The Jacaranda House, page 12
While Gina was busy in her room, out in the lounge Polly said, ‘That room is lovely. Thank you so much, girls.’
‘But is she staying?’ Rhoda asked in a whisper nearly as loud as her normal voice.
‘Don’t know yet. So far we’re just going to the Beatles concert in Brisbane but I’m hoping she’ll decide she wants to.’
‘Have you talked about it?’ Star said. ‘Or are you just going to tell her she’s not going home?’
‘I’m trying not to pressure her. But I haven’t bought her a return ticket.’
‘Was there a drama when you went and got her?’ Rhoda asked.
Star said, ‘Shush.’
Gina appeared and sat down next to Polly. ‘Can I hold Sebastian?’
‘Any time you like,’ Star replied, putting the sleepy puppy in her lap.
Gina stroked the little white head for a few seconds, then looked at Rhoda and Star. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
Rhoda said, ‘Certainly.’
‘Are you boys or girls?’
Polly thought, Hmm, maybe I should have said something before now.
‘Weeeell,’ Star replied, ‘we used to be boys, then we decided that wasn’t really who we’re supposed to be, so now we’re a lot more like girls. It makes us happier.’
Gina said, ‘Oh. OK.’ Then, ‘Did you make the tea, Mum? I can do it, if you like.’
*
Auckland, New Zealand
Awhi’s eyes were sunken and red-rimmed from weeping, and her long plait, usually so neat and smooth, looked as bristly and distraught as she did.
‘But it’s kidnap, Sonny! That woman has kidnapped my moko! I will, you know, I’ll go to the police!’
Sonny rubbed his tired eyes with heels of his hands. This had been going for over two days, ever since his mother had discovered Polly had taken Gina. Wailing, weeping, begging, cursing, more wailing, threats, refusing to eat or sleep. He didn’t think she should be left alone so he’d been doing the night shift at her house to keep an eye on her, while his sisters had been round during the day. And still she was carrying on. Yes, it was a terrible shock and Polly could definitely have found a better way to do what she’d done, but it was probably time for Awhi to calm down. On the other hand, Polly had been right when they’d spoken on the phone: their mother would never have let her take Gina to Australia. He was worried Awhi would have a heart attack, so when she’d gone to the toilet he’d had a poke around the kitchen and found her tablets, hidden in a cupboard behind a tin of arrowroot. What the hell was arrowroot? When he’d confronted her about her heart problem she’d denied it and told him to keep his nose out of her business.
‘Technically it’s not kidnap, Mum. Polly is actually her mother,’ he said for about the hundredth time.
‘It is!’
‘It isn’t. You didn’t legally adopt Gina, and you know that when you whangai a child it’s never a formal arrangement. There’s nothing in writing or set down in law. Polly could take her back any time, and she has.’
‘But she didn’t even ask!’
‘Would you have let her?’
‘No. She’s not fit to be a mother.’
‘Well, then, I expect that’s why she didn’t ask.’
‘Well, I want to go to the police.’
‘They won’t help. They don’t help people like us. And you don’t like the police.’
‘They’ll help if it’s a kidnap. And if you don’t take me to see the cops I’ll get one of your brothers or sisters to take me. They’re just as upset as me.’
Sonny sighed. Actually, he didn’t think his siblings were as upset as his mother, not that he’d talked to all of them. As far as he could tell, they thought this was just Polly doing what Polly did. ‘I’ll take you. Which station do you want to go to? The one in town?’
‘Yes, the big one. This is important! A child has been kidnapped!’
Christ, if she said ‘kidnapped’ one more time he was going to scream. He waited while she fluffed around with her handbag and found a photograph of Gina for the police, then helped her into her coat, and out to his truck.
She was fairly quiet on the way into town, sniffling into her handkerchief, and he felt very sorry for her. She must feel bereft: it was possible she really might not see Gina again, and he knew she loved her dearly. It was a terrible shame she and Polly couldn’t get on, but they hadn’t, not for years. Not since Polly had been a young girl. He thought, in a way, that his mother might love Gina the way she’d wanted to love Polly but for some reason never could. It was her own fault, what was happening now. She could have just accepted Polly for who she was, but no, she chose to take out all her anger and spite and whatever else on her instead. Yes, Polly was a tear-away and she hadn’t made the best decisions, but it wasn’t as though Awhi didn’t have any flaws or hadn’t made mistakes, her biggest one being that she’d married Pera Manaia. That had messed up all their lives. Easy to say with hindsight, he supposed, and if it wasn’t you who’d made the mistake.
