Frog Whistle Mine (8 page)

It was now normal for Nick, Christine, Rose and Tony to dine together as if they were the ideal family. Dinner that night was kingfish steaks and chips.

Everyone in the dining room must have seen that there was something between Christine and Nick. Christine was glowing like the light on top of the Christmas tree, and Nick ate with a perpetual grin on his face. All the time they would find ways to touch each other, or to pass intimate, secret glances. Rose watched everything; always storing away things for her Charleston Chitchat. Several editions had already carried the news of the lodge’s wonderful Christmas love affair.

While Tony was not one to show his emotions, he too was enjoying the relationship. He liked Nick. There was nothing flashy about the man. He seemed as solid as the rocks he spent so much time studying. Plus he was good for Christine. In the past, Tony had seen his mother change into a different person when she was around males. She became a loud, overly-friendly woman who seemed unwilling to show her real self. There was nothing like that
when she was with Nick. The Christine that Nick saw was the true Christine: a quiet, caring, intelligent woman, who—for some reason—had not yet found her real place in life. Tony hoped that the relationship would grow into something permanent and bring some stability into their lonely world. Maybe this place really did have light at the end of the tunnel.

He munched away on his dinner, thinking things were working out real fine: he had a way of earning money, a good place to live, and there were possibilities for a better future. And, on top of that, tomorrow was Christmas Day. He looked around the room to see what sort of people he would be spending Christmas with. They were the usual colourful lot: mostly young, cheerful and interesting. Many of them had been at the lodge for at least one night already. There seemed to be only one new couple, and they were sitting over in the corner. He looked at them, trying to judge their nationality, when he realised—with a jolt—he didn’t have to guess. He already knew. It was the French couple he had seen that afternoon in Duggan’s shop. The ones who had bought the poisoned marshmallows.

Tony felt the happiness drain from his body, leaving behind an empty feeling of concern and fear. These people were staying here, which made them the responsibility of the lodge, including him. He couldn’t let anything happen to them. What if the poison had some immediate effect? It would upset Christmas for everyone. He had to do something, but what?

After dinner he led Rose to a quiet spot on the deck
where he told her about his visit to the shop. Rose showed the same concern he was feeling.

‘We’ve got to do something,’ she said.

‘I know. But what?’

Rose took a while to answer. ‘We’ve got to get the packet of marshmallows out of their room.’

‘What? Break in?’

‘No! I’ve got a key. Grandma gave it to me so I could do little jobs for her.’

‘But they’ll find it’s been taken.’

‘Not necessarily. People often forget where they’ve put things. They’ll just think they’ve lost it.’

‘We could make out the weka got in and took it.’

Rose thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, that’s a possibility. If I find the room unlocked, that’s what I’ll do.’

‘Are
you
going to do it?’

‘Yes. If I get into trouble I just get told off. I’m the grandchild. They can’t get rid of me. It might be different if you got caught.’

‘When?’

‘As soon as they come to the lounge for drinks. It will only take a moment. I’ll go to the office now and find what chalet they’re in.’

While he waited, Tony thought about what they were doing: it was wrong, but they were doing it for good reasons. The more he thought, the more convinced he was that taking the marshmallows was the right thing to do. It would also give them a packet of the poisoned mallows. Then they’d be able to test them with a Geiger counter and
prove they contained uranium. That would be the first step in stopping Duggan.

Rose returned with the chalet number. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

Tony nodded, and the pair of them walked back into the lounge. At the same time the French couple walked in the other door. ‘That’s them,’ said Tony

‘Then I’ll do it now,’ Rose whispered.

She went to move off, but Tony pulled her back. ‘No! Look at the man’s hand.’ She did, and saw the packet of yellow marshmallows held between his finger and thumb, swinging back and forth as he walked.

‘Oh, hell,’ she said.

They watched as the couple joined a group and sat down. The man put the packet on the table in front of him.

‘We’ve got to get it off them,’ said Rose.

‘Too late.’

The Frenchman had picked up the packet and was ripping it open. Then he took out one of the marshmallows. For a moment he played with it in his hand.

‘Do something,’ said Rose urgently.

Tony didn’t know what to do. He watched as the man moved to put the sweet into his mouth

‘Tony!’ whispered Rose. ‘Stop them!’

That was enough: he couldn’t let anybody eat uranium. He rushed forward yelling, ‘No! Don’t!’

The man stopped. Everyone stopped. The buzz of conversation ceased, as if turned off by a switch.

The scene was like a flash photograph catching everyone
unawares. Tony was standing, pointing at the mallow; the Frenchman had his hand halfway to his mouth; his partner was fishing into her bag for money to buy the drinks; and at the bar Lofty had frozen part way through pouring a drink.

The first person to speak was a German woman sitting at the same table. ‘Why do you say “no”?’

Tony was in shock from the situation he had caused. For a moment he was speechless. When his voice returned the words tumbled out: ‘It is poison. The whole bag. It is poison.’

