Chapter Four #2
I swallow hard, trying to calm my emotions.
“I thought we could go to the Waiora.” The waterfall and natural pool is open to everyone.
Lately they’ve been doing some work around it, making it safer and creating some new facilities, but as it’s Sunday and out of season, it will probably be fairly quiet.
“Can we swim?” she asks. She knows I keep a bag in the car with a swimming costume and a towel for us both.
“Isn’t it a bit cold for that?”
“The sun’s out,” she persists.
“We’ll test the temperature when we get there,” I promise. The pool is usually on the cool side because it’s fed by the waterfall, but kids never care about how cold the water is.
“Why was Mummy shouting?” she asks.
I glance at her in the mirror. “Don’t worry about that.”
She glares back. “Everyone always says that. I’m not stupid.”
“I know…”
“They argue all the time. They’re in trouble, aren’t they?”
I hesitate. She’s not my daughter, and I don’t want to cause problems because I’ve told her things they’d rather she didn’t know. Most people believe children should be shielded from problems and worries.
But I can see her frustration, and her fear. All she knows is that something’s gone wrong and her parents are arguing and upset. I can only imagine what she thinks might have happened.
Well, I’m not going to lie to her. We’re close, and I want her to think she can always come to me if she needs help.
“Wait till we get to the Waiora,” I say, “and we’ll talk about it.”
She sits back, apparently mollified by that, and looks out of the window for the rest of the short journey.
The main road heads through the hills to the Midnight resort, then curves around it, and I pull off into a public car park close to the waterfall.
It’s empty, so I doubt we’ll find it packed with visitors.
I turn off the engine, then get out and open the door for Thea.
I collect the bag I keep in the boot, lock the car, and take her hand, and we head along the path toward the waterfall.
I haven’t been here for a few months, but I’d heard they were doing some work.
I can see evidence of it already. This used to be little more than a muddy track, but they’ve put gravel down so it will be less slippery in the rain.
The trees on either side have been trimmed, and at one point where the slope steepens, they’ve cut a few steps to make it safer and added a handrail.
We can already hear the river and the sound of the water tumbling over the rocks, and then we emerge from the trees to see the waterfall resplendent in the morning sunlight.
I’ve been here when the river is so shallow that the falls are little more than a trickle, but it’s been raining, so the flow is relatively heavy now.
Upstream, they’ve erected a bridge across to the side that belongs to Kahukura, the commune now called The Village, which is much safer than the old wobbly stepping stones and also provides a great viewing platform looking downstream over the falls to the sea in the distance.
We stay on the public side, though, and make our way down the new steps to the Waiora itself.
Midnight offered us the contract to redesign the area around the Waiora, but we had too much work as it was and had to pass, so they hired another firm.
My gardener’s eye passes critically over the new landscaping, but I’m relieved to see they’ve done a good job.
They’ve kept most of the native bush, and the pool is surrounded by palms and ferns, but they’ve also installed a concrete slope down into the water that makes it much easier to get in.
A beautiful pagoda overlooks the pool, as well as several benches amongst the trees.
The biggest change, though, is a brand-new set of changing rooms and toilets, set back and well hidden amongst the greenery.
Thea and I sit on one of the benches and look out at the pool.
The bush smells damp and earthy, the mineral-rich forest smell after rain, along with the metallic smell of wet rock.
The honey-sweetness of the kōwhai mingles with the sharp herbal tang of manuka, as well as the delicate perfume of the pink camellias they’ve planted to provide some color.
“Is it bad?” Thea asks, reminding me that I promised to tell her about her parents. “Are they sick, like Granddad?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” I put my arm around her. “Do you know what the word debt means?”
She frowns. “It’s when you don’t have enough money to pay the bills.”
“That’s right, you’re so clever. Well, your dad has run up some debt, and we’re trying to help him pay it off.
We can do it, but it’s just going to take some time, and it’s important that he doesn’t keep making more debt.
It’s like someone is digging a hole in the ground, and we’re trying to put the earth back in.
We have to try to fill it quicker than they can dig it, and so it’s much better if they stop digging completely—it means we can fill it faster. Does that make sense?”
She nods. “Is he still digging?”
I stroke her hair. “Yes, honey. And he can’t seem to stop.”
“Why?”
“It’s called an addiction.”
She thinks about that for a moment. “Like drugs?”
“Yes. With some people, drugs, or alcohol, or tobacco, or a particular behavior, like gambling, create a chemical called dopamine in the brain. It makes you feel good. Like, you know when you’re playing a computer game and you level up?”
“Yes.”
“You get a little buzz of excitement—that’s dopamine, and it feels good. And some people like it so much that they crave that next buzz. They can’t stop. It’s not their fault. It’s called a chronic condition—it’s always going to be there, and it can’t be cured. Only managed.”
“So… he’s got into debt because he’s gambling?”
I nod, my stomach flipping. I hope I’m not making things worse by telling her.
But she’s calm as she says, “I’ve heard them talking about loans.”
Oh shit, so she does know more than she’s let on. “Okay.”
“A loan is where you borrow money from someone else, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“And you have to pay it back?”
