Inheritance. Part 11

Teo smiled at her. 'Not too bad. There is something though ...' He drifted into silence and then asked, abruptly, 'Is Stuart coming back?'

'No ... No ... I've told him not to. That's all finished.'

'Your marriage?'

'Yes.' Jeanie found that she was crying. Tears pouring down.

Teo offered her the beautiful handkerchief, frowning. 'You're unhappy about leaving that man?'

'No!' she shouted over the drumming rain. 'I'm extremely happy, Teo!' Hiccupping, then, through her tears. 'G.o.d knows why I'm crying! It's good. I'm happy!' The roaring, sheeting water seemed to her a blessing. After some hesitation, dabbing at her face, she added, 'How is your wife?'.

Teo waited while she cleaned herself up. 'Ma'atoe is not well,' he said carefully. 'Since that night. She has fears. Nightmares. I'm not allowed to ...' he shrugged helplessly. And then the words came out in a rush. 'She can't bear to have me touch her. Surely I could help her get over it but, when we try, she gets nearly hysterical and wants to scream. She stuffs the sheet into her mouth, to hide her fear from the family.' Teo looks at her miserably. 'Your d.a.m.n husband.'

'Can Elena help?'

'Ma'atoe will tell no one. Not her mother. Not her sister. She is so ashamed. She should have stayed with the aualuma. They should have stayed with her. She's ashamed also that she can't ... you know, with me.' Teo looked away.

Now he is the one who will cry, thought Jeanie. He can't talk to anyone else about this and surely I am the wrong person.

'Do you feel bad about what you did to Stuart?' Jeanie was curious about this. Teo was so violent that night! The sight of him raising that great bush knife, slashing in the half light of dawn, kept recurring in Jeanie's mind. Did he relive it too?

He looked at her in amazement. 'No! I should have killed him.' His crooked grin tormented. 'I've become too civilised, eh? But worse ...' The drumming rain stopped abruptly and the words came out too loud. 'Worse,' he said more quietly, looking sharply at the back room to make sure the house girl was not eavesdropping.

Jeanie waited but it seemed Teo could not bring out the words. She knew, then, what the dreadful news would be. Teo finally told her that Ma'atoe was pregnant and that the baby could only be Stuart's. Ma'atoe had not even told Teo, it seemed, but had gone, in desperation, to an old lady, known to her family, and asked for an abortion. The old woman had examined her and given her a potion which had not worked. Now it was too late. Ma'atoe was five months pregnant.

'She hates what is growing inside her,' Teo whispered fiercely, 'and so do I. She's sick at the idea of this baby and says she will kill it when it comes. She pushes and punches at her stomach, but it remains inside. She says I must take it away when it's born and smother it, and we must say it died. She says that's what the old custom was, and now she understands the wisdom of it.'

Jeanie was horrified to hear his savage words. 'But Teo, you can't do that! Not these days!'

He looked at her. 'It seems wrong to you?'

'Of course it does. It is wrong. You know that.'

'But abortion would have been right?'

'Yes,' Jeanie admitted. 'Yes. But a baby born alive ... that's different.'

Teo nodded then, miserably. 'I feel it too. I wish I felt like Ma'atoe but I don't. I don't think I could smother a baby.' He slapped hard at his chest, as if punishing the heart within. 'I'm too modern, see! Too much palagi learning! But if I don't she will want to. Or maybe get that old lady to. The old one might do it secretly.'

There was silence in the room. Teo watched her. Jeanie knew what was coming and wanted desperately to avoid the words.

'Will you take the baby?' he asked. 'If I bring it secretly to you, would you take it away get it adopted, whatever, back in New Zealand? Where my wife would never know?'

He asked such a huge thing simply, as a child might ask a parent. Take this trouble away from me. You deal with it.

'Teo,' she said, 'I'm sorry but it couldn't be done. Not in any secrecy. People would have to know.'

