Gith (18 page)

Soon as he saw me, Ray swung the wheel and took off in
the direction of Te Kohuna. He had a head start of maybe
fifteen seconds but it was never going to be enough. The Surf
had a lot more guts than the van and I was a much better
driver. I mightn't have been Steve Winston but I'd taken the
V8 round Manfeild a few times and I knew how to handle
the winding bends of Tacketts Valley Road. I was on his tail in
less than a minute. I had maybe eight more to stop him before
he got to the highway. Still, I had to watch it. I couldn't push
him too hard. I figured Gith might be in the van, locked in
the back, and she'd be scared enough already, without another
car wreck. I knew where I could get him.

A few ks west of Milne Creek is a straight flat stretch of
road with a decent-sized shoulder. It would be enough, as
long as nothing was coming the other way. I eased off the gas
pedal, let Ray increase his lead, hoping to make him feel safer
so he'd slow down a bit. Then, on the last bend before the
straight, I planted my foot. I was past him before he knew it.

From then on it was easy. Bit by bit I slowed down, covering
him if he looked like making a passing move. I guess he knew
he was beaten. We were doing no more than twenty when
he suddenly pulled over into the gateway to a paddock and
stopped, with his bonnet against the gate and his rear towards
the road. This time I didn't let him get away. I pulled up and
did a quick reverse, stopped close behind him, blocking him
off. But he was already out of the van and over the fence
and running across the paddock. Bobby was slower. He was
tangled in the wire, one foot caught between the strands.

I got out, leaving the gun in the car.

The first thing I did was open up the van. It was empty.

I went up to Bobby, who was struggling in the fence like a
stranded sheep.

'Sorry, mate,' I said. 'Sorry about this.'

He looked at me with big scared eyes and made a little
whiny animal noise.

'It's okay,' I told him. 'I'm not going to hurt you. Let's just
wait here for Ray, eh?'

I helped him back over the fence.

'Sit in the cab,' I said.

He did as he was told. I turned to where Ray was still
running. I could see him in the moonlight, big steps through
the silver-grey grass. Where the hell he thought he was going,
I don't know.

'Ray!' I yelled as loud as I could. 'Bobby's here with me. I
want to talk to you.'

He slowed a bit.

'Come back here and get your brother!'

He stopped. I guess he saw that there was no percentage
in running anyway. Slowly, he started to walk back. The grass
was longish and already dew-soaked. He was going to have
seriously wet feet, I figured.

I went to the Surf and got the rifle.

'Put that thing away!' Ray yelled when he saw it. He had
stopped on the other side of the fence.

'I'm not going to use it,' I said. 'Unless I figure you're lying
to me.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Bullshit! Where is she?'

His mouth opened to say something and then he changed
his mind.

'Home,' he said. 'We took her home.'

'When?'

'Not sure. An hour ago maybe.'

'So why was she with you?'

He lifted his hands and rubbed his face. 'Oh fuck,' he said.

'What did you do to her?'

'Nothing. Okay? Nothing.'

'What happened, then?'

'It was Wayne's idea,' he said.

'Wayne who?'

'Wyett.'

'You know him?' Jesus, I thought. What's going on?

'Sure. Sure I do.'

'So?'

'Well, he's been on about how tough life was for Bobby.
How he never got any of the normal things.'

'Like what?'

'Put the gun down,' he said.

I laid it on the ground next to my feet.

'Like what?' I asked again.

'Like pussy. He said, you know, we ought to get Bobby
hooked up with the dumby girl from the service station.'

'When was this?'

'Oh, he talked like that a couple of times. Tonight he was
wired. We were down the pub. Bobby stayed in the van and
Wayne went into the bottlestore to buy some bourbon and
well, you know, Gith came by. I said hello to her and she
seemed okay. I think she wanted to tell me something or ask
me. She kept doing things with her hands but I couldn't figure
out what she meant. Then Wayne came back and he got all
excited. This was our chance, he said. What we'd been talking
about. So she got into the back of the van with Bobby.'

'She went with you?' I couldn't believe it.

'Well . . . it was all Wayne. I didn't want to. I thought it was
a dumb idea.'

I didn't believe him.

'Nothing happened,' he said. 'I swear to God. Bobby got
scared. He couldn't do anything. We took her straight home.'

'Jesus!' I felt sick. I felt murderous. I picked up the rifle.
My hands were shaking. I truly thought for a second I was
going to shoot him, and then I saw Bobby's face through the
windscreen of the van, round and pale, his eyes and mouth
wide open. I looked back at Ray.

