See You In September, page 15
When she came back, Aden was opening a bottle.
‘They’ve left us the best wine,’ he said, filling two clay cups. ‘Blackberry! Here you are.’
They knelt facing each other. Firelight danced on the embroidered birds, bringing them to life. Cairo felt exultant.
‘Look at that,’ she said, gazing at the raging fire of the Milky Way. ‘There never was such a sky.’
‘A firework display, in honour of you.’
‘Well yes, of course.’ She chuckled. ‘The universe is all about me.’
He held his cup to hers, with that rueful smile that made her want to tear his clothes off.
‘To my hitchhiker.’
‘To my getaway driver.’
She downed the wine, delighting in the tang of it. Then she let the cup roll away across the sand. ‘So the waiting’s over?’
‘Oh yes. Definitely.’
She ran her fingers beneath the shoestring straps of her dress. First on one side, then on the other, she slid them off her shoulders. The embroidered bodice fell to her waist.
‘Well,’ she murmured as they tumbled together onto the blankets. ‘The best things come to those who wait.’
•
The ruru cried again. She imagined the owl, sharp-eyed and hunting in the bush. The air was glass-clear and profoundly still, so that even the giant ferns seemed frozen. Tomorrow they’d stroll along the forest path to bathe in the pools, and this time they’d have the place to themselves.
Aden’s arms were around her. She pressed her mouth to his neck, feeling the rhythm of his pulse under her lips, inhaling the faint musk of his skin. Then—unable to resist—she brushed her lips against his. He stirred, and she felt his arms tighten. For a long time she lay still, luxuriating in the memory of the past few hours.
The Milky Way had surely never been so immense, so dazzlingly bright. It was pulsing, exploding, singing with a billion voices. Orion seemed to salute her as he strode through the sky.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered to the Infinite.
One of the stars broke free and glided across the vault. Cairo turned her head, watching the meteor arcing down, and down, towards the dark bulk of Tarawera, until it disappeared into nothing.
Twenty-one
Diana
Mike sounded surprisingly alert for someone who’d just travelled around the world.
‘No jet lag?’ asked Diana. She’d suffered through a sleepless night and was still in her dressing-gown.
‘I think I’m running on adrenaline. It’s been hard to track these people down.’
‘Under the radar.’
‘Mm … and can you believe this? They’re not accessible by road!’
‘How then? On foot?’
‘I’ve found a bloke with a boat. He says he knows where they are. He’s taking me first thing tomorrow. Just think, Diana … in a few hours’ time I’ll have seen Cassy. Hopefully I’ll be bringing her out.’
Diana switched the phone to her other ear. ‘That would be wonderful. But if you could even check she’s all right …’
‘I’m not leaving without her.’
Mike was keyed up. She could hear it in the heaviness of his breathing, the jagged excitement of his speech patterns. She imagined him pacing his motel room, mussing up his hair. He couldn’t stand inaction. These past weeks had been torture for him. He’d thought about nothing but rescuing Cassy, and now he was so close. So close.
‘This time tomorrow,’ he said, ‘she’ll be out.’
Diana shut her eyes and imagined Cassy standing at the front door. It had become a vivid, hallowed image, as close to prayer as she’d ever come. Opening her eyes again, she saw that Tara had wandered into the kitchen with bed hair and fluffy slippers.
Dad? she mouthed, and Diana nodded.
Mike was still giving himself a pep talk, like a coach before a big match. He’d insist on seeing Cassy. He wouldn’t take no for an answer from those bastards.
‘And as soon as I’ve got her out, I’ll head for Auckland.’
‘Give her a kiss from me.’
‘I will.’
‘Tell her I love her.’
‘Me too,’ called Tara, pressing her palms together. ‘Tell my sister to get back here. Pronto.’
•
When the post arrived, two letters for Cassy lay among the charitable appeals and adverts for takeaway pizza. Bank statements, by the look of them. Diana carried them into the kitchen.
‘Think I can open these?’ she asked, holding up the letters. ‘They’re confidential.’
