Chapter 18

It hurt. It really hurt. The very thing she’d tried to prevent had happened. Danny felt the loss of his presence as keenly as if the air had suddenly been depleted of oxygen.

She changed the sheets on his bed and had to sit down when the smell of his aftershave wafted up and hit her in the nostrils. Danny didn’t know the name. The next time she was in a chemist, she began sniffing the tester bottles of men’s cologne like a bloodhound. The instant she inhaled from the bottle of Dolce & Gabbana, Danny gave a deep sigh of pleasure and began snorting it like a junkie.

‘Can I help you?’ the startled shop assistant asked.

‘No. You can’t. Sorry.’ Danny fled the shop.

One moment she longed for Ross’s return, and the next she prayed he’d stay in America so she wouldn’t have to go through the pain of saying goodbye again. How had Nella stood it? How had she managed to wave Patrick off with a smile each time he left? Danny pictured herself clinging to Ross’s ankles as he walked away. Maybe that was why Nella and their mother had been so accommodating: letting them go meant they’d come back.

Maybe.

Joe continued working on the house doing the smaller jobs he could manage on his own. Ross had told Danny not to let Joe tackle the roof again until he returned. ‘His back is still giving him problems, and I don’t want him up there alone.’

They all liked Joe. He was kind and funny and had no hidden agendas. Provided he got his money on time and a steady supply of mugs of tea and a piece of cake for his morning break, he was happy. Danny started helping him when she wasn’t at the hospital. She liked fixing things, and if she was busy she had less time to think about Ross and the future.

‘Where are your people?’ Joe asked one day when they took a break from replacing the deck.

‘My people?’ Danny held out a mug of tea and the last slice of a cake that Deryl had made.

‘Your whanau—your family.’ He took the tea and cake and sat down on a pile of decking.

She suddenly understood; Joe was Maori. ‘I know what whanau means, Joe,’ Danny said. ‘I don’t know where my whanau are. I’ve never met them.’

He took a bite of cake. ‘How come?’

Danny was silent. Sometimes she wondered if Rose had been ashamed to be an unmarried mother because her family were strict and wouldn’t accept her illegitimate children.

Joe swallowed the cake and looked at Danny expectantly.

Reluctantly, she began to tell him about her mother.

‘She was from Rotorua?’ he asked when she’d finished.

‘Yes, but that’s all I know; and her surname was Smith, which doesn’t help. Why couldn’t she have been something unusual? Like Foghorn or Possumbreath?’ Danny joked weakly.

Joe grinned. ‘Never heard of any Foghorns, but I’ve got a cousin who would suit Possumbreath.’

Danny smiled.

‘Your mum’s people are Te Arawa?’

She sat down beside him. ‘Yes, so far as I know.’

Joe polished off the last of the cake. ‘You got a photo of your mum I can have?’

‘Yes.’ Danny was puzzled. ‘Why?’

‘My mum is Te Arawa. She knows everybody, and if she doesn’t know them then she’ll know somebody who does. If you give me a photo, I’ll show it to my mother.’

‘You’d do that?’ Danny asked, incredulously.

Joe looked bashful. ‘Sure. No skin off my nose.’

‘Thank you, Joe.’ Danny wanted to hug him, but knew she’d only embarrass him. She tried to think of a way to thank him. Inspiration struck. ‘Tell you what: I’ll make you a cake.’

Joe’s smile slipped: Matt and Mia had warned him about Danny’s cooking. ‘Thanks…Choice.’

Ross phoned most nights. After the episode in the chemist shop, Danny was scared that the sound of his voice might make her do something equally irrational, such as start howling like a wolf, so she kept their conversations brief and handed the phone to one of the kids.

‘Everything OK?’ Ross would ask politely.

‘Just fine,’ Danny would answer politely. ‘I’ll get the kids.’

And everything was fine until Danny got a phone call from the school to say that Matt had been involved in a fight. When she arrived to pick him up, she was shocked to see he had a bloodied nose and that his clothes were torn. Matt refused to answer either Danny’s or the principal’s questions, and when he got home he shut himself away in his room.

