From the Ashes Page 27

  And now he was about to talk to Polly about her daughter. Their daughter. If Polly was at home, that was.

  ‘Would you mind waiting out here on the footpath while I speak with her?’ he asked Lucy.

  ‘Yes, I would. This has as much to do with me as it does anyone else.’

  James had thought she might say that. Stifling a sigh, he knocked on the door, noting it could do with a bit of paint. Some girl he didn’t recognise answered.

  ‘Good morning. I’d like to talk to Polly, if I may.’

  ‘Wait on,’ the girl said, then bellowed up the stairs, ‘Polly! Door!’

  Eventually Polly appeared, wearing calf-length jeans, a short-sleeved top and nothing on her feet. She stopped when she saw him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’d like to speak to you about Gina.’

  ‘You’re behind in your payments.’

  James felt Lucy step past him, and his heart sank.

  ‘No he isn’t,’ she said brusquely, ‘because he won’t be making any more. I’m James’s wife, by the way.’

  The expression on Polly’s face didn’t change. ‘I know who you are. I saw you at Smith and Caughey’s.’

  ‘We have a proposition for you.’

  Oh Lucy, do shut up, James thought, fearing she’d charge in heavy-handed and ruin everything.

  ‘Do you mind if we sit down?’ he asked.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Polly said, and sat on the stairs.

  ‘No, I mean somewhere more amenable to conversation.’

  ‘There’s the front room.’ Polly waved at a doorway on James’s left.

  He went into what had once been quite a grand room but was now very tired, and equipped with mismatched furniture. Lucy sat next to him on a dusty old sofa while Polly curled into an armchair opposite.

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  ‘I’ve told Mrs Murdoch about our liaison,’ James said, praying that Polly would be decent enough not to mention that there had been far more than one. ‘And the child.’

  Polly’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, but all she said was, ‘If you’re going to call your wife Mrs Murdoch, then you can call me Miss Manaia.’

  Lucy said, ‘Oh, for God’s sake. I’m Lucy, you’re Polly and he’s James, all right? We’re here to talk about Gina, not to play silly games.’

  ‘Gina? What about her?’

  James felt his face heat up. He did feel quite embarrassed about this part of it. ‘Well, I, er, I employed a private investigator to collect some information. Photographs, mainly. We wanted to see what the child looks like. He photographed her, and you, while you were at an address on . . .’ Forgetting the name, he had to check his papers. ‘Kitemoana Street.’

  ‘You bastard! That’s my mother’s house! You had me followed?’

  ‘Yes, we did,’ Lucy said. ‘I, we wanted to know if the child really is James’s.’

  ‘And you think you can tell that from a couple of pictures?’

  ‘They’re very good close-up photographs, in colour, and Gina looks like our children when they were little,’ Lucy said. ‘Just like them.’

  ‘And you told me she’s mine,’ James said.

  ‘I did,’ Polly said.

  ‘So,’ Lucy went on, ‘we’d like to make you an offer.’

  Polly regarded them in silence.

  Now that they’d reached this point James’s heart was thumping in his chest and he felt faintly ill. This was such an enormous thing, almost preposterous. Lucy looked at him and he held her gaze, willing her to ask the question, because now the time had come he didn’t think he could.

  Lucy turned to Polly and said, ‘Our family would like to adopt Gina.’

  Polly still said nothing.

  ‘My son, who is an RAF hero, and his wife, a nurse, are quite well off. They only have one child and they’d desperately like another but are unable to have more. Gina is James’s daughter, after all, and Duncan and Claire would raise her as their own. She’d grow up in a lovely home with two parents, go to the best schools, have everything she needs and wants, and access to the best opportunities when she gets older. And yes, I know, she’s part Maori, but that’s never been an issue in our family. Our family tree is quite diverse.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And, of course, we’d compensate you for the loss of your daughter. Handsomely. Very handsomely, in fact.’

  Polly was looking down at her fingernails. ‘She doesn’t live with me. She lives with my mother.’

  ‘But surely she’ll see it would be best for Gina?’

