Gith Page 18

  It was Sunday afternoon and we'd fallen asleep. I woke up to feel Gith beside me, all tense. Michelle was standing there in the bedroom doorway, staring. She had a terrible look on her face — we were seriously lucky there wasn't a gun in the house. After a minute she turned and walked away without saying a word. I made a move to get up but Gith wouldn't have it. She wrapped herself round me and hung on. It was easy enough to let her have her way. We lay back and I stroked her hair and we listened to what was going on in the other rooms: Michelle finding whatever it was that she had come back to fetch. Then the front door slammed.

  We only ever saw Michelle one more time. She came to the house with some papers for me to sign: a separation agreement.

  'You disgust me,' she said. 'You make me sick. I want nothing more to do with you. So here's the deal. Whatever's here on this property is yours. Whatever's left in our joint account is yours. The rest is mine. Okay?'

  'Okay.'

  'Right. And I want nothing more to do with her, either. So I'm not one of her trustees any more. I've talked to Peter and it's all fixed. He'll be in touch. Okay?'

  'Okay.'

  'Because if it's not okay, I'll go to the police. Understand?'

  I didn't know if this threat was real or not. I didn't care. I just wanted her to go away. 'Yes.'

  'Good. Then sign here.'

  I did read it. It seemed to say pretty much what she had said. I signed.

  'Thank you,' she said. She sighed like it was a relief to get it over.

  ***

  THE BLOKES IN the pub took a different view of Gith and me. With them it wasn't looking down their noses. It was more like we were a dirty joke. Nudge nudge, wink wink.

  'Here's the mechanic. Oy, mate, my drive shaft needs lubricating. Not like yours, eh?'

  Or.

  'Ken's not a bloke with loose morals. He likes 'em young and tight.'

  'And dumb.'

  'Oh yes. Dumb's the word.'

  I pretended not to hear, or I tried not to. Like I'd done at school with those nasty fat pig comments. There I'd just tried to keep my head down and let it wash over me. I guess my gut feeling now was to do the same. Inside I was boiling, but I knew that anything I did would only make things worse. If I lost my cool it would only feed that other story about what a violent bloke I was. I didn't want to run, but if I didn't run all I could do was pretend I hadn't heard.

  Simon Ingrest was behind the bar. He didn't say anything when I ordered my jug. He didn't need to. The look on his face was enough.

  'You'll take my money though, eh,' I said. 'That's good enough for you.'

  'I won't grace that with a response,' he said, giving me my change.

  I headed over towards Tom and Mark and Monty. I could feel the eyes staring after me as I passed. Muttered comments.

  Snorts of laughter.

  'Oy.' Blue Cormer was blocking my way. Blue wasn't tall but he was solid, with arms as thick as a lot of people's legs.

  'What?' I said. I knew I had to watch my temper here.

  'I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were a decent joker. You're as bad as that little cunt Cleat.'

  'Two of a kind,' somebody said.

  'Bullshit.' I didn't look round to see who it was. I kept my eyes on Blue.

  'You talk to the fucker, don't ya?' He was frowning.

  'He's a human being,' I said.

  'Like fuck he is. He's a pile of ratshit. And you're no fuckin' different.'

  'Okay,' I said.

  'Just keep out of my fuckin' way.'

  'I will if you let me past,' I said.

  I made it to the table.

  Monty and Tom and Mark all stared at me. For a second I was worried they were going to give me a hard time too. Mark, I could see, was barely managing to hide a smart-arse grin.

  'It's not bloody funny,' I said.

  'No, mate. No.' He pulled a serious face.

  'It's all bullshit,' Monty said. 'Mates are mates. That's all I know.'

  'Too right.' Tom nodded.

  I was grateful. I was a bit surprised at Tom though. I'd never figured him as a mate of mine. He always seemed a bit of a sheep — like he could only be himself if the mob didn't make a move.

  'Thanks,' I said.

  He looked at me. 'Well, it takes all types, eh? I knew a bloke over in Feilding was shagging his sister. I couldn't see anything wrong with it. You know — consenting adults and all that.'

  'Right,' I said, not sure if this was the kind of support I wanted.