This was the signal for everyone to move; not back to the relaxed state of before, but to a position of anticipation—waiting for the drama to unfold.

Now the Frenchwoman spoke. ‘Poison? How do you know this?’

‘I, ah, I…I just know.’

‘Come on, Tony.’ It was Betty. ‘You’re going to have to do better than that.’ She’d come out of the kitchen to protect her guests. She did not look happy.

Tony felt more confident talking to someone he knew. ‘I was there when they bought it. Duggan dropped the package on the floor and then he swapped the good one for this.’

Betty turned to the couple. ‘Did the man who sold you it drop it on the floor?’

They looked at each other and spoke in French for a moment before answering. ‘Oui! Yes! Yes, he did. But we see no change.’

She turned back to Tony. ‘All right, so the package might have been changed for some reason, but what makes you think it has been poisoned?’

At that moment Jamie Duggan walked in the door with his usual smile, whistling quietly to himself. He stopped when he saw the tense scene playing out before him. ‘Hello! Do we have a wee problem here?’

‘Ask him,’ blurted Tony. ‘Ask him if he swapped the package.’

Duggan’s face clouded. ‘And what package is this?’ he asked in a controlled voice.

Betty answered: ‘Tony thinks that you swapped the package that these people brought to the counter for another one. Did you?’

He paused, weighing up his options. ‘I may have replaced it with some other stock. What of it?’

‘Tony says this pack is poisoned.’

‘What? Poisoned?’

Tony couldn’t control himself anymore. ‘Yes, poisoned. You poisoned it with uranium because you hate French people.’

Now everyone was looking at each other. The word ‘uranium’ was repeated on several lips.

‘And we can prove it,’ Tony continued. ‘Can’t we, Nick?’ Nick looked like he wanted nothing to do with it. ‘Nick’s Geiger counter will prove it.’

‘Aye,’ said Duggan. ‘If Dawnay can prove it, let him go get his machine and we’ll sort this oot once and fer all.’

Nick could have been away for only a minute or two,
but to Tony it felt like a lifetime. People had moved so that he was standing by himself, isolated. Even Rose, whose urging had prompted him to speak, had moved away from the action. His mother was the closest to him, yet not to support him: her face was red with a mix of anger and shame.

He could tell nobody believed him—yet, they’d soon know the truth. They’d soon find he was right.

Nick appeared with the instrument and it was turned on. The occasional clicking echoed around the silent room. Then it was moved closer to the packet of marshmallows. Tony held his breath—now they would know.

Nothing changed—the clicking remained as random as before. Nick held it at several different angles trying to make it click faster—still nothing.

Tony hung his head. He had been so sure, so very, very sure.

‘See?’ said Duggan, ‘Of course there’s nothin’. Do you think I would try to poison people?’

‘Then why did you swap the package, Jamie?’ asked Betty.

Duggan lowered his head to look at the floor. ‘I wanted rid of some old stock,’ he said quietly. Then he looked at the French couple. ‘I’m sorry. It’s true, I doona like the French and I have my reasons fer tha’. But I wouldna poison them. Och, I’m nay an animal.’

Betty turned to Tony. ‘I think you had better apologise to everyone, Tony.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a voice that shook with emotion.
Then he turned and ran from the room. Instead of taking the path, he plunged into the scrub, unaware of anything except the need to get as far from the scene as possible. The gorse scratched his arms and the manuka whipped his face red. Several times he tripped, once into a watercourse that would have trapped him if it had been any deeper. None of these things did he notice. The only thing he knew was that he had to run and get away from them all.

Eventually he came to a stop. It was a clearing beneath the terrace—a patch of dry, bare ground, sheltered by overhanging limestone. By now he was crying uncontrollably. He sat on the ground, pulled his knees up to his head, and wept.

Slowly it became dark, and still he stayed and cried. At some stage the moon rose and he could see the top of the caravan through the bushes. He got up and pushed his way homewards. Once inside, he climbed under the covers and curled into a ball, hoping that sleep would come and take him away for ever.

Soon after, his watch gave a little beep, signalling that midnight had passed. It was now Christmas Day.

Tony woke to the squawk of the weka. He looked out the window to see the whole family fossicking alongside the caravan. It gave him some hope: at least
they
hadn’t deserted him—not yet, anyway. Everyone else would have. He covered his head with his hands. Oh what a fool he had been. To think that he had really believed Duggan was poisoning people with uranium. How could he have been so stupid?

His watch said it was five thirty-three. It was a good time for a walk without other people around. The last thing he wanted was contact with humans, even though he knew that would have to happen sometime.

He took the track to the main road and set off towards the hall. There was no set plan except to walk and keep away from the lodge for as long as possible. After a while he came to the Catholic cemetery and its statue of Mary blessing all those who passed. It made him think of the Frenchwoman, Monique Lafleur. She had visited this place looking for an ancestor, but what good had the blessing done her?

