Chapter 5

Even though it is early, everyone gets ready for bed. There is a bit of a wait for the bathroom but I am in bed soon after 10 pm. I look at emails and texts on my phone for a while, but there is nothing of great interest. I recall the events of the day, in particular Tane Paraone’s arrival in my bath, and Hemi pulling him off my naked body. I wonder if I can go to sleep if I put out the light. There is a very gentle, almost conspiratorial, knock on my door. “Yes, come in,” I say softly. Hemi comes in with a secretive smile. He is wearing ageing but conservative pyjamas, a good match for my old white cotton nightdress. “I can’t sleep,” he says.

“Oh you poor boy,” I say ironically but, softening, add “I can’t either.”

He sits on the edge of my bed in a confident, casual way and starts talking softly about his life and rather intermittent university study and then moves on to how pleased he is to meet me. Oh, I see where this is going.

Looking back I cannot imagine what came over me. He clearly had one thing on his mind. It turned out he had a condom in his pyjama pocket. Well, strictly, he had two. I think my quip that a girl like me isn’t used to a boy arriving with only two condoms could reasonably be taken as a form of consent. But consent I certainly did. When he took off his pyjama shirt, I just couldn’t take my hands off his strong arms and exercise hardened pecs. I helped him get the bottom half off. I hadn’t been with a man for more than ten years but I suddenly felt, I can see the point of this after all. “You know I think you are my tane paraone,” I said.

“Yes and you are my little Eskimo.”

It is morning. I am awakened by a knock on the door. It isn’t Hemi; he is beside me. Oh dear. Hemi clearly is already awake and answers calmly, “Kuhu mai, whaea.”

Aroha comes in with two cups of tea on a small wooden tray. “You weren’t in your room, so I thought I would find you here,” she says to Hemi.

“I am so sorry,” I say.

“Don’t be, I know my son.” She leaves us with a resigned frown towards Hemi.

I say, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Just have your tea,” he says. reassuringly.

This is absolutely ridiculous. I came over here with every intention of being totally professional, leaving any hint of scandal behind me, and what do I do? I jump into bed with the son of the Dean of Arts, in her very own house. OK, strictly he jumped into bed with me but where was the mature older woman saying, “No this isn’t a good idea.” I am going to need to have a frank discussion with Aroha. On the surface she appears not to blame me, but what can she really think of me?

Breakfast is a bit disorganised and Aroha disappears quickly into her office and is on the phone. Hemi starts tinkering with his Lambretta engine. So he doesn’t disappear but isn’t seeking attention. Ngahuia and Roimata are last to finish breakfast and offer to show me their sleepout. It is really quite small but cosy. There is a bedroom which has room for a small double bed for Ngahuia and a single bed for Roimata with just a small gap between. The living area has an old two person sofa and an easy chair opposite a new small kitchen. This backs on to the new bathroom.

Roimata makes sure I am sitting next to her and asks me lots of questions about Finland. She wants to know when I learned English and I explain that foreign languages are important in Finnish schools and that Swedish is an official language as well as Finnish but English is very popular and I started learning it when I was 9. She had thought I had come straight from Finland to New Zealand and seems disappointed that I had lived in America for 10 years. “Was it really scary? Did people carry guns the whole time?”

“Not in the part of the country where I was living.”

Ngahuia is very happy to let Roimata take care of me and gets on with sorting out some clothes in the bedroom. But then she makes us a very nice cup of coffee with a new espresso machine that occupies precious bench space in the kitchen area. Roimata has a hot chocolate.

A little later, I wander back to the main house. Hemi isn’t around, it seems, for which I am very grateful. I feel anxious about the discussion I need to have with Aroha. But a distraction occurs. Someone lets themselves in. It is a tall, beautiful, young, Māori woman with a tattoo on her chin. She is carrying an overnight bag.

Aroha must have heard something, for she emerges from her office and says, “Kia ora, Moana. I thought we weren’t going to see you until next week.” They hug.

“My workshop finished a little early and I thought I would rush back to Hemi.” Now this is a development.

Aroha introduces us, describing Moana as Hemi’s girlfriend. She sits next to me on a sofa. “Have you met Hemi? Has he been looking after you?”

Awkward. “Certainly. Second only to Roimata.” As if on cue, Roimata appears and runs over and squeezes between us. For once, she says absolutely nothing but looks blissfully happy. Moana has a charm and quiet confidence that is striking. She is also absolutely gorgeous. Her skeleton is probably a little like mine, but it is covered with flesh, young, smooth, golden flesh. Her halter top dress shows her beautiful shoulders and elegant arms. She puts one of those arms around Roimata. Moana catches me staring at her, but I cover the situation by asking her about her tattoo.

“We call it a ‘moko’. It shows my connection with my whakapapa, my ancestors.” I am so jealous, jealous of Moana’s wonderful body and jealous of Hemi for having such a girl-friend. She tells me she teaches kapahaka, Māori performance art, and has just come back from Rotorua.