Amber (34 page)

‘So you say to her you are sorry, boy,’ Haunui ordered.

Amber was now standing well out of range behind Kitty, but Tahi walked slowly over to her and said stiffly, ‘I am sorry for being rude.’

Kitty touched him on his shoulder. ‘She doesn’t understand English, sweetheart.’

He looked up at her. ‘Does she understand Maori?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Kitty said. ‘Perhaps a little bit.’

‘Did her mama and papa not teach her?’ Tahi asked.

‘She’s never had a mama or a papa,’ Kitty explained.

So Tahi apologised again, this time in Maori. Amber stared at him for a moment, her head on one side and her dark shining hair falling over her face. Then she smiled, reached out to touch the end of Tahi’s nose and giggled.

‘Does she like me?’ Tahi asked, surprised.

Exchanging an amused glance with Kitty, Haunui said, ‘Perhaps she does, boy, perhaps she does.’

Kitty made sure that Amber was sitting safely in the centre of the small waka and holding onto Bodie firmly, then pushed off from the shallows. As soon as the waka was free of the sand she stepped in, sat down and took up the paddle.

‘All right?’ she said to Amber sitting behind her.

Amber only blinked at her, but Bodie, in a headlock under Amber’s arm, let out a muffled squawk.

‘You can probably let her go now, sweetheart,’ Kitty suggested, but Bodie was already wriggling free. She stepped daintily past Kitty and sat down in the prow of the waka, the stiff sea breeze ruffling her whiskers and turning one of her ears inside out.

Kitty soon found her rhythm with the paddle and struck out for the
Katipo
, anchored in the middle of the bay. She knew that if anyone had an idea of Rian’s whereabouts it would be Pierre, providing he was indeed aboard.

The wind grew stronger as she paddled beyond the shelter of the small island of Motumaire and out into the more open waters of the bay. The skies had darkened during the morning and were threatening rain, but Kitty couldn’t smell it yet, which meant they might be lucky and stay dry. Her arms were aching already; clearly, ten weeks languishing in Auckland had made her soft. Behind her, Amber chuckled as a sea bird ponderously launched itself from a wave and flapped heavily along until it caught the wind and began to rise.

‘I once lost a very good bonnet on this harbour, you know,’
Kitty said conversationally. ‘Not quite here, though. I think it was a little closer to Kororareka.’

She wondered sadly if Amber would ever speak, and how they would communicate if she never did. When she had been a child herself, there had been a family in Dereham with a girl of Kitty’s age who was profoundly deaf and, as a result, as good as mute. She could make noises, and did so frequently, but they were awful sounds—grunts and strange loud groans that had always frightened Kitty. At least Amber didn’t do that. And often, she did appear to be listening when people spoke to and around her, and occasionally even seemed to respond. On board the
Irish Bride
, Kitty had shouted at her for hanging over the ship’s rail and she had stepped quickly away from it. She supposed they could get by with a system of pointing at things and some sort of sign language if they had to, but she was sure that behind Amber’s silent mouth there was a very quick mind. So why couldn’t, or wouldn’t, she speak?

Perhaps a specialist physician in London might know, Kitty thought as she gritted her teeth against the cramps that were now beginning to grip her shoulder muscles. Yes, that’s what they would do—they would take her to London and have her seen by an expert. Doctor Moffitt had been kind and very efficient, but by his own admission unfamiliar with the field of medicine that concerned speech, so perhaps he had missed something that someone with more knowledge and experience might pick up. The thought gave Kitty hope, and spurred her to paddle the last aching furlong until she reached the
Katipo
.

The schooner’s rowboat was tied alongside but the ship itself looked deserted, and for a defeated moment Kitty wondered if in fact anyone was on board. Then, suddenly, a ratty, moustachioed face peered cautiously over the gunwale.

‘Pierre!’ Kitty cried. ‘It’s me, Kitty!’

Pierre’s face broke into a delighted grin, and a second later
the ladder came tumbling over the side.

Kitty secured the waka to the base of the ladder and indicated to Amber that she should climb onto her back. But Amber had other ideas: she wriggled past Kitty, grasped the sides of the rope ladder and scampered up it.

‘Amber, be careful!’ Kitty shouted, her heart in her mouth. Then she breathed a sigh of relief as Pierre’s sinewy arm appeared and hauled the child over the rail.

Kitty grabbed Bodie, unceremoniously stuffed her into Simon’s knapsack, borrowed expressly for that purpose, and followed Amber up the ladder. At the top, Pierre helped her onto the deck and gave her an enthusiastic embrace.

