Witi Ihimaera - Sky Dancer

Skylark followed the exit signs out of the harbour. Not until then did she put the wipers on. The windscreen cleared and she was soon driving away from Wellington on the main highway north.

Hoki stood at the clifftop like a sentinel. All around, the seabirds were wheeling. Whenever they got too close she balanced on her walking sticks and raised the shotgun. “Think you can get past me?” she muttered. “Well think again.”

Boom. The force of the shot almost unbalanced her. She blew at the smoke issuing from the barrel. “Yessirree, the sheriff’s back in town.” She cast a particularly murderous glance at Kawanatanga. He was like a general overlooking the battlefield and marshalling his troops. She’d tried before to pop him off, but he was in a high-flying figure-eight pattern and always out of range.

“Too scared to come down to Momma?” Hoki asked, trying to take a bead on him. “Come closer, you big black brute, come to Auntie Hoki —”

Hoki let off a shot but it fell short. Kawanatanga arched his neck and shouted his mockery down upon her. He soared on the thermals, exhibiting the insolent strength of his scapulars. Watching him, Hoki found herself looking through the ripped sky to the blackness beneath; it was like an eye into the past, and she had to shake her head to clear her vision. She looked at her watch. It was coming on to midday and she was getting hungry.

Bella arrived with a basket containing some sandwiches and drink. She also had a strange piece of equipment with her — a long wooden rod, like a broom handle, with a notch at one end. She spread a blanket on the grass and invited Hoki to join her. If it hadn’t been for the screaming seagulls you would have thought that two old ladies were sitting down for a quiet picnic.

“I’ve just had the fright of my life,” Bella said.

Boom . She levelled the shotgun at the sky as some gulls tried to sneak past.

“What from, Sister dear?” Hoki asked.

“You should have told me you had sat that hideous doll in one of the armchairs in the sitting room. I thought we had a visitor.”

“I put Skylark’s dressing gown on it,” Hoki giggled. “Do you think it will fool the seabirds?”

“Let’s hope so,” Bella answered. “There were a few sitting on our telephone lines, looking in through the window. We’ve got to give Skylark and Arnie as much of a head start as possible. Once the seabirds find out she isn’t here, they may go after her.”

After lunch it was Bella’s turn on sentry duty, but Hoki decided to stay up on the cliff with her. “Who knows what booze you’ve got in your flask,” she joked.

“That means you’re spoiling my surprise,” Bella said. She stood, picked up the strange piece of equipment she had brought with her and began banging it into the ground. She placed Hoki’s shotgun in the cradle. “Even though you don’t deserve this,” she said, “given your crack about my flask, this will save you having to balance on your walking sticks. All you need to do is aim and pull the trigger.”

“Why, thank you, Sister dear,” Hoki answered. She had a practice, swinging the shotgun on its cradle and then: Boom .

What was that sound?

One moment Arnie was asleep, the next he was aware of someone singing. At first he thought it was birdsong but then he realised that this was only one voice and it wasn’t a bird. Slowly, he opened one eye and peeked out. Skylark was behind the wheel of his ute, earphones on her head, and she was singing along with a portable CD. She had put it on rather than the ute’s radio so she wouldn’t wake him, but had been carried away with the songs on the disc.

“The hills are alive with the sound of music …”

Arnie decided to play possum and just listen and watch for a while. It hadn’t occurred to him that Skylark would have such a gorgeous voice — light, bright and, when she opened out the throttle, man, could it soar? Could it what!

“I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night …”

The CD was a compilation of Broadway show tunes, which was not Arnie’s type of music at all. But for the first time he saw Skylark with her guard down. Sure, she wasn’t the slim type that he preferred but she had a really pretty face. Her skin was clear, her eyes sparkled and although her chin was as stubborn as, once you looked past her attitude you found a different girl.

Not for long. Right in the middle of the song Skylark saw that Arnie was awake, staring at her, and she stopped in mid-flight.

“I hate people watching me while I’m driving,” she said.

“No, don’t stop,” Arnie answered. “I didn’t realise you had such a terrific voice.”

Skylark didn’t know whether Arnie was being sarcastic or not. “Yes, well, the CD’s not mine. It’s Mum’s. Would you believe I’ve brought her music by mistake?”

“Well I think its great,” Arnie said. “Did you have lessons?”

“No,” Skylark answered, relaxing. “But when I was little and Mum and I used to go on long trips between one gig and another, she loved to have me sing in the car. ‘Sing, Skylark, sing,’ she used to say. She told me that it stopped her from falling asleep at the wheel.” Skylark smiled at the memory. “Mum used to say, ‘Skylark O’Shea, a girl should never leave home without a Broadway tune in her purse, just in case she meets an agent and has an audition on the spot! A show tune is just the thing when you’re feeling afraid or in a jam. Whenever that happens, sing, Skylark, sing.’”

Skylark gave an incredulous laugh at her own gullibility. Then she realised she had shown too much of herself. She looked ahead.

“We’ve reached Taihape,” she said. “And don’t think you can get around me so easily, just by being nice about my singing.”

“Already?” Arnie’s eyebrows arched with surprise. “Nice driving, Skylark.” Then, “I’m hungry,” he said. “I could eat a horse and drink a river dry. Let’s stop and have lunch when we hit the town.”

“You also need a visit to a bathroom,” Skylark said. “Your breath is so awful you could turn me to stone — and don’t be tempted to do it.”

Arnie could have given a smart reply but realised that he had turned the corner with Skylark. After all, she’d been nice to him during the Cook Strait crossing. If he was nice back, maybe they’d get along better. For the first time since they’d started the trip they’d been able to have a conversation — a short one, sure — without getting at each other’s throats. It was a start.

Skylark turned into a parking space. Arnie found a restaurant, and left Skylark to order food while he made a visit to the bathroom with a toothbrush, towel and soap. When he came back he was washed, brushed and combed, and Skylark had ordered herself a pie with peas and chips, washed down with coffee.

“ What! ” Skylark asked. She just knew, just knew that Arnie was going to criticise her selection. Well, she needed carbos, wanted carbos and was going to get carbos — and she just felt like a pie, thank you very much.

“I think I’ll have the same,” Arnie said, deciding to keep the peace, though what he really yearned for was a nice piece of lean steak, some salad and an energy drink to get his electrolyte levels back up. He took a bite out of the pie: “Mmm, good,” he lied. Somewhere over the next few days, he vowed, he’d just have to find a gym.

After lunch, Skylark visited the women’s room. She scrubbed her face till it shone, put her hair up in butterfly clips, sprayed some perfume in the air and stood under the mist. Arnie, waiting for her by the ute, was pleased she’d made the effort to look like — well, a person of her gender, for a change, but decided on balance not to say anything about it. Why tempt fate?