He parked his truck on the street outside the police station and they went in through the heavy front doors. The place seemed almost empty, but then it was evening. His boots squeaked on the linoleum as they approached the long counter. A lone policeman stood behind it, head down, reading something. As he noticed them he put on his helmet. Sonny wondered why: no one was going to hit him.
‘Evening,’ the constable said. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m reporting a kidnap,’ Awhi said.
The constable perked up and reached for a large pad and a pen. ‘A kidnap? Who, exactly, has been kidnapped?’
‘My mokopuna.’
The constable frowned. ‘Sorry, your what?’
‘Grandchild,’ Sonny translated.
‘And she was living with you?’
‘Yes,’ Awhi said.
‘At what address?’
Awhi told him.
‘Her name and age?’
Awhi told him that as well, and gave him Gina’s photo.
‘Who do you think might have taken her?’ the constable asked.
‘Her mother,’ Awhi said. ‘Tell him her name, Sonny.’
Sonny thought, For God’s sake, it won’t kill you to say Polly’s name. ‘Gina’s mother’s name is Polly Manaia.’
‘But she was your child?’ the constable asked Awhi.
‘I was raising her.’
‘What I mean is, had you adopted her? Legally? Through the courts?’
‘No, but I was raising her.’
‘And now the mother has taken the child back?’ The constable had stopped writing now.
‘Without telling me,’ Awhi said. ‘Without even asking. She just took her.’
The constable looked as though he’d heard this before, and didn’t want to hear it again. He sighed. ‘Took her where, do you know?’
‘To Australia.’
‘Do you have the child’s mother’s address in Australia? I assume the mother is your daughter by birth?’
‘To my shame. No, I don’t have her address. Do you?’ Awhi demanded of Sonny.
‘No.’ And he didn’t. All he had was a post office box number in Kings Cross. Though, to be honest, he thought he could probably track Polly down if he wanted to.
Awhi gave him a narrow, distrusting look. ‘I think she’s somewhere in Sydney,’ she said to the constable.
He nodded. ‘And what are your details, madam?’
‘I am Mrs Te Awhina Manaia, wife of the late Major Pera Manaia. You’ve already got my address.’
Closing the cover of his writing pad, the constable said, ‘Well, Mrs Manaia, I’ll lodge your complaint –’
‘It is not a complaint,’ Awhi insisted, banging a fist on the counter. ‘I’m reporting a crime!’
‘I’m afraid it isn’t a crime if the child wasn’t legally yours, Mrs Manaia. And if you don’t know where the mother has taken her, well . . .’
‘But can’t you tell the cops over in Australia to look for her?’ Awhi demanded.
Sonny took her arm. ‘Mum, come on. They can’t do anything.’
‘But . . .’
‘Mum. Come on.’
Sonny led Awhi back out to the truck, helped her into the passenger seat, and hopped in himself.
His mother was crying again. ‘What am I going to tell the others at work?’ she sobbed.
‘At work?’ he repeated. ‘What do you mean?’
‘They’re all going to think I’m a terrible mother for letting Gina get stolen.’
‘No, they’re not.’
‘Well, what’s Allie told them?’
He didn’t know exactly, but he was pretty sure that whatever she’d said it would have been discreet and sensitive, because that’s the way Allie was. And the women she worked with at Mana Knits – Ana Leonard, Kura Apanui and Wiki Irwin, who were all decent and kind, and certainly knew about what it meant to whangai, or foster, a child – definitely wouldn’t think any less of Awhi just because Polly had turned up and taken Gina away. They knew a whangai child wasn’t always permanent. Why was his mother worrying about what people might think of her at a time like this? She probably wasn’t, not really. It was maybe just another sign of her grief at losing Gina, and her anger at Polly.
