CHAPTER 10

Motuarohia

The family sat at the breakfast table, their dirty plates stacked on the bench. Fionna and Greg were talking softly as each sipped a cup of tea, and Samuel was quietly urging Alex to make a bigger moustache than him with the Milo in her mug.

‘So what would you kids like to do today?’

Both children were suddenly alert. Their smiling eyes locked, and together they shouted, ‘Go to Roberton Island!’

Roberton Island was not immediately visible from their beach. Further around the rocks at the end of the point, it could be seen rising out of the sea, tantalisingly close, yet annoyingly too distant to reach except by motorboat or sail. A curious shark-fin hill thrust sharply upwards in the centre of its skyline. A shallow lagoon, flushed by each incoming tide, lay at its foot.

For many months, the sea thunders and explodes behind the wall of ancient rock that protects the lagoon from the open sea. At these times, urgent torrents surge through narrow crevices, depositing grey foam on the calmer water inside the lagoon. But in early summer, the ocean massages gently through those same inlets, its mirror surface blushed by the crimson blossom of pōhutukawa trees clinging grimly to the rock.

Every holiday they begged their father to take them on a day trip to the island. They found it infuriating that Dad often had excuses—reasons, he called them. There were so many different things to do at their own beach, yet Motuarohia, as it was named by Māori, offered adventures that were different from Pā Point. That shark-fin hill had once been a Māori pā. The sheer rock face rising from the ocean swell was too steep to climb, and the very narrow pathway to the top fell away sharply on either side. It was easy to imagine how it had been fortified with walls of sharpened poles to hold off attacks from hostile tribes. There wasn’t a great deal of space at the very top of the hill, but the views circled the compass.

Last year, Alex had sat up there with a keen warm wind tugging at her hair, when she had a strange experience. Watching yachts and launches bobbing their way towards Cape Brett, she suddenly grasped how God could see everything past, present, and future. Observing the passage of these boats, she knew where they had come from, where they were at that moment, and she could see where they were going—just like God. Well, nearly. She had found it hard to put this new understanding into words, so she had kept it to herself to ponder over. Alex was both excited and nervous about climbing that hill again. It had become a strangely spiritual place.

Samuel leaned enthusiastically over the table towards his father. ‘Can we, Dad? Please, Dad!’ They both searched their father’s face for a signal. Dad briefly kept a straight face before a smile escaped his eyes.

‘Yaaay!’ Samuel yelled. ‘Gee, thanks, Dad. That’s what we’ve wanted most since we got here.’ Instantly he was out of his chair.

‘Really?’ Greg responded in mock surprise. ‘How come I didn’t hear that before now?’

‘Oh, Dad!’ chided Alex.

‘When can we go, Dad? Can we go real soon, like . . .’ Samuel looked around the room. ‘Like after we’ve done the dishes?’

‘Hold on, boy.’ Fionna had a few things to say. ‘If we are going to spend more than thirty minutes there, we’ll need something to eat and something to drink, won’t we? While you two do the dishes, I’ll get things together. You can both make your beds. And, Alex, you are responsible to see that you and Samuel get your hats, footwear, swimming things, and towels together. And remember the sunscreen,’ she added as the two children raced to the kitchen sink.

Alex dropped over the stern of their runabout into the deliciously cool water and immediately adopted her slow, deliberate freestyle stroke. She was proud that her parents considered her old enough and skilled enough to be perfectly safe. Dad had instructed Samuel to stay on board so he could hold the boat at the water’s edge when they reached the shore. He said he needed someone strong to do this while he and Mum unloaded everything. Samuel was not happy, and he immediately began to sulk.

Now Alex stood dripping at the water’s edge, wiping salt water from her eyes. Dad had raised the outboard motor, and with token help from Samuel, he was energetically pushing the boat out from shore. As the boat lost way, he yanked on a light cord attached to the anchor perched on the bow, and with chain rattling over the side, it plunged to the sand below, securing the craft a good way out from shore. After two or three hours of receding tide, it would be close enough to shore to wade out to. If there was an emergency, he could haul on the cord and drag the anchor to shore with the boat in tow.

