The Spanish Helmet (27 page)

It was Matt’s first day off in over a week. OK, the whole trip so far had sort of been like a holiday, but today was even better. Today, they were literally going to do nothing. That is, nothing to do with researching a pseudo-history. No Celts, no Spaniards, and no visits to the university. Well, aside from his one hour phone call with Julia this morning, where he had updated her on everything and discussed the Dwight incident. But now it was leisure time.

Aimee sat on the sofa in Matt’s room, and was doubled
over,
tying her shoes in the most complex fashion Matt had ever seen. Making two loops and creating a bow by crossing them through each other.
Somehow.

‘Where did you learn to tie your shoes like that?’

‘No idea. My parents deny it was either of them, so maybe it was a school teacher.’

‘I’ve never seen shoes tied that way before.’

‘I get that a lot, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that they stay on and we can go for our walk.’ Aimee sprang up from the couch and announced she was ready to go.

The phone rang.

‘Matthew Cameron.’ Matt said, wondering who would be calling him here.

‘Good morning Dr. Cameron,
it’s
Janice from reception here. We have a package for you to collect at the front desk when you have a chance.’

‘Thanks. I’ll be down in a minute.’

Five minutes later, Matt and Aimee locked the car and walked in the direction of the botanic garden.

‘It’s a bit creepy, isn’t it?’ Aimee asked.

‘I guess so. He was bound to find us though. Just how he found our hotel and all... I’m not sure. But it goes to show that he’s a decent guy after all.’

‘What, how so?’

‘He wouldn’t have returned the GPS if he wasn’t worried about us getting lost.’ Matt laughed.

Aimee thumped him on the arm. ‘Or if he wasn’t worried about losing us!’

As she got closer when she thumped him, Matt couldn’t ignore the fragrance that followed her. It was subtle and very pleasing. Even as they entered the botanic gardens, and walked amongst the roses near the entrance, that fragrance was still present. Matt couldn’t help but be drawn back to the daydream he had about Aimee and the lighthouse. He hadn’t really thought about it since he heard of his father’s death. It was as if he was trying to be respectful or something. But now, it came rushing back, complete with beautiful rose gardens around the lighthouse.

‘Oh look, they have an aviary,’ Matt said, trying to distract
himself
as they walked past a group of signs pointing in all directions. ‘Let’s go have a look up there.’

The path crossed the gardens passed a small stage and climbed up a steep hillside through an alpine-style garden. Much of the hillside was tiered, affording visitors the chance to sit and observe whatever might be on the stage below. Huge conifers towered over them, splattering them with shade and softening the paths with fallen needles. It was all that Matt could do not to take Aimee’s hand. But he held back. He should wait for a sign.

The aviary complex was quite large. A chorus of diverse squawks and whistles greeted them as they went from cage to cage. It made Matt smile. Just like people, some of the birds were very showy, ruffling their colourful feathers and loudly staking their places. Others were quiet and subdued in their beauty. Aimee was like the latter. He liked that.

‘There was a cafeteria down the bottom. Should we head around the Rhododendron Dell and then get something for a picnic?’ Aimee asked.

‘I’d like that.’

‘Alright, I think we have to go this way then,’ she said, taking his hand, and leading him along a path.

Matt looked down at his hand. It felt so right, he prayed she wouldn’t let go. As they continued walking, Matt noticed that he kept giving involuntary squeezes. Aimee squeezed back and stopped.

‘Are you alright, Matt?’

Guilt kicked in. He was over-squeezing.

‘What do you mean?’

‘With your father.’

‘Oh.’ Not the squeezing then.

Aimee was waiting for an answer.

‘Yes, I guess I am.’

‘You’ve been quieter since you heard. You weren’t interested in going to the
bullauns
near Christchurch, you seem down. I’ve been worried about you.’

Matt felt Aimee squeeze his hand affectionately. She was still holding his hand!

‘I’ll be alright. Sorry if I’ve been a bit distant.’

‘Don’t apologise, it’s natural. I just want to make sure you’re OK.’

‘I’m OK when I’m with you,’ he said, looking her straight in the eyes.

She held his gaze. ‘Good, talk to me. Let’s see these rhododendrons and we can talk as we walk.’

They walked on through the Rhododendron Dell as Matt opened up with his thoughts. He was relieved to get things off his chest, and the walking helped too.
Double the therapy.
It was very pretty.
Up on the hillside, nice green lawns, and more variety in colour than Matthew could comprehend.
Rose would have loved it. The path that led back to the cafe dropped gently down the face of the wooded hillside. The shelter it provided from the sun, and the breeze, made it a lovely stroll. They arrived at the cafeteria and picked out some sandwiches and a bottle of juice each, and went in search of a quiet place to sit. They found an uninhabited tree alongside the water gardens. It was perfect.

‘It’s probably easier to accept, since I didn’t know him,’ Matt said, as he sat down on the freshly clipped lawn.

‘Did you really have no contact with him at all, your whole life, up until two weeks ago?’

‘Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
And now I have to ask myself if my mother is to blame.’

