Starlight Peninsula (4 page)

Her eyes travelled up and fixed on the patch above the sofa where one of the cups she’d hurled at Sean had made a hole in the wall. The plasterer who’d fixed it had said with a wink, ‘Wild parties, eh?’

When the phone rang Eloise had her head in the hall cupboard and her arse in the air and was rooting around in a mound of shoes, suitcases, sports bags and tennis racquets. She backed out and ran to the phone.

‘It’s me.’ It was her sister, Carina.

Eloise removed a cobweb from her face, leaned on the wall, blew hair off her forehead.

‘I was in the hall cupboard.’

‘Any news?’

‘He’s not coming back.’

‘God. Arsehole. Listen, can I bring the Sparkler over tomorrow? And Silvio? I’ve got to finish something and I don’t know what to do with them.’

‘Sure. We can go to the dog park.’

‘Oh that’s great thanks, maybe around three? And then after we could get takeaways.’

‘Yeah, that’d be good.’

‘Did you say you were in the cupboard?’

Eloise sighed. She heard barking, a bang, a scream, childish laughter, her sister’s voice, ‘Christ. Will you
shut up
. Okay. Bye.’

She went back to the cupboard and started making a pile. Old shoes, a golf club, a pot-plant holder, a folding chair. Wedding presents:
a vase, a framed lithograph of a Pacific scene, bowls, an impossibly complicated food processor still in its box, cushions, a bedspread. She dragged the stuff towards the back door then changed her mind and hauled it through the living room, across the deck and onto the lawn. An old vacuum cleaner, a suitcase, a spring-loaded exercise contraption. A tartan beret, surely belonging to Lady Cheryl, who went in for hats. She held it between finger and thumb.

Would any of it go up?

Seagulls screamed on the deck rail, and across the estuary in the dusk the dogs ran crazily to and fro.

Eloise was lying on the deck wearing dark glasses and attempting to read.

She thought: spin, wash, soak.

There was the sound of a car, then a dog barking. Carina and the Sparkler came through the side gate, arguing.

‘It’s true. I know it’s true.’

‘Oh shut up,’ Carina said good-naturedly.

Eloise rose on one elbow, pushed the shades to the top of her head and squinted into the glare.

‘Hi. God. Dizzy,’ she said, blinking. Something warm and wet touched her leg: the nose of the dog, Silvio.

‘Ugh. Hello, Silvio.’ She touched his fur or wool, whatever it was, and he turned and stuck his arse in her face and wagged his tail, and generally showed himself keen to be friends.

She got to her feet.

Carina’s phone rang, she answered, pacing. Eloise looked at her sister with glazed tolerance. She shook her head gently, trying to get rid of the dazzling silver hole floating in front of her eyes, a visual distortion that probably had something to do with last night — with the postponement of stopping drinking.

Stabbing her phone with her index finger, Carina said, ‘I’ve got six things to do at once, and Giles is in Georgia again, and Mum’s getting her hair done.’

The Sparkler kneeled and held the dog’s muzzle in her hands. She whispered in his ear and the dog cocked his head and turned up one side of his mouth, and actually smiled.

Eloise looked at her sister, who in turn stared fiercely down at her phone. Carina was tall, thin, dark-haired, with deep brown eyes and a sharp face. Carina seemed to Eloise always to be
on a slant
: leaning forward, hurrying, frowning, the furrow deepening between her eyebrows. She wrote features and a weekly column for the
Record
, which was the North Island’s biggest paper. She complained (everyone complained) that the
Record
was turning into a tabloid, the real news squeezed into a diminishing space between crime and celebrity gossip.

‘Right, I’d better go,’ Carina said.

‘Wait.’ Eloise drew her away from the child and dog and said, ‘Do
you remember years ago I gave you a bag of stuff belonging to Arthur, that I’d taken from his flat?’

‘Yes, sure.’

‘Have you still got it?’

‘It’s in our basement. I hid it, like you told me to.’

‘I wasn’t supposed to take anything of his. I’ll come and get it soon, okay?’

‘Sure. Why?’

‘I’d like to have a look. I can’t even remember what’s in it.’

And then Eloise and the Sparkler stood at the side of the road, waving Carina off. The car droned up the peninsula and Eloise followed her niece down the path past the stucco house.

The Sparkler was a small, wiry, brown-haired girl, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, a bag printed with
Soon and Starfish
cartoons slung over her shoulder.

‘You’ve got earrings,’ Eloise said.

The girl nodded. ‘Mum got a tattoo and I got my ears pierced.’

‘Is the tattoo nice?’

‘It’s like, a bird. Is this the house?’

‘Yes, they burst in, in the middle of the night, see where there’s a big dent in the door, they had a battering ram and sneaked up and smashed the door open. Then they sent in dogs. You should have heard it. It was chaos.’

