Keri Hulme - The Bone People

Kerewin laughs.

'As though I'd believe them… I've seen enough to know you're doing a great job. You've got patience and time and love, and that's what he needs."

He looks at her quickly,

"Yeah, that's what he needs… would you mind if I didn't come with you then?"

Okay. I might see if I can invent an excuse for not going anyway." He looks unhappy, but he smiles gently at her.

Jesus, thought Joe, this whole thing is going to explode and come I crashing down round my ears, but what can I do? What in the name of heaven can I do?

It's not wrong, he tells himself. Well, not bad wrong. What else is there to do?

He won't listen, he won't behave, he won't do as I say, what else] is there?

He hugs himself, deriding the movement of self-sympathy as he makes it (Ngakau, you're as bad as he is).

The feeling of roosting in a false calm, knowing that the mother I of all hurricanes was about to break loose and destroy the world,} was getting stronger daily.

You should explain it, he says to himself forlornly. She'll probably! understand… if they just tell her pointblank… he shudders. I can't tell her yet, it's not the right time. She doesn't know us well enough, know me well enough. Anyway hell, it's not wrong.

He dreads tomorrow.

She remembers the afternoon as a golden easy haze, wound through with talk and laughter. A sweet three hours with the only jarring note her own conscience.

And you were going to turn them down cold.

Drinking the wine Marama bought especially for her visit ("We don't drink," says the old lady, and Wherahiko adds, "The doctor told her and me if we boozed, we'd keel straight over. I don't believe him," he chuckles richly, "but I'm not dead keen to prove him right, eh"): eating the food that had been especially prepared for her ("Ben killed the pig last night when we got home, eh. Nothing like really fresh pork for a roast, though I'd choose to hang him for a while if I wanted him for a pickle.").

And you were going to say you had to see a man about a dog or some such-

She recalls suddenly, while Wherahiko is showing her the family photo album (there is a wedding picture of Joe and Hana, and a family shot of the Gillayleys in their heyday, Joe beaming, Hana a serene non-smiler, Timote a toothless grin, and Simon looking wild and smaller and unhappy, his fingers wrapped in Hana's skirt — "He used to hate having his photo taken," says Marama fondly, as she looks over her husband's shoulder), that Piri had said he wanted to see Joe about a dog.

Piri is still at work. The only other brother here is the eldest son Ben, a short nuggety blackbrowed man who seldom smiles. When he does, it is slow and beautiful like a rare flower unfolding.

Wherahiko asks a lot of questions, about herself, about her work, about the Tower, about her view of the world.

Marama asks a lot of questions, too: what does she think of Joe? what does she think of Himi? What does she think of solo parents? What does she think of Whangaroa? It is always Himi she comes back to. The child is ever Haimona/Himi here, never Simon or Sim. She tells anecdote after story after joke about him and his father. But it is gentle humour, as the inquisition of herself is gentle, and they offer a lot of information about themselves while they question.

They show her over the farm. They hold one another often, two old people sick in body and sound in mind, still eager for life, still eager to share it. When she leaves, they hongi, then hug her in farewell.

"Come back soon!" calls Marama, waving goodbye behind the gate.

"I will too!" she calls back, "very soon!"

She means it. It's been a delightful time.

It's only in the dark of the Tower that she realises they never told her anything about Joe and Simon she didn't really already know.

On Wednesday, Joe rang at midday.

"Hello, guess who's got the afternoon off?"

"You, by the sound of it."

"Right! The stupid machine I push levers on has broken itself, thank God. While they fix it, they said to clear off and enjoy myself on the company's time. I didn't need to be told twice."

"Understandable… what do you want to do? Go fishing or something?"

"Well I thought, since Haimona's at school for once, if you're maybe free?"

"I am." Mooning over old and beautiful sketches she had done two years ago was only being involved in sour reminiscence.

"E ka pai… well, I thought you might like a drink at the pub. Not like last time," he says hastily, "hell, was I ever sorry about that… I was almost glad Himi was hurt, because it meant I didn't have to stay round too long."

"I'm an ogre?" she asks incredulously.

"O no," he sounds shocked. "What I meant was that I had behaved badly, and you knew it, and I knew it, and I knew you knew it."

"Well, to say something very original, that morning I knew you knew I knew you knew, you know. So to speak."

He giggles.

"You do have a knack of saying things so unequivocally."

"Shuddup. I'll see you down at the Duke in about an hour?"

"Beaudy."

And this afternoon is flowing along nicely on small talk and beer. Two in a row, great! she thinks. Then Piri comes over.

"Gidday," she says, grinning happily.

"Gidday," he replies, with a grin for her: it flits over his face and is gone by the time he looks at Joe.

"Get up. I want to talk to you."

Joe puts his schooner down slowly. "Why? I'm drinking with Kerewin. What's so important that you think you can interrupt us?"

"You know bloody well what. Excuse us, Kere."

"Okay," she says with surprise.

There's a side to that little man I would never have expected. All steel and anger… he's walking away as edgy as a cat to a fight.

And Joe walks meekly after him.

Piri says at the other side of the room,

"Have you told Kerewin?"

"Sweet Jesus, no."

"That's the only reason Pa held off. You tell her first, and make it bloody soon. If you don't, we will. He says you deserve that chance. I don't think so."

"Piri, I need a little more time, just a bit," his face twists as Piri turns away, pursing his lips in disgust. "Look, I'm begging you. Just some more time… I don't want to ruin things."

Piri looks at him with unveiled contempt.

"Ruin what? You've already done the ruining."

"Ah hell, I'm under pressure all the time. You don't know what it is to be lonely," he stops quickly, recalling Piri's runaway wife. "I mean, I can't help it if I blow sometimes. And you know it's not just bloody one-sided. He's — "

"Shut up." Piri leans his head back, his eyes half-closed, as though the full sight of his cousin was more than he could stand. "You've turned sour, Joe. You're bent. You've got all the resources of family in the world, and you won't let us help. We've stood enough of it. You're spoiling something special and bright and you fucking know it. I think you enjoy it."

"Don't talk stupid, I don't enjoy-"

"Shut up. That was the last time. You do it again, and it's not just Kerewin we'll clue up. And not just Kerewin's company you'll lose."

He swung on his heel and went out.

Joe looks down, his eyes filling with tears. "You degenerate bastard," he says, but he doesn't mean it for Piri. "There's your word to go ahead," he tells himself. He shrugs hard, as though to dislodge something clutching his shoulders, and goes back to Kerewin.

"Everything okay?"

Now's the time.

But he freezes at the thought of telling. Not yet, he thinks, smiling desperately, I can't tell her yet…

"Yeah, just another snarl-up with damn Tainuis, eh," pushing his hand out as though pushing the quarrel away. "Okay me and Himi go on that holiday sometime next week? When school breaks up?"

"Surely."

Why the tears, man? Why the tears glittering at the sides of your eyes?