Alex and Samuel helped take the piled bags up the beach towards the line of driftwood and spiky grass.

‘We’d better find some shade,’ said Fionna. Then, indicating a pōhutukawa tree to the side of the lagoon, she led the way through coarse grass and low thorny bushes.

Rattling anchor chains announced the arrival of more boats seeking the shelter of the bay. Before long, small inflatables and dinghies would ferry their eager passengers to shore, all seeking shade from the sun. After a short absence, Samuel joined them, all signs of sulking gone.

‘Alex, the lagoon’s full. Let’s go and explore,’ he implored.

Alex was undecided. She had cooled down a lot from her swim to shore, and being dry now, she was not immediately keen to get wet again. ‘I think I’ll just watch you,’ she said. Then seeing the disappointment on her brother’s face she added, ‘But later on, I’ll come in and look at what you’ve found, OK?’

Satisfied, he sat down and hastily put the swim fins on his feet before flapping awkwardly through the coarse grass. Alex followed, choosing a sandy pathway through the grass and low spiky plants to the lagoon. She stood with her bare feet on the broken shells, warm water caressing her ankles. Samuel had already slid into the water, mask over his nose and eyes, snorkel at a jaunty angle, his head turning at every attraction on the lagoon bed.

Just beyond the rock barricade, Alex could hear pounding waves. She noted the slight swirling and swell of water funnelling through narrow passages into the lagoon. She inhaled the scents of sea air, hot sand, and sunburnt grass that reminded her so strongly of Bay of Islands’ summers.

She gazed idly at Shark Fin Hill. Several figures, sharply silhouetted against a brilliant blue backdrop were making their way up the narrow path that led to the summit. One figure shorter than the others seemed to be pushing to get past. Eventually it succeeded and moved quickly to the top before disappearing from sight. She was about to shift her gaze when the figure reappeared and began performing strange arm and leg movements. Larger figures soon joined and began performing in unison. Then it dawned on Alex that they were performing a haka, a Māori war dance.

She watched with fascination. There on top of what was once a Māori fortification, some people were doing what might long ago have been performed to scare attackers off, or to build up the courage of those inside the pā. She imagined she could almost hear their fearsome voices and see their tattooed faces. The next moment, Samuel stood dripping in front of her.

‘Come on, Alex, come and look at this. It’s really cool.’ She still didn’t feel inclined, but she couldn’t resist the excited look on her brother’s face. Shortly, she joined him, complete with goggles, snorkel, and swim fins. Her reluctance soon dissolved in the tepid water. Each gentle kick of the fins propelled her to a new work of art on the constantly changing lagoon floor. Occasionally, Samuel loomed close by to gesture at something he wanted her to see.

After a while, the sandy bottom fell away, and she felt a cooler flow of water swelling through the wall of rock that separated ocean from lagoon. On the rock face ahead, a dark mass of seaweed swung and swayed with the tidal suck and swell. Scenes like this used to terrify her, but today she was just a little wary. She continued her slow approach, observing the pink sea skin that covered the rocks where sea snails and anemones pitted it like acne. Brown tentacles of kelp licked at her goggles at each inflow, then at the suck of the current, beckoned her eagerly to come and see what was hidden. Small iridescent fish shimmered in the middle of this action, almost motionless among the thrashing straps of kelp.

For a few minutes, Alex watched in fascination, only occasionally using her swim fins or arms to hold her position. Without warning, the fish darted in unison to make a new formation below the kelp. Alex drew a deep breath through her snorkel and dived gently after them.

Suddenly, her eyes widened and her heart pounded. As the current swept in and the kelp lifted, Alex saw the top of a human head wedged in a crevice, its strands of black hair drawn towards her as in an invisible wind. A white limb with swollen fingers rose momentarily on the current before disappearing behind the receding seaweed. At the very same moment, a shadow loomed nearby, and something grabbed her ankle firmly. Thrashing legs and arms wildly, she shot to the surface. Ripping the snorkel from her mouth, she gulped a choking mixture of salt water and air before a scream of terror rocketed from her mouth. Her fear-widened eyes searched the surface for the direction of the next attack. The next moment, Samuel’s head burst through the surface, his hands already ripping off his goggles and snorkel.