  Things settled down a bit. We started to talk about cars. Mark's wife had been bugging him about the one she drove and he was thinking about swapping it for something newer. I told him if he wanted a smallish car, he couldn't go past a Toyota Corolla. They weren't the most popular car in the world for nothing. Tom had other ideas. Pretty soon we'd forgotten about everybody else and they'd forgotten about us. Until Ray Tackett walked in, that is.

  I lost track of what the other three were saying as I watched the blokes near the door all saying hello to him and clapping him on the back like he was the local hero. Tackett took his jug to his table looking pleased with himself. One of his mates had a word in his ear. Ray said something back and looked at me. We locked eyes for a second and he gave that nasty, greasy grin he'd had on his face the day he talked to Gith in the workshop. I remembered how he'd said that grabbing her had been Wayne Wyett's idea. Yeah right, I thought.

  My beer tasted sour all of a sudden.

  'Listen,' I said. 'I'm off.'

  'Shit, mate. You only just got here,' Mark said.

  'Yeah, well. I can't stand being in the same room as that prick Tackett.'

  Monty nodded. 'I can understand that.'

  'And I'm not coming back,' I said. 'If bloody Simon won't ban me, I'll ban myself. So if you blokes feel like a beer sometime, come round to my place.'

  I walked home along Main Street past Brenda's boarded-up window. The kids were there as usual, hanging around the Big Asia Takeaway. They stared at me like they were in on it too but they said nothing.

  Gith was sitting on the sofa watching TV. Next to her, leaning against the arm, with its butt on the floor, was the rifle.

  'Christ!' I said, grabbing it. It was loaded but the safety catch was on. 'Did anything happen?'

  She shook her head. Then she lifted her hands like she was pointing the thing.

  'Pag!' she said.

  'You've been using it?' I sniffed the breech. Yes.

  'Practith,' she said.

  'Jesus, Gith, please! Where did you go?'

  She waved her hand in the direction of the back of the house.

  'Out in the paddock?'

  'Gith.'

  'You can't fire these things around houses. You'll get arrested.'

  'Houth. Narg. Can.' She lifted her hands again. 'Pag! Ping!'

  'Look,' I said. 'You don't have to be scared. I'm not going out to the pub any more. Fuck those bastards.'

  What I wanted to say was fuck the whole town. Maybe it was at that point that I knew I wanted to leave.

  ***

  THAT TUESDAY I went to Katawai while Gith stayed behind with Pita.

  I angle-parked the Surf in the main street and went to the bank. Then I took a stroll down to the Toyota dealership on the corner of Ward Street to check on the prices of their new models and figure out what sort of trade-in they might give us. Not enough, it turned out. Walking back to the Surf took me past Hunters and Game and that made me think about the rifle. How much ammunition had Gith used in her target practice? Maybe we needed more.

  The shop was small and full of racks of clothing, a row of fishing rods up on one wall and, behind the counter, guns locked away in a cabinet with iron bars between them and the glass. There was one other customer, standing at the counter with his back to me. It took me half a minute to see it was Wayne Wyett.

  I got out of there fast, stood outside on the pavement for a second, looking up and down the street. The Surf was about ten metres to my
right. To my left, about three metres away, was the white Mitsubishi van. I went back to the Surf and got in. After a few minutes Wyett came out and went straight to the van. I started up and backed out when he did. I was four or five cars behind him but the Surf rides pretty high so it was easy to keep him in sight. He turned left into Mangatiki Street and then into Ridge Line Road. I kept a good safe distance. Ahead of us on the skyline was the big ugly brown block of the freezing works. After three or four minutes Wyett turned into Stock Road. I let the gap between us grow bigger. Had he seen me?

  We were out of the commercial area now. On either side of the road were houses, tatty old boxes on small sections, built in the twenties or thirties for workers on the railway. Wyett was eighty or so metres ahead of me, about halfway down Stock Road, when he pulled over. Should I stop right away? Before I could figure it I was just too close. I kept on going, past him and on down the hill. In my rear-view mirror I saw him getting out of the van and walking in my direction. There was a side street on my right so I pulled into it, looked back up the road. Wyett had gone. Into a house, I guessed. I turned and headed back the way I'd come. I parked where I could see the van up ahead of me on the opposite side. I wasn't sure which house he'd gone into. They were all below the road on that side, not even letterboxes or fences showing. What now? Wait, I thought. Just wait and see. I turned on the radio, Solid Gold. I was too wound up to take much notice.