Danny wasn’t sure who was more upset: Matt, Mia or her. She couldn’t believe Matt had been in a fight, it just wasn’t in his nature to be confrontational. Mia had seen it happen and run to get help.

‘Two boys were picking on Matt,’ she told Danny. ‘They always pick on him.’

‘What do you mean they always pick on him? What about?’

‘His hair. They say he looks like a girl.’ Mia began to cry again.

Danny pulled Mia onto her lap to comfort her, wishing it was as easy to comfort Matt. It was her job to keep him safe, to shield him from the nastiness in the world, but she’d failed and didn’t know what to do. How could she help Matt if he wouldn’t even talk to her? It was the lowest Danny had felt since Nella had died.

Ross called that night.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked when Danny answered the phone.

‘Yes, fine,’ she replied.

‘You don’t sound it. What’s wrong?’

There was a click as the extension in the living room was lifted, and Mia sniffed, ‘Uncle Ross! Mattie got in a fight at school and got a bloody nose and torn clothes. He got sent to the principal’s office and Auntie Danny had to come and get him.’

Danny’s heart sank. Now he would know how useless she was. ‘Hang up the phone, Mia.’

‘Is he OK?’ Ross asked sharply.

‘No! I told you he’s got a bloody nose and ripped his favourite T-shirt—’

‘Hang up, Mia!’ he exclaimed.

‘But—’

‘Hang up the phone!’ Danny and Ross cried together.

There was a click as Mia finally did as she was told.

‘Tell me what happened,’ Ross demanded.

‘I don’t know exactly. I got a call from the principal to say that Matt had been involved in a fight at school and he was refusing to answer any questions.’ Danny’s nose stung, and tears welled in her eyes as she recalled the vulnerable, wounded expression on Matt’s face when she saw first him.

Ross heard a telltale sniff and wished he was there. His voice softened. ‘Where is he now?’

‘In his bedroom, he won’t come out.’

‘Take the phone and go and knock on the door. Tell him I want to talk to him now. Don’t ask him—tell him.’

Danny doubted it would work, but she did as Ross asked. She was astonished when Matt opened the door, took the phone from her and shut the door again. Minutes ticked by before Matt finally opened the door and held out the phone to her.

‘Uncle Ross wants to talk to you.’

‘Oh.’ She took the phone into the kitchen. ‘Hello?’

‘Take him to a barbershop and get his hair cut first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘Tomorrow morning? But he’s got school.’

‘Forget about school. He can be a couple of hours late for once. Just get his hair cut.’

‘But he’ll say no,’ Danny insisted. ‘I’ve tried to get him to have it cut before, but he always refuses.’

‘We’ve discussed it, and he’s agreed to have it cut. Make sure the barber does a really good job, it needs to be short or he’ll end up looking like he’s wearing an afro wig.’

Danny laughed weakly.

‘Can you give my father a call and tell him what’s happened? Ask him to speak to Matt, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘Do not let my mother speak to him. It’ll only get her started about the first time that Dad took me and Pat to get our hair cut because we were getting into fights at school.’

‘It happened to you, too?’

‘Yes. I got my butt kicked more times than I can count, until Dad realized what was happening and took me to the barbershop. Ma hit the roof when he brought me home, but I didn’t get into any more fights; well, at least—not about my hair.’

Danny gripped the phone. ‘Thanks, Ross.’

‘If Mia hadn’t spilled the beans, would you have told me about Matt?’ He didn’t sound very friendly.

‘I don’t know. I suppose so…eventually,’ she hedged.

‘You mean no,’ Ross replied cuttingly.

‘I—well—I mean—’ Danny muttered. ‘You’re busy.’

‘Not too busy for something like this,’ he said coldly.

What was his problem? Why was he so angry with her? She had told him.

‘When are you going to get it through your head, Danny, that this deal is fifty-fifty? Matt and Mia are half-Lawton and half-Fabello. We share responsibility for them.’

‘OK,’ Danny said.