‘You didn’t need to kick me in the face, Alex!’ he yelled.

His face blazed red with anger as he also fought to gain his breath. ‘You made my mouth bleed,’ he added between coughing bouts. He inspected the diluted red water on the fingers he had just removed from his stinging face. His face crumpled, and he began to cry.

Ignoring his crying, Alex shouted, ‘Samuel, don’t you ever do that again! You nearly drowned me, you, you . . .’ Several words came to mind, but they were words she did not use and her parents would certainly punish her for using them. Yet fear had pushed her too far, and if words would not do, there was always the other option. She slapped him on his nearest shoulder as hard as she could, and Samuel’s strident wailing lifted several tones.

As relief surged through her, she could not stem her own flood of tears. The ghastly scene in the kelp had briefly been overshadowed by Samuel’s scare, but now it came back to her as, first swimming then wading through the shallowing water, she made her way to the shore. Greg stood there, arms folded and a stern look on his face.

‘What’s going on out there between you two? Both of you crying,’ he snorted. He looked severely at Alex, and as Samuel drew alongside, his wailings continuing in both pitch and volume, Dad turned his sternness onto him. ‘Now, Samuel, stop it. Stop it right now!’

Mum’s anxious face appeared. ‘Here are your towels,’ she offered. ‘Get yourselves dried and—’

Alex took the towel. ‘Dad, there’s a dead body out in the water.’ Seeing her father’s uncomprehending face, she repeated, ‘There’s a dead body caught in the rocks and Samuel scared me when he grabbed my foot and I nearly drowned, so I hit him and I shouldn’t have, but I was scared and I’m sorry.’ Tears tumbled among the torrent of words, and she buried her head in the towel, her shoulders heaving as she crumpled to the sand.

Samuel’s crying mysteriously ceased. ‘Wow! You saw a dead person? What did it look like?’ He crouched down beside her.

‘Leave her alone, Samuel!’ His mother’s hand was firm on his shoulder. ‘Now go up and get yourself properly dry and put a shirt on before you get burnt.’ Samuel was about to protest but there was a no-nonsense tone in her voice, so he turned obediently towards their pōhutukawa tree, casting several looks back over his shoulder as he went.

Greg placed his arm around Alex’s shaking shoulders. ‘Slow down, girl. Tell me what you saw again.’

The gruesome image was etched black and white in her mind. She shuddered and took a slow breath before saying, ‘Dad, there was someone’s head stuck in the rock under the seaweed, and I was only this far away.’ She drew her arms apart almost full length. Then seeing the disbelief on her father’s face, she continued more emphatically. ‘I saw the top of its head. It had black hair. There really is someone down there, Dad,’ she implored.

‘It’s easy to imagine things under the water. It could have been a clump of seaweed with strands that look like hair. How could a body get in there, do you think?’ The detective used reasoning. Alex used feelings, feelings that were well roused at that moment.

‘I don’t know,’ she sang in exasperation. ‘Just go and have a look for yourself if you don’t believe me!’

She noted her father’s widening eyes and, for a moment, regretted speaking to him in that manner. He stood up, and there was a moment’s silence before he spoke. ‘OK. I think maybe I’d better. Detectives need to check out all stories, don’t they?’

Alex got to her feet. ‘I’m not making it up. It really is there. Thank you, Dad,’ she added softly.

She meekly followed her father to where Mum was kneeling in the shade of the pōhutukawa tree, talking earnestly to Samuel, who was trying to look everywhere but at her face. She just had time to overhear her saying, ‘Imagine if it was you—’ before she broke off, seeing the two approaching figures.

‘I’m going to have a look.’ Greg spoke in an even tone as he reached in his beach bag for his goggles. ‘Well, it won’t hurt, will it?’ he responded as Fionna looked inquiringly at him.

‘Can I come?’ Samuel pleaded.

‘Sure,’ said Greg.

‘Greg!’

‘What?’

Fionna looked flushed. ‘You’re not really going to take him, are you?’

‘Yep. He deserves to see this. I think it would be a very good lesson for him.’