  After half an hour I called Pita and asked him if he was okay to stay on longer. He was fine so I got him to put Gith on the line.

  'Gith,' she said.

  'Hi, sweetheart. Are you okay?'

  'Gith.'

  'Look, I've got caught up here in Katawai. I might be a little while. Is that okay?'

  She didn't answer for a second. 'Gith,' she said. When we're on the phone it's hard for me to pick what she's feeling because you get so little to work on.

  'I'll be quick as,' I said. 'Promise.'

  'Gith.'

  'I love you,' I said after a second or two.

  'Gith.'

  'See you then.'

  She hung up. My first thought was to just leave Wyett to it and go straight back home, but then I thought, no, this was a chance to learn something. I figured I'd give it an hour.

  Why had I followed him? If you had asked me, I couldn't have said. I guess I just wanted to get one over on him and Tackett because of what they had done to Gith. That, plus I still had a feeling they were somehow mixed up in the Anneke Hesse case. Or one of them was. I just couldn't get it out of my head that one of the blokes on my list knew something about what had happened to her. Wyett or Tackett or George or Parline. I remembered talking to Parline at the Domain. I thought about his wife's black eye and the empty house in Katawai Road. Something about all that gave me a creepy feeling. It reminded me again of the day Gith and I had gone up to the lake.

  In the end I waited an hour fifteen. I was well past the news and the sports news and into a talkback slot about global warming. By then I was starting to feel dumb for still being there. I was just reaching for the ignition key when I saw Wyett walking towards his van. Follow him? No, I thought. I want to find out where he's been. I lay down across the seats so he wouldn't spot me; stayed there for three or four minutes. When I sat up again his van was gone.

  The house he had come from was number 103. It had a concrete path from the road down to the gate, and a garden that had nothing but grass that needed cutting. The roof was grey corrugated iron, the walls cream-coloured weatherboards with green trim round the windows. Not well kept but not a mess either. I walked down the path and onto the wooden porch, trying to think of a story, something I could say. That I was a friend of Wyett's? But what then? It was mad to even be here but somehow I couldn't stop myself.

  I rang the bell. It ding-donged a fair way off inside the house. After maybe half a minute the door opened. It was a woman, short and round, with straight grey hair. Just for a second she reminded me of somebody but I couldn't think who. Was it Pansy Cleat?

  'Yes?' She looked up at me, a little frown on her face. Her eyes were weird, like they weren't working right.

  Suddenly my story about being Wyett's friend just sounded nuts. I had nothing to say except, 'Er . . . good morning.'

  'Are you a customer?' she asked. 'I'm not sure you've been here before.'

  'Er, yes,' I said. It seemed the best answer. 'I'm a friend of Wayne's.' I had nothing else.

  'Oh Christ,' she said, shaking her head. 'Well, you better come in then.' She swung the door wider.

  I stepped into a narrow hallway, made narrower by a row of coats hanging on hooks.

  'You've just missed him,' she said.

  'I know. That's okay.'

  The woman pointed to a half-open door on my left. 'Wait in there and I'll just see,' she told me.

  It was a living room: a three-piece suite and a TV, not much else except a half-size rugby ball. The TV was on. A woman with blonde hair was giving a cooking demo. On the arm of one of the chairs was a ball of dark blue wool stuck through with a pair of knitting needles. From somewhere down the hall I heard a voice, half shouting. I couldn't make out the words.

  In a minute or so the woman was back. She walked straight past me and sat down in the chair where the knitting was. It seemed a weird place to sit because the TV was to her right and she was facing the bright square of the window.

  She shook her head again. 'You can try your luck,' she said. 'Not sure you'll get very far.' She picked up the wool and the needles without looking at them, her stare still fixed on the window. I saw then that she was blind, or close to it.

  'Along the hall, second right,' she said.

  Why not? I thought.

  The door was ajar and the light inside was dim, like the curtains were closed. I wasn't sure what to do so I tapped on the wood. It was three or four seconds before a woman's voice said, 'Okay.'

