Matt lay on a gurney in a corridor behind the crowded A and E Department of Rotorua Hospital. Nan had arrived, still wearing her croquet uniform. Eve’s parents were also there, having rushed back from a trip to Taupo. Eve had woken soon after the paramedics began administering oxygen, and was now recovering next to Matt.
Jackson had been admitted to hospital where his mum was supporting him. Matt and Eve had already been praised for their quick actions in getting him into water. There were no burns to his body, only to his face and hands. The face was the worst, yet it was expected to heal without any disfigurement, although that could take weeks.
Skulla was in critical care. His heart had been restarted, but it would be some time before it was known whether there had been brain damage or not. Matt wondered whether a bit of brain damage might help create a better person. While he had acted automatically in trying to save the gang leader, the thought that both he and Eve could have died in the process wasn’t helping him to think kindly of the man.
As Matt had correctly diagnosed, Diz was dead, and had apparently been right from the start. His neck had broken when he fell back to the ground. He never felt the scalding water or the jetting steam, and probably died without pain.
Croke had disappeared. He hadn’t managed to build up the courage to ring the police, but as he ran away he’d run into Cecil Hilton who’d apparently remained in the area to check on what was happening. Somehow Croke had convinced him
to call emergency services. Matt smiled at the thought of Croke’s methods of persuasion—Cecil probably would’ve needed to change his underpants afterwards.
By late afternoon, Eve and Matt had been admitted to hospital for observation during the night. It was only precautionary, as they were expected to make a full recovery.
Matt was put in a room with three old men who snored and farted all night long. Fortunately, he only heard them when woken by the nurse for his two-hourly check. After she’d finished, he quickly went back to sleep despite the racket created by his sleeping companions.
In the morning, Eve visited him. She’d been around the hospital getting a report on the victims. Jackson was coping OK, but was a little dopey from the painkillers he’d been given. He wouldn’t be out of hospital for at least a week. Skulla remained in intensive care, where he was reported to be still on life-support systems.
For the next hour, Eve entertained Matt with stories about the women on her ward and the things that were wrong with them, and how they’d performed during the night. The women’s ward sounded a much more exciting place than the men’s.
Then the newspaper came around and they discovered that they were front-page news.
Below the headline was a large photo of the explosion zone. Other smaller photos showed the paramedics at work. Both
Eve and Matt appeared, being carried out on stretchers—neither was recognizable. However, they’d reprinted the photo of Matt using the metal detector. There was also a photo of Skulla and his gang that had been taken some time back when the newspaper had done a series on Rotorua’s street gangs. The gang members were all trying to look tough, and Matt could imagine some readers wondering why anyone would go to the bother of rescuing them.
At ten, Eve had to return to her ward for the doctors’ rounds, leaving Matt looking at the newspaper and thinking back on his time in Rotorua. He’d been there just on two weeks and had already been in the paper twice. He had uncovered a body, been involved in shoplifting, almost died in a hydrothermal explosion, and been labelled a hero. Plus it wasn’t over yet. There were still the diamonds. Something had to be done about them. It would be so easy to keep them. If not all of them, then just a few. Only he and Eve knew they existed, and as yet not even they knew how many there were. So how would anybody else know that some were missing? It was just so tempting.
Of course, that was never going to happen. If he stole them, then he would worry about it for the rest of his life. He suspected Eve would be the same. It was a fun thing to talk about, but incredibly scary if you seriously considered doing it. He’d been worried enough about keeping the ponga piece even before they’d discovered it was full of diamonds. The sooner the thing was handed over to the authorities, the better. He decided that it would be the first thing he’d do after being discharged.
It wasn’t. The first thing was a fancy lunch with Eve’s parents. It was partly a celebration and partly a farewell. Eve’s parents were on their way to Wellington in the afternoon. But Eve was not going with them; Nan had invited her to stay. She would now meet up with her parents in Auckland after Matt had returned to Dunedin. It was an invitation that Eve had been very happy to accept. Matt was also pleased: he could think of lots of interesting things they could do in the coming week.
