Authors: Rosalind James
Koti took a step towards him, hands raised, flushing angrily
at the insult. Hemi stood his ground and stared him down, his steady gaze hard
on Koti until the younger man dropped his eyes.
“Yeh, you can take a swing at me,” Hemi continued, his voice
even. “We can have a stoush in the carpark. You may even win. Doesn’t matter.
Because I’m going to tell you anyway. Time to decide if you’re a boy or a man.
You want the good things, you need to harden up and earn them. You were born
with the talent. You’ve got the strength and speed. The looks and the charm,
too. You can run away, make your dollar, be the glamour boy. Have all the girls
you want. But you’ll never have mana. Because the best things, the important
things, aren’t that easy to get. You want that girl, you want the ABs, you’re
going to have to get stuck in, make the sacrifices to get them. Otherwise, good
riddance, for her and for the team.”
“
Kaua e mate wheke. Me mate ururoa
,” he finished. “Have
a think about that. Your choice.” Then he really did walk away, leaving Koti
standing alone in the middle of the carpark, flushed and angry.
I don’t have the time to waste on you anymore. You can’t
give me what I need.
You’ll never have mana.
The words resonated in Koti’s head as he got into his car,
slammed the door. He drove mindlessly onto the motorway, headed towards
Takapuna and home. And found himself, without realizing he’d done it, driving
straight past his exit.
An hour north, the rain started. The winter night closed
around the car, the wipers doing their best to keep the windscreen clear as the
wind and rain intensified. He thought about listening to music, but it seemed
like too much trouble. He was tired now, the difficult drive in the rainy dark,
all the emotion of the past week catching up with him. As he passed Kaitaia, he
knew he should stop, try to find a room at this final outpost. But still he
pressed on, drove the final hundred kilometers toward the northern tip of the
island, and Cape Reinga. That was his destination. It was where he needed to
be.
It was after ten by the time he pulled into the deserted
carpark and dragged himself stiffly out of the car. The rain had stopped,
though the wind still blew. The night was mild for the time of year, this far
north. Still, he shivered in his warmup jacket as he stood looking out through the
dark, north to the sea.
He walked slowly to the edge of the cliffs. Stood facing
into the fierce wind from the north, listened to the crashing of waves below,
where the Tasman Sea met the Pacific. Te Rerenga Wairua, the Leaping Place of
the Sprits. Here, after burial, the legend said that the spirit of a Maori left
this world. Traveled up the country to this spot, the Hill of Farewell. Leaped over
the cliff to the ancient pohutukawa tree that sat on the very tip of the Cape, slid
down a root to the sea below. Came up for a last brief glimpse of its home when
it reached Manawatawhi, largest of the Three Kings Islands. Last Breath, where
the spirit paused for its final farewell before joining its ancestors beyond.
You’ll never have mana.
Standing in the wind, listening to the pounding of the surf
against the rocks, he thought at last about what Hemi had said. Seeing the
contempt on the face of a man he had looked up to, had longed to emulate, had
been almost worse than the cutting words. If he left New Zealand, he left all this.
Left his whanau, his home, his birthright. He fit here in a way he couldn’t anyplace
else. His spirit had never felt at ease during the years he’d spent in England.
And that wasn’t going to change. It was only going to be worse, now.
Because he wanted to be an All Black. It had been his
childhood dream, and the desire burned more strongly than ever to reach that
pinnacle. He suddenly longed with a ferocity past bearing to wear the black
jersey, see the silver fern on his chest. He couldn’t give up that dream. If he
had to change, he would change. Would do whatever he had to do.
And what about Kate? What about letting her go? He had
pushed the thought aside when he’d first considered the overseas offers. It had
felt wrong even then, but he’d told himself the pain would be temporary. He’d finally
realized, this past week, how much it would hurt. How much it was already
hurting.
When had she become so important to him? He wasn’t sure. It
had crept up on him slowly. All he knew was that now, he couldn’t contemplate a
life that didn’t include her too. That could be even more challenging than the
road to the All Blacks, he knew. Somehow, though, he was going to find a way to
do it.