‘I can’t imagine growing up without my Dad.’

Matt welcomed the chance to change the topic slightly. ‘Were you ever in one of your Dad’s classes in school? Or do they try to avoid that?’

‘It’s not encouraged. But yeah, once I was in Dad’s class. Sixth form Geo.’

‘It must have been great seeing him in action. I mean, you get to know your Dad as a father and as a professional.’

‘It was interesting, but we had to remain distant. No favouritism or anything. I called him Mr Kingsbridge like everyone else. It was probably easier for him, because he was always dealing with the bad kids at the back.’

‘You had trouble in the school?’

‘Our fair share of it, yeah. There are a few poorer Maori communities in the school’s catchment area. Unfortunately, with the really sweet and good kids that you found there came a handful of tough warrior types. Dad always had to go to the back of the class to deal with them... oh my God!’ Aimee sat bolt upright.

‘What?’ Matthew asked, frantically looking around him to see what had alarmed her so.

‘I’ve just realised where I know him from.
Hemi, our Maori guy, the one following us.’

‘From school?’
Matt asked, scarcely believing it could be possible. ‘Hemi was one of those rough Maori kids?’

‘No. Well yes, but no. Yes, he was at school with me, in my geography class. But no, he wasn’t one of the tough kids and his name isn’t Hemi. It’s Drew, Drew King.’

‘And he wasn’t one of the tough kids?’

‘Not at all.
He was a chubby little Maori kid.
Really sweet and quiet.
You hardly would have noticed him if it wasn’t for the other Maori kids giving him a hard time. But he just took it all on his chin and worked hard on his schoolwork. His Dad was a tough cop. He got killed. I can’t believe I didn’t recognise him sooner.’

‘He doesn’t seem like the chubby quiet type to me,’ Matt said, nodding across the water, and watching Aimee as she followed his gaze and also spotted Hemi, Drew, as he ran by for the umpteenth time.

‘No, he’s changed a lot, I hardly recognise him anymore. But that’s definitely Drew.’

‘Do you think he’s dangerous?’

‘I can’t imagine it. Not unless he pent up a lot of anger over the years of bullying. Nah, I reckon Drew is one of the good guys.’

‘I guess we have to wait and see.’

‘Yeah.’
Aimee nodded and took another bite from her chicken sandwich.

They finished their meal and watched the ducks aimlessly float from side to side. Matt decided he really liked Dunedin. It was peaceful, pretty, green, and boasted history that he hadn’t seen elsewhere in New Zealand.
That,
and his hand still tingled from Aimee’s touch. With any luck, they would stick around for a few days.

Matt and Aimee scanned the comfortable looking chairs trying to identify the men they were to meet. It was the summer break in New Zealand. But despite there not being all that many people in the large atrium that neighboured the university library, no one looked up to greet them.

‘Could it be that couple over there?’
Aimee asked, indicating in the direction of the cafe counter near the other end of the hall.

‘I don’t know, I was expecting two older Maori men, lots of tattoos and really hard faces. You’re the Kiwi, what do you think?’

‘We better ask. It would be terrible to miss them based on a silly prejudice.’

Aimee led the way across the room and approached the laughing couple that they had observed.

‘Pardon me.’ Aimee started. ‘We’re meant to be meeting some...’

Before she could finish, the lady, perhaps in her sixties, leapt out of her chair and reached out her hand.

‘You must be Aimee. My name is Matawai Blake, you can call me Matawai.’

Then, much to Matt’s confusion, Matawai leaned in and touched her nose to each side of Aimee’s. She must have seen Matt’s confused look. ‘What’s your friend’s name, Aimee? He looks like he’s about to cry.’

Aimee laughed.

‘Matawai, meet Matthew Cameron. He’s British.’

‘Ah right. We’ll forgive you then, eh Andrew?’ Matawai turned to her friend and let out a laugh like Matt had never heard before in his life. Sort of like a subtle foghorn that increased in tone four times. She reached out her hand and shook Matt’s. Then, pulling him in, she said ‘It’s called a Hongi, Matthew, it’s one of the ways we greet friends.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ Matt said, doing his best to return his first Hongi.

The greetings continued between Matt, Aimee and Andrew. Then everyone took a seat at the table.

‘Your name is Andrew?’ Matt asked. ‘Were you not given a Maori name?’

‘No, no,
no
, yeah... I got a Maori name alright. It’s Anaru, Maori for Andrew.’

 ‘Oh right. I hadn’t realised that there were Maori equivalents of English names.’

‘There’s a lot.
Rawiri for David, Tipene for Stephen, Erihapeti for Elizabeth.
Plenty of original Maori names to choose from too, but.’

Matt found this very interesting, but he knew he had to get away from the small talk before it got uncomfortable and move on to the reason they were here. He also didn’t want to waste Matawai and Andrew’s time. He wasn’t sure how to change the subject without looking rude, so he was relieved when Matawai did it for him.

‘So I don’t reckon you got us to come in here to talk about Anaru and Maori names. What can we do you for?’