Jeanie looked over her notes and handouts from the university course. She decided to plan for a very small group of students to start with, her Japanese travellers in mind. If she started right, then expansion would be easy. She went onto the internet to price up computers. That was a big decision. Having a language lab would put them in a different league from classes only, but if they were to offer a quality service….
‘Fred?’ she called out. ‘You busy?’ He was wandering around the rather unprepossessing back garden. Back yard, not yet a garden.
‘Just planning out the back deck. It’s necessary to get the late summer sunshine if we want the best for our barbecues.’
Jeanie jumped down on the mossy lawn from the back step. ‘Where’s west?’
‘Here. And in the summer, the sun goes down about here,’ he pointed here and there. ‘So our deck has to have clear light quite low down so we have the sun as long as possible in the evenings.’
‘Oh dear,’ she said. They were looking at a liquid amber tree planted against the westerly fence and she realized it would cast a huge shadow on the only logical place for al fresco dining.
‘It has to go,’ he said. ‘It’s just a baby. It should never have been planted in a suburban garden.’ The “baby” stretched a good ten or twelve meters high and already had an impressive trunk.
‘How about topping it?’
‘Not a good idea. It wouldn’t look natural. We want the sun to go down right to the fence anyway.’ He walked over to the tree. ‘It’s a nice tree but really in the wrong place. These belong in large parks, not back gardens.’ He walked a few meters to the right. ‘We could put in some pittosporum here. The variegated ones. They have the tiniest black flowers in the summer that put out a powerful scent in the evenings.’
‘Will our dear landlady pay for them?’
‘I would think so.’ He turned again to the liquid amber. ‘I’ll have to take this monster out though. The tree people charge a mint.’ He turned to her. ‘You wanted me for something?’
‘Money stuff, Mr Person in Charge of Finances. Are we up to having a language lab?’
‘What’s that?’
‘A room full of computers. They don’t have to be fancy ones. Just able to run a CD and a place to plug in headphones.’
‘How many?’ He was still gazing at the tree.
‘Maybe six to start with? If SpeakWell takes off, that will be the first thing to expand. We need space for a dozen to fifteen. They can be around the classroom, but a separate lab would be better.’
He turned to her with a smile. ‘You don’t do anything by halves, do you, Jeanie? From being reluctant to getting involved, to spending all my savings.’
‘Just a thought.’ She was abashed. She had been carried away with doing up the language school the way she could envision.
He immediately circled his arm about her shoulders. ‘No, it’s good that you’re putting forward what you think we should have. That’s what I wanted you to do. We can argue about money, but never feel afraid of asking for what you think is right.’
His touch felt good, but she eased herself away from him.
The next day Fred rented a ladder, a hank of rope and a small chain saw.
‘You cut yourself on that, Fred Bartholomew Dunsford, and I’m outa here,’ Jeanie said. Somehow the world felt good. Maybe it was something about being out of doors and their easy camaraderie. Too many years had passed without it in her life as Jeanette.
‘It’s just a little saw,’ Fred said. It’s easy to handle. I’m not going to cut anything but wood.’ He leaned the ladder against the trunk. ‘When I’m up the tree, I’m going to tie the rope onto a branch, and you’re going to pull as I cut. That way we know which way it’s going to drop.’
‘Like, on top of me?’ She said it lightly. This was participation and she loved it.
‘Come on, girl. It’s a very long piece of rope and this is the way to keep things safe. If I can’t take this tree down absolutely safely, I’ll stop and we’ll hire professionals.’
Jeanie changed into her beloved jeans, revelling in the pleasure of becoming involved in ordinary things. Even when she was first married, Pete had never become involved in projects around the home – part of his wanting to be waited on hand and foot. He liked Jeanette wielding a mean vacuum cleaner, because that was for him, taking care of the castle of the king. As far as doing things together … Jeanie couldn’t remember it ever happening.
She put on a jacket, hat and dark glasses for protection and was ready to be an apprentice arborist.