‘Duh!’ Tara made a you-are-an-imbecile face. ‘Seriously, Mum? Gimme, gimme.’
She held out her hand. Seconds later, final statements were fluttering onto the kitchen table.
‘Shit,’ said Tara, staring. ‘Tell me this doesn’t mean what I think it means.’
All the inheritance—whoosh. Gone. All the accounts were closed, even the credit card. It was as though Cassy was trying to erase herself from history.
‘She’s crazy,’ said Tara. ‘She’s … oh my God. How’s she living, with no money?’
They passed the hours in a state of nervy excitement, constantly checking the time in New Zealand. They even allowed themselves to hope. After all, Mike was over there. He’d see Cassy. He’d fix everything.
‘He’ll be with her now, won’t he?’ Tara kept saying. ‘They should be on their way home. Shall we call him?’
So they tried Mike’s number, but he didn’t answer. Perhaps he too had disappeared into the black hole.
They jumped every time the phone rang. First it was Joyce, eager for news; then Mike’s brother Robert, who wanted to moan about his divorce; then one of Cassy’s flatmates from Durham. She’d heard a rumour that Cassy wasn’t coming back; was it true, and if so, why? Should they find someone else to cover the rent?
‘I’ve never felt so tempted to go into a church in my life,’ said Diana, as she and Tara tried to eat last night’s chicken tikka. ‘Light a candle. Maybe even …’
‘Pray?’
‘Well. You know.’
‘Been there, done that. Don’t bother. It doesn’t work.’
Tara dumped her plate in the dishwasher, reached into her schoolbag and pulled out her laptop. ‘We need more info. I bet I can dig up some dirt on Gethsemane.’
It was better than doing nothing. Tara began to wade through the thousands of hits that came up when she searched Gethsemane New Zealand, complaining about the fact that there was a country music band and several gardens with the same name. Meanwhile Diana researched destructive cults, and new religions, and old religions, and pyramid selling, and self-help groups that went too far. It wasn’t reassuring.
I lost my son to the Moonies.
Scientology took thirty years of my life.
We had to kidnap my brother from the Family of Heaven.
‘I can’t believe this is going on,’ she said. ‘There’s a whole industry built around the manipulation of minds.’
‘Isn’t that called school?’
‘Listen …’ Diana read out a harrowing account by a mother who’d lost her son to an organisation that claimed to be a church. ‘They used the internet as their fishing grounds. They spread their nets and Danny was caught. He used to spend hours shut away in his room, on his computer. From being a warm, loving boy he became this stranger who wouldn’t speak to us. In the end he left home. He works for them now, collecting money on the streets.’
Pesky had wandered in. Finding his food bowl empty, he began to strut up and down Diana’s keyboard.
‘Oh, all right,’ she said, getting to her feet and opening the fridge. ‘You won’t starve, Mr Bossy. It’s your mistress we’re trying to rescue.’
‘What’s that leader bloke’s name again?’ asked Tara.
‘Calvin. Justin Calvin.’
Tara said the name under her breath as she typed.
‘Genius! Look at this, Mum.’
It was a blog from 2009, written by someone who called himself Ian the Sparky—an electrician from Brisbane who’d gone travelling. It consisted mainly of selfies of a bald man standing beside landmarks around Australia and New Zealand.
Then this:
Hi all, sorry for the long time with no posts. I’ve just spent 3 weeks wwoofing for the Gethsemane community at Lake Tarawera. I was upgrading their solar power system.
They’re awesome people, it’s a fantastic location and I learned a lot about permaculture, which was why I went in the first place. Their leader’s called Justin Calvin. What an amazing man. He was in prison himself once, and he’s passionate about giving everyone a second, third or fourth chance. So he goes and collects people who’re in trouble, and brings them back to turn their lives around. I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like him.
They wanted me to stay, but in the end it wasn’t for me. One or two things grated. One example of this was that everyone gets given a new name by Justin. He calls them after geographical locations, so people have names like Athens, Berlin, Gaza etc. etc. This just felt too weird. Also, the longer I stayed, the more I got the feeling there’s a religious thing going on. Everyone wears the same clothes and the women all have short hair, and every time a bell rings they all troop off to a kind of church.
