Starlight Peninsula (24 page)

He said, ‘Hartmann won’t do anything.’

Eloise said, ‘He might.’

‘Why would he?’

‘Ed Miles is Minister of Justice. Ed Miles wants Hartmann extradited. And Ed Miles was at Rotokauri.’

‘Christ,’ Simon said. ‘Oh no.’

Eventually he held his hands out steady and said, ‘Okay, you’ve
done it now, so let’s think it through.’

She waited, looking at his big hands.

‘First of all, there’s not going to be anything to find.’

‘Probably not,’ Eloise said. She watched the birds flying in formation over the suburb.

He said slowly, ‘But if there
was
something, it would only relate to Ed Miles.’

‘Why?’

‘Process of elimination. It’s nothing to do with me. All I did was field a few questions, first from Arthur, then from a couple of bored young cops. That was it. I didn’t “look into” anything. David Hallwright was the prime minister, so looking into things wasn’t his job. It was beneath his pay grade. The person who looked into things was Miles. He was the fixer, the person who calmed things down.’

‘Calmed things down,’ Eloise repeated. Like Klaudia —
she
had calmed things down, after Eloise had flown into a panic about the yoga retreat. Be mindful, Eloise. Breathe. Klaudia had taken deep breaths herself, to demonstrate. And Eloise had pretended she was upset about something else.

Simon moved closer and took hold of her arm. ‘Eloise, the more I think about this, the more worried I get.’

‘We’re not doing anything wrong.’

‘But think. Think what you’ve done. I must be out of my mind even talking to you. You’ve effectively set Kurt Hartmann on the Minister of Justice. It’s about as serious as you can get. Even if there’s nothing to find, and there won’t be, you’ve set them against each other.’

She blinked nervously. ‘They’re set against each other already. If Ed Miles has done nothing wrong, then there’s no harm in mentioning it to Hartmann …’

‘He’s the Minister of Justice. Whether he’s done something wrong or not, what if he finds out what you’ve done?’

‘Well, you and I won’t tell him. And neither will Hartmann.’

‘How do you know Hartmann won’t?’

‘He promised.’

‘Oh. And he’s Mr Reliable?’

‘I believe him. All we did was have a conversation. He said my visiting him was a nice distraction. He needs to take his mind off things while he fights his extradition case. We had a long talk at his house, he said he’s going to teach me some computer games.’

‘At the Hartmann mansion? You went there?’

‘Sure, I’ve been there twice.’

‘Well, you do tend to bowl up to people’s houses.’ A new thought struck him. ‘He’s surely being watched. You will have been seen going there. Without Roysmith.’

‘I had some extra questions for him, from Scott,’ Eloise said with dignity. ‘I was there on official business. Then we put our phones in the portable chiller on his golf cart, and talked down at the hen house.’

‘The
hen house
.’

‘He keeps chickens. They’re his Zen.’

Simon let out a mirthless laugh. ‘And how will you talk to him again?’

‘He contacts people by encrypted email.’

‘How James Bond.’

Eloise said, ‘He did say a delicate approach was required.’

Simon said, ‘A delicate approach. I don’t know whether I’m talking to someone outrageously cunning or the village idiot.’

‘Well, I know you don’t follow politics, Simon. But Ed Miles is supposed to be after Jack Dance’s job.’

‘You mean information that makes life difficult for Miles is worth something. To Jack Dance. Christ, this just gets worse.’

‘I don’t know. Could it be? I told you, I just want to be able to say I asked.’

Simon sat silent, as if struggling to take it in.

Finally he said, ‘Listen, I don’t think you understand. What you’ve been doing is potentially dangerous. It could hurt my friends, or even me — not that I’ve done anything wrong.’

She turned to him with feeling. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

Is it possible, Klaudia, that I could be just slightly in love with Simon Lampton?

He said, ‘I want you to promise you won’t tell anyone about this. Not family, friends, workmates, no one. You and I can deal with this together.’

‘Okay.’

‘You should know that Ed Miles is a formidable and clever guy. And he is extremely ambitious. If anyone gets in his way, he does not play nice. His policy is: pay back double. So you — we — have to be careful.’