‘Kitty, Kitty, it is very good to see you!’ he declared, kissing both her cheeks flamboyantly. ‘We have been missing you!’

Kitty set the knapsack on the deck; Bodie struggled out of it, looking very affronted, then stalked off a few feet before she sat down and began to groom herself.

‘I’ve missed you, too, Pierre,’ Kitty said, feeling ridiculously weepy. ‘I had to come back. I couldn’t bear it in Auckland.’

‘Then I am glad,’ Pierre replied, his gaze shifting to Amber. ‘And
la petite fille
, she is who?’

‘This is Amber. I’ve, er, adopted her,’ Kitty said nervously. ‘I found her wandering the streets in Auckland. I made extensive inquiries, but she had no one to look after her and, well, I brought her with me. Permanently,’ she ended lamely.

Pierre bent down and extended his hand to Amber. She took it hesitantly, shooting a look of uncertainty at Kitty.

‘It’s all right,’ Kitty assured her. ‘Pierre is a nice man.’

Amber looked doubtful a moment longer, then reached out and vigorously tweaked the end of Pierre’s long moustache. He gave a yelp of surprise and she giggled irreverently.

‘She is a cheeky one,’ he remarked, his eyes watering. ‘And how many years have you, Mademoiselle Amber?’

‘She can’t speak, Pierre,’ Kitty said. ‘Or, at least, she hasn’t yet. But she isn’t slow.’

‘I see that,’ Pierre muttered. ‘And how has Madame Boadicea been? We thought she must have stole away with you.’

‘She did, and she’s been her usual self,’ Kitty said. ‘Pierre, where is Rian? I was hoping you would know. I’m desperate to see him.’

Pierre gave her a sympathetic look. ‘Not far. We were at the fight at Puketutu six days ago.
Mon Dieu
, what a
débâcle
. Then we pass through here on the way to following the Queen’s men to the Waikare River. Hulme has gone to Auckland and Major Bridge commands now. He is in pursuit of the Kapotai warriors to steal back the loot from Kororareka. Gideon was watch on the
Katipo
, then I draw the straw and she is the shortest, so now I am here.’

Kitty nodded. ‘When did they leave for Waikare, Rian and the others?’

‘Not yesterday, the day before.’

‘On foot or by sea?’

‘On foot. Less easy to be seen that way,’ Pierre said.

For a second Kitty was again overwhelmed with annoyance at Rian’s absurd need to sneak around after the British soldiers and generally put himself at risk for no good purpose. But she thrust her anger to the side—she needed a clear head.

‘Simon and I are going to find them,’ she said abruptly. ‘We brought horses up with us.’

A shadow crossed Pierre’s weathered face, but then he simply shrugged. ‘Then you need to leave today.’ He squinted up at the sky. ‘The weather, she is setting in.’

‘I know. Shall I leave Bodie here with you?’

‘
Oui
. It is boring and she will be company,’ Pierre said. ‘And the little girl?’

Kitty made a regretful face. ‘I was going to ask Aunt Sarah if
she will look after her. I hope she won’t mind. I don’t expect it will be for long, do you?’

She looked at Pierre but, disconcertingly, his countenance remained impassive.

When Kitty told Sarah that she and Simon planned to go after Rian, Sarah was very much against the idea.

‘It’s far too dangerous, Kitty,’ she insisted. ‘Heke and Kawiti’s men are everywhere. You may even be shot at by the British if you’re wandering around in the bush.’

‘I don’t care,’ Kitty said stubbornly. ‘I’ve mouldered away in Auckland for months and I’ve had enough. I have to see him, Aunt Sarah.’

For a long moment, Sarah regarded her with some compassion: if it had been Caleb, she would almost be tempted to go out and look for him, too. But what she said was, ‘I wouldn’t call adopting a little orphan girl “mouldering,” dear. I would call that doing God’s work in the best way you know how.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Kitty snapped. ‘I’d call it doing what any decent person would do.’

‘It’s the same thing, isn’t it?’ Sarah countered. Then she sighed, aware that her niece was behaving in such a short-tempered manner only because she was worried and desperately missing her husband. ‘He
will
come back, Kitty, you know he will. Hasn’t he always been a very competent and capable sort of man?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Then can you not wait here until Major Bridge’s men come back from Waikare?’ Sarah frowned. ‘Rian
is
fighting with the Volunteers, isn’t he?’ Then, seeing Kitty’s hesitation, she raised her hand. ‘No, never mind, I don’t want to know. And either way, I still believe a man the cut of Rian Farrell is perfectly capable of looking after himself.’

‘Perhaps, but I’m still going to find him,’ Kitty said flatly.