'Listen,' I said, 'you're done, mate. You are completely done.
And you can tell your pal Wyett I'll get him too.'

I went back to the Surf, drove away.

***

THERE WERE LIGHTS on in the living room. I could see
them in the side window. I parked the car and ran up the
steps to the front verandah, opened the door, walked quickly
down the length of the hall.

Brenda was sitting on the sofa, a glass of wine in her
hand.

'Ah,' she said. 'Possum hunting?' She pointed to the rifle.

'Where's Gith?' I asked.

'Asleep.'

'Is she all right?'

'She seems to be.'

I turned and went back down the hall, opened the door
to her room. It was empty, the bed as tightly made as ever.
She was in the other room, curled up in my bed. I went and
touched her hair. She stirred.

'You okay, sweetheart?'

I bent and kissed her. Her hand came up and stroked my
ear and cheek.

I felt a shadow. Brenda was there in the doorway.

'Can I have a word with you?' she said.

'Sure.' I stood up. I was still carrying the rifle and wasn't sure
what to do with it. In the end I just took out the magazine
and stuck the gun back on top of the wardrobe. I went back
to the living room.

'Hi,' I said, moving to sit next to Brenda on the sofa.

'No. Over there.' She pointed to a chair.

The change in her tone was clear now. It was not friendly.
The wine bottle, I saw, was half empty. I went and got myself
a beer and sat down where she had told me.

'Are you okay?' I asked.

'Well,' she said, pushing her hair back with her free hand,
'that's a difficult question. I suppose I'm a little confused. No
. . .' she took a gulp from her glass, 'no, not confused exactly. I
think I understand things perfectly well.'

I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say.

'Did Gith break my window?' she asked.

'I don't know.'

'Ah, that's interesting. You didn't say no, absolutely not, did
you? Why's that?'

'Because . . .' I let it trail off.

'Let me put it this way. Of all the people you know of in
Te Kohuna, who would have the best motive for throwing a
brick through my window tonight?'

I felt myself go cold. 'Whose idea was this? Hemi's?'

'No. No. Absolutely not. I came here in all my rather sad
innocence because I wanted to see if you and your family
were all right, because I was concerned for the welfare of . . .
your
niece
.' The last word came out in a hiss. She was leaning
forward with her teeth clamped hard.

'What happened?' I asked.

'Well, she answered the door and found me there carrying
my two glasses and my bottle of wine. She looked a little . . .
what's the word? . . . dishevelled. Her shirt was torn and there
were dirt marks on her jeans and her forehead. Oil marks,
by the look of it. She seemed surprised to see me and for a
moment I thought she was going to slam the door in my face.
She didn't, though. She kind of smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
It's hard to describe what kind of smile it was, but not nice.
She beckoned me in.'

She took another gulp of wine and topped up her glass.
She looked at me. Hers wasn't a nice smile either.

'On the way down the hall she turned into a bedroom.
Your bedroom, I supposed. There was something on the
bed — I think a bag for carrying that gun you just had. She
looked at it for a moment and then she put it on top of the
wardrobe. I didn't really think anything about that but I've
been wondering since. Where's the gun now, by the way?'

'On the wardrobe.'

'And the bullets?'

I pointed to the magazine, which I'd put on the table by
the TV set.

'Good.' She gave a little sigh. 'Thank you.'

'What happened?' I asked.

'Ah, well. We're coming to that. She and I came in here and
we sat down and I offered her a glass of wine. She refused.
She glared at me, in fact. Then she stood up and left the room
— sort of flounced out, I suppose. I wasn't sure whether I
should go or stay but I thought, well, I came here as a good
Samaritan so maybe I should see it through for a bit longer.
Anna or Gith, or whatever you call her, was, I realised, in the
shower, which seemed sensible, given the state of her clothes
and so on, so I decided I would at least wait until she was
done and, if I was waiting, I may as well have a drink while I
was about it.

'She was quite a long time, in reality, but she did emerge
in the end, with her hair all dried and a towel wrapped
around her. She's a very pretty girl, I can see that. Although
somewhat scrawny, I would have thought. Somewhat sharp in
the elbows. Anyway, she stood there in front of me, with that
same weird smile. Then she suddenly beckoned me to follow
her. She walked down the hall and opened a door. Inside
was a neat little nun's cell, which I took to be her room. She
closed the door on it and beckoned me again, led me into the
other room — your room, where she'd been before. She went
over to the bed and turned on the reading lamp. Then she
turned around to face me and took off the towel, spreading
it wide to make sure I could see everything. Then she got
into bed, pulled the covers up to her shoulders and put her
hands behind her head. She just looked at me and smiled. A
different kind of smile now. Did I misunderstand that look?
Did I misread it?'