  ‘No. She won’t see that.’

  ‘Perhaps we could compensate your mother as well?’ James suggested.

  Polly said, ‘She’d be disgusted if you offered her money.’

  ‘But she’s your daughter,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s your decision, isn’t it, what happens to her?’

  ‘Yes, it is. It is my decision.’

  Polly was staring at the floor now. James watched her. He hadn’t expected this level of vacillation; based on how she’d used the child to blackmail him, he’d thought she’d jump at the chance to offload her for a decent profit. Perhaps he’d misjudged her.

  ‘The best of everything, Polly,’ Lucy repeated. ‘She’ll grow up in a moneyed Hawke’s Bay family, very well educated and with every opportunity she could hope for. And you’ll receive three thousand pounds for your trouble.’

  James nearly fainted. Three thousand pounds! That wasn’t the figure they’d talked about! He glared at Lucy but she deliberately refused to look his way.

  ‘Your son and daughter-in-law,’ Polly said. ‘How old is their other kid?’

  ‘She’s ten. Her name is Lorraine and she’s a delightful child. I know for a fact she’d adore a little sister.’

  ‘And they have a nice house?’

  ‘It’s charming. Fairly new, on the hill, built after the earthquake. Very modern.’

  ‘And they’ve got plenty of money?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Duncan is a part owner of a local shipping company, and of course he has shares in Kenmore, James’s family’s sheep station.’

  ‘All right,’ Polly said.

  James blinked. He looked at Lucy again, who looked rather satisfied, not shocked at all, as though her plan were the height of common sense.

  He said, ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I said all right, you can have her. But you’ll have to just take her, without my mother knowing. And I want the money in cash.’

  James thought that sounded more like the Polly he thought he knew.

  ‘Oh, no, we’re not kidnapping her,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to bring her to us. It will be kinder that way too.’

  Polly sat for a moment, thinking. ‘Then this is what’ll have to happen.’

  *

  Awhi was folding washing, making nice neat piles on the kitchen table.

  ‘I’m taking Gina down to Mission Bay,’ Polly said.

  ‘What for?’ Awhi asked, not looking up.

  ‘An ice cream.’

  ‘Not really ice cream weather, is it? It’s the middle of winter.’

  ‘Ice cream!’ Gina shouted.

  ‘Go and get your shoes and a jumper,’ Polly told her.

  Gina shot off.

  When she came back, her shoes on the right feet but her jumper on backwards, Polly said, ‘Give Nannie a kiss goodbye.’

  Gina gave Awhi a light peck on the cheek.

  ‘No, a better one than that,’ Polly said.

  Climbing onto Awhi’s lap, Gina gave her nannie a big hug and a smoochie kiss.

  ‘Ooh, that was nice,’ Awhi said.

  Hopping down, Gina grabbed Polly’s hand. ‘Come on, come on! Ice cream!’

  They walked together across Michael Joseph Savage Park, the strong winds nearly knocking them off their feet and making them laugh, then down the other side to Mission Bay. At the tearoom Polly said hello to Sonny’s mother-in-law, bought a hokey-pokey ice cream in a cone for Gina and a cup of tea for herself, then they sat at a table so Gina didn�
�t drip her ice cream everywhere and she could have a smoke. When she checked her watch her hands were shaking.

  At a quarter to two they went outside, crossed the road to the reserve and she pushed Gina on the swings for a while. Then the taxi pulled up. She lifted Gina off the swing, took her by the hand and led her to the kerb. The back door of the taxi swung open. James and Lucy Murdoch sat inside. Between them rested an enormous plush teddy bear with a pink bow around its neck.

  Polly got down on one knee, held Gina by the arms and looked into her face. ‘Gina, love, I want you to go with these people, all right? The lady’s called Lucy and the man’s called James.’

  Lucy leant out of the taxi. ‘Hello, dear!’

  Gina stared at Lucy, bewildered.

  ‘Look at me, Gina,’ Polly said. ‘They live in a lovely place with lovely people and you’ll have everything you ever wanted.’