'Just think about it,' Teo pleaded. 'There's time yet. After all it is Stuart's child.'

She wondered when he would get around to that.

'I don't know that I could live with ending a child's life,' he said, watching her.

Jeanie caught that look manipulative, calculating. 'Go away!' she shouted, too angry to carry on; too appalled at his demand. 'You could live with nearly killing Stuart! That was not a problem to your precious scruples. Just go away please. And don't you dare dream of hurting the baby.'

'Just think about it anyway,' he said. And was out of the door before she could throw something at him.

But of course she had to think about it. At times she railed against Teo, cursed him for laying this burden at her door. Her new-found freedom, so precious, so fresh and intoxicating was suddenly threatened. At these times she thrust Teo's request savagely from her mind, tried to recreate the sense of lightness she enjoyed only a few days ago. But the idea, the possibility was seeded and she could not ignore it. Could she somehow smuggle a new-born baby away? Have it adopted elsewhere, where no one could discover its dreadful conception? Its rejection?

She thought, of course, of her father, and wept for him all over again. Granny Stella had told Jeanie how she had adopted little John the little Chinese orphan n.o.body wanted. Perhaps Granny Stella knew all the awful circ.u.mstances the rape and the suicide and didn't care. Granny Stella had been expecting a child of her own, and yet she had adopted Jeanie's father and loved him given him a good life. Jeanie felt an increasing weight of duty and fought bitterly to escape it.

Sometimes the temptation of adopting the baby herself crept in to haunt her. A little half-Samoan baby! But that would be madness. Jeanie was too close to all this mess. The child must have a start in life that could never be traced back to the night of the tapalolo. If Stuart found out ...

No. Jeanie buried that idea.

Elena was standing in the shade of the banana trees calling up to Jeanie. Her dusty Mini Moke parked below the verandah.

'Come along madam, we have work to do! And bring your cheque book.'

It always lifted Jeanie's spirits to see Elena. Was that big woman ever downhearted?

'Quick, no time to waste!' called Elena, dancing a few steps in her impatience. 'Already the queue will be stretching onto the pavement.'

Jeanie ran down the steps laughing, ready for whatever new adventure Elena had dreamed up.

'No picnic today,' Elena shouted over the growling engine, her hair escaping its usual neat bun in the rush of air as they bounced down to Beach Road. 'You have a duty to perform, and so do I. A lesson for you on Samoan custom.'

The big stores on Beach Road were crowded. Matua had come in yesterday with its usual supplies, but today the pushing crowd was different. Not so many palagi, and many more Samoan women.

Elena, joining in the melee on the pavement, guided Jeanie away from the Burns Philp store, where most were heading; decided on Hedstroms. 'I heard they have something a bit special. Let's see.'

Jeanie had never seen Elena hurry before. Even in a medical crisis she remained calm. Today the crowd mood seemed infectious. Her friend jostled and shoved, elbowing her way to the Manchester department where a large crowd was gathered. No feeling of a queue. It was every woman for herself.

'Keep close behind me,' shouted Elena, 'or you'll be trampled to death!'

Jeanie took her point. The buyers were all twice her size, three times her weight, and intent on reaching the counter first.

'I'll explain later,' Elena laughed. 'Just get out your cheque book and sign for whatever I say.'

Jeanie had no idea why she must buy a whole bolt of white sea-island cotton and another bolt of delicate spotted muslin, also white. But she dutifully paid out the money and watched Elena also buy two bolts. Hedstroms seemed to have an endless supply. Elena hoisted three of the bolts high on her shoulder, leaving Jeanie to struggle in her wake with the final bolt of muslin.

'White Sunday!' Elena shouted as they bounced back up to Jeanie's. 'Don't get me started on it.'

But of course Jeanie had no need to prompt her friend. As they unrolled the spotless material and cut it into three-or four-yard lengths, Elena explained. As people with money, she and Jeanie were expected to contribute to the expenses of White Sunday. Elena must supply her wider 'aiga, and Jeanie should make a worthwhile contribution to the families who worked at the plantation.

