31

As he follows Ripeka and Mason up the well-lit front steps, Daniel realises that he hasn’t been in Aaron’s home since the death of his mother, Mabel. Until then, Mabel had insisted that the members of the Tribe use her home as part of the Tribe’s network of homes: she and her family hosted many of the Tribe’s functions, and, as children, Daniel and the others had treated it as if it was their own home; sometimes for days they would live there and attend school. Over the years, the happiness that that brought Daniel allowed him to leave aside that terrible memory of Feau and Bonzy and Aaron abusing Arthur and Martha.

After their mother died and Ripeka and Mason shifted North, whenever it was Aaron’s turn to host a function, he held it at a restaurant or café, or simply asked one of the other members to host it, and he paid for everything. At those times, Daniel now recalls, it was Mere who usually obliged.

‘Come in,’ Mason invites him. He follows Ripeka into the corridor, into the familiar smell he has always associated with that house: an easy muskiness tinged with the scent of incense, which Aaron usually burned in his study. That odour and the protective atmosphere of the house make him feel he is again with Aaron. He is relieved that that particular memory isn’t there, in the room.

Unlike the other members of the Tribe, Aaron, as he prospered, hadn’t renovated his villa: he didn’t alter the basic villa structure or enlarge the house. However, he cleaned and repaired it, modernising everything, and simplifying the colours of the walls and ceilings to an off-cream with Pacific blue window frames and linings. Every feature and furnishing and decoration added up to what Laura once described as ‘minimalist and Zen,’ an elegant simplicity that made you feel as if you were wrapped up in a second skin that healed your fears and allowed you to be.

He accepts a beer from Mason as he sits opposite Ripeka in the sitting room under the large portrait of their mother: the only photograph in that room. ‘I haven’t seen you and Mason for years now,’ he says.

‘This is our first visit to Auckland since …’ She stops and glances at Mason.

‘… Since Mum died,’ Mason finishes her statement.

‘Yeah, since Mum passed away,’ she says. Daniel has always felt an elusive impermanence associated with Ripeka: she is there, but not there, and you can never reach out and catch her.

‘How’s Hawai‘i?’ Mason asks. ‘Must be great there, eh.’ He and Ripeka laugh softly.

For a while they chat about that, Daniel doing most of the talking, trying to feel at ease with them. The young Mason he’d known well years before now seems a different person to this bony, untidy man with the ill-matching clothes, the badly nicotined teeth and the eyes that never seem to want to focus on you. When he catches Mason fiddling nervously with his glass and gazing up at his mother’s portrait, Daniel realises, with surprise, that there is nothing about Mason that reminds him of Aaron. Nothing; not even his aura, his presence.

‘So are you going to stay in Hawai‘i much longer?’ Ripeka asks.

‘Yeah, Dan, are you home for good now?’ Mason echoes her.

‘No, I’ve got another semester on my contract there,’ he replies.

‘And another woman, bro?’ Mason suggests, looking slyly at Daniel from under his thick eyebrows.

‘Dan, you were always the one for the wimmin,’ Ripeka says.

Though uncomfortable and annoyed that they are deliberately attacking him, Daniel decides to play along. ‘Hawaiian women are something.’

‘Aaron was always jealous of your ways with wimmin, Dan,’ Ripeka continues.

‘Too right, bro; Aaron couldn’t stop talking about it to us.’ This time, when Mason laughs and flecks of spittle spray through the light, Daniel ends their attack.

‘Do you know much about how Aaron – how your brother – died?’ he tests them. Surprised, they look at each other, and then, in unison, shake their heads. ‘Do you want to know more?’ He is glad he is not hesitating in his attack. They look at each other again, and then Ripeka shakes her head once.

‘We know enough,’ Mason says. ‘Besides, our brother didn’t come to see us often.’

‘We weren’t that close,’ Ripeka murmurs.

‘Yeah, he looked down on us,’ Mason claims, looking at her.

‘That’s not true, Mason,’ she says. ‘Not true. Besides, he was very different from us.’

‘Why?’ Mason asks. ‘Because he had a different father?’ Daniel gasps almost audibly. ‘That’s true, Dan,’ Mason continues. ‘He never wanted any of you to know.’

‘Aaron always got what he wanted from Mum – and us,’ she whispers.

‘Always, he had our aroha and loyalty,’ Mason remarks, and the slight twist of sarcasm in his claim heightens Daniel’s surprise.

‘Why do you think he didn’t want us to know?’ Daniel has to ask. Mason glances at Ripeka, who nods once.

‘Because he was ashamed he was a bastard,’ he replies, trapping Daniel in his gaze. ‘And guess what, Dan?’ Daniel is feeling profoundly threatened by Mason’s and Ripeka’s revelations. ‘Our Aaron made our mum promise that she would never tell him (or us) who his father was. And as you well know, no one dared break a promise to our loving Aaron. No one.’

‘He could be so – so cruel,’ Ripeka says, hunching her thin body more tightly.

‘Dan, you guys don’t know much about the real Aaron.’ Mason pauses, withdrawing into himself, and then adds, ‘Like you, we loved him – yeah, we did – but we were also shit-scared of him.’

In silence they continue drinking their beers. The healing Zen atmosphere of the house is gone, and a bold chill grips Daniel. That particular memory is starting to clog even his breathing, and he needs to leave.

‘Aaron left a will,’ Daniel starts cautiously. ‘His lawyer, Katherine Mills, has it, and I can arrange for you to go and see her.’

Ripeka straightens and, avoiding his eyes, asks – and he can barely hear her – ‘Don’t you know yet what’s in it?’

He is suddenly feeling exposed, but knows he has to go through with it. ‘Yes, his lawyer sent for me and read the will to me.’

Mason is direct, unflinching. ‘Why you, Dan?’

‘I don’t know why,’ he replies, guilt gripping the core of his belly. ‘But he has also made me the sole executor.’ The guilt grips him with more tenacity. Mason glances at Ripeka, who is armoured with suspicious silence, but she says nothing. ‘I’ll ring Mrs Mills tomorrow morning, and she’ll ring you and you can go and talk with her.’

‘He always loved you guys more than us,’ Mason murmurs.

‘It was to be expected, Mason,’ Ripeka intrudes. ‘I mean, he wasn’t really our brother. He was too good for us, and his loving Tribe was his whānau. Yeah. Dan and Mere and Paul and Keith and Laura.’ Daniel gazes at her and is caught in her penetrating, ironical gaze.

‘We’ll go and see his lawyer tomorrow, Dan,’ Mason says.

‘I bet ya he hasn’t even left us our home,’ Ripeka says. ‘Bet ya.’

A short while later, Daniel tells them he is tired, and is escorted by Mason to the front door. ‘See ya later,’ Mason says. Daniel nods once and hurries down the front path, with that particular memory now filling every pore of his attention, and Mason watching him.