Simon looked at her searchingly. ‘You’re a good person, Eloise. You’re sensitive about people’s privacy, in a way that maybe Arthur wasn’t — not because he was bad, but because he was driven. By his art. I know you’re not trying to make mischief, to cause harm. You want to make up for something. You’re trying to honour Arthur’s memory.’

‘
Yes
. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Honouring Arthur. You understand it all. You
understand
.’

‘Of course I do. Here, come here.’

He put his arm around her and they sat together in the long grass. His voice was low and soothing. He said, ‘It’s all right, Eloise. We’ll work this out together. I know people, after all. Everything’s going to be fine.’

The Sparkler and Eloise walked Silvio across the dog park and returned in time for the news. Mariel Hartfield and Jack Anthony appeared in matching outfits, his tie the same electric blue as the stripe in her jacket.

‘I used to think those two hated each other,’ Eloise said.

The bulletin rolled smoothly towards the first commercial break: crime, crime, politics, crime, unusual weather events, Pacific affairs, an article (marketing disguised as news) about record demand for a new Apple product.

When Eloise went to the kitchen for a drink, the Sparkler switched to the cartoon channel. Eloise couldn’t be bothered arguing. They watched as Soon, the obnoxious dwarf, behaved appallingly (he set fire to a building and began a blackmail plot) while his counterpart, conscientious Starfish,
wrung his hands. The action involved the Bachelor, who rode around on a flying bed accompanied by his hissing girlfriends, the Cassowaries, and a visit from the Ort Cloud, the large purple mass with eyes and a mouth full of wicked teeth, who reminded Eloise of Kurt Hartmann.

Eloise watched, pressing the cold wine glass against her sunburnt cheeks. After a while she said, ‘Is the giant purple cloud good or bad?’

The Sparkler didn’t take her eyes off the screen. ‘Good. His wife’s bad. When the Ort Cloud and his wife fight, there’s chaos in the universe.’

‘How did Roza Hallwright come up with it all?’

The Sparkler had her fingers wound in Silvio’s coat. ‘Who?’

‘The woman who made it up. Maybe the characters are based on real people.’ Was David Hallwright in there? What about Simon Lampton? Perhaps he was Starfish, the good-hearted one, who tried to undo the wrongs committed by wicked Soon.

The Sparkler said, ‘Yeah. It’s based on a real dwarf and a real starfish.’

Eloise laughed. ‘Sarky!’

Silvio jumped up with an explosion of barks, sending Eloise reeling back.

‘I wish he wouldn’t
do
that.’

The Sparkler had her hand up to her hair.

‘Oh, God, sorry.’ Eloise grabbed a tea towel on the way to the door, where Silvio was already up on his hind legs and scrabbling. She let Carina in.

Carina fought her way past the ecstatic dog.

Eloise said over her shoulder, wishing Silvio wasn’t quite so pleased, ‘The Sparkler’s fine. Good party. She reeks of booze — only because I tipped a glass of wine over her head.’

‘Okay …’

Eloise dabbed at the Sparkler’s hair. ‘Sorry. The dog’s so loud.’ She turned. ‘You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you? Mum’s on her way; she rang me. I’m cooking.’

Carina sniffed her daughter’s wet hair. ‘What’re you cooking?’

‘Either curry or pizza, or fish and chips.’

‘Okay. Look at your couch. The footprints. You should kick him off.’

‘I don’t care. I love him. Silv can do no wrong.’

Eloise brought out more wine from the stash under the sink and poured another couple of drinks. Then Silvio went berserk all over again.

Demelza held out her car keys. ‘Carina, dear. If you could just …’

Her dog, Gerald, waddled out on the deck and stood looking across to the dog park. He was like a little, fat, uneasy old man. Hands on his hips. Resigned. No escape.

While Carina went out to park the car, Demelza settled herself between muddy patches on the sofa and addressed the Sparkler.

‘Daddy still overseas, dear? Goodness he’s away a lot.’ She looked up as Carina came in with the keys. ‘Reminds me of Terrence. He always claimed it was work. But I knew.’

‘You were a realist,’ the Sparkler said.

