“We’d better keep to our timetable,” Skylark answered. “The sooner we get to Birdy’s the better. But do you mind if we detour to Mum’s place first? I’d like to pick up the mail and check any messages. We can shower and change there and, after that, I know a place where we can get great Indian food or, if you like, Thai.”
“Whatever,” Arnie said.
He followed Skylark’s directions to a block of high rises in fashionable Parnell. Yes, he thought, just the place for a television star like Cora Edwards.
Skylark brightened as she stepped out of the ute, opened the lobby door and looked in the mailbox. It was filled with cards and letters from well-wishers; Skylark imagined her mother’s delighted face when she opened them.
She led the way to the lift. A few seconds later, they were on the top floor. Skylark inserted the key, opened the door, switched on the light. Then she was wide-eyed, and backing away.
“He’s been back,” she said. “Zac’s been back.” Arnie pushed past her and charged into the apartment. “What the hell —” The place had been trashed. A psychopath had been on the rampage through it. In all the rooms, the curtains had been ripped. The couches in the sitting room had been slashed and the television set upended. The dining room was a wreck of broken mirrors and crystal. The kitchen was not much better: smashed crockery was strewn all over the floor. In the master bedroom Cora’s clothes had been heaped on the carpet. Someone had tried to put a match to them; if the match had taken, the whole place would have gone up in flames.
Arnie heard Skylark sob. She had paused in her bedroom. Her bed was a pincushion of hypodermic needles. The imagery was chilling. Zac had scrawled a message on the walclass="underline"
You’ll Get Yours, Girly.
Arnie went to comfort Skylark, but she stiffened and pushed him away. When she turned to him, Arnie saw that her mood had shifted.
“No,” Skylark said. Her eyes were blazing and she was icy calm. She walked to the telephone and dialled a number. “Hello? Is that the building supervisor?” She reported the condition of the apartment, issued instructions on having it cleaned up, the locks changed, having a police report done, and, under no circumstances, was Zac to be allowed back in. Then she turned and looked at Arnie. Her face was grim. Unblinking.
“I’ll get Zac if it’s the last thing I do,” she said.
Arnie saw that Skylark had again gone beyond his reach. She was so volatile, so reactive. In one second she had switched back on autopilot.
“This is what happens when you trust people,” she said. “They trash your lives. Mum and I have always looked after ourselves. We don’t need anybody else.”
Then Skylark looked straight through him. Her voice was chill. “Hoki had no business forcing you to come with me. What I have to do has absolutely nothing to do with you. You’re not involved. This is my business and I’m doing it for my mother. So, Arnie, thank you for bringing me this far, but I’m hiring a car for the rest of the trip. From here I go on alone. You go back to Tuapa where you’re needed.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Arnie answered.
“You’ve got no say in the matter,” Skylark screamed. She had learned that sometimes with stubborn people, adding volume to attitude often did the trick. Not today.
“Oh yes I have,” Arnie said. He had to think quick … Ah well, desperate people had to take desperate measures.
Before Skylark could stop him, he walked over to her backpack and took out her wallet. In it was her driver’s licence and credit cards.
“You won’t get far without these,” Arnie said.
Skylark went through the roof. That was foul play. Out of court.
“How dare you do that! Give them back. They’re mine, not yours!”
“No, Skylark. We’re sticking together and that’s that.” Arnie said, keeping his ground.
“You juvenile delinquent!” Skylark yelled. “I suppose you learned that little trick when you were living on the streets, right? Well, I can always get replacements.”
“And waste a day when you’re in such a hurry? I don’t think so.” Arnie was dancing out of her reach. Exhausting her. Skylark gave a loud wail and a last lunge and fell to the floor, hoping that Arnie would get close enough for her to grab.
“You’re not the only one who can be obstinate,” Arnie said. “Auntie Hoki didn’t force me. I wanted to come — and whether you like it or not, I’m riding shotgun to the end of the trail. So you have two options. You either come with me — or you come with me. What’s it to be?”
It was touch and go. Skylark was simmering; it was just as well she wasn’t a volcano. If she called the cops in, that would be the end of Arnie. But she didn’t. Phew. Instead, lips compressed, she stalked out of the apartment. Arnie couldn’t help but put a jaunty step or two into his walk.
“You think you’ve got one over me, don’t you,” Skylark said. “Well, I’m warning you, Arnie, you know zip. So don’t follow too close in my footsteps. I could step in something.”
Arnie drove all the way from Auckland. Once on the northern highway, the heavy traffic thinned out. By the time they passed Whangarei, where they filled the ute with petrol, they seemed to be the only people on the road.
“Do you want me to drive from here?” Skylark offered. She was still angry, but she could tell Arnie was getting tired. He might get careless and have an accident, and that wouldn’t do either of them any good.
“I’m okay, thanks,” Arnie said. “If I let you have the wheel, who knows, you might push me out of the ute and take off without me.” He wasn’t joking either.
“Why, Arnie.” Skylark fluttered her eyelashes. “The thought never even crossed my mind.”
“Yeah, and butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth,” Arnie answered.
The consequence was that Skylark stayed awake, fearing Arnie might go to sleep at the wheel. Her alertness saved them when a stray cow came looming out of the darkness. “Watch out!” she cried. Arnie wrenched the wheel to the left, touched the accelerator and zoomed out of the way. The cow’s huge eyes filled the windows and then slid to the left.
“I suppose you’ll still insist on the imposition of your male testosterone mentality in the matter of safe driving?” Skylark asked. She was seething. As for Arnie, he decided it best not to answer. Things were bad enough already. For the rest of the trip, they hardly spoke. They were like two angry children in a spaceship shooting its way through a galaxy full of stars.
Just before dawn, Skylark and Arnie reached the narrow road that threaded its way up the northernmost extremity of Aotearoa. Not long after that they drove into Te Hapua, home of the last pub, the last petrol pump and the last store in the north. Beyond was Parengarenga Harbour, the sand dunes like spellbinding mountains sloping into the sea. They still weren’t speaking to each other when Arnie saw a couple of locals riding horses down the main road and asked directions. “Could you tell us how to get to Birdy’s place?”
“Sure. Turn left at the next bend, go two ks on, and follow the road right down to the sea. When you can’t go any further, and you see a house, that’s Birdy’s.”
Arnie rapped on the door. There was a shuffling sound from inside. When the door opened, an old woman was standing there, looking at them. She was thin, wiry, with long grey hair tumbling down to her waist.
“You two look like something the cat’s dragged in.” Her eyes were bright and inquisitive, and she had a way of rocking her head back and forth as if she was looking for something.
Yes, Skylark thought, you’re Birdy all right.
“Of course I am,” Birdy answered, as if she had read Skylark’s mind. “And who are you?”