Remember Me (11 page)

When I finally convinced Mum I was OK, I rode around to Mack’s. I stood there ringing his bell until the next-door neighbour, Mrs Bolger, came out onto her front porch and called me over. I’d heard her in the shop plenty of times complaining about Mack’s drinking but she always kept an eye on him. It was clear she was upset.

‘Has your mother spoken to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well then, son, you know why Mack’s not here.’

Yes, because he tried to kill himself. Putting it into words in my mind still didn’t make it any more believable.

‘I just wanted to make sure.’

‘I’m sorry, son.’ Mrs Bolger waved me away and went back indoors.

I hopped back on my bike and rode up to the Church Army. On the way I tried to work out what sort of deal I could offer God to make sure Mack didn’t die. But somehow it all seemed too serious for the sort of deals that usually applied. Putting out the cushions and the hymnbooks seemed a pretty trivial trade-off for someone’s life, but I hadn’t a clue what else to offer. I wondered if maybe it would add weight if I said a couple of real prayers in the chapel. I thought I might even say a couple for myself. No matter how I tried I couldn’t escape the fact that I had Mack’s blood on my hands.

The door to the chapel was open. I looked around to make sure nobody was watching before I headed for the door. I would’ve died from embarrassment if any of my pals had seen me. I’d never live it down. Just as I reached the door Sister Gloria came out.

Sister Glorious, the girl of my dreams.

Once I wrote an essay about her. I talked about what a wonderful person she was and how easy it was for my pals and me to relate to her because she was closest to our own age. I suppose she would’ve been around nineteen or twenty. I talked about how we all wanted to be the monitor in her Bible classes and how just her presence could raise our spirits. My teacher took the essay at face value and wrote ‘Excellent, very poignant’ in the margin. None of us knew what poignant meant but it didn’t
matter. The essay was an in-joke. We couldn’t stop laughing, especially at the bit about raising our spirits. She raised something a whole lot more substantial than our spirits. What I failed to say in the essay—and this is what broke my pals up—was that Sister Gloria was an absolute honey. We called her Sister Glorious and she fuelled our fantasies like no other woman before or since. Every boy who ever attended the Church Army while Sister Glorious was there fell in love with her. She was gorgeous, with honey-coloured hair and the face of an angel, with the most amazingly clear blue eyes, able to melt granite. Honestly, we never stood a chance when those wonderful eyes turned on us. We stammered, stuttered and went weak at the knees. We fought for the right to be monitor in her Bible classes just so we could look at her. While we didn’t doubt she had the best tits in Auckland, Collitt reckoned he’d seen them in all their glory. He bragged he’d been peeping through the knothole in the ladies’ dressing shed down at the beach when Sister Glorious had come in to change after a swim. He reckoned you needed both hands to hold just one of them. I hated him for saying that, really hated him, even though it was more than likely Collitt was just big-noting. Ultimately, whether he’d seen her naked or not didn’t really matter. We didn’t need his confirmation. The Church Army sisters dressed like nurses but not even the drab neck-high uniform could hide what God had given Sister Glorious. Jane Russell would’ve killed for her figure.

If Sister Glorious got a shock finding me on the chapel doorstep, it was nothing compared to the shock I got. For once she wasn’t smiling. Clearly she’d gone into the chapel for the same reason I was heading there, to say prayers for Mack. I couldn’t begin to imagine what her trade-off would’ve been. She was perfect in every way. What did she have left to trade? What could God want from her that He didn’t already have? She was holding a damp handkerchief up to her eyes but tears still streaked her face.

I’m pretty sure it was her job to bring comfort to me but in this instance I wound up comforting her. She grabbed hold of me and hugged me as if I was her teddy bear while she sobbed her heart out. I couldn’t believe it. For the second time that afternoon I couldn’t speak, but for a totally different reason. My head was jammed up against the best tits in Auckland. I could hardly breathe. At any other time I’d have thought it was my lucky day. It would’ve given me something to really brag about later to my pals. But that wasn’t the way things happened. All I could think of was Mack and my role in his accident—if it was an accident. I was so worried about him that nothing else mattered. I couldn’t have summoned up a dirty thought if I tried. So I did what I could to comfort Sister Glorious. I held her and patted her back like I did for the small kids at school when they fell and hurt themselves. I think my teacher would’ve described that moment as poignant, too.

