And Did Those Feet ... (8 page)

“Well, Bolt, it looks like Ewan’s the one with special powers.” She put a lot of effort into this and sounded super-sniffy.

Straight after that, as if thrilled to get the last word on the matter she walked back to the Palace of Wisdom, no doubt to make some sort of explanation.

“How come you never talk?” I asked Ewan.

He shrugged his shoulders and whispered, “Don’t want to.” Then with a neat sort of cowboy manoeuvre he leapt off the goat and we both walked back together.

Back at the house we had to wait around for a while until all the little search parties had been called off. When Lara’s
parents arrived, they came running over and gave her a big hug. She looked at me with an evil smile on her face. I could tell there was still payback happening. I was
surprised
though that no one was angry, and that no one got told off. I admired the adults for that. I knew it was tough holding back. They were sort of mellow. It must have been the mead.

After this it was time for everyone to go back to their farms around the mountain. There were lots of hugs and handshakes going on. I noticed for the first time that out on the main road, a few cars going past slowed right down to check everything out. Locals I guess. People are a bit nosy out there in the country. When the last of them had driven off we went back inside and Iain and Jamie made Milo for everyone.

Aunty Lorna asked me to help put Wee Jock down to sleep. I had never helped with little kids before. Didn’t know what to do, but it didn’t seem to matter. I was just an extra pair of hands while she did things with pins and nappies, tight little cardigans and fluffy trousers with feet-things sewn on the bottoms of the legs.

“Did you enjoy the League meeting, Sandy?” she asked as she draped the baby over her shoulder.

“Yeah, it was cool.”

“What was the best part?”

I was going to say the hide-and-go-seek or finding Lara but for some reason I said, “Hearing Ewan talk.”

She laughed. She laughed easily. “That’s a good sign.”

What did that mean? I wondered.

She leaned over to place Wee Jock in the cot and then, as if reading my mind, said “It means that he accepts you. He doesn’t do that to many people, I can tell you. At school he is regarded as a mute. I had to go in one day and get him to talk in front of the principal, otherwise they wanted him sent to Taranaki Base hospital for tests.”

“It must be hard not talking all the time. I know I couldn’t do it.”

“He’s found other ways,” she said, and that was an end to the matter.

IT was about this time that we had what farmers call a “cold snap”. I thought it was pretty cold already but this time there were a few days where the frost was not only all over the paddocks but halfway up the trees too. It was nearly impossible to get me out of bed. The cousins
gathered
around my bed trying to talk me out but it was no good.

“Look guys,” I said, “I would love to join you but it’s just too cold. It can’t be done. Sorry.” I rolled over and went back to sleep within twenty-five seconds.

Some time later, I heard the chug chug chug of the John Deere coming up to the house. The thought crossed my mind that milking must be over and maybe it was porridge time. Next thing I knew there was a sort of harness thing being attached to my ankle. I sat up and immediately saw that the window was open and dear old Uncle Frank had reached in and attached me to the end of the winch. He was all ready to use engine power to haul me out of my warm bed. Now I admit, I am not the fastest on the uptake
at times but I got this little scenario quick smart.

“Okay, Uncle, okay!” I raised my hands like the captured bad guy in a western. “I’m going to give myself up. I’m
coming
without a fight.”

I could see the line shortening outside as the electric
motor
kept wheeling away.

Uncle Frank stood there for a moment wondering (I reckon) whether to play out his demonstration now he had got it set up. Just as I felt the first tug he kicked the lever and shut off the winch.

Phew! That was a close thing. I always thought that
Uncle
Frank, being a sort of thinking dude, would have come at me with a hard hitting quotation from the wisdom of
William
Blake. Something that included frosty mornings, warm beds and John Deere tractors.

But I was wrong.

Even Uncle Frank had his dark side. One thing was for sure though, this was the first and last time I pulled that stunt. From then on I hit the floor, first call…

I dressed quickly and then the two of us rode on down to the milking shed. I had awoken to a different world out there. The entire hill that the house stood on, the gate posts, the hedges; everything as far as I could see was a wonderland of thick white frost. Even the roof of the cowshed twinkled in the moonlight. What was even more amazing though was the mountain. Normally it was just a sort of charcoal pyramid with a dusting of snow in the creases, but this time it was covered in deep fluffy white stuff from top to toe. It looked like a huge slab of ice cream
hovering above the dark green bush line.

