The Bone People (28 page)

reacted with his earlier extreme fear at being held or thwarted in anything. It was almost as though he had

been expecting it for a long time, and was now dully relieved that the worst had happened. The odd marks,

the man remembers, the marks which had puzzled the people at the hospital... maybe even before... but he

looked at me without resentment or fear, just looking. Observed me without communicating, He seemed to

understand that time, how close I was to breaking point... but now? He must think it's just me taking all my

woes out on him. That's not what it is, but he gets punished so often he probably doesn't believe I'm belting

him just for wrongdoing. Or does he think he's that wicked? Good for nothing else?

She'll know I'm bad.

And is he now waiting for Kerewin to assault him too?

Joe shudders.

At the moment he'd rather cut his throat than hurt his son, but he knows from broken past resolutions, that

come the morning if the child is sulky or rude or baulks at doing what he's told, he'll welt him with a cold and

righteous intent. You've been bad, tama, and you're sure as hell going to learn... do I hate him then? But how

can you hate someone and not know it? I love him. I just get wild with him every so often. Like I told him, it

doesn't even seem "he him I'm hitting. His disobedience or something, I don't know.

Ah, you're screwed up in the head, Ngakau... and elsewhere, but it all comes back to the head.

His penis is erect, proud under his hand. He begins to relieve himself, cautiously but mechanically. He can

hear Kerewin's quiet breathing, a woman asleep a yard across the way. A mile away.

God, what makes her tick? She must feel like this sometimes... but she never shows it. She's as distant as a

stone. I've never seen her excited by anything except odd colours and archaic words... and she hates touching.

She even avoids Haimona's hugs and kisses, and as for mine... ha! Yet Hana was as ready as me, strong for

love any time, right to the night they took her away from me... someone, sometime, must have hurt Kerewin.

Like I've been hurt and putoff. But hassles with Himi aren't because of lack of sex. I was celibate for that year

before I met Hana and anyway, I can get it now when I like... not that enjoyable, just bodymeeting, but it

shouldn't make me cruel. I was never cruel to anyone then.

He shudders slightly and then relaxes, eased.

The child hasn't stirred. Still as if he's fainted. Still as if he's dead.

What happens if I damage him badly? Or kill him?

He clenches his teeth.

Like when I fought that shit Luce over his sneer that Himi would get to prefer the boys too, under my

influence. "The look in your eyes, Hohepa, when you talk and kiss, my god, it's hot enough to turn me on at

twenty paces distant, let alone the pretty child himself. There's something very appealing about the half wild

and the half broken-in -- and you know what I mean by that, sweetie. And the way he kisses back... did you

teach him? From Taki? Not from Hana, I guarantee,

that puha mouth couldn't kiss--"

"Shut your mouth about Hana. And shut your mouth about Taki. That's dead past and not to be spoke--" "O, I told him, dear. And do you know? He giggled. Fondly. Dear old Daddy, he loved the idea. Positively

deelighted in --"

Wham. Straight into Luce's fine high nose.

And afterwards, he had gone home and yelled Simon awake. He had begun by scolding the child, but angered

by his sleepridden look of bewilderment -- deliberate, he's hiding behind it, I know his slyness -- had finished

by belting him until he fainted. Staggering then into the kitchen, sick from the party, sick from the fight with

Luce, sick with this. But the only way to be less sick is to drink more, so the best part of half a bottle of

whisky, searing down his

throat. Muttering "Fallen boy, fallen boy," and remembering the sad sweet months with Taki. I knew it was

wrong, I know it was unnatural, but he was gentle, he was kind, I loved him and it was good.

And why why why did he have to laugh at it?

His rage mounted. Laugh at me, will he? Laugh, eh?

(And remembers this with most shame next morning, because it was only Luce's words, and Luce was born

to make trouble.)

The child had crawled part way back to his bedroom. The tired sick way he moves, the mess of him, his

cringing, the highpitched panting he makes instead of any normal cry -- e this thing is no child of mine,

levering the boy to his feet and pinning him against the wall, and punching him in the face and body until he

whitens horribly and faints a second time.