‘Have you heard from Captain Biggs?’ I asked when I managed to pull my head free. Sister Glorious slowly disengaged. I thought she might be self-conscious about hugging me but she treated it as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘He rang from the hospital asking me to put a note on the clubhouse door cancelling club.’ She wiped her eyes. Her vulnerability made her look even more adorable but nothing could deflect me from my mission. ‘He said he’s going to stay there for a while.’

‘Did he say how Mack was?’

‘He asked me to pray for him. Mack was being operated on.’

I didn’t like the sound of that but at least Mack was still alive.

‘I think I’ll ride up to the hospital.’

Sister Glorious put both hands on my shoulders, leant down and kissed me. Not on the cheek, not on the forehead but a proper kiss slap bang on the lips.

‘You’re a good boy,’ she said. She kissed me again.

‘I gotta go,’ I mumbled. Did I ever. Blood was rushing to my head and another less savoury part. It’s a funny thing but I’d survived having my head jammed between the best tits in Auckland and being pressed up against her wonderful body. I’d survived the eyes that could melt granite and her gorgeous vulnerability. But I had no defences against her kiss. It awoke the beast and the trouble with boxer shorts is that there’s nowhere for
the beast to hide. I spun away, hopped on my bike and pedalled off as quickly as I could, mortally ashamed. Mack had tried to kill himself because of my essay and I was desperate not to think or do anything wrong in case God took revenge for my sins on him. I hoped God would understand I’d done my best and I hadn’t wanted this to happen. I offered up a silent prayer for forgiveness and solemnly promised I would never mention my encounter with Sister Glorious to my pals. That seemed like a pretty fair trade-off to me. I didn’t think I could handle any more guilt.

The lady at the hospital enquiries desk wouldn’t tell me anything. She said she couldn’t because I wasn’t family and I needed to be accompanied by an adult. She wouldn’t even tell me if Mack was still being operated on. She said all this in a tone of dismissal as if I had no right to be there. As if I had no connection with Mack or his accident. I spotted the hospital chapel and remembered I still had unfinished business. But what if other people were in there? I inched towards the chapel like a wary cat suspecting the presence of a dog. It occurred to me God might be testing me to see how genuine and desperate I was for Mack to recover. The chapel door opened and two elderly ladies came out supporting each other and dabbing their eyes. I walked past them and took the plunge.

The chapel was tiny. I spotted Captain Biggs immediately. A man and a woman were sitting at the back,
heads down, holding hands. Captain Biggs was kneeling in the front row, hands clasped tightly in front of him. I tiptoed over and knelt beside him.

‘How’s Mack?’ I whispered.

They should warn kids about disturbing people who are deep in prayer. I don’t think he’d have got a bigger shock if the hand of God had tapped him on the shoulder. I don’t think he’d have got a bigger shock if he’d been holding the wire when I plugged in my homemade cotton-reel plug. He jerked and cried out like he’d been shot. The lady behind us gave a stifled scream and dropped something onto the floor.

‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘What are you doing here?’ gasped Captain Biggs.

I turned around to the couple in the back row.

‘Sorry,’ I said again.

The man started to grin and I even got a weak smile from the lady. I love it when people can see the funny side of things. Captain Biggs rose slowly to his feet.

‘Let’s go outside,’ he said to me. ‘Sorry about this,’ he said to the couple.

‘I came to see Mack,’ I said. ‘I’m worried.’

The lady gave us both a smile as we left.

Captain Biggs walked with me over to the enquiries desk. I was about to tell him he was wasting his time because he wasn’t family, when the dragon behind the desk smiled at him.

