Witi Ihimaera - Sky Dancer

“Of course she will,” Bella answered finally. She didn’t know why Lucas cared so much — or what his girlfriend Melissa would think. But that was really none of her business.

“Ah well,” Lucas said. “I’d better go. I’m on my lunch break. You wouldn’t happen to know where Arnie is, would you? He’s done a runner on me.”

“He didn’t tell you?” Bella answered. “He’s had to go up north. On family business.”

“Oh, so he’ll be coming back? Good.”

Lucas went out the door, Bella sat down in a chair and stroked Cora’s face. Cora’s skin was so cold, so alabaster. The only perceptive movements were the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and, every now and then, the flicker of her eyelids as if she was dreaming. If she was, she was trapped there, searching for a door, a way out.

“Cora?” Bella began. “I know you can’t hear me, but don’t be afraid, dear. You must be patient and hold on. You have a lovely daughter in Skylark. She’s doing the best she can.”

It was time to go. Quickly, Bella stood up and kissed Cora on the forehead. On the way out she happened to glance at Cora’s chart at the foot of the bed: Cora Agnes Edwards nee Wipani Born Christchurch 1960

Bella closed the door behind her.

She left the hospital and headed back to Manu Valley at speed.

“I’ve stayed away too long,” she said to herself. The forest blurred around her, the sunlight slashing at the windscreen like a whip. She pushed the accelerator to the floor. In no time flat she reached the homestead, stepped out of the station-wagon and slammed the door. The silence became physical and hit her in the stomach.

Bella looked up to the clifftop. She couldn’t hear Hoki’s shotgun. She couldn’t see Hoki at all. Instead, at the summit, a cloud of seabirds was swooping and diving, raining like arrows through the rip in the sky.

“Oh no.”

Bella pulled the ammunition out of the wagon and yanked the top off one of the cases. She grabbed some boxes of shells and stuffed them in her jacket. Then she was on the run into the homestead to get her shotgun. Along the verandah she hurried, banging the door open with her shoulder.

She was surrounded with the sound of hissing.

Bella stepped back. Her blood ran cold with fear. The room was filled with black sea shags. They had smashed their way in through the windows. They were perched everywhere. On the sofas. On the table and chairs and the sideboard. The remains of Lucas’s doll, shredded, punctured, totally savaged, were scattered throughout the room. Standing on the doll’s head, claws dug deeply into its face was the black shag, Kawanatanga. The sight of him brought Bella to her senses and she pointed a finger at him.

“You are trespassing here,” Bella called. “The land to the landbirds, the sea to the seabirds. How dare you transgress my personal domain and soil my undefended nest. Go or face the wrath of the Lord Tane.”

Kawanatanga’s wings unfolded like a nightmare. He filled the room with his mocking sibilants:

The Lord Tane is on our side now. He has granted us dispensation to change the order of things if we can. Once we have the power, old hen, it will be only by our leave that you will live here.

Bella picked up a jug and threw it at Kawanatanga. It smashed, raining him with jagged pieces. His eyes widened and he stretched out his neck.

The threatening movement did not frighten Bella. “That may be,” she said, “but it has not yet come to pass. Until then the old order stands. Now get out, and take your dark minions from Hell with you.”

Kawanatanga stabbed at the air with his beak. There was a flurry of black wings as the seashags hopped up onto the window sills and out. The sun gleamed on their feathers as they ascended the currents.

Kawanatanga remained behind:

Enjoy your freedom while you have it.

Kawanatanga lifted and, as he beat past Bella, she felt his wingtips like sinister fingers caressing her face. She ran to the verandah to watch the squad of seashags, fifty in all, that were heading north.

“They know about Skylark,” Bella realised.

She heard Hoki’s scream curling down from the clifftop. Bella grabbed her shotgun and was on the run again. As she climbed the cliff path she was already loading and firing the weapon at random into the air. Bang. Reload. Bang. Reload. Bang. “Hoki, Sister, I’m coming —”

Hoki was lying on the grass. Seabirds were diving at her. She was fending them off with her walking sticks.

“Get away from her,” Bella yelled. She reloaded her shotgun. Bang. The seabirds scattered, turning away from the ripped sky. Just to make sure that they knew the boss had returned, Bella let off another shot. Bang. The sound reverberated across the sky like distant thunder.

“I’m sorry, Sister,” Hoki said. “The shotgun stopped working. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to fix it myself.” Her face was streaming with sweat.

“That doesn’t matter. At least you’re alive.”

Quickly, Bella picked up the shotgun. She inspected it, worked the bolt a couple of times and ejected the shellcase that had jammed inside the barrel. It was just a simple jam, easy to fix; she had shown Hoki hundreds of times. Hoki saw her sister’s look of frustration. “I’m sorry, Sister,” she wept. “I can’t even shoot straight. The sweat pours into my eyes, I can’t see anything and —”

“Don’t worry. No use crying over spilt milk. It’s all over now.”

But Bella remained worried. “We’ve got to get more help,” she said. “We can’t manage this by ourselves.”

With the darkness, the seabirds retreated and the sisters returned to the homestead. Bella had told Hoki about Kawanatanga’s visit but she was surprised by the depth of Hoki’s reaction.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Hoki moved through the room on her walking sticks, uncovering the memorabilia of their lives: the smashed photographs, glassware, family mementoes, woven rugs and cushions. Watching her, Bella thought about how Hoki had always been so sentimental, how small personal treasures had always mattered to her.

“Look what they did to your jug,” Hoki continued, picking up the pieces. “You always loved that jug!”

Oops, Bella thought. Did I? Ah well, let the seabirds take the blame.

“What are we going to do about that doll?” Bella asked.

Hoki poked at it with distaste. “Lucas can buy another one next time he goes to the sex shop,” she said.

They began to clear up the mess. They swept up the broken glass, removed the soiled covers from the sofas, took the carpets out onto the verandah and scrubbed the floor of bird dung.

“I’ll go and prepare dinner now,” Hoki said.

“While you’re doing that,” Bella answered, “I’ll make a list of the repairs. We’ll need a glazier to fix the windows. But there’s something more important to discuss.”

“I know I’m hopeless,” Hoki said, feeling sorry for herself.

“It’s not that. But we can’t carry on alone. We’ve managed all right so far, but —”

“But?” Hoki flared. Tears of humiliation stained her cheeks.

“Sister dear, we have to swallow our pride. Either you call Mitch, or I will.”

“Are you telling me how to do my job again?” Hoki asked.

Nevertheless she went to the phone and dialled a number.

“Hello? Is that you, Mitch? Good. How’s the fishing? Not too good? I’m sorry to hear that. Then maybe, if you and Francis don’t have anything on, could you come up to the valley and spare me and Bella some time? Thanks, Mitch. Yes, it’s about the seabirds. It’s really serious.”

Hoki put the phone down. “There,” she said to Bella. “Satisfied?” In a temper, she began to hit at her bad leg with a walking stick. Bella restrained her.