'No,' I said, feeling the scare of it. Everything was out in
the open now.

'And was that what you were going to tell me this evening
just before she broke my window?'

'Yes. I guess. Look, I'm sorry. I . . .'

'Don't you think you should have mentioned it before you
started mauling my breasts? You know, as a courtesy?'

'Look, I . . .'

'At least that would have given me the opportunity to tell
you to fuck off before I got to the stage of deep embarrassment.'
She sipped her wine but then she turned and pulled a face like
she was drinking poison. She looked at the glass and then she
threw the wine at me. The glass followed, smashing against
the wall behind me. She stood up, grabbed the bottle and the
other glass and walked out of the room, a little wobble at the
door. Nothing for a second or so and then I heard the front
door slam.

I sat there for a while, feeling nothing much except the
coldness of the wine soaking through my shirt. I went into
the bedroom.

Gith was still sleeping — or pretending to. I went over to
her and this time saw the damp towel lying half draped over
the bedside table. I bent over her, kissed her again, and she
rolled over onto her back and her hands reached up to the
buckle of my belt. I got undressed and climbed into bed and
hugged her.

'Sweetheart,' I said. 'I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.' I felt like I'd
made the worst mistake of my life, risking everything.

She hugged me closer, winding herself around me, warm
and fierce.

WITH MICHELLE PRETTY much living in Wellington,
Gith and I spent our evenings by ourselves. We usually
watched television, especially the movie channels, or else
we got DVDs from our local video store. At first we were
a big fan of action movies, which Michelle hated. We went
especially for anything that had to do with cars and car chases,
like
Gone in Sixty Seconds
and
The Fast and the Furious
. I could
never figure out why Gith liked this stuff. I mean, you'd think
that anything with car crashes in it would have seriously put
her off. But it didn't seem to work that way. Maybe watching
something that wasn't real was a way of getting used to the
accident.

After a while, though, we started to get sick of them. They
were all pretty much the same. Gith got to feel this way before
I did. It was she who first made the change to something else.
We took turns in choosing, and one day, out of the blue, she
picked
Shrek
. We both really liked it and pretty soon all we were
watching was cartoons, stuff like
Finding Nemo
and
Beauty and
the Beast
and old things like
Fantasia
. Then we went through a
classic movie phase —
The Third Man
and
Casablanca
— and
after that a whole string of romantic comedies.

I guess Gith was looking for something. Maybe we both
were. We lived pretty limited lives, spending time with each
other and not seeing anybody else much, except customers
and the people in the local shopping centre. Now and again
we took a trip up to Te Kohuna to visit the family but that was
about it. I didn't mind — or at least I didn't think I minded
— but Gith must have felt she was missing out. She was
nineteen by then, and smart enough to figure out that other
people of her age weren't kids any more. They were moving
out into the world and having new experiences, whereas she
was kind of stuck, locked up in the fact that she couldn't talk.
I'm not sure she thought it through logically like that — it
was hard to figure out what she thought sometimes — but I
guess that's how she felt.

It all started one night when we were watching
Four
Weddings and a Funeral
. She seemed quieter than usual, not
laughing as much as she normally did and kind of mooning
over me, leaning against my shoulder and giving me little
kicks on the ankle. We went to bed about ten-thirty. At
two in the morning I woke up to find her in my bed. I was
lying on my side and she was curled up behind me, with her
arm around my waist, fitting herself into my shape. She was
wearing pyjamas. We both were but I felt suddenly scared. I
twisted round and pushed her off.

'Go away,' I said.

She went.

I didn't say anything about it the next day. I thought maybe
it was just a one-off thing, but the next night it happened
again.

'Go away.'

She went.

This time I figured I had to do something. I wasn't at all
sure how to tackle it. I mean, I'd never talked to her about sex
and I doubt if Michelle had. I guessed, though, that she knew
something. Her parents had been pretty liberal types. By the
age of fifteen she would have had the usual talks and been
shown books. She would've nattered with her friends about
boys. Maybe she'd had a boyfriend or two. Maybe she'd even
done it with somebody.

I waited all day to find the right moment. I knew what I
had to say but I had no idea how I was going to start.

We finished work and got cleaned up. Then we had our tea
and settled down, like we usually did, for the evening. There
was a bar of chocolate in the kitchen cupboard so I fetched
that and we sat on the sofa and had a couple of pieces. The
plan was that we would watch
Notting Hill
, but I knew I had
to say my piece before that. If I left it till afterwards it would
be too easy to let it go again.

