Page 72 of Just One Look
“Yeh,” Marko said. “Nyree’s. She’s good, eh. That’s an older one. Have her show you what she’s doing now. She’ll blow you away.”
Nyree came into the foyer, saying, “Oh, thank God. Here, Marko.” She thrust the baby at him, and he took her with careful hands, said something soft in a language full of harsh syllables that surely wasn’t Maori, kissed her head of dark curls with complete unselfconsciousness, and snuggled her up against his broad chest.
“She’s just eaten,” Nyree said. “She’s good for a couple of hours. Elizabeth, I know I should … I don’t know. Give you a cup of tea. Talk about babies. What I really want, though, is that walk by the sea, and ice cream. No, gelato. I’ve barely been out of this house for a week, and I was in hospital for almost another week before that.I need an outing. The weather’s about to turn, that cyclone coming in. Last chance.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said. “Gelato always sounds good to me.”
“Then let’s go,” Nyree said, grabbing a jacket off a hook and shoving her feet into clogs. “Right now.”
When they were in Elizabeth’s car and headed down Tamaki Drive towards Auckland, past one idyllic, crescent-shaped, golden-sand beach after another, Nyree said, “I didn’t even let you take off your coat or say hi to my mum. I also left Marko therewithmy mum. I’ll be struck by lightning, probably.”
“Probably,” Elizabeth said, “but sounds like it’ll be worth it.” Nyree laughed, and Elizabeth asked, “Has it really been that bad?”
Nyree laid her head back against the seat and sighed. “Where to start. Oh. We’re coming up on Mission Bay. Park anywhere here. Across the street is the café I first went with Marko. First date, eh, or something like it. After he ran into the sea without taking his wallet and keys out of his pockets, that is. He lost the keys, too, and I had to give him a lift home.” She sighed again. “It was awesome. He didn’t know what to do with himself once he lost the high ground. Well, once hekeptlosing it. I’d already made him adopt a kitten.”
Nyree laughed. “Akitten?That guy? So that cat was his?”
“That’s what he said, and I’m pretty sure Cat thinks he’s hers, not the other way round. Never mind. It’s good for him. Oh, good, you found a carpark. Let’s walk on the beach, because I need my toes in the sand and my feet in the water today. Need to feel like a Maori girl from Northland again, maybe, and not a mum.”
“We’ll get pretty sandy,” Elizabeth said dubiously.
“That’s the point,” Nyree said. “Come on.”
The wind hit them as soon as they got out, blowing in gusts that flung salt spray and sand at them. They ran over lush green grass that looked like it had never heard of drought, under huge, gnarled trees, some with aerial roots growing from high up, twining down and into the ground like hanging ropes, through a gap in a low concrete wall and onto the sand, where Nyree immediately kicked off her shoes and Elizabeth, after a moment’s hesitation, did the same. Nyree started walking, and Elizabeth said, “We can’t just leave our shoes here.”
“Why not?” Nyree asked.
“Well, first, won’t somebody take them?”
“Dunno. Do you get a lot of random shoe thieves in the States, then, always on the lookout for something good in their size? Not exactly a bustling highway along here, either.” Which was true. Elizabeth could see, at this moment, about three people on the long crescent of sand.
“We’ll need them to get gelato, surely,” she tried next. “They won’t let you into a food establishment barefoot.”
“They’ll have to give up selling ice creams at the beach, then,” Nyree said. “You’re in New Zealand now. I had my shoes off more than I had them on when I was a kid. What, nobody turns up in hospital barefoot? Reckon all they do is shove their feet into jandals, then. It’s a shoeless country, especially in the North Island. God’s country. Bring yours if you like, though.”
Reboot,Elizabeth reminded herself.You are embracing new experiences.She hesitated, then picked up her shoes and socks. “I can’t cross the street barefoot,” she explained to Nyree.
“Fair enough,” Nyree said. “Let’s go.”
They walked on the yellow sand, which was firmer underfoot than the beaches of Elizabeth’s childhood, and hugged their jackets to their bodies against the wind. Overhead, white clouds scudded fast across the sky, and the dark-sapphire water, nearly blackened in places by the reflection of cloud, was ruffled like her Memaw’s best bedspread. The steady, muffled roar and whoosh of the waves coming in and going out was hypnotic, the wind lifted strands of her hair, loosening it from its knot, the sand was gritty, cool, and just yielding enough under her feet, and some of her tension was coming loose, too. Being barefoot was oddly grounding, like you were connecting in a different way. Interesting. Two hundred thousand nerve endings in the sole of the foot, more than anywhere else in the body, which meant humans had evolved to get these messages through their feet. What was the research on that?
“So,” she said. “Tell me how your week’s been. Your mother’s difficult, then? Not like you?”
“No,” Nyree said, “she’s just exactly not difficult. That’s the problem. She’s so tactful, it makes Marko grit his teeth. He goes through the day frowning, polite, and under control. It’s a bit terrifying, though Mum won’t think so, because she’s married to Grant Armstrong. Marko’s former coach. Marko and Grant hate each other, so there’s that, too. I married Marko bloody Sendoa.” She sighed. “I still love to remember it.”
“Ooh,” Elizabeth said. “Romeo and Juliet?”
“Exactly. Except that Grant’s my stepdad, not my dad, and I’m Team Marko all the way. No divided loyalties here. But—here you are, then. Example. Mum did the washing yesterday and handed Marko a stack of his things, all folded. His face when he looked down at his folded undies, then looked up at her again …” She laughed, then grabbed her stomach. “Ow. Still hurts.”
“Hold it when you laugh,” Elizabeth said. “Use your hands, if you don’t have the pillow. And oh, dear.”
“Also,” Nyree continued, “she cleaned our bathroom yesterday. He wasn’t best pleased about that, either, especially when she said, “I know a man doesn’t think about these things, Marko, darling, but we have to make sure Nyree doesn’t pick up any nasty germs in here,’ as if he were shedding fungus spores. Andhesaid, ‘You’re right. That’s why I cleaned the toilet and shower yesterday.’ And told me afterwards that if she looked in any drawers and got herself shocked, I could deal with the fallout.”
“Mercy,” Elizabeth said, but she was laughing.
“She keeps cooking, too,” Nyree went on, “so he can’t. Makes him narky. He doesn’t think she does lamb right, and she doesn’t think he does. She’s Maori, of course, so that’s a deadly insult, andhisfamily are sheep farmers, so it’s worse. Also, he’s got a list of all the nutrients I need, and she sometimes doesn’t balance a meal or serve me enough Vitamin A or whatever it is he’s worried about, so he tries to force-feed me raw carrots later. Whilst grumbling about it.”
“What do you do?” Elizabeth asked. “To mediate?”