‘Your friend is out of theatre and in intensive care,’ she
said. ‘All they’ll say is that he’s as well as can be expected and under sedation.’

‘Can we see him?’

‘They might let you see him but definitely not the boy.’ She actually wrinkled her nose at me.

‘Is he going to die?’ I asked.

‘If his condition deteriorates someone will get in touch with…’ she checked her notes, ‘Captain Biggs.’ She was syrup to him and icicles to me. I’m sure she looked down at her desk just so she’d have the chance to flutter her eyelids and Captain Biggs was a big enough goose to fall for it. She was younger than my mum but dressed like my aunties, with big brooches and big rings and enough hair to stuff a pillow.

‘Wait here,’ Captain Biggs said.

There were chairs scattered around but I didn’t want to stay where boys my age weren’t welcome. I went outside and sat down on the stone steps leading up to the entrance. It wasn’t a bad move because it meant I could also keep an eye on my bike. I sat there weary beyond belief but wondering how old I’d have to be before people took me seriously and how old I had to be before I ceased being just
the boy from the draper’s
. It all seemed absurd and hopelessly unfair. I could write a story that made Mack want to kill himself but I couldn’t visit him in hospital.

Captain Biggs was back in less than five minutes.

‘They wouldn’t let me see him,’ he said. ‘He’s serious but stable. He has a fractured skull and internal injuries.
Apparently the right side of his body and his face are a mass of bruises. They said he looks worse than he is, which I suppose is good.’

‘Will he die?’

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

‘What are you going to do now?’

‘Go home.’

‘I came on my bike. I could double you.’

‘I thought I’d have to walk home. I didn’t bring any money with me.’ Captain Biggs probably didn’t have any money to bring. ‘Maybe it would be better if I doubled you.’

The prospect terrified me. Captain Biggs was hopeless on a bike. He’d never had one as a kid and it showed. The trouble was all my strength had evaporated and the prospect of doubling an adult as big as Captain Biggs was even more daunting. He hopped on my bike and I sat on the crossbar. We never said a word to each other until we’d wobbled all the way back to the Church Army.

‘Before you go,’ said Captain Biggs.

‘What?’ I was freezing cold. My bum was numb from sitting on the crossbar. Both the van that hit Mack and the Maples truck had been towed away and I’d missed the action. The streetlights had come on and cars were starting to use their headlights.

‘Your mother came to see me today.’

Oh no. After everything that had happened that was the last thing I wanted to talk about. Dad’s old Chev
would be coming down the road any second and Mum probably needed help setting the table. She got cranky if the table wasn’t laid before Dad got home.

‘I told her it costs ten shillings and sixpence to buy the vice-captain’s stripes and badge. I told her it would be a waste of her money buying them since your brother Rod turns sixteen next month and has to leave.’

Maybe it was just tiredness but I couldn’t see the connection.

Captain Biggs smiled at my confusion. ‘Giving you Rod’s stripes will cost your mother nothing. You’ll have to keep it a secret until then, but you’ll be the youngest captain CEBS has ever had.’

The torpedo struck without warning, silencing the engines and plunging the ship into darkness. The engineers and those in the vicinity of the engine room never stood a chance. Those still alive below decks and with their wits about them grabbed torches. It was decision time; whether to run for their lives and try to make it up on deck before the dark waters engulfed them, or put into practice everything they’d learned from their emergency drills and try to save the ship.

A
N EXTRACT FROM
‘T
HE
C
ONVOY
’

Mack’s liver started bleeding again two days after the accident. But for the fact that he was on 24-hour watch he would’ve died. Should’ve died. According to Captain Biggs, the doctors didn’t hold out much hope but Mack defied their predictions. He was sedated and made to lie still to give his liver a chance to heal.

