17

The tide was in, the wind had fled, and the sun was setting in a blazing declaration of escape. Coming back from Waioha, Laura, Daniel and the boys recognised Aaron, Ropata, Paul and some of the warriors surfing in on the large waves. They turned into their camp and found it empty – they assumed everyone was out in the water.

Unloading the van quickly, they changed into their swimming gear. Aleki and Tahu bounded out of the tent, over the low dunes and across the beach. With abandoned squealing, they dived headlong into the waves. While he waited for Laura, Daniel watched his father duck under a breaking wave, surface and, laughing, tread water beside Mere and Kepa and Keith. He yearned to be out there, in the moving mass of water that tied the whole Pacific together, but he wanted to be in it with Laura. As soon as she appeared in her crimson bathing suit, he started racing away from her towards the sea. She chased him, deliberately stepping into his footprints, as if she wanted to fit into all that he was, merging, merging, and then merging with the ocean, which, when she was a child in New Plymouth, had kept her sane and alive and hoping.

Dinner was scheduled for 6.30 p.m., so Laura, Daniel and their two helpers left the water before the others and dressed, then Daniel hurried off with Aleki to make the barbecue.

Laura and Tahu were in the kitchen preparing the salads when Mere joined them. Laura was amused but growing more annoyed with Tahu, who insisted he knew all about making salads, claiming his mother was the expert at it.

‘Hi, Auntie, Laura reckons we should use French dressing in the green salad,’ Tahu tried to solicit Mere’s agreement.

‘What do you think, mate?’ Mere asked.

‘My mum always uses mayonaise – and I like mayonaise,’ he reasoned.

‘Don’t ya want to try something new, mate?’ Mere suggested. Laura watched Tahu closely, enjoying his struggle not to offend Mere but still to have his way. ‘Okay, let’s put it this way, Tahu, does your mum like trying out new things?’ Laura had to smother her mirth as her stubborn helper scrunched himself up inside and, lowering his head, refused to be cornered. ‘Hey, boy, you’re jus’ like me: bloody pig-headed, right!’ Mere socked it to him.

‘Naw, I’m not, Auntie, ask Auntie Laura here.’ His eyes were ablaze with truth. ‘Was I pig-headed at our shopping today, Auntie?’

Laura kept a straight face and said, ‘Certainly not.’

‘See, Auntie,’ he declared. Laura turned her face from him, knowing that Mere now had him cornered.

‘So you want to try new things, eh?’ Mere gazed down at him.

‘Okay then, but the potato salad is still going to have mayonnaise in it, right?’ He made the deal. Laura and Mere laughed, and he seemed surprised.

From then on he went out of his way not to be pig-headed, and did everything they wanted. And when he took the salads out to their dinner table in the tent, Laura admitted to Mere how she was learning, for the first time, about teenagers. ‘Aleki and Tahu are wonderful,’ she murmured.

‘Girl, they’re good kids, but they’re not as innocent as you believe,’ Mere cautioned. ‘They’re all potentially the other face of their Uncle Aaron.’

‘I don’t care, Mere. I never had brothers and sisters,’ Laura said.

The air smelled of barbecued meat. The dark settled over the settlement, the beach, the ocean and their tent as Lemu said grace in Samoan, his commanding voice attracting the fascinated attention of the darkness.

They started eating, Laura and Mere telling everyone they should thank Tahu for making the salads. They applauded. Daniel told them Aleki, master of the art of barbecuing, had cooked the meat. More applause.

As they ate, Laura and Daniel felt so natural sitting beside each other, as if they’d been doing that for a long time. Every time Daniel glanced at his father, who was sitting opposite them beside Mere, his father smiled at him, and he believed his father fully approved his being with Laura. Hungry, their appetites invigorated by the outdoors, they demolished their meal, quickly.

Kepa supervised the warriors, without Tahu and Aleki, as they washed and dried the dishes. They complained when Keith reminded them that lights out in the tent was at 8 p.m. Keith was exhausted, so he went to bed then too. Aaron, Ropata and Kepa expressed the same intention. Lemu and the women and the two girls shifted into the house, and Lemu said goodnight and went off upstairs to bed. Mere and Laura shifted out to the front veranda, and Paul and Daniel soon followed the others into the tent.

As Laura and Mere sat back in the beach chairs, gazing up into the heavens, the sea-smelling dark slipped into everything, bringing with it the healing silence of high tide, and, one by one, putting out the lights of the houses along the shore. Laura’s eyes unexpectedly acquired an increasing heaviness, and she sighed and said, ‘Mere, I could stay here forever.’

‘So could I,’ Mere’s regretful voice eased out of the dark. ‘Away from all the responsibilities I’ve been saddled with.’

‘But you’re not free of them, even here.’

‘That’s right. I mean just being here in this place right now and in this darkness.’

‘There’s a way out,’ Laura ruminated aloud. She could hear Mere waiting. ‘You could shift out of Auckland …’

‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘I thought you just said you’d had enough of the responsibilities?’

‘I love my family; I love the Tribe,’ Mere declared.

‘Even if it means giving up permanent relationships with men?’ She waited, heart in stasis.

‘I have permanent male relationships already, Laura.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Okay, like with Kepa?’

‘Yes.’ Laura’s abrupt yes was a declaration of fear. But she had to wait. Mere breathed heavily in the deepening darkness, through which they could barely see the thin glow of the horizon.

‘Kepa will be it if he – if he …’ And she couldn’t say it.

‘You’re not being fair to him or to yourself,’ Laura said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Tell me, Laura, I’m too scared to say it.’

Laura told her it wasn’t fair on Kepa because he wasn’t going to measure up to Mere’s expectations.

‘What are those?’ Mere asked.

For any male to compete for her aroha, Laura reasoned, he had to measure up to Aaron, Daniel, Keith and Paul. ‘And has to be someone who doesn’t feel inadequate in your presence.’

‘You mean like my father, who felt small beside my mother and then tried to beat her down to his size?’ Mere said.

‘I didn’t know him.’ Laura tried extricating herself.

‘If Kepa is half as capable and kind and strong as Daniel, then he may have a chance,’ Mere said.‘You’re lucky, Laura; Daniel is falling for you.’ Laura reached over and held onto Mere’s arm. ‘But be careful: you can’t trust poets who’re too attractive to women for their own good.’

Laura shivered as the fingers of the darkness caressed her arms.