Inheritance (12 page)

‘It is very, very bad,’ murmured Simone. ‘John can not cope with all this unpleasantness.’ She rang Jeanie then. I couldn’t prevent it. Jeanie apologised for the shouting.
‘We are alright, thank you.’ she said, and hung up.

‘But her voice was so small, so sad,’ Simone reported. ‘All that brightness gone. She is not at all alright.’

The next couple of weeks I was busy at the Supreme Court. A laughable case: I was defending a pair of lads caught trying to dynamite fish in the lagoon. They were accused of endangering the life of the arresting police officer. The prosecution asserted that the arresting officer had plunged into the lagoon in an attempt to stop the boat and, as he flailed towards them, had to dodge a stick of lighted dynamite thrown by one of the boys. The lad I represented insisted he had thrown a small flotation buoy as the policeman was in difficulty. The other lad said my fellow threw a rock. Both defence and prosecution witnesses kept bursting into giggles. The mother of one of the accused at one stage threw a cloth over her head and shook with laughter. Everyone was enjoying the fun except for the Judge, who became very testy and finally threw the case out which was my ploy all along. But the old boy found a way to show his displeasure with me.

As I was leaving, the Registrar of the Courts called me into his office.

‘This Schroder case,’ he said, ‘Judge is not pleased. Waste of bloody time. Wants it settled out of court.’ He looked at me over his spectacles, the old owl. ‘Family squabble, Hamish, shouldn’t come to court. Get both sides to produce more affidavits. Family conference should settle matters.’

I sighed. The thought of Tiresa and her family in
conference with Stuart Roper was not enticing.

‘Judge’s orders, Hamish. Settle it. Isaia Young is representing the Levamanaias. He’s agreed. He’d be free Friday morning, ten o’clock.’

So family conference it was. And a disaster.

On Friday we all assembled in my office. On our side, John, Jeanie, Stuart and my secretary. Isaia Young had brought in Tiresa, Teo and their senior matai, Susuga Lotoifale. I didn’t like the look on Isaia’s face. He had some trump card up his sleeve. He was a bright young lawyer, Isaia, one of the new breed: well educated in New Zealand. No doubt he would be fast-tracked to the bench. And probably rightly so. It was high time the bench acquired a browner look.

To be honest, there was not a lot more we could produce in the way of affidavits. I again produced copies of Schroder’s will and of Gertrude’s. One of the senior kiln driers at the plantation – not related to the Levamanaias – had reluctantly agreed to signing a statement to the effect that John was a competent manager and seemed interested in continuing Gertrude’s work. As I read the statement, Tiresa muttered and waved her hands around, dismissing Peseta as a worthless traitor who would regret his defection in the months to come. I swore to the fact that John was indeed the son of Gertrude’s sister, Bridget, and waved the birth certificate briefly. So far the Levamanaias had not requested to see it. I produced a new affidavit from John, promising to follow Gertrude’s instructions for the good management of the plantation and to continue the practice of employing members of Tiresa’s ‘aiga. I referred
to the fact that Gertrude had left the opposition a small plantation, and that it had been Mrs Schroder’s strong wish that the plantation be managed along palagi lines, not under fa‘asamoa.

Susuga Lotoifale then banged his carved stick on the floor, cleared his throat, and rose to speak. A big, grave man, lacking the light touch of his predecessor in the title. Dressed formally in white shirt, black tie and jacket, black lavalava and sandals, he launched forth into a prayer for reconciliation between the two sides, for God to guide our hearts, and bring us to a satisfactory conclusion. Nods and amens all round. His ensuing speech referred to the boundaries of plantation and village land, the history of the estate, the devastating flu epidemic which prematurely returned to God so many of the family, the sad loss of Gertrude Schroder, and the wish of his ‘aiga to continue her good work on the plantation. Many of the family had worked there for generations. He named the generations. Many had died while working for PJ Schroder. He named the deaths. Many were skilled in the production of excellent cacao, and although the newcomers were all admirable people and welcome into the family, they surely did not have the skill of his ‘aiga, etcetera. After each weighty pronouncement, he paused to wait for my translation. If he considered my translation too short, he waited pointedly for me to add more detail. This was a spoken affidavit, not a written one as requested, and it proceeded for a good hour. As our good Judge knew well that it would.

Of course it all went over the heads of John and his family. John and Jeanie waited politely for my commentary but Stuart became restless; several times
he looked rudely at his watch. There is an easy rhythm to these affairs that I had learned to enjoy. Stuart would need to adapt if he was to live here.

Finally the old boy came to his point. He was no fool. He gestured dramatically with his stick. ‘Ta te gase a uluga!’ he cried – literally ‘let us die together’, but in fact a well-worn saying encouraging us to work together for a solution. He proposed that John should retain the house and plant – the kilns, the fermenting vats and drying sheds – while the plantation would be owned by Tiresa and her children who would pay John a fee for processing the cacao and copra. Susuga Lotoifale offered another wise saying, exhorting us to pull hard on the oars together, and sat down heavily.