In that first week when everyone and his dog wanted to know how Mack was, there was no one to tell them. Captain Biggs spent his days up at the hospital sitting by Mack’s bedside. Mum came up with the solution. She put a blackboard outside the shop leaning up against one of the display windows. She made Captain Biggs ring her twice a day and wrote the highlights of his report on the blackboard as a favour to those concerned. Can you imagine that happening today? The bulletin board kept everyone up to date. Even people heading into town crossed Richmond Road to check on Mack’s condition before catching the trolley bus. Mack the reprehensible drunk had metamorphosed into poor old Mack, friend and neighbour, and everyone was worried about him. Sales of cigarettes and matches went up from the moment Mum put the board out but that wasn’t why she did it.

I showed Captain Biggs how to ‘tap’ the cradle on public telephones to make free calls because I didn’t want him to be out of pocket. What you did was subtract each number from ten and tap the answer in a quick burst before moving on to the next. If the number was 25 051, you tapped 8, 5, 10, 5, 9—Nigel was the one who discovered this, which shouldn’t come as any great surprise. All my pals and I used this method to phone home if we were late from football practice or from a swim down at Shelly Beach Baths. Captain Biggs said it was dishonest and a form of stealing but I bet he did
it anyway. Fourpence a day for five days plus twopence on Saturday was a lot of money for him to fork out.

Eric and I rode up to the hospital most afternoons to bring Captain Biggs home. We usually found him chatting to the dragon. It’s embarrassing watching grown-ups flirt. She turned her headlights on him on full beam and he lapped up the attention. This scared the daylights out of Eric and me. If they ever got married and she accompanied Captain Biggs to Camp Jasper on our ten-day holidays, she’d ruin everything. Normally somebody’s mother came along to help out with meals and when kids got sick, but they never interfered. One look at the dragon and you just knew she’d try to run the show. We couldn’t drag the captain away fast enough. I gave him my bike to ride home and let Eric double me. Being doubled by Captain Biggs was even more dangerous than playing chicken with flash floods down in the drains. Trust me, that one ride with him was enough to last a lifetime.

I started writing my essay about the U-boat that was depth-charged but struggled with it. Concern for Mack and the burden of my guilt dominated my thoughts to the point where I couldn’t concentrate. I put words down on paper but they didn’t take me anywhere. It was the same at school. I fluffed arithmetic and spelling. Even the passages in comprehension tests confused me and English was a subject in which I normally excelled. I’d once seen a photo in
National Geographic
of a cheetah on some kind
of antelope’s back. The antelope was trying desperately to rejoin the herd but the cheetah’s claws and teeth were buried deep into its hide. It still galloped but you knew that sooner or later the weight of the cheetah would wear it down. I felt like I had a cheetah on my back. My cheetah was my guilt over my involvement in Mack’s attempted suicide.

On Tuesday, the week after Mack’s liver bleed, Mum stuck her head around the lounge door and said there was someone to see me. It coincided with the first time my U-boat story looked like taking shape. I only started making progress when I changed tack and decided to write the story from the point of view of the U-boat’s victims, the crew of a torpedoed cargo boat. My head was so full of images of seamen being swept through the boat on a tidal wave of sea water gushing in through the ruptured hull I was almost drowning in thoughts. I slammed my pen down in irritation and walked out into the shop expecting to find Eric or Gary. Instead I found Mr Holterman. He leant heavily on his crutches waiting for me by the part of the counter that was hinged.

‘Hello, son,’ he said. ‘Your mother said I could come in for a second. I won’t keep you.’

I guess I mumbled greetings back. In truth I was stunned. Mr Holterman had come to see me? I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or frightened. I didn’t know if it was safe to let him in but what choice did I have? I lifted the counter and unlocked the door beneath.

‘No need to rush, son, I’ve got plenty of time.’

I hadn’t realised I was rushing but wasn’t surprised. Mr Holterman had that kind of effect on me.

‘Straight ahead and first right,’ I said. I stepped back to let him past and then closed up the counter.

‘If you don’t mind I’ll stand,’ he said. ‘Saves me the trouble of getting back up.’ His eyes flicked around the room before settling on the desk. ‘You writing again? Another of your essays?’