‘And, Mum, you’re not Gina’s mother. Polly is.’
‘Stop saying that! Why are you being so cruel?’
Sonny turned in his seat to face Awhi. ‘Look, Mum. I know how much this has upset you –’
‘You do not!’
‘I do. I can see it. I can see you’re heartbroken. And I don’t blame you. What Polly did was pretty awful. She should have talked to you.’ He hesitated. Now probably wasn’t the time to go over all the ways in which his mother had made it just about impossible for Polly to talk to her. ‘But she didn’t. And now Gina’s gone. But she probably hasn’t gone forever. She’ll be back. You’ll see.’
‘No, she won’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘She just won’t.’
Sonny said, ‘She will. This is her home. Look, why don’t you go back to work? Sitting around at home moping and not eating and not getting enough sleep is bad for you. It won’t achieve anything. You’ll make yourself sick. Think of your heart.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my heart, except it’s broken!’
Sonny sighed yet again. ‘OK, Mum. Let’s get you home, eh?’
*
Kings Cross, Sydney
Polly slept in the following morning, as did Star and Rhoda, who’d gone to work the previous evening. When Polly finally did get up at around eleven she found the dishes done, the floors swept, the flat tidy, and Gina playing with Tatiana and Sebastian. It was a shock getting up to a lounge room not littered with full ashtrays, Star’s empty beer bottles, Rhoda’s nail varnish, and dirty plates and cups from late-night snacks.
‘The kettle’s just boiled,’ Gina said. ‘Shall I make you some breakfast?’
‘No! You’re not my little slave,’ Polly said, tying her dressing gown around her middle. ‘I’ll make you some. What do you feel like?’
‘Not porridge.’
‘Eggs? Bacon?’ Polly looked in the fridge. No eggs and no bacon.
Gina said, ‘Rice Bubbles?’
Polly looked. ‘No, no cereal. But there’s bread. Toast?’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘But there’s no Marmite, only Vegemite,’ Polly warned.
‘What’s Vegemite?’
‘Poo in a jar.’
Gina giggled.
‘No, they’re the same, really,’ Polly said. ‘But Marmite’s nicer.’
‘I heard that,’ Rhoda said, sailing out of her room. ‘That’s our national spread you’re insulting. And they’re not the same. Marmite’s made from meat and Vegemite’s made from vegetables.’
Polly scoffed. ‘Rubbish. They’re both made from yeast but Marmite tastes better. By miles. Why have we got no food?’
‘We haven’t had time to do the shopping. I’ll pop out as soon as I’m presentable.’
That’ll be in about three hours, Polly thought. ‘Gina and I’ll go.’
Star appeared then. ‘That’s where you are,’ she said to her puppy as she sat at the table, lit a cigarette and began her morning coughing routine.
‘You’ve got a bad cough,’ Gina observed. ‘Have you tried Fisherman’s Friend? That’s what Nannie gives me when I’ve got a cough.’
‘It might be a bit late for Fisherman’s Friend,’ Rhoda said.
‘Thanks, darling,’ Star said. ‘I’ll get some next time I’m out.’
‘Did you sleep well?’ Rhoda asked Gina.
Gina nodded. ‘My bed was really comfy. No lumps.’
Polly put a plate of toast and Vegemite on the table. Everyone stared at it but no one took a slice.
‘Right, I’m going out to get some food,’ Polly said.
Half an hour later, she and Gina were on Darlinghurst Road, checking out the delicatessens. Gina was amazed by the range of foods she hadn’t seen before – anchovies, stuffed olives, artichoke hearts, sundried tomatoes, pastrami, salami – and wanted Polly to buy a bit of everything. She was especially impressed by the assortment of cheeses on offer. She loved cheese. She was even more impressed by the fact that you could buy food on a Saturday, which you couldn’t in Auckland, where nothing was open during the weekend. And she loved all the cafes and how their tables spilt out onto the footpath, and the variety in the shops with their eye-catching window displays, and how crowded the streets were with interesting people.
‘Who are those ladies over there, Mum? The ones in the miniskirts and the high heels? What are they doing?’
Polly hesitated. The truth, or should she lie? She cast around for a term that wasn’t too brutal.