  ‘But I don’t want to.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetie, you have to.’

  ‘Can you come?’ Gina asked.

  ‘I can’t, love. I have to stay here.’

  ‘Can Nannie?’

  ‘No.’ Polly lifted Gina into the taxi. ‘You be a good girl, now.’

  Gina started to bawl.

  James said to the taxi driver, ‘She’s never come to stay with us on her own before. She’s a bit upset, I think.’

  Lucy surreptitiously handed Polly a fat envelope and said under her breath, ‘Please don’t contact us after this. She’s better off making a clean break.’

  Nodding her agreement, Polly closed the door and stepped back as the taxi drove off. She waited until it had disappeared up the road before she let herself cry.

  Then she headed for the nearest pub.

  *

  Awhi waited and waited, but when Polly and Gina still weren’t home by four o’clock — Gina’s teatime — she knew something wasn’t right and decided she had to get to the Mission Bay tearoom before it closed. She rushed out of the house (and rushed back in to take off her apron and swap her slippers for street shoes), then charged across the park, ignoring shouts of ‘Go, Nanna!’ from some rude youths on bicycles. The tearoom was on the verge of closing when she marched in, her breath ragged and her hair escaping from its long plait.

  Colleen Roberts was at the till, cashing up. ‘Mrs Manaia, you look out of sorts.’

  ‘I am. I’m looking for my daughter, Polly — you know, the one that models? And my mokopuna, Gina. My granddaughter. Have they been in here this afternoon?’

  Mrs Roberts nodded. ‘About one o’clock, a quarter past one, something like that? Then I think they went across the road to the swings and slides. Wait on, I’ll ask if anyone else saw them.’

  Awhi waited nervously, her heart refusing to slow down, as Colleen Roberts went out the back. When she returned she said, ‘Apparently a taxi came not long after that and the little girl got in but not your Polly. And then the taxi drove off.’

  Awhi thought she might faint clean away. Oh, Polly, Polly, you evil girl, what have you done?

  ‘Are you all right, Mrs Manaia?’

  Realising she was holding on to the countertop for dear life, Awhi took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Roberts. Thank you for your help.’

  She turned on legs that felt like Edmonds jelly and lurched out of the tearoom to the taxi stand outside. Although there was a taxi there, she belatedly realised she hadn’t brought her purse. She wouldn’t have been able to afford a taxi anyway. She started to cry, dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her cardigan.

  Then Mrs Roberts was beside her. ‘Do you need some money?’

  ‘I have to get into town to talk to Sonny. He’ll still be at work. I’m not on the telephone at home.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Mrs Roberts said, ‘but we can’t use the telephone at my work for personal calls. Here, take this.’

  Awhi felt something pushed into her hand: a five-pound note. ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t!’

  ‘Go on, go and see your boy. A bus will take forever.’

  Awhi got into the back of the taxi, then realised she didn’t know what to do next. She’d never been in one by herself.

  Mrs Roberts told the driver, ‘Smith and Caughey in the city, service entrance at the back, please, where the delivery vans load up, and hurry, it’s an emergency.’

  And they were off, Awhi gripping her five pounds and trying not to slide all over the seat as the driver wove through the traffic and jumped on and off the brake. In fact, he was so reckless she tapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Hey, mister, it’s not that much of an emergency. Slow down, eh?’

  The trip seemed to take no time at all and soon the driver skidded to a halt in a narrow little lane behind Smith and Caughey. ‘This here do you, missus?’

  Awhi wasn’t sure as she didn’t know where to find Sonny, but Colleen Roberts had sounded like she did. ‘Yes, thank you.’

  The driver told her the tariff. Awhi had no idea whether she was being cheated, but she paid it and was given change.

  ‘Hope everything works out,’ the driver said before he tore off.

  Awhi stopped the first person she saw. ‘I’m looking for Sonny Manaia. He drives delivery trucks here. Where would I find him?’