Nan and Hone joined them for lunch. The conversation was dominated by the explosion and its aftermath. The adults were clearly proud of Matt and Eve, and what they had done. Matt was pretty proud of their achievements, too. They’d coped with the emergency better than many adults would have done. He and Eve worked well as a team.
Naturally, the conversation got around to the reason why they’d been in the danger zone in the first place.
‘What sort of people are these gang members?’ asked Mr Hastings. ‘What’s their background like?’
‘Varied,’ replied Hone. ‘Many come from homes where there’s very little money. Maybe only one parent, and that one’s working all the time.’
‘So they join the gang because of the money?’
Hone shook his head. ‘No. Crime is not the primary reason for the gangs.’ He paused for a moment, sorting out what he should say next. Then he pointed to the Lions badge on the Australian’s jacket. ‘That’s why most youngsters want to be in gangs. They want to be part of a group. They seek the company and support of others, and the gangs provide that, in much the same way as adult clubs do. But of course when it comes to money, they’re vastly different. When a
gang wants money, they find crime’s the easiest way to get it, which leads to drugs and all the things that follow on from there.’
‘So what’s the answer?’
Hone laughed. ‘If I knew that, I’d be prime minister.’ Then he got serious. ‘There is no simple answer. I’m a member of an iwi group that is trying to come up with alternatives. We want to provide the same support as the gangs, but without the drugs, the violence and the crime. The problem is getting leaders who the kids will listen to. It’s got to be someone from the same sort of environment; someone who lives in the same sort of street and knows what the kids’ lives are like. And there’re not a lot of leaders like that around.’
Soon after that, it was time for Mr and Mrs Hastings to leave. Following the farewells, those who were left walked back to the house, hoping that the exercise would help settle the excessive amount of food and drink they’d all consumed.
As they approached the house, Hone said, ‘While you were being heroes yesterday, we had a bit of excitement of our own.’
‘Someone broke into the house,’ said Nan. ‘Broke the glass on the back door and climbed in.’
Matt and Eve looked at each other in dismay.
‘Luckily nothing was taken,’ said Hone.
‘Nothing!’ cried Nan. ‘You call my baking nothing?’
Hone put his arm around her. ‘No, dear. Your baking is wonderful.’ He turned to Eve and Matt. ‘That’s all that was taken. Some food out of the baking tins that were left on the bench. I reckon it was just kids. They were probably after alcohol and money, but we don’t have either of those in the house.’
‘So they ate my baking instead,’ added Nan.
By then, they were walking down the drive. Matt was becoming increasingly nervous about the break-in. How could Nan and Hone know that nothing else was missing when they didn’t know Matt and Eve’s secret? There was one other thing in particular that could well be missing.
The back door had plywood covering the broken glass. Matt studied it for a moment and agreed that it was probably kids: the hole was not wide enough for anyone bigger to get through it.
As soon as he got the chance, Matt rushed to his room, still hoping that he might be wrong. He wasn’t: the ponga piece was no longer sitting on top of the dresser. Something else
had
been stolen. Something that had more value than the person who stole it could ever have imagined.
On Monday, Matt enjoyed a well-deserved lie-in after the events of the past couple of days. It might also have been a matter of trying to postpone the things that needed to be done that day. The number one task was to try to find Ana, the girl who had tricked them into going to see Jackson—the one who may have seen the diamonds. He’d discussed it with Eve the previous night, and they’d decided that the best move was to find Ana and ask for the ponga piece to be returned. If that didn’t work, then they would contact Burty and Lew.
Matt had the kitchen to himself, as Nan and Eve had gone shopping and Hone was at work. It gave him the chance to think as he ate his breakfast. The starting point for the day had to be a visit to the hospital to see Jackson. He didn’t want the boy to feel that they’d deserted him. Also, Jackson might be able to give them Ana’s address.