Tony had walked through cemeteries before, but this one was different, there was nothing ghostly about it. There was no sense that dead people had recently been laid to rest. This was not a living cemetery, it was now just a monument to Charleston’s past.

There were no French names that Tony could recognise, so it was unlikely that Monique Lafleur had found the name she wanted.

He left the cemetery, walked past the hall and pub and motel, to a side road which ended up at the Protestant cemetery. This had more of an abandoned look than the other one. Many of the residents had been only babies, some just a few days old. And all the graves faced the sea, as if in death the dead wanted to look towards home.

An overgrown track led in the direction of the sea. After battling with the manuka, Tony emerged onto a rocky point, with a sign that said
Cod Rocks
. Nobody was fishing on this Christmas morning, yet the roundness of the rocks and the quick drop into the sea made it an excellent spot to sit, relax and think.

Tony did sit and think, but he didn’t relax. Instead, he worried about the situation he had created. Betty and Lofty wouldn’t want him around the lodge after last night’s performance. They couldn’t afford to have a boy embarrassing the guests all the time. That meant Christine would lose her job. Just when everything had been working out so well, he had blown it.

For four hours he sat, looking out to sea and worrying. It was a shock when he looked at his watch and saw the
time. People might be looking for him. He’d better get back before he caused any more trouble.

Partway around the rocks he found Nick with his computer, sitting beside a drill hole. ‘Hi, Tony. People are looking for you.’

‘I bet they are,’ he said, glumly.

Nick looked at him. ‘It is because they are worried about you.’ He pulled out a telephone and dialled a number. When it was answered, he said, ‘He is with me. We will be back shortly.’ Then he disconnected. ‘There, that will stop them worrying. I will finish my readings and then we will go back.’

Slowly Tony began to feel better. It was comforting, being beside Nick, watching him at work. For a long time neither of them spoke and that too was reassuring.

‘Are you still expecting an earthquake?’ Tony asked as Nick began to pack up.

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

Nick took his time in answering. ‘New Year’s Eve. That is if my calculations are correct.’

‘Are you still going to keep it secret?’

‘Yes, and I expect you to as well.’

‘I will,’ said Tony quietly. ‘I won’t be telling anybody about anything anymore. Not after last night.’

There were lots of people in the lounge when they got back.
Betty was the first to see Tony and she quickly took his arm, leading him away from the others. They went through the back of the kitchen into a living room.

‘Here, take a seat,’ she said. ‘I want to have a talk to you.’

Tony sat and looked at the floor. Here it comes, he thought.

‘I guess you’re feeling pretty upset about what happened last night?’

Tony nodded.

‘Yes, I thought so. It was a bit of a mess, wasn’t it?’

Again he nodded.

‘But you did the right thing.’

He looked up at her, wondering if this was a trick or something.

‘Yes, dear. You did the right thing. You thought the French couple were in danger and you did something about it. That took guts, and all of the people out there know that.’ She waved to the door leading back to the lounge. ‘Last night I made you apologise. I’m annoyed with myself for that. So it’s my turn to say sorry.’

Tony nodded his acceptance. He didn’t know what to say. Rarely had an adult apologised to him like this.

Betty continued, ‘Jamie Duggan came in this morning and replaced the marshmallows and gave the couple a lovely gift pack of other things. He wanted to see you, but you couldn’t be found. Anyway he’s coming back this evening and he wants to meet with you and Christine, and Nick and Rose also. He wants to sort things out so there are no more bad feelings. It only leads to misunderstanding
and the sort of thing that happened last evening.’

She stood up. ‘So, what do you think? Are you ready to come out and open your presents?’

He managed a bit of a smile. ‘Yes, please.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’

The next few hours were wonderful. After some awkward moments at the start, Tony became immersed in the giving and receiving of gifts. Everyone got something. It was great seeing the enjoyment the guests got from their simple gifts of New Zealand things. Then it was time for the residents to swap their presents. Tony was voted to be first. He was both embarrassed and pleased. He couldn’t help but smile as he handed out the things he had bought. It felt even better than he had imagined.

Tony got only two gifts: one from everybody, and one from Rose. The collective gift was a digital camera—one with mega-everything. He was thrilled, both with the gift and the thought that they cared enough to combine and get something so good.

The present from Rose was equally special. She had made a simple pendant out of a bit of the greenstone. While everyone was watching, she made him stand as she put it over his head and tucked it in place. Then she kissed him on the cheek, and all the others cheered. Tony went bright red. It was
so
embarrassing—yet also real nice.

Lunch was a barbecue. It was highly popular with the overseas guests. Many of them telephoned their families at home to tell them about the special New Zealand Christmas they were having.

In the afternoon, Rose and Tony went down to the bays with the new camera: seagulls, seals, flax, flowers, even rocks—you name it, it got photographed. Tony couldn’t stop smiling. The day had started out the worst ever, and now it was the best ever. This was his first
real
Christmas, and he knew he would remember it for the rest of his life.