Alex was puzzled about the wink her father sent her. And then, despite Fionna’s protestations, he instructed Samuel to grab his diving things. In an instant, Samuel was struggling to get the fins over his sandy feet. Then scrabbling under his towel for his goggles and snorkel, and turning a deaf ear to his mother’s advice, he flapped like a duck after his father.

Greg turned. ‘Come and tell me where to look, Alex,’ he called.

She stood alongside him and pointed out the features of the rocky outcrop across the curve of the lagoon. ‘Actually, it would be quicker to walk around and get in the water there.’

She pointed to the sandy strip that formed an arc below the lower slopes of Shark Fin Hill. Observing the approval in her father’s face, she led off, each step more confident.

Samuel protested as he fell further behind. His goggles were over his eyes, snorkel attached, and his feet flapped ridiculously as the fins threatened to trip him. Finally, sense prevailed and he removed his fins, then carrying one in each hand, he caught up to them. The snorkel still wiggled perilously from the attachment to his goggles.

‘What a clown!’ Alex offered. Her brother responded with facial expressions and exaggerated movements. He quite liked the description. Soon, Alex slowed then stopped in the last spot of sun before a shadow darkened the water and rock.

‘See where there’s that big crack.’ She pointed precisely, making sure her father identified the exact spot. ‘Well, that’s one of the places the water gets through, and down under, there’s a lot of seaweed where the water makes a current.’ She paused and drew in a deep breath. ‘You dive below it and . . .’ Her voice trailed off. She looked up at her father’s tanned face. He smiled curiously. He washed his goggles in the lagoon water before fitting them precisely and tightening the rubber straps.

‘Come on, Samuel,’ he called. ‘Let’s do some body surfing . . . er, searching.’

Alex watched them lunge through the water until it was deep enough to dive forward. Then she walked back to sit on the grass above the sand, watching their progress with clashing emotions. She wanted desperately to be proved right. At the same time, she was scared about a body being there. She knew there was a body. She had seen it with her own eyes. Clearly. She sensed that her father didn’t really believe there was a body.

‘What are you doing here?’

Alex squeaked involuntarily. ‘Oh, man!’ she yelped. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she clapped her hands to her mouth, turning her whole body at the voice. ‘You frightened the living daylights out of me, Hāmuera!’ Her breathing became more normal, but her face glowed red. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I asked you first.’ White teeth erupted from the cheeky smile that framed his glinting eyes. ‘So what are you doing here?’ he repeated.

Did she tell him everything only to have Dad say she had been dreaming, there was nothing there? Better to close your mouth and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and prove it beyond all doubt, her father often quoted. It made real sense to her now.

‘Oh, just having a day on the island. We always come here at least once each holidays. It’s my very favourite island. We have such fun, and it doesn’t usually matter what the weather is like. It’s a kind of mysterious island, and there’s this lagoon and Shark Fin Hill up there and good swimming.’ She became aware that she was talking rather fast. ‘OK, so what are you doing here?’

‘We come here every year too. We come to invoke the spirit of our ancestor.’

Noting the change in the girl’s face, he carried on in conspiratorial tones. ‘One night, not far from this very spot in fact, my ancestor, Wiremu Maketu, smashed a pākehā man’s skull with an axe. The next day, he killed a pākehā woman and three kids who lived in the same house.’

‘But why?’

‘The man treated him pretty stink. He wouldn’t pay him for the work he did. The man kicked him, and that offended Wiremu’s mana. The lady swore at him. She shouldn’t have done that, ’cause it made it worse.’

‘How long ago was this?’ A vision of the underwater body momentarily flashed into her head.

‘A long time ago, back when pākehā began to take over our land. Anyway, he was really mad at them. They say there was so much blood all over the place and their bodies were so cut up, he must have been pretty much out of his mind.’

‘But that’s horrible. I mean, the children weren’t responsible.’ She looked appalled.

Hāmuera continued, ‘Wiremu ran home for protection from utu because one of the children he killed was a granddaughter of a chief from a different tribe.’

‘What’s utu?’

‘Revenge.’

‘So what happened to him?’