Sarah had an inspiration. ‘You can’t. You can’t leave that little girl here by herself. She’ll think she’s been abandoned all over again.’

This struck at the very centre of Kitty’s heart.

‘I
know
that, Aunt Sarah!’ she almost shouted. ‘Don’t you think I don’t? But I can’t help it, I
have
to find him!’

Sarah’s cat’s-bum mouth from the old days appeared for a moment, then disappeared just as quickly: she knew Kitty wouldn’t be taking the decision to leave the little girl at Paihia lightly.

‘Very well,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I can see I can’t talk you out of it. I’ll look after Amber, on one condition—and that is that you must come back here after a week. That poor child won’t know whether she’s Arthur or Martha if you’re away any longer than that.’

Kitty thought furiously—she wasn’t going to cover much distance in a week, given the way the weather was setting in. On the other hand, Waikare wasn’t all that far away, and that meant Rian wasn’t, either.

And then she stopped, realising with an unpleasant jolt how just selfish she was being. She was desperate to know Rian was safe, but at what cost to Amber? Feeling tears approaching, she bit her lip and said, ‘Yes, I know, you’re right. It will have to be no more than a week. I’ll try to be back before that.’

‘Yes, you do that, Kitty,’ Aunt Sarah said, slightly reprovingly. ‘I’ve not been a mother myself, as you well know, but I’ve been around children long enough now to know that they need the constant presence of someone they love. And that little girl is very attached to you, Kitty, it’s as plain as the nose on my face. So you must be back as soon as you can, for her sake if no one else’s.’

The next morning dawned cool and overcast, and it began to drizzle as Kitty and Simon saddled the horses. Kitty had named the grey Tio, which in Maori meant oyster, because that was her colour. Simon, however, had settled on something rather more pragmatic for the bay—Horo, the word for fast.

Despite Sarah’s disapproving looks, Kitty was wearing her moleskin trousers, a man’s blue serge shirt and heavy jacket, a broad-brimmed hat and a rainproof oilcloth cape. On either side of her saddle hung bags containing a change of clothes, a tinder box and some basic food items, including bread and cheese, and tea and sugar in twists of paper. There was also a pistol Haunui had somehow acquired and passed on to her, and which Kitty had no idea how to fire.

Simon was attired in a similar fashion to Kitty, although he looked as miserable as the day and his old felt hat had collapsed around his ears like a sodden cabbage.

‘We’d better set off, I suppose,’ he said, looking at his watch.

Kitty nodded and walked across Sarah’s lawn to say goodbye. She hugged her aunt, Rebecca and Haunui, and bent down to say farewell to Tahi, who gazed back at her with big, serious eyes. Then she sat down on the edge of the verandah and put Amber on her knee.

‘I have to go away for a few days, Amber,’ she said in Maori. ‘But I promise I’ll be back. All right? I promise, sweetheart, I promise with all my heart.’

Amber looked at her for a long moment. Then, with a curiously blank face, she slid off Kitty’s knee and went and stood at the other end of the verandah, staring out into the rain.

Kitty’s heart almost broke. She glanced over at Simon, who shook his head sadly, then at Sarah, who said, ‘I told you that would happen, didn’t I?’

‘Thank you, Aunt Sarah, that’s a helpful thing to say,’ Kitty
said angrily as she stood up and made herself walk back to the horses before her guilt got the better of her.

She and Simon mounted and squelched across the grass towards the beach. Blending into the low sky, the sea was the colour of gunmetal, the waves small but choppy. Kitty itched to look back for one last glimpse of Amber, but was frightened that, if she did, she wouldn’t leave at all.

But at the last moment she did turn her head, and there was Amber standing at the edge of Sarah’s garden, her hands parked on her hips and a furious expression on her face.

‘
Mama
,’ she cried in a rusty, cracking voice. She stamped her foot and, bent almost double with the effort, shrieked it again. ‘
Mama!
’

Kitty reined in Tio and closed her eyes. Then she pulled the horse around.

Simon dismounted, groaned theatrically and knocked the rain off his hat. They had been following various tracks south from Paihia and around the Haumi rivermouth for almost four hours now, and he had demanded a stop so he could ease his legs, which, he moaned to Kitty, were surely on the verge of snapping off. They were heading for the eastern reaches of the harbour, where Major Bridge’s troops had allegedly been going. It would have been very much quicker to take the horses across the bay to Kororareka and go south-east from there, or even by water straight down the harbour to the mouth of the Waikare River. But there had been no suitable transport for the horses, so their only choice was to ride all the way around the harbour, which was probably going to take them several days.