Free Kokopu Dreams by Chris Baker Page B

to be out on the road, travelling south, away from the stink.
    â€˜You’ll want to be on your way. You’ve got a long journey ahead of you. But there are some things I need to say to you before you leave.’
    Sean took Bojay around the back, unsaddled him and released him in a paddock with two other horses. The horse grazed unconcernedly, but Hamu wasn’t impressed when Sean tied him by the kitchen door. Inside Sean waited. For the rest of the day he drank black tea, smoked too much and wondered what Mihi had on her mind.
    Around dinnertime, two young men in white AFFCO overalls started frying grated potato with chopped-up onion and celery leaves, the delicious-smelling concoction bound with beaten egg. Finally Mihi appeared.
    â€˜Smells good,’ Sean said, as casually as he could. He’d learned over the years, mostly the hard way, that it never paid to appear disgruntled or at all put out by events. Right or wrong, any display of irritation was instantly interpreted as evidence of inflated self-importance, a serious impediment to progress in any area. Mihi laughed.
    â€˜Bet you’re hungry by now,’ she said. ‘Come on through to the dining room.’
    Sean followed her into the hall. It filled with about fifty people, many of whom he’d known in the past. Some smiled at him. Some looked surprised. Some embraced him, offering their commiserations. They had all lost children, parents, spouses, he knew, and in turn he offered his own sympathies. Mihi sat him beside her. After they’d eaten he spent the next hour talking with those around him about how they’d managed to establish themselves and who was involved with the Ngahere group.
    Slowly the dining hall emptied as people left to attend to chores, or simply to sit outside for a smoke and a chat. When only Mihi and Sean were left, she patted his hand and moved her chair back.
    â€˜Let’s get comfortable,’ she said. She waited while Sean stood and helped her with her chair, then she led the way into the wharenui.
    It was already dark outside and the hall was lit with a couple of kero lamps. Tukutuku panels adorned the walls and kowhaiwhai covered the exposed beams overhead. Carved ancestors gazed out from the walls and held up two poles supporting the backbone far overhead. Flax mats softened an already well-worn floor as they padded across. Mihi indicated the end of her mattress, and Sean sat cross-legged while she piled cushions and pillows against the wall and snuggled into them with a blanket over her legs. Other people were in the house but it felt like they were alone, just the two of them. They sat in an easy quiet till finally Mihi spoke.
    â€˜Which road are you taking south of Waikato?’
    â€˜I haven’t thought much about it,’ Sean replied. ‘Right down the middle, through Taupo, I suppose. I’m not even sure where I’m going.’
    â€˜Don’t! Travel through Taranaki instead.’ He was surprised when she looked at him with apprehension in her dark eyes.
    â€˜I can’t protect you from all the dangers you’ll face but I can tell you this much. There are things abroad now that have been in hiding from man and the more terrible of his works. Do you know the story of Kurangaituku?’
    Sean thought of the bird-headed monster, commemorated by a rock south of Tokoroa. He thought of the miles of pine trees too. He shivered when he imagined riding through them, camping among them. And Kurangaituku — he remembered Uncle Rangi laughing when he admitted to being scared riding his pushbike past an old church and graveyard on his way from Ohaeawai to the late shift at the Moerewa dairy factory.
    â€˜You won’t see anything,’ he had said. ‘You’ll be safe from kehua.’
    However Auntie Rehu hadn’t been so sure. If Sean saw anything, she’d told him when Uncle Rangi wasn’t listening, swear at it and burn some of his hair. It was