Just Good Friends (30 page)

“Careful, Mum. You’re in dangerous waters there, using the
a
-word.
You’re meant to think she’s formidable. Imagine Maggie Thatcher.”

Amiria laughed and winked at Kate. “He loves to tease. But I
don’t care, you are adorable, and I don’t mind saying so.”

Kate smiled back. “You’re allowed to say so. Thank you. And
thanks for letting me crash your family party.”

“Uncle Koti!”

He laughed as a little girl came barreling into him. He
picked her up and planted a big kiss on her cheek. “This is Ruby,” he told
Kate. “One of Grace’s.”

“Come play with us,” Ruby pleaded. She was echoed by the
rest of the crowd of children who had run up to join them, and were now enthusiastically
tugging him away.

“We’ve been waiting for you for
ages,”
put in an
older boy. “I’m a flanker on my new team, Uncle Koti, did you know that? I got
the Tackle Man trophy last week, too. Come on, and I’ll show you what I’ve
learnt.”

“Keep your shirt on. Be there in a bit,” he promised. “Are
you OK if I leave you?” he asked Kate. “My presence is required, as you can
see.”

“It’s tough being so popular,” she commiserated. “Go ahead.
You’ve been sitting for a long time anyway. You need to run around as much as
they do, I’ll bet.”

Amiria laughed. “She knows you too well, I can see that. You
go on, Koti. Plenty of us here to entertain Kate.”

She wasn’t kidding, Kate saw as they entered the house.
She’d known Koti had a big family. Still, she wasn’t prepared for the impact of
his three sisters and their husbands, plus the younger children, filling the
lounge to overflowing with chat and laughter. They were all so big, too. She
felt ridiculously undersized, like Gulliver in the land of the giants.

Hope and Grace exclaimed at the sight of her, jumping up to
embrace and kiss her, and introducing her to the third sister, Joy. They pulled
her down on the couch with them, and Kate found her unaccustomed shyness
disappearing as she became engrossed in the lively conversation.

Koti came back into the room, bringing five happy, chattering
children with him, while his mother and sisters were starting to put the meal
on the table.

“Wash hands, everyone.” Amiria pushed them in the direction
of the bathroom. “You too, Koti. You’re filthy.”

“Nana, guess what? We all jumped on Uncle Koti,” giggled
Ruby. “We tackled him and he fell down.”

“He only fell down because he wanted to,” her ten-year-old
brother informed her loftily. “He’s too strong for kids to tackle hm.”

“Don’t know about that,” Koti said, clapping the boy on the
shoulder. “Seems to me you’re getting a fair set of muscles yourself. I’ll be
having to watch myself soon.”

The boy glowed with pleasure, and Kate heard him begin to
tell his uncle about his own rugby season as the two went off to clean up.

“I’m never going to remember everyone’s name,” Kate
apologized when they were sitting down to dinner. “There are too many kids.”

“Going to be even more, too,” Joy said. “Did Mum tell you,
Koti? Both Hope and I’ve fallen pregnant again, can you believe it?”

“Getting pretty far out ahead of you, bro,” her husband
Jonah told him

“Somebody has to be the fun uncle, though,” Koti protested.
“Reckon that’s my job.”

“Seems like you may be getting closer, anyway,” Joy said
with a sly glance at Kate.

“Joy.” Her mother shot her a quelling glance.

“Sorry,” Joy said, chastened. “Not appropriate.”

“It’s lovely to have you with the family for tea again,
Koti,” his mother went on smoothly. “I do worry about what you’re eating. Hope
and Grace said there wasn’t much in your fridge, last time they were up.”

“I’m doing better with that, though,” he said. “Kate and I
have been practicing. Cooking,” he added hastily, seeing Jonah smother a laugh.

“You’re teaching him to cook?” Grace looked at Kate with
approval. “We’ve never managed that.”

Kate laughed. “Believe me, I’m not doing any teaching. We’ve
been learning together, by trial and error. A fair amount of error. We’ve only
had to throw out the whole dinner once, though. And that was a while ago, huh,
Koti? I’d say we’re making progress. We hardly even burn anything anymore.”

“I want to learn to do lamb next,” Koti told his mother. “We
may be ready to expand our horizons that far. Can we ring you this week, have
you talk us through it?”

“Of course, love.”

