Chapter Eleven

He felt like he had sand in his eyes. He sat on the side of the bed and yawned, stretched and then rubbed at his face. He felt like absolute crap. Glancing at his watch and finding it was only eight o’clock, he could understand why he was absolutely buggered. Four hours sleep. If you could call it sleep. Dreams had plagued him, nightmares of falling, running through banyan tree filled valleys that never seemed to end and Holly. Her face, streaked with tears, pushing him away. He moaned and ran his hands through his hair.

Pulling the covers into a messy semblance of a made bed, he stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Staring into the mirror, face dripping, he scratched absentmindedly at the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks. Right, buck up or shut up. This rubbish has to end right now. Call Brett today—this morning. Mind settled now he had a plan of action Jack shaved quickly, dressed and was making coffee when he heard his father shuffling down the hall.

“Morning, Dad. Want a cuppa?

“Yes, thanks, boy. Where’s Masie?

Jack was glad he had his back to his father as he fished around for an extra mug and tea bag in the cupboards. His face screwed into a scowl at the mere mention of her name. “I’d say she’ll be up late this morning. She’ll probably be in the spare room still sleeping.”

“Harrumph, not like her to be a slug-a-bed. She usually has my porridge ready by now.”

Jack sighed. She was the last person he wanted to see this morning, her snores as he’d walked past the spare room a welcome noise. He had no plans to work today. She wouldn’t be here long. Saturday’s were his day with his Dad. “I’ll make it for you this morning. Let her have the day off, Dad. Saturday, remember?”

His father grunted. “You don’t make it right.”

“Jesus, Dad.” Jack poured the hot water into the cups and plopped his father’s hot drink in front of him. He’d taken his usual seat at the table and was wearing a petulant frown, his eyebrows drawn together like two furry caterpillars meeting for a kiss. “Porridge is porridge. How can anyone get that wrong?”

“Well, you manage to. If yous father not happy that es.” Masie stood in the kitchen doorway, dressing gown pulled tight around her pudgy middle. A self-satisfied smile creasing her lips. She bustled in, pulling a pot out of the cupboard under the sink and started searching for the porridge.

“Leave it Masie. I’ll do it. You can go home, get ready for church.” In other words, hurry up and bugger off, you petulant woman. The sooner I see the back of you the better.

Masie stood at the kitchen bench, measuring out porridge into the pot. “Yorley can’t stand me for half an hour more? Yous must have got out of the wrong side of bed dis morning.”

Jack could hear the smile in her voice, and he felt the burn of anger start to bite in his belly. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own father’s breakfast on my only day off. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing the back of you this morning.”

Masie slammed the pot on the oven top and clicked the gas lighter to start the flame. She whirled to face him, dressing gown sleeve dangerously close to catching the blue flame now dancing under the pot. “Why? Yorley upset I been tell yorley two the truth? You should be glad I had the guts for tell ha woman. Yous nor mean to tell her at all. Shame on you boy.”

Jack shook with anger, fists clenching. “Why, you —”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Yorley two stop yous arguing in there. Sounds like two cats fighting over a rat.” James roared from the dining room. “I just want my breakfast, not World War three!” He began coughing, a harsh, rattling bark. Jack hurried in to pat and rub his back. Mornings were hard for James. His chest seemed to fill with phlegm overnight, and cause him great distress when he arose. He hacked and spat into a handkerchief, inspected the contents, then rolled it into a ball and shoved it back into his pants pocket. Jack grimaced. Yuck, must remember that when I put the next load of wash in.

“Did you take your pills?” Masie called from the kitchen.

“No, woman. I’ve only just got up meself. Jacks just got me cuppa tea.”

Masie waddled in with his tablet tray, an assortment of different colored and sized capsules sorted into days. She flicked Saturday’s allotment into James shaking hand as Jack watched. One for his heart, one for gout, one to thin his blood…Geez there must be at least eight or nine there for him to take.

“I don’t know why you don’t rattle when you walk, Dad.”