‘Yes.’ I didn’t know whether to stand or sit. I compromised by standing on one leg with the other tucked in behind in unconscious mimicry.

‘What’s this one about?’

‘It’s about a cargo ship being torpedoed by a U-boat and the U-boat being caught on the surface by a Lancaster while it was finishing off the stricken ship.’

‘Wouldn’t be a Lancaster. More likely a flying boat, one of Coastal Command’s.’

‘A flying boat?’

‘A Catalina or a Sunderland. Stories are always better when you get your facts right, son. Look, why don’t you show me your essay when you finish the first draft. I know a bit on the subject.’

Mr Holterman was offering me his help to write my essay? I could hardly believe my luck. A smile spread across Mr Holterman’s face, which was probably only a reflection of my own.

‘Do you think we could talk first?’ I said. ‘That way I
can get the story right from the beginning. Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?’ Words tripped over each other in my eagerness.

‘I’m fine, thank you, son. I’ll only be a second. I just dropped in to say I’m sorry about what happened to Mack and it occurred to me you might be blaming yourself in some way. If you are, you shouldn’t. I’ve heard the gossip, son, and that’s all it is. What happened to Mack was an accident. I saw it happen, so I know. Captain Biggs came out of the Church Army. Mack spotted him and started walking across the road towards him. He should’ve looked both ways like we teach you kids but he didn’t and he got hit. You’d reckon a bloke like him would know better, but there you go. That’s why Captain Biggs was on the scene so quickly. It was an accident.’

An accident? Mack hadn’t deliberately stepped in front of the van? He didn’t try to kill himself? I wasn’t responsible?

‘Are you sure?’

‘Son, I’ve told you what happened. I don’t like it when you question me. Do you think I tell lies?’

‘Sorry!’ My apology came out faster than a bullet from a rifle. It was frightening how quickly Mr Holterman’s moods could change. I didn’t doubt him in the least. Mr Holterman spoke in such a blunt, matter-of-fact way there was no room for doubt. ‘It’s just that…well…what you said, it’s such a relief, sort of too much to take in all at once.’ I knew I was blustering but I couldn’t help myself. ‘It’s like I needed to hear you say it again to be sure.’

‘I’ll say it again. It was an accident. It was nothing to do with you. Satisfied?’

‘Yes. Thank you. Thank you for coming and telling me.’

‘Have you talked about it to Captain Biggs?’

‘No.’

‘No? Why not?’

‘How can I? If I talked about that I’d have to tell him the whole story and I’m sworn to secrecy.’

Mr Holterman smiled again.

‘Just ask him if he saw what happened. You don’t have to say anything else. He’ll back up my version and put all the rumours to rest. Mack got careless, that’s all.’

‘I haven’t offered you a cup of tea. Would you like one?’

‘No thanks. I don’t mind the odd cup of tea but coffee’s my poison. Tell you what, son. You do more work on your essay then bring it down and we’ll chat about it. We’ll have a cuppa then. Now go open the counter for me.’

I shot past Mr Holterman, swung the counter top up and opened the door.

‘Thank you again for coming. Thank you for thinking of me and for taking the trouble to let me know what really happened. I really appreciate it.’

‘It’s what friends are for, son.’

Nobody overwhelmed and confused me as much as Mr Holterman. I watched him leave, my emotions in turmoil. Mr Holterman blew away old thoughts like dead leaves in a storm and planted new ones. I wasn’t to blame for Mack’s accident. Mr Holterman was my friend. He cared enough about me to come and tell me what had really happened. This scary, secretive, Lancaster pilot had offered to help with my essay. I already knew a fair bit about Catalinas and Sunderlands. They operated out of Hobsonville, a naval base in the upper reaches of Auckland Harbour. They were as familiar to me as the DC3s, which were the only aircraft New Zealand’s national internal airline flew. I could picture a Sunderland dropping out of low cloud and lining up for an attack on the U-boat as easy as anything. I could see the machine guns in the nose turret flashing. I could hear the familiar drone of its four labouring engines. I could see Mack looking up, spotting Captain Biggs and blithely stepping out onto the road. I could see Captain Biggs running over towards Mack. There were a couple of other things I should also have seen in the tumult of thoughts but they were details. For the moment, only the big picture mattered.