“Getting domesticated, eh,” Doug said to Koti with a grin.
“Watch yourself, bro. That’s a slippery slope.”

“One of us has to be,” Koti answered. “And Kate’s a dead
loss.”

“Hey. No worse than you,” she protested.

“Like I said. A dead loss. As bad as me,” he admitted.

“You boys can watch the kids,” Amiria commanded once
everyone had finished eating. She got up from the table and began to clear.
“We’ll do the washing up. It’ll give us a chance to have a chat.”

Kate wondered how much more chatty these women could get.
She soon found out, as their affectionate teasing and laughter filled the warm
kitchen. 

“You’ve been in En Zed six months now, I hear,” Amiria said
to Kate as they worked together to fill the dishwasher. “What do you think of
it so far? Have you had a chance to get around much, see a bit of the country?”

“Sadly, no. I’ve mostly been working. I haven’t had any
vacations—holidays, I mean—except this one we just went on. I’m clear on the
fact that Australia is very different from New Zealand now, anyway, so I won’t
make any embarrassing comparisons.”

“Probably a good idea,” Hope smiled. “We do tend to resent
that.”

“Got it,” Kate assured her. “And I have managed to have a
few adventures here. Koti’s taught me to surf, which was quite a challenge—for both
of us. He also took me Waitomo for one of those blackwater rafting trips. That
was probably my favorite thing I’ve done.”

“You’re brave,” Hope said with admiration. “I’ve never done
that. I don’t mind the caves, just don’t want to do all that dropping down and
climbing up. Weren’t you scared?”

“A little,” Kate admitted. “But it was amazing all the same.
Looking back at it, the best part was being down there in the dark with the
glowworms, and hearing Koti sing. The Maori songs—the couple of them I’ve heard,
anyway—are so beautiful, even though I don’t understand the words. And he sings
so well. I’ve always wished I could do that.”

“You must sing, though, with your own family,” Amiria
protested.

“Not unless you count ‘Happy Birthday,’ or the occasional
Christmas carol. The only time I’ve sung recently was in a karaoke bar. And
that was almost a disaster.”

“That just means you need to practice more,” Grace said
firmly. “Would you like to learn a song yourself?”

“What, now? I really can’t sing, though. Not on my own. I’m
not just saying that.”

Grace laughed. “You won’t have to sing alone. That’s the
idea. We all sing it together. We’ll teach you
Tutira mai nga iwi,”
she
decided. “That’s one every Maori knows. You’ll be able to impress people then,
when you can join in. It’s easy as to learn, too.”

Without giving Kate a chance to protest, she began singing a
line at a time, encouraging Kate to practice each after her. The tune was
catchy and simple, and Kate found to her surprise that Grace had been right.
Even though she didn’t know what the words meant, they were easy to pick up.

“Time to put it all together,” Grace announced, as the
lesson concluded along with the washing-up.

“Oi!” she clapped her hands as they reentered the lounge.
“Get the rest of the kids. We’re going to have a sing with Kate, here.
Tutira
mai nga iwi.
”

They all really did sing, Kate found with pleasure, as men,
women, and children joined in with joyful abandon, slapping thighs or tables in
time to the beat as they sang.

“HI AUE HEI !!!”
Kate shouted out the final chant
with the rest, then dissolved with them into laughter and applause. “What does
it mean, anyway?” she asked. “This one isn’t sad, I can tell that.”

“It’s about unity,” Joy told her. “It says, ‘Line up, all of
us together. Think as one, act as one. Love each other, learn together. All of
us together.’ That’s the ‘
tatou, tatou, e’
you kept singing—all of us
together.”

“Ah. Kind of a Maori pride thing,” Kate nodded.

“That’s it,” Joy agreed.

“I guess you guys don’t need a karaoke bar to find the
courage to sing,” Kate mused.

“Nah,” Grace’s husband Tane grinned. “No alcohol or
background music required. We grow up singing and just keep on. If you’re not
careful, you’ll be here all night singing, now that you’ve got us started.”

“Talking of that,” Koti rose from his seat, “we’d better be
on our way. It’s gone six-thirty, and Kate has to work tomorrow. See you, Mum.”
He leaned down to give her a warm hug and kiss. “I’ll come again as soon as I
can.”

The entire family came out to wave them away as they left.
Kate settled back into her seat with a contented sigh.