“Called old age son. You’ll get there too one day.” He used his cup of tea to wash the pills down one by one, passing Jack his now empty cup. “Now if yorley two aren’t going to fight over it, you can refill ha cup. Please.”

Jack smiled. Dad won’t admit it, even under torture, but he enjoys the fuss. He refilled the cup and brought it to the table as Masie served James his breakfast. She glared at Jack. “If yorley don’t mind, I’ll have some myself and then I’ll go. If I have permission that is.”

Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head. “When have you ever asked my permission?”

James grunted and glared at the two of them over a steaming spoon of porridge. “Children!”

Jack couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud. Mornings were his favorite time with his dad. The time where he seemed the most like his old self. If you disregarded the struggle of old age problems, his dependence on his pills, and the many wrinkles on his sweet face, he almost seemed like the man he knew so many years ago. It’s what breaks my heart the most. Dad being Dad in the mornings, then coming home at night and seeing the confused, sick man he’s become. He dropped his head to sip his coffee, lest his father see the sadness in his eyes. Damn the Alzheimer’s to hell.

The morning seemed to drag. He did the chores that built up during the week, the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, changing sheets on both his and his fathers bed. It took his mind off Holly, and the knowledge he had to wait till he could call his brother. In New Zealand they were a day ahead and three hours behind Pitcairn time, so he couldn’t call until at least eleven am, where it would be eight in the morning Sunday there.

When it finally rolled achingly slow to eleven, he checked on his father and then took the cordless phone outside onto the porch.

“Mmm, Hello?”

“Brett, Wut-away.”

“Jack? You know what time et es?” A mighty yawn echoed down the phone line.

“Yeah, sorry, Brett.”

“On a blinking Sunday morning too. You do know we treasure our weekends here, Bro!”

Jack cringed. Brett worked as an engineer for a shipping company at the Auckland City wharf, and long hours were the norm. “I know, Brett, sorry. I just have some issues up here, and need your help.”

Jack could hear Brett’s wife in the background asking sleepily who was on the phone. “Go back to sleep, love. Jack’s on the phone.” To Jack he said, “Hang on little brother. I’ll just get up and let Michelle go back to sleep.”

After a few minutes of muffled noises, bangs and the sound of running water, Brett came back on the line. “I’m gonna need a coffee for this ain’t I?”

“Yup. Big trouble in little China here.”

“Oh, Jesus, what’s wrong with Dad?”

Jack laughed. “No, it’s not Dad, he’s fine. Well, normal anyway. He’s getting worse, but it’s expected. No, it’s Holly.”

“Holly…Holly…Oh, Holly Christian? When did she get back to the island?”

“A month ago now, hell, it’s gone by so fast.” Jack scratched his head, had it really only been four weeks since she’d come back?

“So, what’s up? You two thick as thieves again, I bet.”

Jack’s mouth turned up at the corners, then, the smile faded. “Yeah, you could say that. Brett, Masie’s been stirring up some trouble about Dad and Celeste. Do you remember much about them?”

Brett swore. “Nasty piece of work. She hasn’t changed much, old Masie.” The phone crackled as Brett moved about. “Dad and Celeste…She was over at our house all the time. Used to piss me off a bit, actually. I’d come home from school and there she’d be with Dad at the kitchen table with her books. Dad would be leaning over her, checking her spelling, or God knows what. Why?”

“Masie says that Dad and Celeste were having an affair.”

A bark of laughter hummed over the phone line. “Dad? No freaking way. Mum would have killed him. He would’ve been without his nuts if he’d gone anywhere near another woman. God, those rumors are so old they should be moldy by now.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. Mum would have killed him. Masie’s stirring up a hornets nest here, with rumors about what Dad and Celeste were up to. I just had to ask.” Jack sighed. “Holly and I went out last night to Mark’s and came back home and Masie was up waiting for us. Told Holly we could be half brother and sister.”