He felt the power of this most tapu place surrounding him as
he made his resolutions. He could do this. And he was going to do it.
Kaua e mate wheke. Me mate ururoa.
Don’t die like an octopus. Die like a hammerhead shark.
Hemi was right. He wasn’t going to give up without a
struggle. If he failed, if he fell, he’d know he’d gone down fighting, the way
a warrior should. With all his strength and courage, all the way to the end.
He turned, filled with a certainty and resolve he had never
experienced, and made his way back to his car. It was a long drive back to the
first motel along the road south. He was going to get a few hours’ sleep. Then
he was driving back to practice. And starting over.
Kate opened her eyes. Another day. Wednesday, she realized. A
swim day. She lay in bed a while longer, than decided that she’d better get up
and start it. She was late. But the water was cold, and she didn’t feel like
swimming anyway. She’d make herself do it, but she’d keep it short. Without
enthusiasm, she made her tea and toast. Pulled on her suit, then a long sweater
and shorts over it. Grabbed the bag with her wetsuit and towel, picked up her
keys, and turned to the door.
One moment she was pushing the door open. In the next, he
was barreling into her, propelling her backward, driving her into the wall. Stunned
by the impact of her head against the hard surface, she was barely aware of
falling to the ground. Of something falling on top of her, her hair being
pulled viciously. She cried out at the pain, until her head was slammed into
the floor. Once, twice.
She looked up, dizzy with the impact and the pain. Gasped
with fear as she saw Paul straddling her, one hand still wrapped in her hair.
Crazy eyes. He was saying something. She concentrated. What was he saying? What
was happening?
“You’ve been fucking somebody else all this time, haven’t
you? Haven’t you?”
“
Haven’t you
?” he screamed. She flinched at the noise,
struggled to free herself from his hold. The hand in her hair tightened, and
she cried out.
“He’s not going to have you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you
first.” He was panting now, his face red, eyes staring.
Then his hands were around her neck. Pressing. Squeezing.
The pain filled her, and the panic. It was her dream. No breath. She couldn’t
get any breath. She had to breathe. She pulled her arms up desperately. Clutched
at his hands, tried to wrench them loose. Nothing.
“How does that feel? Does that hurt? That’s how you’ve hurt
me. This is what you’ve done to me. This is what you’ve made me do.”
The pain and the fear were roaring in her head now, a
relentless tide closing in on her, drowning her. She had to get away. Had to
breathe. Frantically, she shoved her hands into his face, clawing at him in her
panic. Only realized she was still holding her keys when he reared back,
grabbing his eye.
Run.
The voice in her head was screaming it. She rolled
to her feet, leaped for the open door. Was almost there when she felt the hand close
on her arm, spin her around.
He was crying now, shouting in rage and pain. “Bitch! You fucking
bitch! I’m going to kill you!”
He swung her around hard, and she hit the wall again. She felt
something snap as her arm twisted behind her, cried out at the impact and the sudden
sharp jolt of pain. She was dropping to the floor again now, taking the standing
lamp with her in a crash, his body pushing her down. Down on her face this
time. His knee in her back, shoving her into the floor. She was smothering, her
nose and mouth pressed into the deep pile of the carpet by his hand on her head
as he continued to rage behind her.
His hands went around her throat again. She was pinned
beneath him. Couldn’t move her head. Couldn’t resist. She was dimly aware of
him shouting as the pain, the blackness closed in again. And then . . . nothing.
Koti paced back and forth on the beach. Kate always swam on
Wednesday. Even this past week, he’d seen her in the water. So why wasn’t she
here? Had she seen him waiting and turned away? No, he’d have spotted her, he
was sure of it.
His uneasiness grew as the minutes passed. Was she sick? Or
just unhappy? If something was wrong, he needed to be there. And if there was
nothing wrong, he needed to talk to her. To try to persuade her that he had
changed, convince her to take him back. He couldn’t wait any longer.
His decision made, he got in the car. The sense that
something wasn’t right continued to nag at him. He found himself speeding,
forced himself to slow down to the limit. Nothing was wrong. She was taking a
break, that was all. He should focus on how to talk his way in the door. That
was going to be the hardest part.