‘Have you ever done this kind of thing before?’ she asked Fred.
‘My dad and I did all sorts of things.’ He was fastening a safety cut-out device to a long extension cord from the kitchen. He threw the rope over to her. ‘Untangle this, will you?’
Jeanie put the rope in order and felt another surge of happiness. Doing stuff. Doing things that would make a difference. That’s what life was all about.
At first, Fred shortened the lower branches, and Jeanie learned how much pull she had to put on the rope to get the branch to land straight down without tipping over. Each removal of a previous branch left the space for the next one to fall. While Fred shifted to the next position, hooking his safety belt around the trunk of the tree and making sure his electric flex was clear of his working area, she dragged the big branches back out of the way.
‘These branches are amazingly heavy,’ she called out.
‘One of the reasons we use the rope. They must land safely.’
Eventually, he was ready to take the main stem off, fairly high up, so the trunk could be removed in sections. This was trickier than the branches, and Jeanie agreed they should do everything right. Right and safely.
He started to cut it on the side where it was to fall, then switched to the other side to make the final cut.
‘Hey!’ a male voice yelled when Fred paused the saw. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Jeanie, braced for the job at hand, glanced behind her. Their neighbour was leaning over the fence, his face ruddy. ‘You’re not allowed to do that. Stop or I’m calling the police.’
Police? Someone wants to call the police? Jeanie almost dropped the rope. She broke out into a sweat and tried to concentrate on becoming invisible.
‘Sorry?’ Fred called from his perch high up the tree. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘You’re not allowed. That’s what’s wrong.’
‘I’m not allowed?’
‘To take down a tree that big. Everyone knows that!’
The tree. That’s all. He was fussing about the tree. ‘What do you mean?’ Jeanie managed to ask. Her anxiety had come down momentarily but now shot up again. Not allowed? She relaxed her grip on the rope.
‘Hold it, Jeanie. It’s dangerous the way it is. I’ll just finish what I’m doing.’
‘Don’t you dare make another cut,’ the man yelled. ‘Stop right there.’
‘Can’t,’ Fred called. ‘I’ve cut about a third of the way through. I have to finish this bit. It could topple otherwise.’
‘I’ll get the cops onto you,’ the man threatened. ‘You’re not allowed.’
‘I can’t stop now, not this cut,’ Fred said patiently. ‘It’s now dangerous to leave it the way it is. I must finish it.’
‘You turn on that saw and you’re done for, mister.’
‘Maybe we should…,’ she started to say to Fred. She really did not want anyone calling the police, but Fred could not know that.
Fred turned on the noisy saw drowning her out. Jeanie tightened the rope. In less than a minute the top of the tree fell gracefully down and hit with a reverberating thump exactly as planned. Jeanie looked around but the man was gone.
‘What do we do now?’ Jeanie called up to Fred, pleased in one way he did what he had to, but bitterly regretting the police might become involved.
‘Buggered if I know,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ll cut off this branch I’m on, then we can take the rest of the trunk down.’
‘Should we? I mean that guy’s gone to call the authorities. We’d better stop now and find out what he was on about. Please, Fred.’
He stared at her. ‘Calm down. We’ll get this sorted. And I can’t leave it like this,’ Fred said. ‘It looks terrible.’ Jeanie nodded. She didn’t want to call too much attention to herself. The tree did look terrible. All the branches except those hanging over the other neighbour’s back garden had been shortened to less than a meter. The top was now gone and what was left was a truncated stump with some greenery behind.
‘Let’s get on with cutting up the branches, then. We’ll have to clear up this idiocy. Damn, it means another day’s rental. It’s ridiculous,’ he complained. ‘But he can’t stop us cleaning up, stupid git. I’ve rented a mulcher for today too. We’re going to produce masses of beautiful mulch for around the front garden, and still have plenty for composting. No matter what he says.’
