Alice parked her blue Daihatsu in front of a fading picture of a ram and tried to remember the last time she’d visited her old home town. Years, she thought, and in all that time nothing had changed. That was the trouble with Rata. It wasn’t a dynamic, happening place like Greymouth.
She’d driven aimlessly, not wanting to go back to the farm. Not wanting to go anywhere. The interview with Crystal Starbrite played on her mind and she shuddered at the idea of it being broadcast. Em had been right. She shouldn’t have done it. At least not, without proper preparation.
Of course they’d want evidence. Of course they’d want other witnesses. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? But there was one way she might redeem herself.
She took a deep breath, got out the car and marched across the road to RAGS.
She stood at the open door a moment. Glad was serving a customer. Alice entered, took a Sunday paper from the rack and stood in line at the counter.
One other thing hadn’t changed, she thought. Gladys Smith had kept her looks. She was still slim, athletic-looking, and still had that unruly mop of gingery-coloured hair. It was as wild as it had been in their school days.
‘Good heavens, Alice Jones!’ Glad exclaimed when she looked up. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you since Bob and Muriel’s wedding. It is still Jones, is it?’
That was uncalled for, Alice thought, suddenly conscious of her left hand around the newspaper.
‘I’ve never bothered with those old patriarchal customs,’ she said grandly, dropping the paper on the counter. ‘I suppose that’s one thing we have in common.’
Glad smiled, either missing or ignoring the veiled reference to her own single-parenthood.
‘Have you just arrived? I never saw you at Frank and Em’s.’
‘I was out for a drive.’
‘Sorry I missed you.’
‘Actually, I caught sight of you the other day,’ Alice said. ‘Just in passing.’
‘The other day?’
‘Mmm. Friday afternoon. Out near Em and Frank’s place. How’s your leg, by the way?’
‘My leg?’
‘Yes. You were walking with a stick.’
For an instant, a disconcerted flicker passed across Glad’s face.
Gotcha! Alice thought.
‘Only, I was going to suggest Arnica gel’ she said aloud. ‘It’s wonderful for aches and pains, you know.’
‘I ... think you must’ve mistaken me for someone else.’
‘No, it was definitely you. And your boy Norman. Gosh, hasn’t he grown! Last time I saw him he was barely walking.’
Glad stared at Alice. Alice glanced over her shoulder to see if they were alone, then smiled. ‘I know all about it Glad. The mice, the spaceship. Everything.’
‘I ... don’t know ... what you’re ...’
‘Oh yes you do. You were there. I saw you. Hobbling about with a gammy leg. With your son. And Albert. And the children.’
* * *
‘Isn’t this what you call West Coast sunshine?’ Coral yelled above the thunderous drumming on the tin roof.
‘Not like this,’ Norman shouted back. ‘I’ve never seen rain like this.’
They stared towards the doorway of the hut where the rain was falling with such force that when a flash of lightning froze the scene outside, the droplets looked like long steel bolts suspended in mid-air. They braced themselves and held their breaths as another bone-juddering boom echoed round the gully.
Ludokrus upended his backpack on the floor and began sorting through the collection of spare parts from the sixth pile.
‘Lost something?’ Coral had to shout above the din.
‘Need to cover bike.’
‘Don’t tell me they shrink if they get wet.’
‘No, but rain is not good for the electric.’
‘You mean they’re not waterproof?’
‘Not this-proof.’ He jerked a thumb at the drumming on the roof.
Finding nothing suitable, he gave up and went to the door.
‘See anything?’ Coral joined him, but they could barely see two metres.
There was another flash of lightning and another clap of thunder. Coral shivered and stood in silence, dripping and cold, staring at the rain.
* * *
Alkemy’s cries grew stronger as Tim forced his way up the last few metres of the smooth-walled passage. ‘What is it? What’s happened? Alkemy, what’s wrong?’
She was on her knees when he emerged. At first he couldn’t see what the matter was. The circular passage ended in a closed chamber, a small rock room like the dead-end tunnel they’d just left. At least it was on three sides. But where Alkemy crouched was a jumble of boulders that looked like the result of a cave-in.
He moved to one side, broadening his torch beam so it flooded the chamber, and found her kneeling, helpless, hands outstretched, crying quietly before a fallen figure.
Albert’s head, part of one shoulder and an outstretched arm were all that were visible beneath the fallen rock. He lay face down, head to one side, and might have been resting if it hadn’t been for the awful burden and the puddle of machine fluids in which he lay. From the position of his body, Tim guessed he’d been running from the cave-in. He’d almost made it.
‘Albert, Albert, Albert,’ Alkemy wept, reaching out to touch his head with trembling fingers.
Tim felt a lump in his throat and looked away. Then Alkemy gave a startled cry as Albert’s hand twitched and his eyelids flickered open.