The Sparkler climbed the steps to the concrete porch. She had a broad forehead, intelligent, deep-set brown eyes, gold studs in her ears. Her face was bony, with strong cheekbones and a Roman nose. When she smiled, sharp dimples appeared in her cheeks. Her real name was Rachel Margery.

‘You heard of tear gas?’ Eloise said.

‘No.’

‘The police shoot it at people, it makes their eyes sting so the police
can arrest them. My neighbour, Nick, told me you can fire tear gas into a house and then send in police dogs because dogs aren’t affected by the gas. The humans are blinded and gagging but the dogs don’t feel it at all.’

The Sparkler, on tip-toe, peered through the rippled glass panes beside the door. ‘Where are the people?’

‘In jail, I suppose.’

‘I’m hungry.’

‘Didn’t you have any lunch?’

‘No.’

‘You like curry?’

‘No!’

They untied Silvio and walked to the shops. Eloise talked about the man who owned the dog that looked like a wolf.

The Sparkler said, ‘By the way, Silvio’s full name is Silvio Le Bron Hay.’ Silvio heard his name and turned his head.

He fixed his strange, knowing, golden eyes on them.

They bought bread, cheese and ham, then went to the pet goods and hardware aisle where the Sparkler selected a bag of rusks shaped like bones, and Eloise lingered before putting a bottle of methylated spirits into the basket.

Silvio was waiting patiently out the front, chained to a pole. They fed him a treat and headed for the dog park. Eloise undid his chain and he shot over to another dog, his tail quivering.

The Sparkler said, ‘See how he bends his front legs and sticks his bum in the air. That’s a play bow. It means let’s have a chase. Watch this.’ She took the treats out of a zipper pocket of her bag, called the dog, made him sit, and rewarded him with a treat.

They sat on a bench. It was hot and bright, a shine coming off the flax. Eloise broke off bits of cheddar and folded them with the ham to make lumpy sandwiches.

‘So, what about school.’

‘I’m the best at maths. And reading.’

‘Good teacher?’

‘The usual.’

‘Nice bag. You like the
Soon and Starfish
books?’

‘I like them on TV, too. Mum got it at LA airport. She brought me a
Soon and Starfish
T-shirt too.’

‘Do you like Soon or Starfish?’

‘Both. And the Green Lady and the Bachelor. Who do you like?’

‘Maybe the Bachelor, and the Cassowaries. I like the way they’re drawn. They look cool. Like Tintin.’

‘Mum says, um, they’re iwonic.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

Silvio got hot and waded into the mangroves looking for water but the tide was out and he came scrambling up the bank, his belly smeared with black mud. He was now pie-coloured, tongue hanging out, panting and reeking, the Sparkler scolding him in her high, shrill voice. They clipped on his chain and pulled him back along the creek edge, over the bridge.

They put the garden hose on the dog. With his hair slicked down he looked much smaller, his legs and tail rakishly thin. Eloise laughed at his long nose, drooping silken ears and martyred expression.

‘He looks like Jesus. Like Silvio of Nazareth.’

The dog sank down, put his chin on his paws, heaved a theatrical sigh and appeared to go straight to sleep.

‘That’s him taken care of,’ said the Sparkler responsibly.

Eloise considered her niece. ‘Actually, let’s put him in the garage, out of the way. There’s something you can help me with.’

It took them a long time to build a pile on the grass in front of the deck. When they’d balanced the last items, an old golf bag and a wicker picnic basket on the top, Eloise turned on the hose, and wet the ground around the pile.

She hunted in the house, came out on the deck. ‘I can’t find any matches.’

The Sparkler rummaged in her bag and brought out a Bic lighter.

‘What’s that for? You taken up smoking?’

The girl shrugged.

‘Okay. Sean burnt some garden rubbish here once. You’re not supposed to but it should be fine. Stand back. And hang on to the hose.’

Eloise crouched down and set fire to a cardboard roll of posters. The flame bloomed up and burned halfway along the roll before fizzling out. She tried again. The cardboard resisted the flame. The whole pile shifted to one side.

The Sparkler danced around, hugging herself. ‘Let’s use the stuff you bought. The meffs.’

Eloise looked doubtfully at the pile. The Sparkler scurried inside and came out with the plastic bottle.

‘Gorn, do it.’

‘Give me that.’

Eloise took the bottle, made the girl stand back, hesitated, then poured liquid down the sides of the pile.

‘That’s not enough.’

‘All right.’

She splashed out more, lit a piece of paper and tossed it on. There was a whoomph, and the whole pile went up.

The Sparkler screamed.

‘Fire, fire.’

Sparks flew up, there were pops and cracks and flames shot high, blown by the afternoon breeze. A suitcase lid peeled back like a mouth, curling, melting. The Sparkler capered and shouted, picking up handfuls of dry grass and throwing them on the pyre.

‘Keep back,’ Eloise said.