And he had picked up the unconscious child with no feeling except hate in his heart, and thrown him on the

bed. He had fallen loose and broken, and lay unmoving, sprawled still as if dead for hours.

And while he was full of remorse for what he had done to Haimona in the daylight, he couldn't bring himself

to seek help. Aiiiee, imagine what they'll say, they'll do... so it's lies in notes to school, Simon P has the flu,

excuse, and lies to Marama, O Himi has a friend, neat eh, he likes going there, lies to all and sundry for two

weeks. Then Piri finds out, and now they all think I am sick, am warped, am a monster of cruelty. No blame

on him, he's a godgiven angel to them... and what does Kerewin think now? Aue, don't think about that.

The child heals, at least his body heals; but then, and each time after, he becomes both more diffident and

more unruly... and the worst part is that he still loves me. And what else can I do but kiss him back, hold him

tight, and hope that the bad times will finish soon.

I kiss him too much. I hold him too much. Don't think on it, play each day as it comes... don't drink so much,

don't do such things again. Forget it.

He bites his hand hard, and screws his eyes shut against tears.

Aroha, the child said, while smiling that wicked challenging smile, aroha.

"Ka nui taku mate, ka nui taku mate," and stops his whispering in horror as Simon touches his face.

"Aie tama, it's just a nightmare..." he can feel the child's eyes on his face, "... just a bad dream."

it . .. and Kerewin turns to him saying, "That's okay with you then sunchild?" from the top of the building where she's standing.

Joe is nodding, pleased and proud in the background, and he can feel the sun on his shoulderblades, and he

can scarcely contain the bounding joy he feels. He throws off the chains from his head and his feet and he

cries "I'm home!" and Kerewin yells, "Hey Clare says Homai!" and Joe says proudly, "I hear! What joy!"

He opens his eyes.

It's grey outside, he can see through the gap in the curtains. He can hear the rain beating down. Underneath

that sound, the sea hushes up and down the beach.

He sighs.

It's the first day here, but already time is running out.

He leans over the bunkside.

Joe's head is practically buried under the blankets. All you can see are long strands of black hair... hey, wait a

minute, didn't I go to sleep down there? His father's hand is curled tightly above his head.

Must have put me back here again--

He glances at Kerewin.

She is tucked up neatly, her head on her arm. She doesn't sleep with a pillow at all. She seems to do without a

lot. She doesn't sleep with pyjamas on either. She'd gone out while he and Joe got ready for bed, and coming

back, turned out the remaining lamp, and got undressed in the dark. There was enough light from the range to

show him that she didn't bother getting dressed again for sleeping.

Now she lies curled and still, her hair thick and curling round her face.

He sighs again.

In that dream, she had cut her hair very short. He hopes she doesn't. He can't bear his own hair being cut.

I don't see why it needs cutting, he thinks resentfully.

But Joe says, When you're old enough to take care of your own hair, you can decide how to wear it. Till then,

I decide. Right?

You didn't say No to that, not without a fight happening. From experience, you should learn not to say No--

He stretches, leaning an arm out to touch the green wall beside him, and the other to touch the yellow wall at

the back of his head.

I wish somebody would wake up.

He turns carefully over onto his back, wincing. Still... he looks at the roof. There's the lamp hooks, and

hundreds of spider webs... all Kere's people must be like her and grow spiders in their houses... he wonders if

Kerewin knows about the little brown man with blue lines across his face who seems to sleep in the floor.

Not on it, the floor looks like it's not hard for him, he just lay down, and went halfway through it. Then he

became aware that Simon was staring at him, and grinned at him, and said something in a soft indistinct

guttural voice.

It was Maori, like Joe when he's in a good mood at home, or in a bad mood and wants to yell me out with

other people around. But, thinks Simon frowning, it wasn't quite the same. Some of the words sounded funny.

Besides I can't remember what he said. It was just before I got sick.

Ho hum.