'Last night,' I said, 'when you came to my room.'

She went stiff, looked at me.

'You shouldn't do that. It's not right.'

She didn't answer, just kept on looking at me. She seemed
kind of puzzled, hurt. I couldn't meet her eyes.

'I'm your uncle,' I said. 'And your guardian. We can't carry
on like that. We can't.'

She laughed. It was a kind of witchy laugh.

'I mean it!' I was rattled, scared. Suddenly I felt I was going
to cry.

'Gith.' She put her hand on my arm and rubbed it. 'Poor
Ken.'

That night she was back again. Only this time it was worse
— she had nothing on. I didn't say anything. I just threw
back the covers and went into her room, got into her bed. I'd
only been there a few minutes when she came in and started
pulling at the covers, trying to get in too.

'Jesus, Gith! Leave me alone!' I yelled at her. She stepped
back surprised and made a long sad kind of noise. I ignored
her, went back to my bed, shut the door. I wished there was a
lock on it. Tomorrow, I told myself, I'll get a lock.

In a couple of minutes she was there. I could hear her
sobbing outside the door. It was weird. She could have come
in but she didn't. She just stayed there crying. Next thing I
knew I was crying myself. It was just a little thing at first
but in no time at all I couldn't control it. Everything came
flooding out of me. I guess I made a noise that she heard
because before I could stop her, she was there in bed with me
and we were hugging each other and bawling our eyes out.

I didn't get a lock. There didn't seem any point after that
night.

***

SUNDAY. I GOT up and went down to the service station
to open the place and set the till for Pita. Then I walked back
to the house and made a cup of tea. Gith was still in bed so
I joined her. We sat there, side by side, and sipped our tea in
silence. I had to talk to her but I didn't know where to start.
I was torn between feeling bad about what happened with
Brenda, and angry about Ray Tackett and that bastard Wyett.
In the end it was the anger that won out.

'Listen,' I said. 'Last night. What did they do to you?'

She shrugged.

'They hurt you?'

'Bit.'

'There wasn't any funny stuff. You know. Sex. Nothing like
that?'

'Narg.' She looked at me and then she pulled a face, like
she was going to cry. 'Bub-bub-bub. Bobby.'

'Yes, Bobby. The thick one.'

'Thick?'

'Slow. Dumb. He cried, right?'

'Poor Bobby.'

'And they let you go? They brought you back here?'

'Gith.'

'And the other bloke. Not Ray, the other one. He was the
joker that took Anneke, right?'

'Narg.'

'No? You sure?'

'Pth,' she said, pointing up at the ceiling and rolling her
eyes. Was I dumb or what?

'That was Wayne Wyett.'

'Tho?'

'So, I don't know.' It made no sense. 'What they did to you,
though. That's a crime. They should go to jail.'

'Gith.'

'Did you shout? Did you scream?'

She clapped her hand over her mouth. I felt a surge of
rage to think of her in the hands of those bastards. We — she
needed revenge. But that would be tricky; thinking ahead to
an arrest, to the cops' questions, to a trial.

'You'd have to go to court,' I said. 'I don't know if that
would be a good idea.' I could see some bastard of a lawyer
getting on to her and asking her questions. It would be so easy
to get her mixed up. And the worst thing would be to put her
through all that and then have those pricks get away with it.

'Could you do that?' I asked her.

'Gith.' She put her cup down on the bedside table.

'Questions? Lots of questions?'

She screwed up her eyes. I could see the pain there, and the
fear. Jesus, I really did want to kill somebody.

'I'll talk to Hemi,' I said.

'Gith.'

'And, you know, I'm not going to leave you again. Ever.'

She frowned and made a shooing move. 'Thtupid.'

'You want me to leave you?'

'Narg!' Hands over her face. I didn't get it. She was getting
pissed off. She looked at me and suddenly wrapped her arms
around her head. Hiding.

'You want to hide?'

'Narg! Nar, nar, nar!' Hitting the bedclothes with her fists.

'You don't want to hide.'

A big sigh. She put her arms round my neck, hugged
me tight. I felt the warmth of spilt tea trickling down my
stomach.

'You want to go on like normal? You don't want those
bastards to beat us?'

'Gith.'

'Oh God, I want to kill them, Gith. I really do.'

I shouldn't have said that. She lifted her hands and made
like she was holding a rifle, aiming at the light in the ceiling.

'Pag!' she said.

That scared me.

'No, sweetheart. No. We can't do that. We might want to
but we can't.'