Ross disconnected the call and ground his teeth. She didn’t mean it: if Mia hadn’t opened her mouth, he would have been none the wiser. He tried not to get angry. Danny suffered from an almost pathological fear of being dependent, a direct result of her childhood. When it came to relying on other people—particularly men—the only blueprint Danny had to work with was the one she’d cobbled together from watching her mother’s relationship with her father and Nella’s with Patrick. The lack of an extended family had compounded the problem. If she’d had grandparents or aunts or uncles, she would presumably have been exposed to normal family life. She would have grown up with what Ross had taken for granted—his family. They might be interfering and drive him to distraction at times, but nonetheless he loved them and knew they loved him—as he loved Matt and Mia.

Ross was unprepared for how much he missed them. He’d fallen for the dubious charms of an eight-year-old chatterbox with a singing voice that could strip paint from a wall, and a prematurely old eleven-year-old with a complete disregard for his famous uncle’s writing or cooking skills.

And their aunt.

Joe carried his empty mug into the kitchen and rinsed it at the sink.

‘I’m making a banana cake, Joe.’ Danny stared at a pan of cake batter in the oven, willing it to rise. ‘It should be ready soon. Do you want some?’

Her cooking had suffered since the confusing conversation with Ross. The night before, she’d managed to ruin one of the few edible things she could produce—chicken nuggets and chips. If Ross didn’t return home soon, they’d all starve or have to live on porridge.

The children shared Danny’s feelings. Matt stared at the burnt offerings on his plate and said, ‘I really miss Uncle Ross.’

Mia tapped a blackened chip with her fork. ‘Me, too.’

Me three, Danny thought dismally, and not just for his cooking.

Joe eyed the cake in the oven and snuck a look at Matt, who was doing his homework at the kitchen table. Matt shook his head vigorously. ‘Ah, maybe some other time, Danny. My missus is doing roast pork tonight, and she’ll kill me if I’m not hungry.’

Danny eyed Joe beadily.

‘Not that I wouldn’t be hungry because I ate your cake, or anything. It’s just that if I ate it I might not have room for the roast pork, you know?’

Joe set his mug upside-down on the draining board, and pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of his shorts. ‘By the way, I heard from my mum: this is your nan’s telephone number in Rotorua.’ He held it out as a peace offering.

Danny stared at the piece of creased white paper in disbelief. Had he just said that he had her grandmother’s telephone number?

‘Turns out we’re cousins,’ Joe said.

‘We’re cousins?’ she repeated faintly.

‘Yeah.’

Danny stared. He was her cousin? She had a cousin? She hadn’t expected anything to come of Joe’s offer to find her family, and certainly not this quickly. Danny looked at him sceptically.‘First or second?’

‘First or second what?’ Joe repeated blankly.

‘Cousin—first or second?’

It made no sense to Joe. Pakeha—European New Zealanders—kept track of first, second or third cousins. In the Maori world you were just cousins.

‘I dunno. Who cares? Here, take it.’ He thrust the paper into Danny’s hand. ‘Funny thing is, Mum said some fella had already been asking around about your mother’s relatives.’

Danny preferred her bombshells one at a time. ‘She did? Who was he?’

‘A stranger. He got given the run-around, nobody told him anything useful.’

Ross was the only person she could think of who would send a stranger to ask questions about her family. Why? Because he cared that she was alone? Or because knowing Danny had relatives to call on would make it easier to leave? She believed Ross when he said he felt jointly responsible for the children, but she didn’t think that included her. He was only in New Zealand by default. If somebody else in his family could have made the trip, they would have. When he eventually went back home to the States, Danny knew the children would keep in touch with their American relatives by phone and email, and maybe, when Matt and Mia were older, Danny would let them visit in the school holidays. Once Ross left, she only expected to hear from him if there was a problem, in his role as the family troubleshooter.

Danny looked at the note in her hand and wished it was Ross who had given it to her, because then she could be sure the information it contained was accurate. Ross would check and double-check before he would say anything to get Danny’s hopes up. Her fingers tightened around the paper. She hoped Joe hadn’t made a mistake. ‘Are you sure you’ve got the right person? I mean, what if it’s not her?’

Joe wondered why women always found problems where there weren’t any. ‘My mum recognized your mum from the photo. She knows your nan. If you don’t believe me, give her a call and find out for yourself.’

‘Oh, Joe.’ Danny clutched the paper against her chest. ‘How can I thank you?’

He glanced at the oven. ‘Buy me a Lotto ticket.’