They watched. The fire roared, grew intense at its centre.

Eloise had hold of the hose with one hand and was reaching for the Sparkler to pull her back when the whole pile started to topple sideways.

‘Look out,’ they both shouted, and the burning tower fell, flaming in all directions, sending embers whirling into the air and depositing a thick wad of burning material into the stand of toe toe along the boundary. The toe toe, parched after months of drought, went up like a bomb. They felt the rush, the fire sucking in air as the white plumes crackled and curled up, exploding into sparks that blew into the long grass beyond the fence. Embers began drifting onto brown lawns, clinging to dry bushes, settling in the long grass in front of the stucco house.

The Sparkler stood on the edge of the deck, her face fixed in an expression of savage delight. Embers floated in the air above her head.

They jumped at Nick’s voice. ‘What are you
doing?
You’ll set the whole peninsula on fire. Give me the hose.’ And then, ‘It’s gone too far. Ring 111.’

Eloise gave him the hose, went inside and rang the fire brigade.

‘Someone’s garden fire’s out of control,’ she said politely.

She could see Nick on the lawn, shouting directions, training the hose on the stand of toe toe, a couple of other neighbours stamping out embers in the grass.

It was surprising how quickly the firemen showed up, their massive hose so powerful that much of what remained of the toe toe blew apart in a watery explosion of ash and earth and sticks. They had it under control fast, although they stayed for a while to make sure Eloise hadn’t set any roofs on fire, and that the dry grass wasn’t going to reignite.

Not much remained of the pile, apart from a burned patch of lawn and some unidentifiable rubble. The toe toe, once a large stand of beautiful feathery white plumes, was a charred mound, and most of the bushes along the fence were blackened. A long dark smear stretched
out from the toe toe like a shadow, a black finger pointing towards the dog park.

Beyond the lawn Nick was listening to two people, who gestured towards Eloise and spoke animatedly.

The senior fire officer had pale blue eyes and cheeks ravaged by fine wrinkles. Eloise watched him coming towards her in his creaking silver coat. He began to talk about public nuisance, damage to council property. Her actions had endangered the entire peninsula. Open burning was an offence under the Resource Management Act. Was she not aware of the drought, of current fire restrictions?

Nick came across the grass, looping the garden hose around his hand and elbow.

The fireman said to Eloise, ‘Your daughter could’ve been injured.’

‘Yes I’m sorry, it was stupid. Actually, she’s my niece, I’m just looking after her for a few hours.’

The fireman said something about completing paperwork. A fine.

She was seeing them off at the front door when Carina turned up.

‘Oh my God, what’s going on?’

‘Everything’s fine, we had a little fire.’

‘Quite a big fire actually,’ the fireman said.

Eloise faced her sister. ‘I’ll explain, the Sparkler’s fine, she’s on the lawn.’

Carina went inside.

The firemen left and Eloise went to find Carina, who was inspecting the lawn with her hands on her hips.

‘Sean did it once. There was never any danger.’

‘But there’s a drought. Have you gone crazy?’

‘I didn’t think. I’m going to have to pay a fine. And the neighbours will hate me.’

Carina looked at her narrowly.

‘Please don’t be angry. Shall we have a drink? There’s some wine in the fridge, I’ll be back in a minute.’

Nick’s back door was open. She knocked, called out and he came along the hall shirtless, drying his hands. She looked at his thin, muscular chest and thought: karate.

He said, pained, ‘The toe toe was beautiful.’

‘And all your bushes. Sorry.’

‘They’ll grow back.’

‘I got the idea after we talked. I decided, okay, clean slate.’

He leaned on the door frame. ‘So you thought torch everything.’

‘I really am sorry about your toe toe. Would you like to come and have some takeaways? My sister and I are going to order pizza. If she’s not too angry with me. She’ll think I’m not a fit babysitter now.’

‘Let me just get a shirt. Come in.’

She stood in the hall, looking into the bare rooms. He seemed to be camping in a virtually empty house.

‘What were you burning?’ he called out.

‘Stuff from my marriage. Junk.’

‘From the recent relationship or the one before that?’ He came out, buttoning up a shirt.

She looked at him, surprised. ‘The recent one.’

‘Oh?’

‘It was all just junk,’ she said.

Eloise introduced Nick to Carina and the Sparkler, who fingered her gold earrings, bobbed her head shyly and said, ‘Demelza’s here.’

Demelza Hay appeared on the deck, an elegantly dressed old woman with dyed blonde hair, painted eyebrows and an angular face. She was trailed by a dachshund of significant girth and pomp: Gerald.

‘Hello, all. Come on, Gerald. Carina! If you could just …?’

Carina rose and went outside to park their mother’s car, which
she’d abandoned, in her usual way, in the middle of the street.

Demelza greeted her other daughter and granddaughter, shook Nick’s hand and sat down at the table, fixing her sharp eyes on Eloise.