There's a lot of shelves here. Some over the bunk across the way, and at the end of the room near the range,

and above the sink, all of them piled with books, and more books, and candles and lamps and boxes and tins

of food. You could tell this was a home of Kerewin's family... books and lights and food, all the same.

The cloth Joe used for wiping up the sick has dried crinkly on the string above the range. Above it, on the

mantelpiece he supposes, are more lamps and candles and boxes... anana! that's a mouse! A live mouse--

It sits on the mantelpiece, and apparently doesn't see him watching. It cleans its paws, and sits back on its

haunches, nose twitching, ears alert, eyes bright and beady and ready for any movement.

But Simon doesn't move. The delight is back. Hey, a live mouse! I never saw one before--

He levers himself up with infinite care, slowly, slowly -- but the mouse drops to all fours and flicks away out

of sight behind a lamp.

Aue, he thinks, but not with much disappointment, It'll be living somewhere in the bach, and I'll see it again

today maybe. Or tomorrow... I won't tell Kerewin or she'll set a trap.

She'd exclaimed with disappointment over the empty traps in the new bach.

He's sitting now, the over-blanket drawn up round his waist. Am, as he straightens. I wish for one day it

didn't hurt. But it's not all that bad, shrugging tentatively, experimentally. You'll do Claro, you'll do.

He leans over the side again.

Still nobody's moved. They're breathing very quietly, no snores. If he listens intently he can hear Joe, but the

gusting rain drowns Kerewin out.

I might as well get dressed.

He's shivering.

He burrows for his T-shirt, takes his pyjama top off, and pulls the shirt on. The bandages Kerewin had taped

on are loose now. Sometime today, I'll tell her. Or maybe I do something else? He closes his eyes and waits

for an idea, but it's too cold to concentrate for long.

Where the unprintable as Kere says did I put that berloody jersey? I remember, end of the bed. Crawls out of

the warmth of sleepingbag for it, but it's not there. Looks over the edge. Yeah, I'd believe it. On ther berloody

apricock floor.

So he creeps down the ladder, pulls on his jeans and his jersey,

and sits gingerly down to put on his socks.

Now what?

Will Kere get mad if I try lighting the fire? No, it'll make a noise.

I'm thirsty.

He sneaks over to the tap and draws himself a glass of water.

It is cold, cold, cold.

I'm hungry.

He stamps lightly on the floor. Harder, but no-one stirs even then.

O to hell with this lot. I better wake someone up.

He blows on his fingers. They're starting to freeze too.

He thinks grumpily, I could freeze to death for all they care.

Who'll I try?

Joe? No, he was dreaming bad, so he'll probably be in a shitty mood today.

Bad mood? Fight? Ahh maybe.

It feels right, he thinks, tiptoeing over to Kerewin, kneeling down by the bunkside.

I'll surprise her, grinning already at the way she always reacts to a kiss. Draws back and looks as though she's

going to spit.

He leans in and kisses her on the mouth, but for a moment there's no reaction.

Then Kerewin frowns. She opens her eyes and stares at him.

E Kere, it's me, don't look as though I'm not here,

his mouth is open with distress, and she starts to smile.

"Hello you," she whispers. "Up and about already?"

She rubs her eyes, and yawns, turns away from him and stretches. "Ye Gods, child, it's cold... you dressed

warmly?"

He presses himself close to her, and then sits across her legs.

"O thanks. How t'hell 'm I supposed to get up?" But she's still smiling, and still talking in whispers. He wriggles closer, and mouths, Coffee?

"You want one, or do I want one?"

He points, You and me.

"And guess who's supposed to get it?" She closes her eyes.

He snaps his fingers. Wake up, or I can't talk to you... he crawls up the bunk beside her and blows on her face

and on her shut eyes and in her hair. Her arm snakes out and pinions him, and shifts him backwards. But she's

gentle doing it, and Simon in gratitude kisses her arm.

"Ah hell," says Kerewin, mock groaning, "kid, you're impossible. Go have a mimi or something while I get dressed."

But he's comfortable where he is, thanks, getting warm again. He smiles at her, and steals more eiderdown.