‘I was. You remember, dear. I believe in telling the truth. Men, you see, you’ll never get them to be faithful.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Carina said.

‘And after women have children it’s even harder. Ooh, the wear and tear childbirth causes. They marry someone young and lovely, and they end up with … Well, put it this way, Sparkles darling, some women start out with flesh like a raw chicken and end up like one that’s been cooked! Some,’ she lowered her voice, ‘who have a lot of children, their insides start to fall. Not that I’m saying your mother … But when I see this mania for jogging (I know you like to go jogging, Carina, and I’m not meaning anything by it, mind) I think to myself, they’re going to end up like Queen Victoria. I’ve just read a wonderful biography. After eight children, Sparkles dear, Queen Victoria herself had a terrible case of …’

‘How’s Dad?’ Eloise said.

‘Oh, dreadful. He’s been under the doctor now for six months. The local GP’s been wonderful, very attentive when I’ve rung in the middle of the night. I’ve needed a lot of prescriptions, what with the strain, and Terrence’s snoring, which does keep me awake. It’s like a death rattle.’

Demelza pushed back her hair with her fingers, in little sharp stabs. ‘We’ve had Luna to stay, which doesn’t improve Terrence’s mood. My poor sister, she’s mad, of course. She insists everyone sees the world as she does. She’s deeply neurotic, an unweeded garden. Of course, she was a terrible mother. Always trying to get rid of her children, couldn’t handle motherhood. She couldn’t face things. A bolter. Shied away from the truth …’

She looked around. ‘Goodness, the house is looking a bit worse for wear. There’s mud everywhere. What are the Rodds going to say?’

‘It’s not their house.’

‘It’s their money, chuck.’

‘Well, they’ve got a lot to spare,’ Eloise said, turning to Carina. ‘I heard a new theory on Baby O’Keefe. Bradley Kirk’s the daddy.’

‘That’s a good one,’ Carina said. ‘Cross-party affairs must be rare. Because politics is fundamental.’

Demelza said, ‘There’s Eloise, mind, marrying a Rodd. Terrence and I brought you up in a good left-wing household and you went off with a right moneybags.’

Eloise said, ‘Look where it got me.’

Carina said, ‘I couldn’t marry anyone who votes National.’

‘But you liked Sean,’ Eloise said. ‘And I’m not that rigid.’

‘Sean was all right, until he turned out to be a complete shit.’ Carina stood up and went to the window.

Demelza said, ‘And what about your silly Roysmith, what’s his political persuasion?’

‘He can’t really say publicly. He has to appear balanced. He can’t come on all opinionated, like Pilger.’

Demelza pursed her lips. ‘But I must say, a lot of television people are quite open about their politics. They’re all mad fans of Jack Dance. That pompous one with the spiky hair, and the funny one in the sandshoes.’

‘But Scott’s a
serious
journalist.’

‘He’s serious about his hairstyle. And his outfits.’

‘What about his work on child poverty? He’s a great journalist. He cares. He has high standards.’

‘Ooh, hark at you, chuck. No need to get hot under the collar. I believe in telling the truth, that’s all.’ Demelza held out her empty glass. ‘Eloise, if you could just … What are we having for dinner? Pizza again? Not with garlic, I trust. None of that foreign muck. I won’t have anchovies or olives, and none of those capers. We could have a nice Hawaiian, if you wish. But hold the pineapple.’

‘What about salami?’

‘I don’t eat salami!’

‘Scallops?’

‘Get away with you! Don’t be silly!’

Demelza fanned herself with the pizza menu. ‘You want to get that dog seen to. There’s a right pong. Mud, is it? I don’t see how you can even wash him, he’s so woolly. Thank you, dear, I will have another glass. Now Sparkles, darling, how’s school?’

Carina said, ‘She loves school.’