“No fight over the car keys this time, anyway,” Koti said
with relief. “That was dead embarrassing, turning up like that.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to drive back, to tell you the
truth,” she said. “I’m so full, I feel like a python that’s eaten a goat. I’m
going to lie back here and focus on digesting. I can see where your sisters got
their cooking ability. Your mom might even succeed in talking us through the
lamb thing.”

 “Now you know why I don’t live in Hamilton. If I did, I’d
lose all my endorsements straight away. Nobody’d want me to take my shirt off.”

She reached over and put a palm on his flat abdomen. “Still
feels pretty good to me. Guess we got you away in time. And by the way, it’s a
wonder you aren’t even more spoiled than you are. Because I’ve never seen
anyone so doted on in my life. I always wondered how those mothers could swear
their darling boys couldn’t possibly have murdered anyone, when they were
caught with five bodies buried in the basement. Now I know.”

“What, because I’m a serial killer? Nice,” he objected.

“No. Just that if you were, they’d still think the sun rose
and set on you. They don’t exactly hold your feet to the fire, do they?”

“And is that bad?” he frowned across at her.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to decide,” she admitted.

“Well, don’t hold back. I should have known I’d get your
opinion.”

“Do you really not want me to tell you what I think? Because
I can keep it to myself, if you don’t want to hear it.”

“Nah,” he decided. “Better tell me, now you’ve brought it
up. I don’t have to agree with you.”

“No, you don’t. OK. You have a whole lot of unconditional
love. Not just from your mom, but from your sisters too. And that’s great. Pretty
unusual, too. But you also get all that unconditional approval. And
that
I’m not so sure about.”

“What does that mean?”

“Did you hear that, back there? If the All Black selectors
hadn’t chosen you this time, there’d have been something wrong with them. It
could never have been for any other reason—say, that you hadn’t worked hard
enough, or somebody else was better. Because you’re perfect as you are, no
improvement needed.”

“You obviously did deserve to be selected,” she went on
hastily at his frown. “I’m not saying you didn’t. You did work hard, and you
are the best. I know that. And you
are
pretty great, in my unbiased
opinion. But frankly, I’m surprised by that. That you turned out as well as you
did, and have got as far as you have, with all that invitation to complacency
at home. Somebody must have been pushing you, somewhere. So who was it?”

“Wish you weren’t so smart,” he grumbled. “My coach, in high
school. And my Uncle Nepia. The one who gave me my pendant. My mum’s brother.
They both made me keep working. Told me when I wasn’t trying hard enough. And
in case you haven’t noticed, I’m still getting it from the senior players and
the coaches.”

She nodded, satisfied. “I knew there had to be somebody. But
it sounds to me like you mostly got that for rugby. Not so much for life. Good
thing your mother and sisters are so decent, that you had their example to make
you the good guy you are. Because otherwise you might have been unbearable. So
entitled. Which I’d guess has been an issue anyway, in the past at least.”

“And what does
that
mean? That I think I’m entitled
to have whatever I want, just because I want it?”

“Well, yeah. What, am I the first one who’s ever said that?”

“The first one to say it that bluntly, anyway.”

“You don’t think you’ve had a bit of a free pass? That you get
away with more because of how you look, not to mention all that flashy talent?
Because women, especially, think you’re charming and wonderful, even when
you’re behaving badly?”

“I don’t behave that badly, though,” he protested. “Tell me
when I haven’t behaved well with you.”

“Not much,” she admitted. “Well, except at the beginning.
But I suspect that’s because I don’t let you get away with it.”

“So why are we having this conversation?” he demanded. “If you’ve
put me in my place. None of that shocking unconditional approval.”

“I thought it was interesting, that’s all. It’s the
accountant in me again. I have to analyze everything. Maybe I overdo it,
sometimes.”

“Ya think?” he asked sarcastically.

“OK,” she said penitently. “I went too far. Sorry. Let me
back up. I liked your mother and your sisters very much. They’re warm and kind
and funny, too. They made me feel at home, and that matters, when you’re as far
away from your real home as I am. And I’ve repaid them by criticizing them to
you for being too loving. Next time I’ll write all this in my diary, instead of
telling you. How’s that?”

He sighed. “Nah. I have to admit, it’s interesting, getting
an outside opinion. You’re honest, at any rate.”