Witi Ihimaera - Sky Dancer

“All this is my fault,” Hoki wept. “Everything. And now Kawanatanga also knows where Skylark and Arnie are. I should have realised his spies were listening in. Sitting there, on the telephone lines. We’d better warn Arnie that the shags are coming.”

“I’ve already tried,” Bella answered. “I can’t get through. Arnie’s cellphone must be switched off or else they’re travelling in an area where it doesn’t work.”

“In that case,” Hoki said, “we must get a message to them through Joe. I’ll telephone in the morning.”

Dinner was a silent affair. Bella could see her sister was still hurting. Afterwards, Hoki cleared the dishes. She went to the bathroom, washed and got into her dressing gown. She was brushing her hair at the dresser when Bella came in.

“Here, let me do that,” Bella said.

“No, it’s all right,” Hoki answered. She was still feeling sorry for herself.

“I’ve always loved brushing your hair,” Bella said.

“Don’t tell lies. You were always so impatient. You used to pull the brush so hard it’s a wonder I have any hair left. I used to hate it when you —”

“Oh, shush,” Bella said. She took the brush and began to apply long strokes, watching Hoki’s long silver hair run through it like a river. How had she and Hoki grown so old so quickly? Here they were, still together, like lovers. “Mitch and Francis aren’t coming just because of you,” Bella said.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“It’s the truth. I need their help too.”

“No,” Hoki said, biting her bottom lip. “It’s because I’m a cripple and I’m hopeless.”

Bella sighed with resignation. When Hoki was like this, it was better to let her sulk and get over it in her own time and in her own way.

Skylark and Arnie arrived at Whakatane. The town was chocka with boy racers dragging each other, burning rubber and doing wheelies down the main street.

“Can’t be much on television,” Arnie said.

“ Coronation Street . Don’t you feel the call of the wild? Wouldn’t you like to show the locals what Annabelle is made of?”

“Sure,” Arnie said, “but we haven’t got the time.”

However, just to make sure that everybody knew they’d been paid a visit by the Black Knight, he gunned the motor and made smoke that gob-smacked even the locals. Satisfied, Arnie sashayed out of town and took the coast road to Joe’s small seaside settlement.

“So what now?” Skylark asked.

“Look for the hotel. Birdy said everybody knows Joe there.”

Skylark peered ahead. They passed a garage, a hardware store and a derelict movie theatre. The road took a fork down to a jetty poking out into the sea. At its end was the hotel, lights blazing.

“Maybe they’ll have rooms for the night,” Arnie said as they pulled up outside.

“If we find Joe, I’ll do the talking,” Skylark answered, putting on her jacket. “Got it?”

Arnie tried to think up a smart reply but thought better of it. “Okay, Skylark,” he said. “You’re coming across loud and clear. No static whatsoever.”

Skylark led the way. But as soon as they were through the door she knew she was in unfamiliar territory — and Arnie knew it too. The bar was crowded with locals, some women, mostly men.

“Which one do you think is Joe?” Skylark asked.

“You’re the boss,” Arnie answered, and he had the gall to look smug.

Skylark had a sinking feeling. Joe could be any one of the grizzled old-timers standing at the bar. Or he could be one of the blokes eating greasy food at tables scattered throughout the room. Off to one side, younger patrons were playing the pokie machines. In another room, Skylark could hear the click of billiard balls. Over everything came the sound of a rugby commentary from a massive television set installed above the bar. Obviously, the hotel was the only place of entertainment in town.

Strangers weren’t all that common in these parts. Skylark and Arnie’s appearance stopped all conversation, and all eyes swivelled to watch them as they paused in the doorway. Skylark wished she had worn one of her other badges: Are These Your Eyeballs? I Found Them In My Cleavage.

She pushed Arnie in front of her. “Ask about Joe,” she said.

“Huh? I’m the sidekick, remember?”

“I am the boss,” Skylark said, “and I’m giving you an order. Just do it. And while you’re about it order me a pie and chips and a Coke. I’m famished.”

Mumbling to himself, Arnie approached the bar. An elderly barman with a bad toupee eyed him up and down. “So what can I do for you, my little man?”

Arnie gritted his teeth. He never let anybody make cracks about his height. “Well, how about a lager for me and a Coke for my girl to start with, eh baldy?”

A collective gasp went up in the room. Obviously the matter of the barman’s head warmer was as sensitive an issue to him as height was to Arnie.

The man froze, gave Arnie the stare, and came back fast. “Coming up, Short Arse, and count yourself lucky you’re a stranger in this town and don’t know any better.” He poured the drinks.

So it was Short Arse now? Arnie smiled dangerously — and let the barman have it. “So, Bum Head,” he asked, “do you know where we can find Joe?”

The barman looked ready to jump across the bar and take Arnie on. Instead he gave an evil smile. “Joe? Now you’re really asking for trouble.” He turned and shouted through the swing doors behind the bar. “Joe? Hey Joe! There’s a boy out here asking for you. About your size, but he’s got more muscles than you and a mouth to go with it.”

“Is that so?” a voice answered. “This I gotta see.”

The swing doors burst open and Joe appeared.

“You’re Joe?” Skylark asked. She was big, butch and built like a brick shithouse. Her hair was cut in a crewcut and there was no doubting that her pecs, underneath her T-shirt, were just as spectacular as Arnie’s. She took one look at Skylark, her eyes swivelled to Arnie and, bullseye, she had his number.

“There’s only one place where you get a build like yours, boy,” Joe said, “and that’s the Army. A Company, B or C?”

“C for Charlie.”

“Bad answer,” Joe answered, flexing her biceps. “When I did my service, C didn’t stand for Charlie. It stood for a part of the female anatomy which, in deference to my sex and because there are ladies present, I shall not mention. Did you make corporal?”

“Yes.”

“Another bad answer,” Joe said. “I made sergeant, so next time you speak to me you’ll add a ‘sir’ to that as in ‘Yes sir !’ Got it?” She began to walk backwards and forwards in front of Arnie, cracking her knuckles. “Man, if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s corporals of any shape, size or colour. Especially when they come into my bar and badmouth my staff. But I’ll give you a break.” Joe planted her elbow on the bar and motioned to Arnie.

“Come on then, Corporal, make my day.”

“Sorry, I never arm wrestle with a woman,” Arnie said. But hell, how much aggro was a guy supposed to take? “However, in your case —” He began to pump his biceps.

Immediately there was a rush to watch — and the barman, always one to make an extra buck, called, “Come on, ladies and gentlemen, place your bets!” Dollar notes came flying from all over the place. Even Skylark put a couple of bucks down.

“Is that all you’ve got to show me?” Joe sneered, one eye on Arnie’s bulging muscles. She gave a few pumps herself and the sleeves of her T-shirt rippled with the strain.

It was a battle of Titans. It was a battle of wills. Arnie kept a grim face and Joe bared her teeth. She forced his arm down to the bar but, at the last moment, Arnie forced her back. She pretended to be surprised and winked at him — and then spat him straight in the eye.