Blue Smoke (29 page)

Kepa thought for a moment. ‘I have two ponies that might be appropriate. A bay and a grey, both broken in and ready to go. Would you like to come over and have a look at them?’

Owen nodded. ‘I’ll bring Henry with me. Give him something to look forward to.’

‘Right,’ Kepa said, setting his hands palms down on the table decisively, ‘that is arranged then. Now, about these dishes?’

Tamar looked startled. ‘Good God, you’re not offering to roll your own sleeves up, are you?’

‘No, but I am offering to take you for an after-dinner stroll around the garden.’

‘Thank you, Kepa, that would be lovely,’ Tamar said graciously.

Kepa got to his feet, slid Tamar’s chair out with a very chivalrous flourish, then took her elbow.

Owen looked after them as they went outside, amused and rather touched by the way Kepa still treated Tamar — courted her, in fact — with the utmost respect, cherishing her as if she were still a beautiful young girl in the prime of her youth. It seemed the old man would never give up hope that Tamar might finally accept his proposals of marriage, even though he’d been making them for years and she, for just as long, had been turning him down. In a way Owen rather hoped that they would finally marry, because that would somehow make the circle complete, and he liked a happy ending.

Outside, the sun had not long gone down behind the Ruahine Ranges, leaving on the lawn spills of shadow that were blurring rapidly into a velvety dusk, and the air was still redolent with the warmth of the day. Tamar and Kepa strolled arm in arm around the paved borders of the formal flowerbeds, admiring the plants and enjoying the heady scents drifting up from the blooms. Tamar
loved roses — but only the varieties with a strong perfume — and there was a mass planting of these in the garden’s central plot, from ice white through to the deepest of burgundies.

‘They have done well this year, have they not?’ Kepa noted.

He too liked roses, but enjoyed even more Tamar’s delight in them. He had a stunning new sunset-hued cultivar for her back at the village, but would not present it to her until New Year’s Day. Perhaps they could plant it then together.

‘Yes, they have, thanks to James’s new underground watering system. It took him weeks to install the thing, the hoses and the sprinklers and what have you, but it’s been worth it, I think.’

‘He seems a changed man, James.’

‘Very much so.’

‘Do you think it was the move back out to Kenmore?’

Tamar sat down on a wooden garden seat, hooking the handle of her walking stick over the arm, and patted the space next to her.

‘It certainly helped,’ she replied when Kepa had seated himself, ‘but I suspect the change occurred before he and Lucy actually moved back, which was part of the process of leaving his old life behind, if you like. I think it was partly to do with that business with the New Zealand Legion, and the appalling state of his finances because of the gambling, but I think the big thing was Duncan. His need to have his son back was greater than his desire to wallow in all that misery, so he finally decided to let the past go.’

Kepa grunted in acknowledgement.

‘And,’ Tamar went on, picking a rose thorn out of the fabric of her crepe skirt, worn instead of her usual trousers in honour of Christmas dinner, ‘I’m extremely pleased he was able to do that, not just for his sake, but for Duncan’s too. When he comes home he’s going to need support, and as a veteran himself James will understand. It would have been just too awful if they were still at
odds and James missed the opportunity to help his own son, and of course if Duncan missed the opportunity to learn more about his father. God knows they never understood each other before.’

‘Mmm,’ Kepa said thoughtfully. ‘And I gather he has now come to terms with you and me? We get on quite well these days, though he has never said a word to me about you. But then I do not suppose he would.’

‘Oh, yes, he is much more understanding, although I must admit it did take a while, even after they moved back here. He came to me one evening, oh, about six months later I suppose, and actually apologised for his behaviour over it all and for what he termed his rudeness.’

‘He was a little rude at times.’

‘He was very rude, darling, most of the time, and you know it. And I admire you for never doing or saying anything about it. But he said he’d had a good think, and he understood it had nothing to do with his father, and I was entitled to some happiness even though Andrew had gone. I think he felt ashamed of himself, actually. And regretful, because underneath all that hostility he has always quite admired you.’

Kepa turned to look at her. In the growing darkness the planes of his face were even sharper than usual, and the silver in his hair glinted. ‘Why have you never told me this?’