It rained the following day right up until an hour before school was let out. It had rained so constantly we hadn’t even been able to play on the asphalt. We had art that afternoon and Eric and I had the job of clearing up the
brushes, paints and jars of water after everyone else had left. We found Nigel, Maxie, Gary, Clive and Ryan waiting for us by the school gate, full of bottled up energy and absolutely desperate for a game of soccer down in Grey Lynn Park. I knew my ball would get soaked but I was as keen as any of them to blow off some steam. I also knew that by the time we’d got changed into old clothes and assembled down at the park, there’d be at least another half a dozen more kids eager to play. Nigel and I raced each other home. What I hadn’t counted on was finding Captain Biggs sitting on our sofa with Mum, finishing off a cup of tea.

‘Mack’s out of intensive care.’ Captain Biggs said. ‘He’s been moved to a ward. If you want, you can come with me to visit him.’

Nigel’s face fell as mine lit up.

‘Can I borrow your soccer ball?’ Nigel asked. He didn’t sound hopeful. He thought I wouldn’t let him have the soccer ball, but for once he was wrong. These were exceptional circumstances. Mack was out of intensive care. I could visit him. All of our prayers had been answered. Mack was going to live.

‘On two conditions. You put dubbin on the stitching before you get the ball wet.’

‘I promise.’

‘And, two, you lend Captain Biggs your bike.’

That wiped the smile off his face. The delay said everything. Mum was horrified by Nigel’s apparent
rudeness. Captain Biggs just looked embarrassed. None of us liked lending our bikes and Captain Biggs was the very last person you’d lend your bike to. Losing your bike was like losing your legs.

To Nigel’s credit he regained his composure. ‘Just put some air in the rear tyre,’ he said. ‘The valve has a slow leak.’ Everything Nigel owned had something wrong with it.

I let Captain Biggs ride between me and the kerb because I didn’t trust him not to wobble into passing traffic. I reminded him to look into the driver’s seat of parked cars in case someone opened their door without looking. Mostly I think I just talked out of the excitement of being allowed to visit Mack. I decided to take Mr Holterman’s advice and ask Captain Biggs about the accident. I told him what Mr Holterman had told me. Captain Biggs confirmed the sequence of events.

‘Where exactly were you?’ I asked. The writer in me always insisted on details. I liked to get an accurate picture in my head.

‘I’d just come out the front door, down the steps and out onto the pavement,’ he said. ‘Just in time to hear the squeal of brakes and the thump.’

‘You didn’t actually see Mack get hit?’

‘No. I didn’t even know it was Mack until I got close.’

‘Probably just as well,’ I said. Everything Captain Biggs had said rang true. Anyone else might have been tempted to play with the facts to make more of the part they
played, but not Captain Biggs. He was as incapable of exaggeration as he was of telling even the smallest lie.

‘Are you looking forward to seeing Mack?’ he asked.

‘I sure am.’

‘Don’t be too disappointed if he’s a bit quiet. He’s still in a fair bit of pain and taking pills.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll cheer him up.’

I smiled at the dragon at the enquiries desk when Captain Biggs checked on the ward number and, amazingly, she smiled back. I smiled at doctors and nurses, cleaners and maintenance workers and they all smiled back. If I’d smiled at a statue of Queen Victoria I’m sure her sour old face would have cracked it for a grin as well. I radiated happiness and no one and nothing was immune.

Except Mack.

Mack’s head was bandaged but not as heavily as I’d expected. The bruises on his face were no longer purple but the motley yellow they go when they start to heal. Clear liquid flowed from a tube into his arm. He lay beneath a blanket pulled up to his chin and appeared to be asleep. Captain Biggs gently took his hand.