Tiresa, who had been fanning herself vigorously throughout the speech, now laid down the fan and applauded with a broad smile. Teo appeared to have gone into a trance. Isaia gave me a cheeky wink, gesturing expansively that I should take up the reins.

It was a clever proposal, dividing the operation into the two activities that might appeal to either side, but of course I could not advise John to accept. The fee for processing the crops would be far smaller than the income from the crop itself. Nevertheless, I was bound to translate the suggestion.

Stuart, who had been wriggling and fidgeting for a good half hour, exploded at my words.

‘That’s ridiculous! Tell them so! Daylight robbery!’ or words to that effect. Not at all the proper manner of response. John laid a hand on his son-in-law’s sleeve. ‘Let Hamish conduct this. He will represent us fairly. What do you think Hamish?’

I told them I thought the proposal was unfair but that we should make a counter-proposal. Maybe a small concession: the ten acres of cacao plantation nearest to the Levamanaias’ village, and a commitment to process their cacao without fee. I had had this in mind and had already discussed part of the proposal with John.

Wretched Stuart would have none of it. Neither Jeanie nor John could calm him down. What a liability the man was! He seemed not to care that Teo and Isaia could understand every word, and Tiresa a good part of it. He demanded that we make no concession, suggested that Tiresa’s ‘aiga were greedy and unscrupulous. That we should walk out of negotiations.

Naturally, this behaviour distressed me. It gravely undermined our case. I suggested in my most legal voice that John was my client in this matter and that Jeanie and Stuart should retire and leave the negotiation to their father.

But the damage had been done. Teo jumped to his feet, waving a piece of paper. The young hothead, incensed at Stuart’s slur on his family, shouted that John had no right to the inheritance. ‘Look at the birth certificate! It’s here under our nose!’

There was a moment of silence. The old matai shook his head sadly. Isaia spoke quickly in Samoan to Teo that they had agreed not to use this information. Lotoifale spoke more harshly, berating the boy for an unchristian act.

Teo pleaded with them – in English. A calculated act. Everyone knew, he said, that John was illegitimate, the son of a half-wit, raped by a Chinese man who then committed suicide. Surely this undermined the case for inheritance?

John put out his hand for the birth certificate. In silence I handed him my copy. I believe this was the first time he had set eyes on the document. He read the words.

He looked at me. ‘You knew this?’

I nodded. ‘John, I don’t believe it alters your right to inheritance.’

We all waited in silence.

‘My father committed suicide? After rape?’ His eyes contained such pain it was hard to look at him.

I cleared my throat. ‘Gertrude told me so.’

‘She knew? All knew?’ He looked around the room as if a vast crowd were witness to his shame.

Tiresa rose from her chair, raised her hand dramatically until she was sure we were all paying attention. Then she advanced on poor Teo, gesturing as if to slap him resoundingly once, twice on either cheek. The gesture was not designed to connect and the effect was slightly comic, which I found embarrassing in light of John’s distress.

‘Apologise this moment, shameful boy!’ Tiresa shouted in English. ‘We are not need such dirty tricks to show our right!’

She stood, glowering, until Teo muttered something. I believe Stuart was enjoying the altercation. I heard his chuckle – and no doubt others did too – but John was speaking to me, asking me to conclude the conference as I saw fit. He left on Jeanie’s arm. At the door, Jeanie turned and spoke for the first time. Her words spoke an apology but the anger was sharp and unforgettable.

‘I apologise for my husband’s behaviour, which aroused ill-feeling. Together we have possibly destroyed my father.’

She steered her father out but returned quickly without him. ‘Stuart, you will come too.’

She was furious; you could see it in every line of her little body. Stuart spread his hands, grinned as if sharing a joke with us at her expense, but he went quietly.

In the end, we agreed quickly on new boundaries. No one had appetite for further haggling. The house, plant and the Apia house to John, along with half the plantation; the other half to Tiresa’s children to farm as they wished.

In some ways the hurricane was a boon to me. My legal practice had been declining with the return to Apia of qualified Samoan lawyers, but now there was extra work to be done at the High Commission – assessing the damage, deciding what help New Zealand might offer, distribution of relief aid and so on. I was in demand because of my local knowledge and ability with the language. Suddenly I was fully employed again and the problems of Gertrude’s family faded into the background.

Simone kept in touch with Jeanie though. Stuart had hit her a couple of days after the conference. Her face was badly bruised and her hand bandaged. Simone mothered her, expressed outrage. Jeanie didn’t try to hide the fact, but seemed to shrug it off as unimportant. Simone couldn’t understand her stoicism.

‘She simply changes the subject. What if he comes back and hits you again, I ask. She smiles and shakes her head. Won’t be drawn about the why of it all. My belief
is her husband is jealous.’

I had witnessed no cause for jealousy, but of course Simone was out and about more than I. She reported that Jeanie was often in town in the company of Teo and Elena. And more than once with Teo alone.