He was working out what he might say if he found her, when his thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking on the back door, almost as if someone was trying to bash it down. The piece of plywood stopped him from seeing who was there, so it came as a shock to go out and see that it was Croke. His first thought was that the gang member had come to get revenge for the way he’d been spoken to after the explosion.
‘What do you want?’ Matt asked, stepping back a bit so that he could duck inside if things got ugly.
Croke didn’t seem to have noticed the rudeness in Matt’s
voice. In fact, he didn’t even look up at him. Instead, he mumbled something at his shoes.
‘What was that?’ asked Matt.
‘Skulla’s awake.’
Matt breathed a little more easily. It looked like he’d come to deliver news, not take revenge ‘That’s good. Is he OK?’
‘Yeah. That’s what they reckon.’
‘Great! I’m pleased to hear that.’ Matt waited for the man to say something more. But all he seemed to be able to do was stand and stare at his feet.
When he finally did speak again, it was so softly that Matt barely caught it. ‘Thanks. Thanks for what you did.’
Matt digested that for a while. ‘You could’ve been more help, you know,’ he said, not unkindly.
Croke gave a little nod. ‘Yeah, I know.’ Then a pause. ‘Sorry.’
It was just a small word, but Matt recognized that for Croke it was one of the hardest words he’d ever had to say. It would not be a common word in his vocabulary, especially if he meant it; and Matt had no doubts that it was true. Croke
was
sorry: his body language communicated more than the word ever could.
‘Accepted,’ Matt said, simply.
Instantly, Croke relaxed a bit—the hard bit was over. He looked up and saw the broken glass. ‘What happened there?’
‘One of your friends broke in,’ replied Matt.
‘Nah! We wouldn’t break the glass. We’d do the lock.’
‘It was the girl. Ana. The one who Skulla sent to get us. Do you know where she lives?’
Immediately, Croke was back on the defensive. ‘Maybe. What of it?’
‘She stole something of mine.’
‘What?’
‘It was that piece of ponga that was in the strongbox that Skulla opened. We need it back so it can go in the museum.’
Croke nodded slowly. ‘She’s Motz’s sister. She’ll be around there. Come with me. I’ll make her give it back.’
The way he said it frightened Matt a little: he wanted the ponga piece back, but he didn’t want the girl hurt because of it. Still he went inside, gathered some things and was soon trailing Croke down the drive. It looked like getting the diamonds back would be easier than he’d originally thought.
Walking around with Croke was quite an experience. People stared, but not if they thought Croke was watching, and each of the starers wore either a disgusted look or a sneering smile. Some of them studied Matt as well, no doubt wondering why a normal kid like him was going around with a gang thug.
The house was in a poorer part of Rotorua, in the sort of street that Matt would normally have avoided. Three battered cars sat out the front, parked so that they were half on the road and half on the footpath. Two more cars were sitting on what would have been the front lawn if there’d been any grass. They looked as if they hadn’t been driven for years.
As they walked down the driveway, Matt had to watch that he didn’t trip over broken bits of concrete or fall down a hole where chunks had been removed. The doors of the
garage were open, revealing a large pool table. Six males were sitting on boxes drinking beer, watching another male take a shot. All of them were dressed in gang clothes, even though a couple of them must’ve been over thirty. They all looked scary.
Croke went into the garage and was greeted with funny handshakes and grunts. Matt was left out on the drive, wondering what he’d let himself in for. This was a seriously scary place. Plus some of the gang looked as if they were drunk already. Matt didn’t know whether this was just the start of the day’s drinking or a continuation from the previous night. Either way, he didn’t want to have anything to do with any of them.
Eventually, Croke and another guy came out. Matt recognized him as the one who’d gone off with Ana, the one who had clipped her over the ear.
He stood in front of Matt, swaying back and forth as he tried to maintain his balance. His eyes ranged up and down Matt with a look of contempt, as if he was looking at a large dog turd that had got in his way. Matt kept staring to the front, avoiding eye contact and trying not to show his fear.