‘Takes after her father, does she. The genes will out. Even though he’s so seldom present in the flesh. Now, Eloise, what’s that shirt you’re wearing? What a bright colour. It’s so elegant. Look at that, Carina. Something to give you ideas. Eloise knows how to show off the best bits of her figure. Goodness knows we all need that skill, Carina. Especially those of us with Terrence’s genes. Let’s face it, all the women on his side are so heavy-boned. Bums too near the daisies, I always say. Sparkles, did you tell me your daddy’s designing a bridge in Thailand? Ooh, such delicate, wand-like figures those Thai women have …’

Carina and the Sparkler left first, Carina having reached the end of her tolerance early on. This meant Eloise had to take Demelza’s keys and manoeuvre her car out of the tight park outside the house.

Demelza stood waiting, holding Gerald.

Eloise was wishing she’d managed to keep Silvio. The Sparkler had prevailed, which was only fair. You couldn’t commandeer someone else’s pet. But she hated the thought of a night without him.

She held out the keys. The hot wind blew dust across the road; insects whirled around the streetlights. Out in the estuary there was a disturbance in the water, a faint splashing.

Demelza made a face. ‘Must be a bit creepy living here by yourself.’

‘I love the peninsula. I’ve got a nice neighbour. You met him, Nick Oppenheimer. And I’m going out with Scott and Thee this week, they’ve been incredibly kind. There’s a man they want me to meet.’

‘Nick. I remember. Handsome chap. Not quite as good-looking as Arthur was.’

‘Here’s your keys.’ Eloise thrust them at her mother.

Arthur.

She tried to hold it back, but something broke. A great sob welled up, and another. Her body shook with them. Tears spilled and poured down her cheeks; she shuddered with crying.

She struggled, tried to control the sobbing, looked up.

Her mother was watching her, her eyes narrowed. Her smooth brown face had sharpened into an expression of intense interest. She had Gerald under one arm, and the other hand resting on her car. She didn’t move, only looked, and then drummed her fingers, very slowly, on the car roof. Turning away, she opened the car door, and dumped Gerald in the passenger seat.

She walked slowly around to the driver’s door.

‘Goodbye, Eloise,’ she said. ‘God bless.’

What is there left, when everyone leaves? Only the hours of night, and no Silvio, and the black sky up there, the universe made of dark matter, dust and ash. The day is a bright mesh over the blackness; when the night pulls it away there’s nothing between the raw self and the information beyond.

Over the shadowy dog park, the moon was a button made of bone.

He opened the door. ‘You again.’ But he was smiling, leaning against the wall in his old jeans, his denim shirt open.

‘I had to give the dog back.’

‘Ah. So you’re all alone.’

‘Want to come for a walk?’

They crossed the wooden bridge and wandered along the path through the cabbage trees and flax. Eloise said, ‘I don’t want to leave here.’

‘Will you have to soon?’

‘I haven’t been to a lawyer yet. It’s on my list.’

‘Is there a mortgage?’

‘No.’

‘Really?’

‘My husband’s a Rodd. The Rodds are rich.’

‘You
do
need to see a lawyer.’

‘I know. I’ll find an apartment, keep working.’

‘Where do you want to be in five years? What do you want?’

‘I have no idea.’
Not to be lonely
. She looked back at the house. ‘If a house is a metaphor for the mind … I’m losing mine.’

‘Mine’s rather empty at the moment,’ Nick said.

They did a turn around the park and stopped at the edge of her lawn.

‘Coming in?’ she asked.

‘Do you want me to?’

‘Yes.’

She took great pleasure in making two cups of tea. Because she didn’t need to keep the night at bay by getting drunk. They went upstairs and he kicked off his boots and lay on her bed.

He said, ‘When I was in South Africa, I knew a couple. They’d been ordinary white middle-class students when they were young — good kids — but apartheid turned them into terrorists. What they did was, they made a bomb. And they set it off. They were trying to help get rid of apartheid. They didn’t kill anyone, but they caused a lot of damage. Decades later, when the Truth and Reconciliation Commission was set up, it was their chance to tell their story without punishment. Full amnesty. They had to decide whether to take the amnesty and tell the truth, or just leave it buried.’

‘What did they do?’

‘They told their story. But then their families wouldn’t speak to them any more. They were outcasts.’

‘That’s sad.’

‘They wanted to tell; it was their right. The truth is always there. To hell with those who don’t like it. Sometimes you’ve just got to tell it like it is.’