‘They’re working girls. They go with men on short dates. For money.’
‘Oh. Who gets the money?’
Polly laughed. ‘The girls do.’
‘And can men do that?’
‘Well, I suppose they could.’
‘What about boys?’
‘Boys can do it.’
‘And they go out with girls?’
That truth was perhaps a step too far. ‘That’s right,’ Polly lied.
‘And see those ladies over there, by the fruit shop? The tall ones? Are they like Rhoda and Star?’
Polly looked. ‘I’d say so. Quite a few people like Rhoda and Star live around the Cross.’
‘Is this the Cross, where we are?’ Gina asked.
‘That’s right, Kings Cross, in Sydney.’
‘So where’s Brisbane?’
‘In Queensland.’
‘Is that another city?’
‘No, it’s a different state. We’re in New South Wales, Brisbane’s in Queensland. It’s quite a long way away, which is why we have to fly there.’
Gina thought for a second. ‘Why doesn’t New Zealand have states?’
Polly shrugged. ‘Not big enough, I suppose.’
‘Can we get Star some Fisherman’s Friend?’
Polly said yes, though she thought Star would be better off with a new set of lungs.
When they returned to the flat the girls were both dressed, and Gina helped Rhoda cook up a big breakfast. Polly observed that Gina was actually very capable in the kitchen, and wondered how long she’d been cooking, either for herself or for Awhi. Had her mother been so ill at times she hadn’t been able to put food on the table?
At the end of the meal, which was really a late lunch, Gina said, ‘Can I ring up Uncle Sonny so he can tell Nannie we got here OK?’
‘We’re not on the phone,’ Polly said quickly.
‘Can’t I use the one downstairs?’ Gina said.
‘Sorry, love, that one’s got a toll bar on it,’ Polly said. ‘You can’t ring overseas.’
Rhoda’s mouth opened in an O, then snapped shut again when Polly glared at her.
There was no toll bar on the phone. In fact she’d rung Sonny several times over the years, though she much preferred to write to him. But she’d deliberately never given him her phone number.
Gina looked disappointed, but not for long. ‘What shall we do this afternoon, Mum? Or do you want to have a sleep? You’ve got bags under your eyes. I can read my book or something if you do.’
Polly noted Rhoda and Star looking at her, waiting for her reaction. Whenever they told her she looked rough, she told them off. ‘I might have a bit of a sleep, actually,’ she replied mildly.
Which is what she did, leaving Gina in the lounge with Rhoda and Star. When she trudged out a few hours later, the dishes had been done and put away and all three were sitting around the table playing cards. Polly put the kettle on for tea.
‘What are you playing?’
‘Poker,’ Gina said. ‘I’ve won loads of money. Nearly three pounds.’
‘I don’t know who taught her to play but she’s a bit of a shark,’ Star said.
‘That’d be her grandmother,’ Polly replied sourly. ‘She plays poker all the time – fine, upstanding member of her church that she is.’
Rhoda and Star laughed. ‘Good on her,’ Rhoda said.
Star looked at her fake Rolex. ‘You’re not working tonight, Pol, are you?’
‘Not till next Tuesday, after Brisbane.’
‘You’re lucky, we are,’ Rhoda grumbled.
‘What’s your job, Mum?’ Gina asked. ‘Nannie says you’re a harlot. What’s a harlot?’
There was an awkward silence.
Then Polly said, ‘Actually, I’m a dancer, at an entertainment venue with a whole lot of other girls. At night.’
‘Same as us,’ Star said. ‘Except we work at a different place. We prance around with feathers on our heads and stuck to our bums, don’t we, Rho?’
Gina laughed. ‘Like chooks?’
‘Quite a lot like chooks, actually,’ Star agreed. ‘Do you want to see some of our costumes? The feather ones aren’t here but some of our dresses are.’
‘Yes, please!’
So Star took the bedspread off the clothes rack in the corner of the lounge and showed Gina the beautiful sparkling gowns they’d worn in their acts over the years. Naturally she wanted to try some on, and flounced about, giggling, the dresses yards too big, while Rhoda and Star sang ‘There’s No Business Like Show Business’ and ‘I Got Rhythm’.