  ‘Dunno, missus,’ the man said. ‘If he’s not out on a delivery he’s probably getting one ready to go.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Or maybe not. It might be a bit late. You could ask at the despatch office.’

  ‘Mum? What are you doing here?’

  And there was Sonny wearing an ugly grey cotton coat with Smith and Caughey embroidered on the chest pocket.

  ‘That wicked bloody sister of yours,’ Awhi burst out, anger rising up to mingle with her fear now she didn’t have to manage this all on her own. ‘Gina’s missing. Allie’s mother saw her getting into a taxi at Mission Bay, but without Polly, and—’

  ‘What? Mum, slow down. Stop. What are you talking about?’

  Awhi took a deep breath to calm herself. ‘Polly took Gina to Mission Bay this afternoon at about one for an ice cream. They didn’t come back. At four o’clock I went down there. Allie’s mother said she saw . . . No, someone at the tearoom saw Gina get into a taxi and go off, but Polly didn’t go with her.’

  ‘Well, where’s Polly now?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since they left to go to Mission Bay.’

  ‘And Colleen’s sure Polly didn’t get in the taxi as well? Because they could have gone somewhere together.’

  ‘The person who saw it said it was only Gina. Something’s wrong, Sonny, I know it is! Polly’s done something terrible!’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I can feel it, that’s how!’

  ‘Stop panicking, Mum. There’s probably a good explanation for everything.’

  ‘There won’t be, and I’m not panicking!’ Awhi was panicking and she knew it.

  Sonny put his arm around her. ‘Wait a few minutes till I knock off, then we’ll go round to Polly’s and see if she’s there. OK?’

  But Polly wasn’t at her house at Ligaro Place, and Sonny said he didn’t know which restaurants she waitressed at on which nights. Awhi had the feeling there was something else he wasn’t telling her, and she waited and waited on the ride in his truck back to Kitemoana Street, but he never said it.

  Finally, she said, ‘There’s something you’re not telling me about Polly, isn’t there?’

  ‘Could be, but I don’t think it’d have anything to do with Gina, so it’s not worth talking about.’

  ‘Tell me anyway.’

  ‘No. Really, it’s not worth it.’

  Awhi gave up, because when Sonny said no, he meant it.

  Gina wasn’t back home when they got in, and Awhi burst into tears again. The house felt empty and dead without her little granddaughter, as if she’d just died.

  Sonny made her a cup of tea and an egg on toast, which she couldn’t eat, then went next door and asked the neighbour to come and sit with her.r />
  ‘I’ll have a look around for Polly tonight, Mum, and if I can’t find her I might take the day off tomorrow. Don’t worry. She won’t be far away. Neither of them will be. It’ll be OK.’

  ‘It won’t,’ Awhi said, dread pulling down the corners of her mouth. ‘That girl’s done something, and I know it won’t.’

  *

  Sonny did take the next day off, phoning his boss at Smith and Caughey from a telephone box and saying he was sick. Then he and Allie drove over to St Mary’s Bay to the brothel at Ring Terrace, about which he’d been so reluctant to tell Awhi.

  ‘Do you want to come in?’ he asked Allie.

  ‘No thanks, I’ll wait out here. Have you been here before?’

  Sonny laughed at the miserable look on her face. ‘Don’t be a twit. Half the city knows about Flora’s. Doesn’t mean I’ve been here.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Hopefully she’s in. If not we’ll have to keep looking.’

  ‘What if she’s, you know, busy.’

  ‘Then we’ll wait till she isn’t.’

  Inside, the place was really quite flash — far nicer than Sonny had expected. He’d thought it would be sleazy, but it wasn’t. He was standing in the hallway feeling a twerp when a woman barrelled out of a doorway with her hand out, giving him a hell of a fright. She was quite old, fat, dressed in something that looked like a sleeping bag, smelt of booze, and was surrounded by darting little dogs.

  ‘Good morning, dear, how can we help you?’

  Sonny decided this must be Flora MacKenzie. She surely couldn’t be one of the girls. ‘Morning. I’m looking for Polly Manaia.’