'They'll do the sewing, thank goodness; we buy what they can't afford.'

It turned out White Sunday was a special children's day. Jeanie looked sharply at Elena. Was this some hint? Did Elena know about Ma'atoe? But Elena was chatting on, serene as usual, directing operations, folding the cut pieces and piling them ready for distribution.

'Every child must have a new set of clothes white clothes and the fancier the better. Wait till you see what our women can create from this material! Ruffles, flounces, ribbons, smart little shirts. Oh the children will look so gorgeous,' Elena turned to Jeanie, flourishing the scissors fiercely, 'and I will probably be the only woman in Samoa to fight the custom.'

Jeanie laughed at Elena's frown. Surely she must be joking. 'Doesn't look like fighting the custom to me. Look at all this you're supplying.'

'That's different,' said Elena, wagging her head back and forth. 'I have to help, that's only natural; I'm a salaried woman. I would be a very bad Samoan if I didn't contribute. Doesn't mean I have to approve.'

Elena had a doctor's view of the way children were cared for. This one day of the year the children had new clothes and were served by their elders at a special feast. The rest of the year, Elena said sadly, they came last in the food chain. Many of the children she doctored were malnourished. Oh they had food in their bellies, but all the protein that should be contributing to growing strong young bones and healthy children's bodies, was served to the matai first, then other men, then the women, and lastly to the children.

'Then they make up for it one day of the year, with White Sunday. Oh it makes me mad! We should get the Women's Committees onto it. They are the only ones who could change it. But would they? I doubt it. White Sunday is definitely fa'asamoa.'

'But surely this is a missionary thing? White Sunday?'

'Oh yes. But we take what we like from Christianity and make it our own. Haven't you noticed?' Elena folded the last piece of cloth, looked with satisfaction at the pile. 'You know Tomasi who works for you?' she said. Jeanie nodded. 'He was arrested in the weekend for stealing two watches from Hedstroms. He has four daughters. He was going to sell the watches to buy material for their dresses. So. You must give him some of this material.'

Elena laughed suddenly. 'But I love White Sunday. It is so beautiful and the children are so excited. You must come to our village and see.' She smiled at her friend. 'I'm a mixed bag, eh?'

Jeanie kept thinking that Elena might be hinting at some knowledge, though it didn't seem so. When Jeanie asked about Teo, Elena simply shrugged. 'Oh, Teo. He and that precious Ma'atoe have some problems I think.'

'Problems?' Jeanie tried to sound disinterested.

'You know Teo big flirt. Now he must settle down. And my guess is his wife is a jealous sort.' Elena shot Jeanie a sharp look. 'He hasn't been hanging round you?'

'No. I've seen him a couple of times at the plantation.' Jeanie felt herself flushing.

'Well anyway, he's got the archaeology bug again. He wants to spend a month or two up there helping at the dig. There's no one keeping an eye at the moment. Turn your back for a month and the creepers will have covered the mound again.'

'He's gone up on his own?'

Again that sharp look. 'Jeanie. That time is over.'

Jeanie frowned. 'With me too don't worry Elena.'

'Anyway, his jealous wife has gone too, to keep an eye on him. They're living in the little fale up there.' Elena grinned, made a little weaving dance with her hands, 'So romantic, with the mosquitoes and the ghosts. Good for making babies.'

Jeanie turned away; fussed with the pile of material to hide her dismay. All this talk of children and babies!

Elena sensed it; came close and stroked her arm. 'I shouldn't talk so much. You would like a baby too I think? We must find you a good man.'

Jeanie couldn't speak.