  She was sitting on the edge of a big bed, wearing nothing but a long lacy black thing, like a coat or a dressing gown, except that you could see through it. There was a big rip down one side, showing even more of her pale, yellowish skin. Dark hair and dark slanty eyes.

  'Okay, lover,' she said and stood up slowly — she had to steady herself to get fully upright. She was small, her face wide at the forehead but curving round to a little pointed chin, small pouty lips. Big dark eyes that looked far, far away.

  'You big boy,' she said, blinking slowly. 'You got big cock, eh?'

  Then she wobbled and gave a little laugh. 'Ooops!' She sat down again on the bed, her hands folded in her lap. For several seconds she didn't move, just stared in front of her.

  'You all right?' I asked.

  She didn't answer, just kept on staring. Then slowly a big smile spread over her face.

  'I good,' she said, still looking into the distance. 'I feel real good. Happy girl.' Slowly, her head swung round, her eyes lifted to mine. 'You want pussy? Pussy sore. No pussy. You want cock suck, eh? I cock suck real good.' Then she laughed and started to sway. 'Whoooo!' she said and fell backwards onto the bed, her arms and legs every which way.

  I turned to go but it didn't seem right leaving her splayed out like that. I lifted her legs up and laid her on the bed, untucked the sheet and covered her the best I could.

  I went back to the living room. The old lady was still staring at the window with the TV going beside her. She didn't hear me at first but then I must have made some move that she picked up. She put her knitting down on the arm of the chair.

  'Over there,' she said, waving me further into the room. 'In front of the window where I can see you.'

  I did as I was told.

  'Don't suppose she was much use to you, was she?' she said.

  'No.'

  'It'll still cost you twenty. Time's money.'

  'What's wrong with her?' I asked, taking out my wallet.

  'Your bloody friend Wayne is what. He goes so long he hurts her and then he fills her up with something and she's away with the fai
ries. She'll be gone for hours now, and at three thirty the boy comes home from school and that's it for the day. Christ, I don't know.' She took the money, lifted it to her nose to sniff it. Then she stuffed it into the pocket in her shirt on the slope of her bosom.

  'Who is she?' I asked.

  'Who is she? What is she? She's a slut, that's what she is.

  Mind you, she doesn't have much option. She's got no other way of keeping food on the table now that prick's left her. Left her on my hands, mind you. With that sprog of theirs into the bargain.' Her brows twisted into a frown. Her eyes seemed more staring than ever. She was angry. 'It's not like I've got anything, have I? Blind as a bloody bat. I mean, what assets have I got? No one's going to pay good money for my twat, are they? At least she's got that going for her. What's your name?'

  The question came so out of the blue that it threw me.

  'Er, Rick,' I said. 'Rick Parline.'

  'Rick? You're Rick?' Her eyes opened wider, like she didn't believe me. 'You're not supposed to be here till next week.'

  'This week,' I said, wondering what the hell was going on.

  'Bloody hell! Well, the packet's in the kitchen. The cupboard over the fridge.'

  I didn't know what to do.

  'Go on!' She almost shouted it. 'I don't want it. I don't want it anywhere near this place.'

  I left her there, walked down the hall. The kitchen was clean and tidy; a teapot and a cup and saucer stood on the bench beside the sink. I opened the cupboard above the fridge. There was a square packet wrapped in brown paper stuck down with cellotape. I lifted it out. It weighed maybe a kilo and a half. No markings on it except a small K in black felt tip in the top right-hand corner.

  I took it back to the living room.

  'Got it,' I said. 'Thanks.'

  'Right. And you tell that son of mine that I don't want that trick played on me again. Okay?'

  'Okay.'

  'And tell him to get his lazy backside down here and sort this other mess out. All right?'

  'Right,' I said.

  'All right. Go on, then. Tell him.'

  ***

  PETER VANRAY HAD no worries about Michelle not being a trustee any more. I took Gith to see him and once he'd got the hang of talking to her he was pretty impressed by how switched on she was. The trust had been set up for her lifetime but he said there was no reason why we had to go to a lot of trouble to find someone instead of Michelle. Given that Gith knew her own mind to a fair degree, the trustees would only need to give a light guiding hand. He said maybe his law partner could take the third spot, but that he and I could do most of the job.