Fred fed the smaller branches into the machine and Jeanie, keeping a wary eye towards the neighbour’s fence, hauled load after load of mulch to the back of the garden, making a respectable pile. Fred cut the large parts of the branches into logs to burn next summer in an outdoor fireplace he intended to build. By the time the sun set, both were exhausted.
‘We’ve earned our pre-dinner drinks, haven’t we?’ Fred lightly punched Jeanie’s shoulder as they put the rented equipment into the boot of the car. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to ache in every muscle of my body,’ he said. ‘I think I’m going to have that drink in a hot bath. Want the bathroom after me?’
‘Sounds like heaven,’ she said, in an attempt to normalize her reactions to him. Once he was safely into his bath, she paced around the house, looking outside every time a car slowed, but also not wanting to sit down in her grubby gear. Every time she passed the bathroom she grinned. Splashing, singing, someone having a lovely time in there. She returned to the living room when she heard a car stop outside. There it was. A police car. Her heart jumped – her worst nightmare. Her hands started to shake and her knees weakened. A policeman emerged from the car and started towards their house.
‘Fred,’ Jeanie tried to say. Her voice was miniscule, more a whisper than a shout and certainly not loud enough for him to hear. ‘Fred,’ she tried again. She berated herself. She was being pathetic. Meanwhile he was happily singing in the bath. She kept her eyes on what was happening outside. The cop was climbing their stairs. Getting nearer and nearer. He knocked. Jeanie slowly opened the door, uncertain whether she could speak or even stay upright.
‘Yes?’ she managed to say.
‘I understand you’ve been felling trees,’ the policeman asked with the semblance of a smile.
The tree. Concentrate, she told herself. It’s about the tree. Nothing to do with her. She cleared her throat. ‘Not yet, but soon. We’ve done the preparatory work today.’ She knew she was gabbling. ‘You’re here because of our neighbour? He seemed to think we were doing something wrong.’ Her heart rate was still sky high. She didn’t want anything, not anything at all, to do with the police. Nothing to draw attention to herself. She took a long shuddering breath.
‘Where is it, miss?’
‘I’ll show you.’ She led him through the kitchen to the back garden, pleased to be moving so her shaking wouldn’t be obvious. Light from the city spilled over the southern sky back-lighting the half-tree.
‘How big was the tree, miss, before you topped it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said flatly, and cursed herself for not finding out what height was critical for whatever regulations there were.
‘I’ll have to get the arborists out from the council, miss,’ he said. ‘They’ll be asking that same question and more. Just leave it now, okay? Don’t touch it again.’
‘We haven’t. I mean since we made it safe after the man yelled at us. But it can’t be left like this. It’s an eyesore.’
‘Not up to me, miss. They’ll be in touch.’
She saw him out and positioned herself outside of the bathroom.
‘Fred? Can you hear me?’
‘What’s wrong?’
Of course he would think something’s wrong. She never talked to him while he was luxuriating in a bath. She could hear the water going down the plughole; he was getting out. ‘Nothing’s wrong. At least I think nothing’s wrong. It was the police, though. Checking up.’
‘Because of that bastard?’
The door opened and Fred came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He had filled out considerably since Jeanie had first seen his chest bared to the sunshine her first day in New Zealand. Not just extra weight, but muscles developed through heavy gardening.
In spite of her agitation, her consternation about having a policeman in the house, Jeanie noticed.
She was awakened by one of her nightmares in the early hours. Pete yelling over a fence to stop, stop, STOP! Police arriving. Standing over her. A menacing half-cut tree looming over the scene. And through it all, Jeanie becoming smaller and smaller until everything - Pete, the policeman and the tree trunk - completely dominated her shrinking self and she awoke, heart pounding. She turned her thoughts deliberately to when Beau was a small boy. His capable little hands; his interest in anything mechanical. How he would have planned out how to take the tree down in the most minute detail. She missed him. More now, strangely, than when she was Jeanette. Something to do with regaining herself. Her Self.