It’s been a mind-blowing experience and I’ll never forget it, but 3 weeks was long enough so here I am in Wellington. Happy to be back in the real world. Next stop Rarotonga—got my grass skirt on!!!
‘Does that mean Cassy has a new name?’ asked Tara.
‘Gosh, I hope not.’
Tara squinted thoughtfully at Ian’s photo. ‘He could leave whenever he wanted. And this Justin sounds like a good person.’
‘Yes, that’s reassuring,’ said Diana, with more conviction than she felt. ‘I expect we’ll hear from Dad soon.’
•
Midnight found mother and daughter in a state of nervous exhaustion, watching rubbish on television and working their way through a packet of chocolate biscuits. Tara was lying with her head on Diana’s lap, something she hadn’t done for years.
‘He’d phone if he’d got her out, right?’ she asked.
‘He would. He will.’
‘Try and call him again?’ Tara fetched the phone and handed it to Diana. ‘Can’t do any harm.’
This time, Mike did answer. He sounded agitated.
‘I’m in the police station,’ he said.
‘Did you see Cassy?’
‘Never got anywhere near her. I bet I’m not the first angry father to turn up there. I hadn’t even got off the jetty when a reception committee arrived. Smiling Gestapo. Two guys, and a blonde witch with the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen—Christ, I wouldn’t want to meet her on a dark night. They had a couple of heavies standing guard.’
‘But you asked for Cassy?’
‘They said she’s not here. I said fine, I’ll wait. The White Witch said she doesn’t want to see you, and you’re trespassing. They frogmarched me back to the boat. I think they’d have thrown me off if I hadn’t gone quietly.’
‘Oh, Mike. That must have—’
‘So I’ve walked into the police station and said I want to report a kidnapping. I think I’ve finally managed to stir things up. They’ll go and see her.’
She told him about the bank statements and heard him swear under his breath. ‘It’s all gone?’
‘Every penny. She can’t even buy a bus ticket.’
Tara was listening to Diana’s end of the conversation with reddening eyes. Diana reached along the sofa to touch her ear.
‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘Dad’s sending in the heavies.’
Twenty-two
Cairo
‘Policemen?’ cried Cairo. ‘Here?’
They’d been so happy as they rowed home. Their short honeymoon had been a time of glorious intensity, as though they’d jammed two years’ courtship into two days. Aden had only to touch Cairo, or even look at her, and she felt energised. She seemed to have the same effect upon him.
Their homecoming was meant to be triumphant: the day their family life began. They’d hoped to find Suva waiting for them, but they hadn’t expected her to be hysterical, tears on her freckled cheeks. She threw herself against Aden’s chest as soon as he stepped onto the jetty.
‘They came in that boat,’ she gasped, pointing at a launch.
‘Shh.’ Aden dipped his head to look into her face. ‘It’s okay. Where are they now?’
‘Monika invited them into the whare kai. She’s giving them tea. They say they won’t leave till they’ve seen Cairo, because her dad’s made a complaint.’
‘You’ve done really well,’ said Aden. ‘Just run back and tell them she’s on her way.’
The child pelted up the slope towards the kitchen block, arms held out for balance. Cairo watched with sick anxiety. This news was a gunshot, tearing through the perfection of the day. Their homecoming—their home—had been violated.
‘The Companions will be furious,’ she said. ‘I’ve brought the police right into Gethsemane!’
‘Shh.’ He put his arms around her, and they rocked together. ‘Justin will already know they’re here. He always knows. He won’t let anything go wrong.’
For the first time, she felt as though pregnancy was slowing her down. Her lungs felt compressed. As they were climbing the steps onto the porch of the whare kai, she stopped to catch her breath.
‘I feel so ashamed,’ she whispered.
‘This isn’t your fault. And Gethsemane has nothing to hide.’
The two men were sitting at a refectory table but got to their feet when Cairo appeared. They didn’t belong here, with their stab-proof vests and radios. They were aliens from another world.
‘Cassandra Howells?’ That was the older of the two: a balding giant with a quiet voice.
