Witi Ihimaera - Uncle's Story

‘If you know what’s best for you, don’t come between me and —’ She pointed at me. ‘Him. And don’t forget I’m from Porourangi and you Kai Tahu are descended from Porourangi’s younger brother, Tahu Potiki, so I’m from the senior line! Apart from which I saw Michael first and I’ve known him longer than you have.’

I thought that Roimata was referring to our close friendship. Carlos knew better. He looked at Roimata closely and nodded in tacit understanding.

‘Done,’ he said.

Later, at lunch, I quizzed Carlos more about his ancestry.

‘I thought you already knew,’ he said. ‘I work for the Maori Fisheries Commission. They employ me to go up and down the country checking on fisheries quotas. That’s why I’m on the phone all the time. When I’m not doing that I like to go out dancing or, even better, spearfishing.’

‘Well, there’s lots I don’t know about you, obviously,’ I answered.

Like how hungry he was. He was wolfing down his food.

‘Yeah, well, I know a lot about you,’ Carlos said. ‘I’ve had my eye on you for some time. But you were always with somebody else.’

Uh oh. ‘So this is not just about sex, is it,’ I asked. ‘Listen, I don’t want any complications. Right now I’ve had all I want of —’

Carlos put down his knife and fork and smiled very dangerously.

‘I want you to put your hands on the table, lay them flat and keep them where I can see them. Do it now.’

He sounded like the bad guy in a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie so I did as I was told. Under the table I felt his fingers undoing my zip. I began to protest, and moved my hands to stop him.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ Carlos said. ‘Keep them on the table.’

His fingers dipped, opened and pulled . My groan must have been heard by everyone in the restaurant. Satisfied, Carlos went back to eating.

‘Now what were we talking about?’ he asked. ‘Was it about your needing me to come to see you tonight?’

He chopped a very large piece of steak and lobbed it into his mouth. Chewed. Swallowed in a single gulp. Looked at me with those big innocent eyes of his.

My answer was a strangulated squeak.

‘Okay.’

Back at Roimata’s office, I looked at my watch: 2.30. Time for me to go out to meet Anne-Marie Davidson. I gave Roimata a kiss on the cheek. She held my face a fraction and smiled.

‘I like your Carlos,’ she said. ‘So will Tane Mahuta. Did I tell you he’s back in town tomorrow? Are you free for lunch?’

The Noble Savage. Yes, it would be great to see him.

‘Sure,’ I answered.

Then I was out of there, into the carpark and driving away from the city — and it was so good to see the sea, the highway curving around Kaiwharawhara, and the Hutt Valley opening up ahead. For a while I raced the suburban train. Two small children were crowded at a carriage window, waving at me. They made me remember my sister Amiria and me, and how we had been on those days before —

The train disappeared into a tunnel.

When I had a mother and father —

Then, there the train was again, away in the distance. Two small arms waving.

A mother and a father …

Sometimes it happens like this. These glimpses of the past. Before you know it, you’re stopping the car and weeping because, no matter how strong you are, separation really hurts. It sucks.

Three o’clock. Right on time.

Mrs Davidson was widowed and living in a two-bedroomed unit, one of six in a tidy row in a quiet Upper Hutt suburb. She was a keen gardener by the look of her roses. They were beautiful, rich red and carefully staked.

Ah well, here goes.

I rang the bell. Heard it go ding dong . A young woman, around my age, answered the door.

‘Yes?’ she asked.

A voice called from behind her.

‘That’ll be Mr Mahana, love. Do show him in.’

The young woman asked me to come in. The doorway opened onto a large open-plan sitting room with a breakfast bar. Mrs Davidson had her back to me. She was preparing a tea tray for my visit. She picked it up, turned with a smile on her face and began to introduce me to the young woman at the door.

‘Thank you for coming, Mr Mahana. This is my daughter Fran. She just popped over to see me and —’

Mrs Davidson froze. She looked at me and:

‘Oh, my.’

She gave a helpless cry. The tea tray fell to the floor. She swayed, and her daughter reached her just in time to catch her.

‘Fran, love, I have to sit down.’

Fran took her to an armchair. As she settled her mother, plumping up the cushions to make her comfortable, she glared at me.

‘I don’t know who you are, or what this is about, but I want you to leave immediately.’

‘No, love,’ Mrs Davidson intervened. ‘It’s been so long. And this boy here, he looks just like Sam did. Sam was his uncle, love. He died in my arms. He was looking up at me, and I was holding him and then —’

She had been Anne-Marie Du Fresne in those days. She was twenty-five and worked as a nurse in Tauranga during the week, but she liked getting back to Auckland for the weekends. Tauranga was such a bore, with nothing to do on Fridays and Saturdays, and the boys weren’t much cop either. She had bought a small car, an Austin Mini, which could get her up and over the Bombay Hills onto the Auckland motorway in a few hours.

‘That Friday I was supposed to be on the afternoon shift but I swapped places with Joanne, one of the other nurses, and did the morning shift instead. This was because Barbara, a good friend of mine up in Auckland, had arranged a blind date for me to go to a ball in Auckland. The way she described him, he sounded like he was tall, dumb and single, which was how I liked my men in those days. I didn’t want to settle down. I’d already been married once, and once was enough, thank you very much.

‘What with one thing and another, I didn’t get off my shift until two in the afternoon. I’d brought my ball gown with me and got changed, intending to drive straight to the cabaret in Auckland. Joanne did my hair for me, piling it all on top like Audrey Hepburn’s in My Fair Lady. Well, it might have looked good on Audrey Hepburn but I must say I didn’t think it did much for me! Joanne used a whole can of hairspray to keep it up there, and didn’t we have a laugh when we realised that my car was so small that the hair couldn’t fit! By the time we re-styled it, it was about 3.30 and I was running very late. So I zipped up my long dress, a sexy white thing down to the ankles, and said to Joanne, “I’ve got to go! Prince Charming’s waiting!” I grabbed my high heels and ran barefoot through the hospital. Some of the male patients gave me a right royal send-off, the cheeky blighters —’

‘Hey, Cinderella, take me to the ball!’

‘Sorry, boys!’ Anne-Marie laughed. ‘I’ve already got my date for the night and he’s on two legs, unlike all you lot.’

‘It’s not his legs you should worry about. It’s what he’s carrying between them you’ll have to watch out for —’

‘Especially in the waltz —’

‘And watch out if he wants to dip in the foxtrot!’

Anne-Marie laughed again. In her white sequined dress she knew she looked gorgeous. She struck a pose at the front doors, blowing kisses to all and sundry.

‘Jealousy will get you nowhere,’ she said.

Then she was out into the cold night, looking for her keys in her bag, unlocking the door of the Mini and stepping in. A flick of the switch and she was off, careering out of the hospital car park.

On the main road she became aware of the darkness. She looked north and saw that grey clouds were broiling overhead. A few minutes later rain started to hit the windscreen. She put on the wipers and, a few seconds later, the headlights.