Maybe Iain had been talking to his dad about what
happened
at the Crystal Pool, maybe it was going to happen anyway, but after breakfast Uncle Frank declared that we were all going up the mountain. I found out later that this was a big deal because he had never taken the boys up there before. I couldn’t help wondering whether he was doing this to cheer me up.

This time the two adults and Wee Jock were in the front, and the five of us kids were bouncing around in the back. The Landrover was a fridge on wheels. The heater only heated the front cabin and so small puffs of steam lingered around everyone’s mouths. Every metal surface was
freezing
to the touch and it was mostly bare metal in the back. We were all bundled up in as many layers as possible but it seemed to make little difference. Iain pulled his beanie so low over his head you could only see his nose. Jamie kept his eyes glued to the side window and was singing “
There is a tavern in the town
,” in a really low voice. It wasn’t a song I knew but by the time we had got up the mountain I reckon I had heard it ten times right through … starting to hum it myself. The twins were wearing matching brown jackets and they were hunched up by the tailgate. With their brown jackets and their neat little heads they looked just like a
couple
of sparrows. As we drove on there was a hum from under the floor that got louder and louder. It turned into a whine. As its pitch got higher I could feel myself becoming tense, it was like anything could happen.

Even before we made the bush line there were flecks of snow in the shady parts next to the road, but once we passed the entrance to the National Park it was everywhere; clinging to the tops of trees like white hair, painting the round rocks in the stream beds we flashed by. Before long there was only a narrow black part in the middle of the white road. No one talked, we drove on sort of awestruck by its radiance. Soon, every last trace of tar seal disappeared and the road became a flat white path heading ever upwards. The steady blare of the coarse-treaded tyres stopped and now it was as though we were floating an inch or so clear of the road. We all just stared out the windows at the white world all around us.

Still we climbed, higher and higher into a new white world until at last we reached a flat area. It might have been a car park; there was no way of telling, but Uncle Frank pulled over and we all piled out. I stood there turning slowly around trying to take it in. I had never been in snow before. It was cold, silent and untouched. I thought of Mum.

Next thing I knew I had been hit in the open mouth by a snowball. It was Dougal. From then on the spell was broken and war was declared. Snow was flying sideways at a furious pace. Direct hits were scored and it was a point of pride to see who was the best. As it happened, Aunty Lorna was the stand-out chucker. She had a wicked side arm action and literally never missed. Even a fast moving twin copped one dead on the forehead. What a waste, giving an arm like that to a middle-aged woman.

Uncle Frank had his own take on this sort of activity.

“Use the Zen method … (pant, pant) … try not to aim …
let your subconscious do it …” (whack).

Aunty Lorna got him in the mouth with a direct hit, and all I can say about the so-called Zen method was that his subconscious was a lousy shot too.

As I was scrambling up the bank trying to get out of the way of this devastating hit woman I uncovered a greenish coloured rock, shaped like a pyramid. How often do you see that? I shoved it in my pocket and scrambled on. After a while all the kids were in the trees around the clearing, trying to keep out of range of Aunty Lorna. She stood next to the Landrover with a snowball ready in each hand. Uncle Frank nursed Wee Jock and kept watch against rear attacks. We boys were well beaten and we knew it, so one by one, we came out with our hands above our heads. Aunty just stood there tossing these tennis-ball shaped white objects from hand to hand just in case anyone decided to try
something
funny.

“Had enough, gang?” Aunty Lorna yelled.

And yes we had.

“Come forward with your hands empty and I will allow you a truce.”

“What’s a truce?” asked Dougal.

“It means she will stop pelting our faces with rock-hard snow.”

He nodded and yelled, “Truce! Truce!” as he walked out into the open.

The rest of us followed. Enough was enough. She had made her point and my hands were now totally numb.

“No more warfare,” said Uncle Frank. “Time for
something
a bit more creative. We should make a snowman in the middle of the Landrover’s bonnet.”

He was good like that … managed to step in just before things went too far.

