had bought him the new shirt.

‘I see you brought her home,’ Simon said, inclining his head towards the wharenui. ‘I knew you would, when you could. You always were a good person, Kitty.’

Kitty’s eyes grew hot with unexpected tears. ‘I’m so pleased you’re still here, Simon.’

Simon sighed. ‘Yes, I’m still out at Waimate growing oats and barley and trying to indoctrinate small defenceless children with the teachings of the CMS.’

Kitty felt a twitch of disquiet; he sounded jaded and even slightly bitter, and, just for a moment, most unlike the Simon she knew. She regarded him more closely, and noticed lines fanning out from his kind eyes and his generous mouth that definitely hadn’t been there five years ago.

‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘You’re not having a crisis of faith, are you?’ Such a question would be considered extremely rude if she had asked it of anyone else, but she knew Simon wouldn’t mind.

‘Not so much a crisis of faith, as such. More a crisis of, shall we say, denominations?’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes. But I’ll tell you about that later, shall I? And by the way, Kitty, you’re a dreadful liar.’

‘What? Why?’ she demanded in bewilderment.

Simon reached out and tapped the wedding ring on her finger. ‘You told me you weren’t the marrying kind. You turned me down, remember?’ But he was smiling again. ‘Well, you would have if I’d asked you.’

Kitty did remember; she’d been terrified he was going to ask for her hand, so she had spurned him before he’d had the chance. As it had turned out, he’d had no intention of asking her to marry him, so it was all a bit embarrassing. But amusing, eventually.

‘Well, clearly I was mistaken, wasn’t I?’

‘He’s a good man, the captain,’ Simon said, and for some reason his approval pleased Kitty inordinately. ‘No children yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s a shame. I’ve always thought you’d make a wonderful mother.’ Simon looked around. ‘Are the Paihia people not here? That’s a bit rude, I must say.’

Assuming he meant the missionaries, Kitty said, ‘Yes, they were for a while, but they left when the tohunga got up to speak.’

Simon’s
moue
of disapproval suggested that he still thought the missionaries’ decision to leave was discourteous.

‘Come and sit down with us,’ Kitty suggested. ‘Come and say hello to Rian. And the rest of the crew are here somewhere as well. Except for Sharkey, of course.’ And she told Simon what had happened in Durban, and also that they had a temporary crewman on board, although not the story of how he came to be sailing with them; she wasn’t sure if Simon would approve of Rian’s decision to harbour a self-confessed murderer. ‘But Rian told him to stay on the
Katipo
because he’s not had anything to do with Maoris and we didn’t think this was a suitable time to introduce him.’

Simon resolved to stay the night at the village—perhaps, Kitty thought, to make amends for the other missionaries—although at eleven o’clock she and Rian made their way by the light of an oil lamp back to Paihia. They spent the night with Sarah and returned to the village the next morning to find that even more people had arrived for the tangi.

For the rest of that day, between eating from the huge hangi that was opened three times a day and meeting up with people neither of them had seen for a long time, Kitty and Rian sat sweating in the merciless sun, listening to the speakers on the paepae. Sarah had lent Kitty a parasol, but she didn’t want to use it in case she blocked the view of those behind her, which would surely be the height of bad manners.

They also heard the news about the disturbance Hone Heke and his followers had been causing over the past six months, prompting Rian to mutter darkly, ‘I knew he’d regret signing that bloody treaty.’

Or rather, they heard several different versions of it from a range of people. Kitty wished they could talk to Haunui, but he was keeping vigil in the porch with Wai and she didn’t wish to disturb him.

It was Simon, however, who gave them the most sensible account of what had been going on. He started by relating to them developments since the treaty had been signed. Evidently, the first major rumble of Maori discontent had come after Governor Hobson’s decision to move the capital of New Zealand from Kororareka to Auckland, which deprived the Bay of Islands Nga Puhi Maoris of many economic benefits. The government had then introduced customs duties, which forced up prices, and had claimed the revenue from shipping duties that had previously gone to the Maoris. The whalers subsequently moved to other less-policed ports, the felling of kauri was also banned for a time, and land sales slowed when the government
took over their management. Hard times followed, and Heke began to complain that his authority, and that of the Maoris in general, was being undermined by British power.

Then Maketu, son of Nga Puhi chief Ruhe, had been hung for the murder of four European settlers and a high-ranking Maori woman. When Heke had discovered that some of his own Nga Puhi relatives had given permission for Maketu to be tried under British law, he, according to Simon, went mad, his party performing a vicious haka and firing loaded muskets into the air. Since then Heke had been gathering around him a group of very loyal and influential warriors and doing everything he could, and not always pleasantly, to ensure his people’s loyalty when the time came. Which it did, in July of 1844, when he sent his men to cut down the flagstaff flying the British flag at Kororareka.

‘He sent a letter to Governor FitzRoy in Auckland, insisting he wouldn’t do it again,’ Simon said. ‘You know FitzRoy took over after Hobson died in 1842?’ Kitty and Rian both nodded. ‘Well, actually, Willoughby Shortland did, but he was a fool. Fortunately, FitzRoy replaced him at the beginning of this year. But I’ll wager he
will
do it again. Heke, I mean. Things are very tense here at the moment. There’s a lot of talk flying about.’

‘Who’s doing the talking?’ Rian asked.

‘Mostly Heke and his lot. And the government, I suppose. We’ve heard rumours that a blockhouse could soon be built across at Kororareka.’ Simon swept his arm in a wide arc, encompassing the large crowd. ‘And everyone here now is talking, too. In a way it’s a little unfortunate that you brought Wai back when you did. I’m very glad you did, and so is Haunui, but it’s given everyone an excellent excuse to get together.’

Slightly alarmed, Kitty asked, ‘Hone Heke won’t be coming here, will he?’

‘I don’t know. Probably not. The last we heard he was down in Auckland.’

Kitty leaned back on her hands, relieved. Her feet were roasting in her black leather boots, her petticoats were sticking to her legs and sweat was trickling down her sides, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about encountering Hone Heke as well. She had seen him only once, the day before the treaty was signed at Waitangi. He had frightened her then, and the stories she was hearing of his trouble-making and rabble-rousing made her fear him even more now. She knew, though, that Rian would not see it like that. She could tell by the thoughtful look on his face that he was thinking about what they’d heard, possibly even about what he could do to help the Maoris in their fight against the Crown.

That night was the time set aside for storytelling: stories about Wai, stories about the ancestors, and about the great and wondrous deeds of Nga Puhi in general. Kitty found the tales fascinating, and laughed as heartily as everyone else when people remembered Wai as a little girl and how she had vexed her father, Tupehu. Or, at least, the man everyone had believed was her father. Kitty wondered if the people of Pukera now knew of Haunui’s long-standing love for his brother’s dead wife. Poor Haunui, losing her as well as their precious daughter. But at least he had his grandson, Tahi, now.

On the morning of the third day, Haunui carried his daughter’s remains from the village to the urupa a short distance away, Tahi walking beside him, his head up but his dark eyes struggling to blink back tears. What a brave little boy, Kitty thought, and knew in her heart that his mother would have been so very proud of him.