“Yes, over time.”
“Why do people do that?”
“Why do they lend money?”
“Yes. Why do they give it away? I don’t understand.”
“They charge something called interest. So, if you borrow, say, a thousand dollars, you don’t just have to pay a thousand back—you have to pay interest, too.
A bank doesn’t charge much interest, but there are people called loan sharks who charge a huge amount.
Each week you’d pay, say, fifty dollars off the loan, but you’d also have to pay something like two hundred dollars interest. So in the end you’re actually paying back something like five or six thousand. ”
Her jaw drops. “That’s awful.”
“I know. And if you don’t pay each week, you can get into trouble.”
“Will he go to prison?”
“No, no, honey, nothing like that.” I cross my fingers behind my back.
I won’t describe the true horrors of what might happen if he doesn’t meet his repayments: having debt collectors turn up in the middle of the night to collect their TV and other possessions, being thrown out of their home, or maybe even being subjected to violence.
“But he does need help, so he doesn’t keep spending more money than he has. ”
“So he doesn’t keep digging.”
“Yes.”
“Who’ll help him to stop?”
“There are groups and therapists he can go to. But it’s important that he asks for help. He has to want to stop digging, if that makes sense. Nobody else can make him.”
She kicks her legs, thinking.
“I hope I did the right thing telling you,” I say. “I’m worried that your mum and dad will be angry with me.”
“I won’t tell them that I know.”
I frown. “I don’t expect you to keep secrets from them. If they find out, that’s okay.”
She shakes her head. “I knew there was a hole. I just wanted to know where it was, so I don’t fall into it.”
My eyes sting with sudden tears. “You’re so smart,” I whisper. “You’re going to grow up into an amazing young woman.”
“I want to be a doctor,” she says.
My eyebrows rise. “Really?” Mark works for my dad, and Nina is a checkout operator at the local supermarket.
Although my father runs his own business, he isn’t well educated, and my mother is a dinner lady at the local primary school.
They’re all nice people, but they’re not professionals, so I’m surprised she’s aiming so high.
“I want to help people,” she continues. “Do you think I could do that?”
“Of course. You’d have to work hard at school, and then go to university.”
“Did you go to university?”
“No. When I left school I started working for Granddad.”
“Is university expensive?”
She’s already thinking about whether her parents will be able to afford to send her.
I feel a fresh surge of frustration and fury toward my brother.
I know he can’t help his addiction, but I also know he didn’t think about his wife and daughter—or the fact that our father has remortgaged his house and could well lose it—when he gambled, and I hate him a little for that.
“It does cost money,” I say carefully. “But you can have student loans from the government that would help.”
“I’m not having a loan,” she says fiercely.
“Student loans aren’t the same. The repayments are much smaller, and there’s hardly any interest.”
“I don’t care. I’ll get a job and work and save up the money until I can afford to pay for myself.” She sets her jaw, and her eyes gleam in the sunlight. I’m sure her parents think they’ve kept their arguments and misery hidden from her, but she’s obviously seen more than they’ve realized.
“I’ll help you,” I say softly. “If that’s what you want, we’ll get you there.”
“Hello!”
My head snaps around at the sound of a male voice, and my heart races. New Zealand is a safe country, and I’ve never felt in danger, even if I go for a walk late at night, but we’re alone in the middle of nowhere, and my first thought is of Thea.
Relief floods me though at the sight of Kingi Davis, strolling along the path from Midnight behind us, emerging from the trees like some kind of giant Green Man. He’s wearing jeans, and his greenstone pendant rests on top of a black tee. Oh my God, the muscles on the man. He looks delicious.
I press a hand over my heart. “You made me jump.”
“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound it. He smiles at Thea. “Hello.”
“This is Kingi,” I tell her. “He’s a very old friend of mine. Emphasis on the old.” That earns me a wry look. “And this is Thea,” I tell him. “My niece.”
“Mark’s girl?” He holds out his hand. “I used to be good friends with your dad when we were young.”
“Hello,” she says shyly, and she slides her tiny mitt in his huge paw. He shakes it gently before releasing it.
“Enjoying the peace and quiet?” he asks.
“We were,” I say sarcastically.
He just grins.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask.
“I didn’t. I often take a walk to the Waiora. It’s a peaceful place.”
“We’re going swimming,” Thea says.
His eyebrows rise. “Really?”
“I don’t know.” I glance doubtfully at the water. “It’s going to be freezing.”
“Wuss,” he scoffs. “You never used to worry.” He winks at Thea. “I’ll go in with you.”
Her face lights up, and she looks at me for permission. “Can I?”
I frown at him. “You’re not planning on skinny dipping?”
“When the water’s this cold? I wouldn’t be very impressive if I did. I’m wearing boxers—they’ll do.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Come on,” he says to Thea.
She jumps off the bench and snatches up the bag. “Please,” she begs me. “Come in with us.”
I huff a big sigh to cover the fact that the notion of seeing Kingi Davis in his boxers makes my heart race. “Oh, all right. But don’t blame me if we all come down with hypothermia.”