‘I’m sorry, dear, but I promised him I wouldn’t. But that was years ago now, and, well … it was years ago.’

‘Did he ask you not to say anything?’

‘Not at all, I just thought it wiser to keep it between the two of us. For his sake, really. I hope you’re not offended.’

‘Of course not.’ Kepa took Tamar’s hand. ‘It was business between you and your son, not me. I admire you for respecting his feelings.’

They looked at each other and laughed until Tamar finally asked,
‘So, do you think we’ve admired each other enough for one night?’

‘I suspect so. One should not bask in the warmth of one’s admirable qualities for too long or one might find that one’s hat does not fit any more.’

Tamar chuckled again. ‘Don’t be pompous, dear. Although, is that why you’re wearing a new one tonight?’

‘A new what?’

‘Hat.’

‘Oh, no, this was a gift from my mokopuna, Ngapere, Makere and Rangimarie’s little ones. They chose the style especially from a catalogue, saved up and sent away for it.’

‘Yes, the emerald feather in the band really suits you. And it looks so striking against the blue felt.’

Slightly huffily, Kepa replied, ‘I did not say they have good taste, my moko, but I will wear it because they gave it to me. It is precious.’

Tamar patted his arm. ‘I know it is, I was only teasing. I received the latest copy of
Beano
from Henry for Christmas. Used, of course. But it was very important to him and he chose to give it to me, so I’ll treasure that too.’

Kepa grunted again. ‘It is funny, is it not, how we live through our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and they in a way live through us? They need us to anchor them, to define who they are in the world, and we in turn need them because they are the part of us that will go on after we die.’

‘That’s rather morbid.’

‘Perhaps, but it is true. And I think you are well aware of it these days, my love, as I am myself. We are old now and our time has almost come.’

‘Or gone, if you want to look at it the other way around.’

Kepa looked at her quizzically. ‘That depends on what you believe, does it not? If we are to go on to something else after
this, then surely our time has come, not gone?’

‘Well, it would be very nice to believe that there is something else, but I’m not entirely sure that I do,’ Tamar replied.

‘That is a shame, for surely that makes the contemplation of one’s own passing even more frightening?’

‘You’re being pompous again. And I’m not frightened, not at all.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ And she meant it. She shivered slightly. ‘But I am getting cold. Shall we go in?’

‘I’m afraid I must leave now. I promised to take Hemi and Rewi fishing in the morning.’

Tamar smiled and rose to her feet, Kepa’s hand under her elbow to steady her, and they walked slowly around the house to his truck in the driveway.

They halted at the base of the steps leading up to the front door, Kepa turning her to face him.

‘Merry Christmas, my love,’ he said quietly, and softly kissed her cool lips, relishing the feel of her skin and the familiar scent of lavender she always wore. ‘I love you, Tamar. No matter what, I love you.’

‘Merry Christmas yourself,’ Tamar whispered back. ‘Drive carefully.’

‘I will.’

She waited until he had climbed into the cab of his truck and started the motor, then raised her hand in farewell.

But suddenly, and inexplicably, she felt she needed to say something else to him. She hurried over to the driver’s door and he wound the window down.

‘Kepa? I love you too, very much. Remember that.’

He reached out and touched her hair. ‘Always.’

He was up at six the next morning, and was rinsing his breakfast dishes under the kitchen tap when he heard the sound of little voices arguing on his front verandah. He propped the rim of his plate against an upturned tea cup, and set the frying pan upside-down next to it to drain. Then, drying his hands on a tea towel, he walked down the hall to see what the fuss was about.

‘Taihoa!’ he exclaimed as he encountered two small boys, each hanging on to opposite ends of a wooden fishing tackle box, tugging it hard enough to spill the contents everywhere if they should drop it.

‘I’m putting the hooks on!’ one was complaining loudly.

‘No,
I
am. You did it last time!’ wailed the other.

‘I … did …
not
!’

‘You
did
!’

‘I
didn’t
!’

Kepa threw up his hands. ‘Boys!
Boys
! Stop that, or no one will be going fishing!’

‘But Koro, he started it!’