Brett let fly a barrage of swear words that would make a sailor blush. “Of course, she’s Dad’s big, bad body guard now. I can’t believe the cr…hang on a minute, you were bringing Holly home? Whooo, you dirty little bugger! Little brother, you work fast!”

Jack grinned a humorless grin. “Didn’t work out the way we’d planned. We got an earful instead. Holly left in tears, and understandably so. She’s special, Brett. It’s not just…I don’t know. It’s not just fun, me and Holly I mean.” He sighed. “I love her.” Saying it baldly like that to his big brother after the hurt and pain of the early hours of this morning, felt like another arrow to his heart.

“Let me think, Jack. It’s too early in the morning.” Brett puffed out air into the mouth piece, making Jack pull the phone away from his ear for a second with a wince.

“Okay, work it back. Holly’s two years younger than you, right?”

“Yeah.”

Brett’s voice got faint as he worked back. “You were born in…so…” Brett paused for so long that Jack almost asked if he was still on the line. “Holly would have…Jack, I think Dad was in New Zealand for medical around the time Celeste and Sammy went to New Zealand to have Holly. Celeste would have had to been about six months pregnant—that’s when they usually send mother’s out. Dad had gone for major surgery—remember? He’d had heart bypass. He was there for over a year. Oh, God, yes. Mum and Dad had already been in New Zealand when Mum was pregnant with you—went back to Pitcairn, and then Dad had to turn around and go straight back out for his heart. It was a tough time for us, with Mum and a baby, plus us four rabble rouser’s.”

Jack’s knees went weak as Brett spoke. Did the time frame work? Could Dad just be a victim of vicious lies? Oh, please let the timing work out.

“How can I make sure of dates though? This is really important.”

“Sounds it little brother. You sound really cut up about this.”

“I am. She is. It about broke my heart to see her last night. She…she told me we couldn’t see each other till we knew what the truth really is.”

Brett sucked in his breath. “Check Dad’s old passports. Does he still keep everything in that box under the bed? If they’re there, they’d be in that box.”

“I’ll check.”

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Let Masie’s rubbish go. She had a thing for Dad years before Mum and Dad got together. She hated Mum. She used to say and do things that would have Mum in tears. She hated Celeste too. I was old enough to be aware of the trouble she was causing, wasn’t deaf to the rumors that she was spewing. She’s a poisonous woman. She’s in her element right now helping you look after Dad. If I was you, I’d tell her to sod off, it’s not worth the energy or the trouble.”

“I can’t. It’s not me—it’s Dad. He’s come to depend on her, and I have to work. She goes, and I have to stop work, which means we don’t eat, or she stays, and I’m up nights worrying what else is going to fall out of the old bag’s mouth.”

Brett sighed. “Sorry, Bro. Sometimes I think us kids left you with the brunt of it with Dad. There’s just nothing for us at home anymore. No work, no money. Michelle wants to come home, bring the kids back to see the island one day. Right now though, we just can’t afford it.”

Jack shook his head. “No, I understand, Brett. Give those two boys of yours a hug from their Uncle Jack for me.”

“I will. Hang on.” Jack could hear Michelle’s voice buzzing in the background, Brett explaining why he’d called. The phone crackled and hummed as it was passed over and Michelle’s voice came on the line.

“Hey, Jackie-boy. If there’s a wedding, we’re coming home. Bugger the expense.” The smile in her voice was infectious and Jack laughed out loud.

“If there’s a wedding, then there’s been a miracle, and I’m converting immediately.”

Michelle sniffed. “Don’t let that woman get your knickers in a twist. She’s a miserable old sod, who’s only happy when everyone else is wallowing in the mischief she’s created. Brett’s right. Kick her to the curb.”

“I love you, Michelle. You always know just the right thing to say.”

“Ha. One Quintal male’s quite enough to handle, thank you.” Michelle paused. “Love you too, Jackie-boy. Look after yourself, okay?”

Jack hung up the phone feeling one hundred times better. Now, if only he could find the proof behind Brett’s thinking, he’d be golden.