Nothing happened from the council end and Jeanie hoped it would be ignored. Even though every time Jeanie spotted the tree trunk from the back windows, she winced. It was so very ugly and brought to mind her brush with the police. But she also caught Fred gazing at it several times too.
They had looked up the regulations and found “exotic trees” could be trimmed, topped or removed only when young, and restricted to when the tree had a maximum height of only eight meters. After that, it required resource consent and the website implied such consent was never given for healthy specimens. The website included a whole essay singing the praises of big trees. Jeanie printed it off and went out to where Fred was digging their new vegetable garden in the back. She read it out to him.
‘How high do you think it was?’
‘Seven meters,’ Fred said swiftly.
‘Seven? How do you get that?’
‘Easy,’ he grinned at her. ‘Eight and we’re in trouble. Seven and we’re not.’
‘We’d better say seven give or take a half. Sounds better.’
‘That’s my girl,’ he said. ‘Oh, by the way, is your first name Melinda?’
Jeanie was caught unawares and took a second to respond. ‘Yes, why?’ She hoped her wariness didn’t show.
‘There’s a letter for you.’
Something in the post was unusual for Jeanie. She had received only had a couple of letters before, all from the university. She didn’t ask for it right away, mainly to feign indifference. She would inhibit her anxious curiosity until later. No need to call attention to anything. But she thought of little else.
After dinner Fred brought her the letter. ‘I’m nosy,’ he said. ‘It’s a thick envelope. And using that name.’ He pointed to it, Ms Melinda E Rhodes and the post office box address. With shaking fingers, Jeanie opened it.
Dear Mindi,
I am in a quandary. I am not sure if you are my colleague and friend, Melinda E Rhodes. If you are not, please disregard this letter. If you are, please get in contact with me as soon as possible as I do not understand why you have not returned to Hamilton. If there is trouble with Neil Fulton, please let me know. Two heads are often better than one, my friend.
Recently you met my cousin, Kitty Ishibashi and I noticed she had your card with contact details. Although I’ve been sending letters to your mother’s address in Brisbane, I have not had a reply in some time so I am taking the opportunity of contacting you this way.
I hope this letter finds you well and that treatment in Australia has brought you back to a state of good health. Of course I am pleased you are here in New Zealand once more. As you no doubt realize, there are details we should talk about. Could you let me know when you can come down to Hamilton?
As far as business is concerned, all is well. Your partner has all the statements of the investments as of the change to the new tax year, but he hasn’t returned your tax form. You’ll find it enclosed. Please sign it and send it directly to Inland Revenue. I have paid everything on time, of course, but they do need your signature. I hope you are pleased with the investments. We have done rather nicely this year compared to most. Your account should build up again, both from dividends and capital gain. I have reinvested whatever Fulton has passed back to me, as per your instructions last year. He has all the details, of course.
Please get in touch.
Kind regards,
Bert
“Herbert Atkinson” was typed below the signature. A tax form bulked out the envelope. The letterhead said “Budzinski, Harris & Atkinson. Law, Asset Protection, Trusts.” The address was in Hamilton, the next city south of Auckland. Jeanie remembered Mindi said their farm was in the Waikato, outside of Hamilton. She could picture the area now she’d been through it on the coach tour. Rolling green countryside, lush paddocks, wide lazy river and world-class horses behind archetypical wood fences.
‘You look pale, Jeanie,’ Fred said. ‘Bad news?’
‘Not actually. Well, maybe.’ Jeanie’s confusion spilled over into her speech. ‘This letter has knocked me a bit.’ She stilled her trembling lip with an equally trembling finger.
‘Why?’
She looked up in some desperation. ‘Things are unravelling.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Oh, Fred,’ she wailed. ‘I’m not what I seem.’
Fred just looked at her. ‘I don’t understand.’
Tears pressed against her lids. How could she tell him?
‘You know how you kept your HIV status secret from me?’
‘Look, I’m sorry, I.…’
Jeanie interrupted. ‘I have secrets too, Fred. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I think I had better talk to you. In complete confidence.’