If it hadn't been for the twinned worries the unwanted baby and the unwanted return of Stuart Jeanie would have loved White Sunday. As it was, the spectacle and excitement of it helped her forget. The church in Elena's village was filled with proud parents and their resplendent, spotless children. One by one, the children trotted up to the front to recite a few lines from the Bible. Elena dug Jeanie in the ribs, pointing to a crouching father, prompting his tongue-tied little son as he struggled with his sentence. Sighs of relief from the whole congregation when the little fellow finally stumbled through. Others usually the older ones stood up proudly, strutted down to the altar amid appreciative clicking of tongues if the dress was particularly beautiful, and then reeled off several verses in clear voices. Sometimes a proud parent stood at the end of a particularly good recital to take a bow along with the child.

After the lengthy service, the children, now dressed in their second new outfits coloured this time sat on the ground outside in a big circle while the elders served them a great feast of pork, chicken, pisupo, fish, palusami, taro, soft white bread, cakes, mangoes and breadfruit.

Elena moaned. 'Look at it all! Spread all this protein over a year and the children would grow healthy! As it is, the elders will have a good feast too on the leftovers. This all-or-nothing sort of thing. It makes me ashamed.' But she was only half protesting. The children were so happy. The parents so proud.

Jeanie thought of Teo and Ma'atoe away in the bush, struggling with what was growing inside her. It seemed so much in contrast with this happy day full of loved children. Perhaps they would come to terms with it. Perhaps that ancient place of their ancestors would help them to a wider view. Jeanie hoped that was what Teo had in mind not simply a hiding place.

Later, over a cold drink in the shade of a fale, Elena mentioned the plantation. Were there any buyers yet?

Jeanie frowned at her friend. 'You heard?'

Elena laughed. 'Sweet girl, all Samoa knows it! Our family will try to buy, naturally. But you keep the Apia house, I hear?'

Jeanie sighed. What didn't Elena hear? 'Yes, I'll keep the house.'

'Perfect,' cried Elena. 'I have a plan for you. A job at the hospital. Permanent. You are not really a plantation sort of person. I knew that from the beginning. Come and work for me.' She grinned widely, spreading her hands. 'Perfect!'

Jeanie felt her eyes fill with tears. 'Have you heard also that Stuart is coming back?'

PART FIVE.

Inheritance.

Hamish.

Simone brought the phone into my study. These days it seems the phone can follow us wherever we go in the house. A nasty trait. Next it will follow us into the garden, the car, on holiday. I hope I don't live to experience it.

'Another female doing her research,' she said. 'I told her you had written two books, full of all your knowledge, but evidently she would like to speak to you.'

Anyone who gets past Simone is a brave researcher, so I reached for the phone.

'From Gore, for heavens' sake,' Simone added. 'She must be a very rich student. Or wasteful. Ann Hope.'

The name rang a bell. My old brain is slow to make connections. It wasn't until she began speaking that I knew who she was. She spoke formally, playing a part, pretending she was really interested in some event or other, or matter of legal importance in the islands. I was too shocked to register the question. After a slight pause, she asked if Simone was in the room.

'Yes,' I said.

'Well I will continue with my questions and try to slip in the real one in a moment or two. You remember who I am?'

I could scarcely manage another yes. Surely she would realise that at my age I could not dissemble? Never could for that matter. Especially with Simone's gimlet eyes fixed on me.

'Well here goes,' she said. I could hear a smile in her voice. The wretched woman was enjoying herself!

I asked her to wait while I found pen and paper. Simone sighed, found them for me. After a few minutes of voluble questions from Ann Hope, and noncommittal answers from me, interspersed with a bit of shaky writing, Simone lost interest and left the room, muttering that lunch would be ready in ten minutes.

'Will that be all?' I asked, hoping that she would take the hint. I was sick of all this silly play.

'I'm so sorry to ring, Hamish,' she said then, in a completely different voice. Now she sounded like the old Jeanie. 'Could you please tell me whether you have told Elena Levamanaia anything?'

I cleared my throat, thinking. Had I?

'You remember Elena?'