‘That is enough, Hemi. There are plenty of lines and plenty of hooks. Enough for everyone.’

Hemi’s bottom lip wobbled, but he hung on to his tears. It was always like this, his big brother pushing him around and telling him what to do. Rewi
had
put the hooks on last time, so it must be his turn today.

Kepa looked down at his great-grandchildren fondly, taking in their bushy dark hair and their bright brown eyes and chubby cheeks. Their feet were bare and they both wore baggy shorts and their special ‘fishing’ shirts, faded and full of holes, just like his own. They were constantly arguing, these two. Hemi was six and Rewi was seven, and competition between them was fierce. But they were good little boys, both of them, and he loved spending time with them.

‘Do you have your canvas shoes, for the rocks?’ he asked. The rocks where they intended to fish today were sharp and their feet would be cut to shreds.

‘Yeees, Koro,’ They answered in unison.

‘Where?’

They both pointed at a rucksack lying on the steps.

‘Mama made our lunch, too,’ added Hemi.

Kepa nodded. ‘Just let me get my hat and my fishing kit, all right? And then we will go.’

Ten minutes later they were in Kepa’s truck, the boys bouncing all over the bench seat as they headed towards the sea and Kepa’s favourite fishing spot.

It was a twenty-minute walk along the sand to the point and the rocks at the bottom of the steep cliff closing off one end of the bay. Kepa adjusted his blue ‘mokopuna’ hat to keep the sun out of his eyes, and enjoyed the warmth as he walked. The tide was half in, so they could not linger today — the swell around the point could come up very suddenly and cause the rock shelf from which they were to fish to become cut off, and it was a very challenging climb up the cliff.

Ahead of him, the boys were squatting curiously over something on the sand.

‘What is it?’ he asked as he caught up with them.

‘Baby mako,’ Rewi answered, poking the carcass of the small shark with a stick. Sea lice leaped in all directions and the boys jumped back. They itched like mad, sea lice, if they bit you.

‘It
stinks
,’ observed Hemi, holding his nose and screwing up his brown face.

‘You would too if you had been lying out here all morning, and probably all of yesterday, as well,’ Kepa said, amused.

‘Then why hasn’t something
eaten
it?’ Rewi demanded.

‘I do not know. Perhaps something will, today. Or perhaps it will
be taken out to sea again with the tide, where it belongs.’

But the novelty of the dead shark had already worn off and the boys were away again, running ahead — leaving Kepa to carry their rucksack along with his own — and drawing long, sweeping lines in the smooth sand with their sticks.

Eventually they came to the rocks and Kepa called them back and made them stand still in front of him.

‘Now, listen to me, carefully. These rocks can be very dangerous. The waves can sneak up on you. We are only going to fish off them if you do exactly as I say. Do you understand me?’

Two dark little heads nodded gravely.

‘We are only staying for two hours. After that the tide will be too high and we will be cut off from the beach. If we have not caught any fish by then, too bad. All right?’

The boys glanced at each other and rolled their eyes — silly old Koro and his rules. ‘Yes, Koro.’

‘Good.’ Kepa hefted the rucksacks over his shoulder. ‘Now, see that gap between the two biggest rocks? We will climb up there, and then walk over onto the flat shelf at the edge of the sea. When we get there we will bait the lines and
I
— I, you understand, not you — will cast them. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Koro,’ Rewi said, ‘but can we hold the lines?’

‘You can hold them as long as you stay away from the edge. If a big wave comes you will be swept off.’

‘Nah,’ Rewi said, puffing out his skinny chest. ‘We can swim! Eh, Hemi, we can swim, we’ll be all right.’

‘Boy!’ Kepa snapped. ‘Listen to me. You can swim, I know that, but are you strong enough to hold your head above the water while you are being bashed against the rocks? Can you keep afloat long enough for someone to pull you out? Can you pull
Hemi
out, if he is swept in too?’

Rewi looked crestfallen.

‘No, I did not think so. But if you stay away from the edge, and do exactly as I say, you will not have to do any of those things. Tangaroa does not take kindly to smart-aleck little boys who think they know everything about the sea when they do not know the first thing. Understood?’

The boys nodded, both rather soberly now.