‘This is Motz,’ said Croke. ‘He says his sister didn’t do your house.’
Motz nodded at this, which caused him to lose his balance and stagger a couple of steps sideways.
‘She did,’ replied Matt. ‘She took something that is old and valuable.’
Motz’s ears pricked up when he heard the word ‘valuable’. He turned to the house. ‘Ana!’ he bellowed. ‘Get your fat ass out here.’
A moment later the girl appeared, cowering as if
anticipating a beating. When she saw Matt her eyes went wide with shock, and in that instant he knew for certain that she had stolen the ponga piece.
Croke must’ve seen the guilt as well, for he said, ‘Go get it.’
Without a word she turned and went back into the house, returning a moment later with the piece. She handed it to Croke.
‘This it?’ asked Croke.
‘Yes,’ replied Matt. He was scared to say anything more in case they picked up on his excitement: the piece was complete and didn’t look as if it had been opened.
‘Why you take something like that?’ asked Motz.
‘Cos it looked cool,’ Ana replied.
It was then that Matt noticed that everyone in the garage was watching the exchange with interest.
Motz turned to Matt. ‘You said it was valuable. Is it?’
Matt regretted ever using the word. ‘Only because it’s old.’
One of the men came out of the garage and took the piece from Croke. ‘This doesn’t look valuable.’
‘Nah!’ said another, taking it from the first. ‘But we could use the candle to heat substances.’ There was a giggle from the other members at the way he said ‘substances’. He pulled a knife out of his pocket and slid it between the top of the candle and the ponga. ‘Yeah! It’s coming out easy.’
Matt watched in horror as the man eased the candle up until it was just resting on the top.
‘Tell you what,’ said the man, pointing at Matt with the knife. ‘You have the wood; we keep the candle. What ya think?’
Matt didn’t know what to say. If he said yes, then the diamonds would be discovered. If he said no, then the gang would take it anyway and he might even get damaged in the process.
The rest of the gang shuffled out of the garage in anticipation of some action. All eyes were on the boy, waiting for his reply. But Matt was now so scared that he couldn’t say anything even if he’d had an answer.
Then a voice spoke for him. ‘Nah!’
Immediately, the eyes swivelled to the one who had spoken: it was Croke. ‘He keeps it,’ he added. ‘He keeps it all.’
The man with the knife didn’t like this. The knife was turned so that it pointed towards Croke. ‘Why?’
‘Because he saved Skulla.’
It took a moment for this to sink in, but then the effect was dramatic. All heads turned back to Matt; eyes went wide and mouths gaped.
The knife was lowered as its owner said, ‘What? This weedy-looking thing?’
Croke nodded. ‘Yeah! He kept Skulla alive. Did that blowing in the mouth stuff.’
Then one of them laughed. ‘He gave Skulla the kiss of life? That, I would like to have seen.’
This was greeted with much laughter.
‘Hey!’ said one of them, slapping Matt on the back. ‘I don’t think Skulla’d want you going round saying yous been kissing him.’
Now they were all laughing about it. There was more slapping on the back and even some handshakes. Matt was the hero: the boy who had kissed Skulla.
When things settled down, Matt was handed back the ponga piece. It was almost like a ceremony: a ritual returning of a stolen item—the righting of a wrong. He accepted with a nod of his head. Then there was even more back-slapping and handshaking before he got the opportunity to leave. He walked slowly down the drive, forcing his body to stay calm when everything in his head told him to run.
As soon as he was out of sight of the gang, he stopped and jammed the top of the candle firmly down into the ponga. The last thing he wanted was to drop it and have diamonds spilling all over the footpath. Then he realized how stupid he looked carrying the thing along the street, especially around this area. If he was seen, he was likely to have it stolen again. So he looked around until he found a shopping bag lying in the gutter and placed the thing in that. Now he could walk home as if he was carrying the shopping, instead of the most valuable collection of diamonds ever seen in Rotorua.