Keri Hulme - The Bone People

"Yeah, rara avis all right," she kept her face straight.

"He, well, as for the others… they start off with good intentions, I think, but then they get embarrassed, or say he's cute, or put words into his mouth-"

"Hassles," said Kerewin equably.

But she thought about it.

Just for an experiment, she went into Taiwhenuawera, where she hadn't been before, and spent the day as a mute.

She smiled at questions in pubs, and wrote down answers. She went into shops and bought things by listing them or pointing. She had quite a time getting a bus ticket back to Whangaroa.

It was infuriating. Everyone she met talked more loudly than normal, as though the volume would penetrate the barrier of her silence. Many people stared and whispered to each other behind their hands. And some, kind in manner, simplified their speech and repeated key words, as though she were dumb as well as mute.

it

On the Friday night of bad memory, she had gone into her cellar, cultivated spiderwebs and all, and selected a bottle of dandelion wine, first of the vintage she laid down a year before.

She is just sitting down to admire the bottle, 1979 says the label, Estate bottled, when the radiophone goes.

It's Joe.

"Tena koe," he says.

His voice sounds odd, hesitant, timid.

"Tena koe."

Pause.

"Uh, Haimona there?"

"No, haven't seen him today. I thought he was going to school?"

"He was, but I've just met Bill Drew and he says Himi didn't turn up."

His voice has returned to normal.

She can hear the background clamour now.

Joe adds, "There was a bit of fuss this morning. He wanted to go and see you, and I insisted he went to school."

"Fair enough. He hasn't been all week."

"He didn't think so. I had to play heavy father." Pause. "Looks like he skipped it, anyway."

She hears a door bang, and the noise of voices and laughter becomes louder.

"Just a minute, Kere-" Muffled sounds. He's covered the

speaking end. "You still there?" he asks a moment later.

"Of course."

"That was Polly Acker, eh." He laughs. "You know, the lady with Pi Kopunui?"

"No, I don't… wait a mo, is she the one they call the half-nhalfer?"

"Yeah! Half-and-halfer!" He sputters. Now he sounds drunk. "Anyway she just said she saw Haimona at Tainuis' this afternoon. By the gate. So that settles that, eh?"

"Mmm."

"Probably didn't want to go to you because he thought you'd tell on him eh."

She is obscurely hurt by that.

"Bloody hell, Joe, I'm not your son's keeper. I don't give a damn what he does and where he goes, as long as he doesn't annoy me. I'd no more tell on him than-"

"Easy, e hoa, easy. I was just joking sort of… uhh, what's the time?"

"Close to six." It's getting dark, outside.

"You doing anything important? Because it's my turn for tea, ne?"

"Well, nooo…"

The fire's bright. Bream is playing Recuerdos d'Alhambra in the background. Half a dozen potatoes, still in their jackets, are baking in the oven. She's made garlic butter, and has two ham steaks ready to fry. The dusty bottle waits, wine glinting golden inside.

The first bottle… to drink and eat in peace, in music. She's had little enough of her own company these past few weeks, and she is beginning to hunger for solitude.

"Look, what say you come here? I'll send a taxi, you have a night out, meet some of my friends? I'll arrange for a meal."

"What about Sim?"

"O him, he'll be okay at Tainuis'. Marama and Wherahiko think the sun shines outa his arse excuse me. He's the whitehaired boy round there, literally. You'll come? Please?"

Goodbye potatoes in their jackets, ham, and Bream, and dandelion wine… because who's the only live and caring chessplaying friend you got round here?

"Okay man. I'll see you say, in half an hour?" Joe says O hell good, that's good. "You at the Duke?"

"Course!" The background racket blares up again. "God, here's Pi. Looking for his missus." Giggle. "See you Kerewin." Clunk. She stands looking at the radiophone.

Dammit. I don't want to go out. I don't feel like it at all. On the other hand, for a friend he don't ask much… he's given

more than he's got, even taking childminding — if I can in all conscience call my casual overseeing 'minding' — into account.

She puts on her denim jacket, scraping a fishscale off one sleeve, then asks the radiophone operator to get her a taxi. It's the talkative one. Old Eyes-and-Ears. Not to mention tongue. "Hear you and Simon Gillayley have hit it off?" "He's a much maligned child." "And Joe too, they say." "They say what?" "O, just that you've been to his place, and he's been to your place."

He adds hastily,

"They say it nicely."

"They couldn't say otherwise, considering."

"Your taxi's on its way. Uh, considering what?"

"Innocence, built-in chaperone, and the laws of slander," says Kerewin curtly.

The operator choked.

"Of course," he says in a neutral tone. "Of, course."

"Would you put in a call to Wherahiko Tainui please?"

"Well, they're still over the hill at the moment-"

"No they're not. Simon's round there now."

Silence.

"He might be with Piri Tainui, would you mean Piri Tainui?"

He's speaking very cautiously. "I'm sure the old people aren't back

yet."

She frowns at the mike, "You're positive?"

"I've had a telegram to ring through to them as soon as they got back. I've been trying their number every quarter of an hour."

"That's very odd. Would you try Piri then, please?"

The operator breathes heavily.

"I'd like to, but I saw him down at the New Railway just before I came on shift, and I don't think anyone could raise him at the moment."

"But you said-"

"I meant the boy could be at his house. And that hasn't got the phone on. It's the sleepout on Tainuis' farm. Lynn and co used to live there with Piri, and Simon used to go there a lot. Before."

She ignores the invitation to gossip.

"Well, that is berloody odd. I wonder where he's got to then?"

"Uh o," says the operator. "We've been expecting this. You like me to ring Sergeant Trover?"

"No. I'll check with Joe first. Thanks all the same." You incredible busybody you. „

"That's all right," says the operator happily. "Have a nice time.

Click. The taxi driver was taciturn. He said Good evening. Yes to her directions, and nothing thereafter.

She walked up the driveway of the Tainui farm, shivering.

Another frost….

Two dogs in a wire run began to yelp and snarl as she came near the house. There weren't any lights on. She could see the dark bulk of the sleepout: no lights there either. She knocked on the door of the house. No answer. Walked to the sleepout and yelled,

"E Himi! You there?"

The dogs barked louder.

Nothing else stirred.

"Ahh to hell," and walked back to the taxi.

"Pacific Street now."

The taxi driver grunted.

It was darker and colder by the time they arrived at Pacific Street.

There was milk in the box at the front gate. She collected it, checked the letterbox for mail, and tramped up to the front door.

It stood slightly ajar,

"Simon?"

She stands in the hallway, listening.

No sound.

She walks into the kitchen and switches the light on. There's a plate on the bench by the sink, and another in pieces on the floor.

"You just throw whatever's handy when you get wild?"

"Uh huh. From your tea to a certain half gallon of beer on

a Saturday morning."

Breakfast too, by the look of things… she puts the milk in the fridge, and then examines the floor. The plate had been partly filled with porridge: there were splatters of the stuff all over the place. She picks up the broken pieces of plate and puts them on the bench, and cleans up the rest of the mess. She notices that while Joe has left it, he has rinsed his own plate.