‘After some kōrerō, his father gave him to the British soldiers. He didn’t want to start a war with the other tribe.’ He paused and looked down before continuing in a low voice. ‘He was the first person to be hung for murder in New Zealand. It took far longer than a quick blow with a mere. Māori men who saw the punishment thought it was a shocking way to die.’ A distant look came across his face.

They sat silently side by side, idly pulling at blades of grass. Suddenly, both heads jerked around as a high-pitched shriek echoed across the lagoon. Samuel’s voice was heard over the water. ‘Dad! Don’t do that! You frightened the living daylights out of me.’

There was a moment of splashing mixed with Greg’s indistinct words and his laugh. Alex caught the baffled look on the Māori boy’s face.

‘Don’t worry. That’s Samuel with my dad. I think Dad just taught him a lesson.’ She smiled a smug smile. She guessed Samuel now knew what he had done to her was like. It served him right.

After a short silence, Hāmuera continued in a low voice. ‘He’s still pretty mad about it, you know.’

‘Who?’

‘Wiremu. His spirit is here and he still wants to get even. Ever since he was hanged, at least one person connected with the island dies each year that no karakia is said.’

‘Karakia? What’s that?’

‘Prayers. Special words that speak to our ancestors. Karakia tell them that the living are keeping their memory and their honour alive. If they have been dishonoured in their death, then they seek revenge from the spirit world.’

Alex hid her growing alarm. ‘You don’t really believe all that, do you? About someone having to die each year unless you do your prayer thing?’

‘My aunty believes it. She says we are too late this year. The cicadas didn’t sing before Christmas. Someone’s already been killed.’

Alex wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t form properly in her head. Hāmuera had nothing more to say and so the two sat silently, side by side. The dull pounding of the sea and muted sounds of children playing barely registered above their individual thoughts.

She was unsure how long she had been lost in thought when her brain became instantly alert. Her father was wading through the shallow water in her direction, Samuel gliding slowly behind, his snorkel erect, still searching for lagoon treasures. Alex met her father as he splashed the last few metres, searching his face for any clues.

He was about to speak when his eyes refocussed behind her. ‘What’s that Māori boy doing here?’

‘That’s Hāmuera, Dad.’

‘I know who he is. I thought your mother and I said not to knock around with him.’

‘I’m not knocking around with him. I didn’t even know he was here. He found me here, and we were just talking.’ Alex sounded defensive.

Greg strode off, ignoring Hāmuera as he passed. Then calling over his shoulder, he ordered, ‘You’d better come with me. Now,’ he added.

She glanced at Hāmuera and shrugged. ‘I’ve got to go now. See you around,’ she said. Hāmuera gave a quick upward nod, and his smile was brief.

As she turned, quick reflexes stopped her from falling over Samuel removing his fins on the sand just behind her. ‘Watch out,’ she said edgily, and followed the large imprints of her father’s feet in the sand.

Her brother got to his feet and, after a brief word to Hāmuera, trotted after her, the snorkel still attached to his goggles bouncing awkwardly, and a fin in each hand,

Greg had reached their picnic spot and was talking to Fionna when Alex threaded her way through the grass from the lagoon. He reached in his beach bag just as she arrived and drew out his cell phone.

‘You were right.’ he said simply. He pressed some keys in rapid succession. ‘There’s a body all right.’

He placed the phone to his ear. ‘Yes, hello, sergeant. Greg Armstrong, Auckland Central, here again. I’m afraid your boys have another job today. There’s a body in the lagoon on Roberton Island. Any reports of a recent missing person?’ He listened for a moment.

‘OK, so I’ll keep the area as a crime scene until you bring the stuff. No, it’s actually submerged. Probably a good idea to bring some scuba gear.’

Alex didn’t listen to the rest of the call. There really was a body. Her skin pricked with goose bumps. Hāmuera’s aunty had said the prayer thing had been too late this year. Someone had already been killed. And she, Alex, had found the body.

A gust of wind bent the grass as the sun slid behind a cloud. A single cicada began its rasping in a bough above her. Almost immediately, there was a noisy flurry of insect and bird wings and then, silence.