We made this figure that fitted neatly in the
bonnet-mounted
spare wheel. It was a big solid man with his hands on his hips. Uncle Frank showed us how to use sticks to reinforce the arms.

“Snow is the meat, the sticks are the bones. The same way as they make big buildings.”

He could never resist the chance to teach us something.

When it was all finished, Aunty Lorna decided to donate her last two snowballs to turn it into a woman.

“We will call her Boudicca. Heard of Boudicca, Sandy?”

“Should I have, Aunty?” I asked.

“She was a warrior woman from ancient days.” Then she added, “She had sword blades on her wheels. Used to chop up slow Romans.”

“She was probably the one who gave women drivers their bad name,” said Uncle Frank and the two older boys laughed.

Aunty Lorna gave him this dodgy look and I was sure she was going to plaster him but somehow she controlled herself.

Boudicca looked great, a bit like those figureheads on old sailing ships. Aunty Lorna put a sort of crown on her head made of pointy, dark-coloured leaves. By this time everyone was freezing, and a bit wet as well, so we made off down the mountain.

Boudicca survived most of the way down, with Uncle Frank peering around her to see where he was going. As we gathered speed, bits of her began to break off; first the arms and then the head hit the windscreen with a bit splat. Soon after we reached the end of the forested slopes, the
Landrover
conked out. One minute we were burning along, and the next there is this
blrrrr
noise and we rolled to a stop.

What was left of Boudicca was dumped on the side of the road while Uncle Frank climbed into the engine bay to find out what was wrong. We all stood around looking in while he worked his way through a number of tests. He pulled off a spark lead and got Aunty Lorna to turn the motor over. Then he pulled off the fuel line to see if the petrol pump was working. Finally he climbed down and stood next to the Landrover. I could tell he was stumped. Everyone was
getting
a bit edgy because we were cold and tired and I could tell that they were not used to Uncle Frank being beaten by a machine.

“It should go but won’t. It has spark. It has fuel. There must be something else,
intangible
stopping us.”

He looked at us as we stood around him waiting for the solution.

“What’s that in your hand?’ He said to me.

I looked down. It was my pyramid rock. I held it up.

“That’ll be it.” He said, “We are going to have to take it back.”

Everybody waited in the truck while he and I walked back up to the bush line.

“You should never have taken part of this mountain. It
diminishes it.”

I looked at my little rock. “This rock would just be like a flea on an elephant,” I said. “It’s so small it would make no difference.”

“Ah, yes, but the mountain, huge as it is … is just made of many pieces of that size. There is a poet called John Donne, ever heard of him?”

I shook my head.

“What do they teach kids in schools these days?” he said, with a little grin on his face. Then he said, “Donne reminds us of how we are all connected. You and me … and
Everyman
. He says, ‘Ask not for whom the bell tolls…’” then Uncle Frank stopped walking and stared at me
meaningfully
. “‘It tolls for thee.’”

I thought, “What the hell does that mean?”

Then Uncle Frank talked about how every clod of earth that was washed away depleted the continent.

“What’s that got to do with my stone?”

“Just this … that small actions are important. They add up. And that nothing is separate from anything else. The Maori know this. They would take a rock on a journey down a river, but return it to the river at the end. Seems a small thing, but all big things are just many small things.”

“So my stone is stopping the Landrover?”

“Who knows the mysteries of the combustion chamber? But a tiny grain of sand in the carburettor can shut the whole thing down. A pencil line on a spark plug can cause a short circuit.”

At last we reached a stream.

“Can I throw it in here, or do we have to walk all the way up and place it in exactly the same place I found it?”

He smiled. “Here will be fine.”

I tossed it into the stream bed and it bounced twice before it settled.

Uncle Frank turned to me, “I heard the mountain sigh.”

“I didn’t.”

“It was very soft and you were panting too much, but it sighed.”

I listened intently, hoping to hear another one, but there was nothing. Uncle Frank looked at me as if he knew what I was thinking, then he said, “We’d better hurry back. The others are waiting.” We jogged back all the way to the
Landrover
without stopping. The moment Uncle Frank turned the key it fired straight away and we were off.

Yes, I know.

That doesn’t prove anything and I don’t have anything else to say about it all except that if something works, then it works. I reckon there’s no need to know all the “whys” every time.