“Don’t worry. No use crying over spilt milk. It’s all over now.”
But Bella remained worried. “We’ve got to get more help,” she said. “We can’t manage this by ourselves.”
With the darkness, the seabirds retreated and the sisters returned to the homestead. Bella had told Hoki about Kawanatanga’s visit but she was surprised by the depth of Hoki’s reaction.
With tears streaming down her cheeks, Hoki moved through the room on her walking sticks, uncovering the memorabilia of their lives: the smashed photographs, glassware, family mementoes, woven rugs and cushions. Watching her, Bella thought about how Hoki had always been so sentimental, how small personal treasures had always mattered to her.
“Look what they did to your jug,” Hoki continued, picking up the pieces. “You always loved that jug!”
Oops, Bella thought. Did I? Ah well, let the seabirds take the blame.
“What are we going to do about that doll?” Bella asked.
Hoki poked at it with distaste. “Lucas can buy another one next time he goes to the sex shop,” she said.
They began to clear up the mess. They swept up the broken glass, removed the soiled covers from the sofas, took the carpets out onto the verandah and scrubbed the floor of bird dung.
“I’ll go and prepare dinner now,” Hoki said.
“While you’re doing that,” Bella answered, “I’ll make a list of the repairs. We’ll need a glazier to fix the windows. But there’s something more important to discuss.”
“I know I’m hopeless,” Hoki said, feeling sorry for herself.
“It’s not that. But we can’t carry on alone. We’ve managed all right so far, but —”
“But?” Hoki flared. Tears of humiliation stained her cheeks.
“Sister dear, we have to swallow our pride. Either you call Mitch, or I will.”
“Are you telling me how to do my job again?” Hoki asked.
Nevertheless she went to the phone and dialled a number.
“Hello? Is that you, Mitch? Good. How’s the fishing? Not too good? I’m sorry to hear that. Then maybe, if you and Francis don’t have anything on, could you come up to the valley and spare me and Bella some time? Thanks, Mitch. Yes, it’s about the seabirds. It’s really serious.”
Hoki put the phone down. “There,” she said to Bella. “Satisfied?” In a temper, she began to hit at her bad leg with a walking stick. Bella restrained her.
“All this is my fault,” Hoki wept. “Everything. And now Kawanatanga also knows where Skylark and Arnie are. I should have realised his spies were listening in. Sitting there, on the telephone lines. We’d better warn Arnie that the shags are coming.”
“I’ve already tried,” Bella answered. “I can’t get through. Arnie’s cellphone must be switched off or else they’re travelling in an area where it doesn’t work.”
“In that case,” Hoki said, “we must get a message to them through Joe. I’ll telephone in the morning.”
Dinner was a silent affair. Bella could see her sister was still hurting. Afterwards, Hoki cleared the dishes. She went to the bathroom, washed and got into her dressing gown. She was brushing her hair at the dresser when Bella came in.
“Here, let me do that,” Bella said.
“No, it’s all right,” Hoki answered. She was still feeling sorry for herself.
“I’ve always loved brushing your hair,” Bella said.
“Don’t tell lies. You were always so impatient. You used to pull the brush so hard it’s a wonder I have any hair left. I used to hate it when you —”
“Oh, shush,” Bella said. She took the brush and began to apply long strokes, watching Hoki’s long silver hair run through it like a river. How had she and Hoki grown so old so quickly? Here they were, still together, like lovers. “Mitch and Francis aren’t coming just because of you,” Bella said.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“It’s the truth. I need their help too.”
“No,” Hoki said, biting her bottom lip. “It’s because I’m a cripple and I’m hopeless.”
Bella sighed with resignation. When Hoki was like this, it was better to let her sulk and get over it in her own time and in her own way.
Skylark and Arnie arrived at Whakatane. The town was chocka with boy racers dragging each other, burning rubber and doing wheelies down the main street.
“Can’t be much on television,” Arnie said.
“Coronation Street. Don’t you feel the call of the wild? Wouldn’t you like to show the locals what Annabelle is made of?”
“Sure,” Arnie said, “but we haven’t got the time.”
However, just to make sure that everybody knew they’d been paid a visit by the Black Knight, he gunned the motor and made smoke that gob-smacked even the locals. Satisfied, Arnie sashayed out of town and took the coast road to Joe’s small seaside settlement.
“So what now?” Skylark asked.
“Look for the hotel. Birdy said everybody knows Joe there.”
Skylark peered ahead. They passed a garage, a hardware store and a derelict movie theatre. The road took a fork down to a jetty poking out into the sea. At its end was the hotel, lights blazing.
“Maybe they’ll have rooms for the night,” Arnie said as they pulled up outside.
“If we find Joe, I’ll do the talking,” Skylark answered, putting on her jacket. “Got it?”
Arnie tried to think up a smart reply but thought better of it. “Okay, Skylark,” he said. “You’re coming across loud and clear. No static whatsoever.”
Skylark led the way. But as soon as they were through the door she knew she was in unfamiliar territory — and Arnie knew it too. The bar was crowded with locals, some women, mostly men.
“Which one do you think is Joe?” Skylark asked.
“You’re the boss,” Arnie answered, and he had the gall to look smug.
Skylark had a sinking feeling. Joe could be any one of the grizzled old-timers standing at the bar. Or he could be one of the blokes eating greasy food at tables scattered throughout the room. Off to one side, younger patrons were playing the pokie machines. In another room, Skylark could hear the click of billiard balls. Over everything came the sound of a rugby commentary from a massive television set installed above the bar. Obviously, the hotel was the only place of entertainment in town.
Strangers weren’t all that common in these parts. Skylark and Arnie’s appearance stopped all conversation, and all eyes swivelled to watch them as they paused in the doorway. Skylark wished she had worn one of her other badges: Are These Your Eyeballs? I Found Them In My Cleavage.
She pushed Arnie in front of her. “Ask about Joe,” she said.
“Huh? I’m the sidekick, remember?”
“I am the boss,” Skylark said, “and I’m giving you an order. Just do it. And while you’re about it order me a pie and chips and a Coke. I’m famished.”
Mumbling to himself, Arnie approached the bar. An elderly barman with a bad toupee eyed him up and down. “So what can I do for you, my little man?”
Arnie gritted his teeth. He never let anybody make cracks about his height. “Well, how about a lager for me and a Coke for my girl to start with, eh baldy?”
A collective gasp went up in the room. Obviously the matter of the barman’s head warmer was as sensitive an issue to him as height was to Arnie.
The man froze, gave Arnie the stare, and came back fast. “Coming up, Short Arse, and count yourself lucky you’re a stranger in this town and don’t know any better.” He poured the drinks.