He saw with relief that her car was still parked on the
street outside the house. She hadn’t gone anywhere, then. He’d be able to talk
to her this morning. To take the first step toward getting her back.
But as he walked around the corner of the house and looked
up the outdoor stairway to her flat, he saw that her door was standing open. He
frowned. Kate was always careful. Even if she were taking out her rubbish,
she’d have taken her keys, locked the door behind her. He’d teased her about
it, but he knew the caution stemmed from her experience with Paul, and was a
habit she hadn’t found easy to break.
He hesitated, looking around for her, that sense of unease
growing stronger. Heard a crash from the flat above, Kate’s voice crying out.
He wasn’t even aware that he was running as he leapt up the stairs and pounded
through the door. Saw her there, lying face down on the carpet. The man over
her, pinning her down, his hands around her throat.
A bellow of pure rage exploded from him as he reached down
and grabbed the other man by the back of his shirt, pulled him off Kate with
one swift movement and yanked him to his feet. Koti landed two quick shots to
the ribs that doubled him over, followed them with an uppercut that lifted the
smaller man off his feet and sent him crashing senseless to the floor.
Kate was still face-down on the ground, not moving. He
couldn’t risk the bastard coming to, attacking her again. Koti quickly pulled
off his hoodie and T-shirt, rolled the other man over and tied his hands behind
his back as best he could with the shirt. That would have to do for now.
He turned back to Kate, his breath coming short with fear. Crouched
next to her and turned her over gently. Was she breathing? He couldn’t tell. He
reached for her wrist, then saw the sickening angle of her arm. Swallowed his
fear again and moved to her other side to feel for a pulse. Sick with relief,
he detected the faint but rapid beat. She was alive, then. He’d been in time. He
dropped to sit next to her. Put his head into his hands, elbows propped on his
knees, and took a few deep breaths. Then pulled out his mobile and dialed 111
with shaking fingers.
Kate opened her eyes to find Koti beside her. She looked up
at him in confusion. What had happened? Why was she on the floor, and why was
Koti here? Her throat burned, her neck hurt, and her arm . . . what was wrong
with it? She tried to move it, to see what had happened, and cried out with the
pain.
“Don’t move,” Koti urged her. “Lie still. Help’s coming.”
“What . . .” Kate croaked, her voice raspy and weak. “What?”
“I reckon that was Paul,” Koti told her, stroking her hair
back from her bruised face as he sat shirtless on the floor next to her,
holding her good hand in his. “And that he found you.”
Kate’s eyes widened. As the memory returned, a wave of fear
and anxiety overwhelmed her. “Where is he?” she asked urgently. “He’ll kill
you.”
“Nah. He’s out for the count. He’s not going anywhere,
either. He’s not going to be able to hurt you again.”
“Did you kill him?”
He shook his head. “Knocked him out, that’s all.”
She closed her eyes again. “Shame.”
“I could kill him now, if you like,” he suggested. “Before
the police get here.”
She smiled faintly. “No. Stay with me.” Swallowed painfully.
“Hurts.”
“I know, baby. Help’s coming. They’ll get you sorted. Hang
on, now.”
She felt the dizziness return, and with it another flood of
anxiety. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me with him,” she whispered urgently, the
pain strong again now. “Stay with me.”
“No worries. I’m here with you. I’m staying with you.”
Where were the police? Koti wondered despairingly. He looked
across to check on Paul. The other man was stirring at last. Koti didn’t like
leaving his feet free. But to tie him up better, or to hit him again, which was
what he really wanted to do, he’d have to leave Kate.
He looked up with relief at the sound of sirens. The
ambulances arrived first, followed quickly by the police. Two officers, taking
a quick look around and then approaching him, the only uninjured party.
“What’s happened?” one demanded.
Koti explained as briefly as he could, watching anxiously as
Kate was loaded onto a gurney.
“Reckon you’ve broken some ribs here,” one of the paramedics
remarked, kneeling over Paul. “He’s coming round, though.”
“Pity,” Koti muttered. “Should have hit him harder.”