‘I prefer to be known as Cairo. My parents sent you, didn’t they?’
‘Well, you can understand why they’re concerned.’
‘Not really.’
They introduced themselves as Senior Constables Rua O’Connell and Tony Smith. Then they noticed Aden.
‘Mind if you wait outside, sir?’
‘I mind,’ said Cairo. ‘This is Aden. My husband. We’re just back from our honeymoon.’
‘Congratulations,’ said the older one, O’Connell. ‘All the same, if you would, Aden? Just so there’s no suggestion of coercion.’
Aden looked at Cairo. ‘I’ll be on the porch. Call if you need me.’
Meanwhile Monika was bustling around, making herself pleasant, plying the unwelcome visitors with tea. She seemed tiny and wholesome and slightly doddery, which might have been why nobody asked her to leave.
The officers pulled notebooks from their pockets. Sorry to bother you, they said. Just a few things we need to clear up. They asked innocuous questions at first. When had Cairo arrived, and in what capacity? Then O’Connell came out with it.
‘Can I just ask … are you here of your own free will?’
‘Of course I am.’
He coughed gently. ‘If I could put it another way: do you feel safe?’
‘Yes, I feel safe. I am safe.’
‘Your dad disagrees.’
‘He can’t accept that I’m an adult. Does he think I’ve been kidnapped or something?’ Cairo read their expressions and saw that she’d hit the nail on the head. ‘Ridiculous. He’s wasting your time.’
O’Connell stole a glance at his notebook. ‘He says you’ve handed over a fortune.’
‘It was my money.’
‘So it’s true?’
‘Yes, yes, yes.’ She was rolling her eyes. ‘God, this obsession with money! I didn’t need it, so I gave it away to a good cause—you’d think they’d be proud of me.’
‘He reckons you’ve been brainwashed.’
‘I know he does.’
‘Why would he think that?’
‘Because he’s a control freak. He thinks anyone who doesn’t agree with him must have been brainwashed. Look, I’m not a fool. I’m an educated, adult woman. I’ve found a new life here, I love my husband and I’ve chosen to stay. I have a right to do that.’
‘Okay,’ said O’Connell, and he shut his notebook. ‘So just to confirm: you’re definitely not asking us for any help?’
‘Definitely not! I’m sorry. You’ve been sent on a wild-goose chase.’
‘Not to worry.’ He glanced curiously around the kitchen. ‘Makes a change. Never been on this property before.’
The other officer didn’t seem happy to leave it there.
‘There’s something you might not have taken into account,’ he began, laying hairy forearms on the table. ‘Are you aware that your father was here yesterday?’
Cairo stared. ‘Here? You mean …’
‘He only got as far as the jetty.’
Dad in Gethsemane? No, no. He can’t have been. The walls had dropped away. Her father had looked into her world, and she had nowhere left to hide.
‘They didn’t tell you?’ asked Smith, glancing meaningfully over his shoulder at Monika. ‘Came all the way from Britain to find you. I wonder why nobody’s thought to mention it?’
‘Cairo returned from her honeymoon twenty minutes ago,’ said Monika, who was standing behind the men, drying cups. ‘She was at a cabin accessible only by boat. She couldn’t be contacted.’ As she spoke, Monika met Cairo’s eye. Neither of them mentioned the fact that Kereru Cove was only forty minutes’ walk along a bush path.
Dad was here. Dad was in my home. He’s found me.
Smith pressed his point. ‘There was quite an altercation, apparently.’
‘Indeed there was!’ snapped Monika, wielding her tea towel with offended little jabs. ‘That man should be ashamed of his performance! He could be heard for miles around, shouting and swearing. He even offered violence to my husband, who is over seventy years old.’
‘He threatened Otto?’ asked Cairo.
‘And Gaza. It was nasty.’
‘Okay, okay.’ O’Connell held up his hands. ‘Look, whatever the rights and wrongs, this man’s travelled the whole way around the world to see you. He’s in Rotorua at this very moment. We can take you back with us right now. Don’t you at least owe him ten minutes?’