***

THE NEXT DAY I got a call from Ma. She wanted to make
an arrangement to pick up her car. Leece was going to drop
her in town. There was another reason for the call, though.

'What are these stories I've been hearing?' she asked.

'What stories?'

'I've had Dolly McKenzie on the phone saying you're
going to be arrested. That you ran Ray and Bobby Tackett off
the road and pulled a gun on them, scaring poor Bobby half
out of his wits.'

'Who told her that?'

'Don't ask me. You know Dolly. Is it true?'

God, I thought, what do I say now? The Old Man will
seriously blow his stack with the Tacketts if he hears the full
story.

'Well,' I told her, 'something happened. With Gith. I talked
to the Tacketts about it. We sorted it out.'

'What happened?'

'Look, I'll tell you later. I don't want to upset Dad. You
know what he's like.'

'Hmph.' She wasn't happy. 'What about this gun?'

'I had a gun with me. I didn't pull it on anyone.' Was that
true?

'Why did you have a gun with you?'

'I'll tell you later. Okay?'

***

HEMI CAME OVER that evening and we had a chat, sitting
on the back verandah with a beer. I soon saw that things were
not as easy as I'd thought. I told him my side of it. Off the
record.

'Hmmm,' he said. 'That's tricky, bro, eh. Dangerous driving.
Offensive weapon. Those are serious charges.'

'My driving wasn't dangerous,' I said. 'Ray's was, though.'

'But the gun, eh.'

'I didn't point it at anyone.'

'Well . . .' Hemi had his head on one side like he wasn't sure
that made a difference.

'So who's making these charges?'

'No charges. Just stories.'

'Look,' I said, 'the only reason Gith and I haven't come
knocking at your door and wanting those jokers arrested for
kidnapping and attempted rape is that we're not sure if she
could go through any of that stuff in court. But if we're talking
serious charges, those are the serious charges.'

'Right. And they're not charges anybody should get away
without answering.'

'So?'

Hemi sipped his beer. 'So.'

'So what happens now? Do you just arrest them?'

'No. I need a complaint.'

'So you mean the Tacketts won't say anything if I don't.'

'That seems about the size of it, bro. Everybody's talking
about it. Except the people that were directly involved.'

'You're not happy with that,' I said.

He shifted in his chair, a slow kind of wriggle.

'Well,' he said, 'in one way it's nice and easy. In another . . .'
He left it hanging.

'Is this like Hemi's view versus the official view?' I asked.

'No,' he said. 'I'm what they call conflicted on this one.' He
had more to say but was having a problem with the words.

I changed the subject. I told him how this was the second
time Gith had been attacked.

He listened to the story of what had happened at the show
and then he asked, 'Who was this?'

'The same bloke that was driving the white van.'
He looked at me. 'Have you told Ryan?'

'Would it make any difference?'

He sighed. 'I don't know, bro. They have their own way of
doing things.'

'City ways.'

'Investigative techniques.'

Yeah right, I thought.

'I'll have a word to him,' Hemi said.

I wasn't sure I wanted that but it was too late now.

'There's another thing, too,' he said.

'Oh, yeah?' I knew what it was.

'Small matter of a window, eh.'

'We don't know who broke the window,' I said.

'Brenda thinks she knows. She wants a charge laid. If she
goes to her insurance company, they will definitely want a
charge laid.' He looked at me, sipped his beer. 'On the other
hand, if she goes to her insurance, she'll have to pay the
excess.'

'Tell her to send me the bill,' I said. 'Would that do it?'

'Could do, bro. Let me talk to her.'

***

PEOPLE ALWAYS TOOK sides when it came to the
McUrrans and the Tacketts and this affected how they saw
things. I found this out that week when I went to the pub.

I hadn't been keen to go. Gith and I pretty much had a
fight about it but in the end she made me see she wanted to
be on her own to listen to her music. It was a quietish night in
the back bar. Mark and Tom and Monty were drinking with
Trevor Bittington. Mark spotted me first.

'Gidday,' he said. 'Clint Eastwood, is it?'

Bittington took one look and turned away, moved over to
the next table.

'We were just talking about you,' Tom said.

'And he's got a problem?' I asked, waving my hand after
Trevor.

'A few people have got a problem,' Monty said.

'You?'

Monty shrugged. 'Mates are mates, eh?'

I turned to Bittington and tapped him on the shoulder.

'If you've got something to say, say it to my face,' I said.

He stared at me for a second. 'What you did to Bobby
Tackett was bloody irresponsible,' he said.

'What?'