“And then you met somebody else,” he said. “After your grandmother died, I’m guessing.”
“Yes. She would’ve known better, and maybe I’d even have listened. That was Peter. He was charming, too. And handsome. Maybe I’m a slow learner?” She smiled. Making an effort. “It was fine, though. It was better, because itwasequal, or it felt like it. He was making pretty good money, too, though it was erratic. One of the first influencers over here, believe it or not. Did you know that’s the career young people are most likely to aim for now? Influencer.” She took another sip of champagne. “Dangerous. Like pinning all your hopes on being an All Black, probably.”
“Probably,” he said. “But he was good at it, eh.”
“Yes. He was … devil-may-care, I think is the word. I’d been serious for so long. Responsible. Worried. He made me feel alive again. Maybe even young. He spent time with Finlay, and I thought, how lucky am I to have a man that’s willing to take on another man’s child? He loved me and said so. It was hearts and flowers, and I’d never had that. Then we had Olive, and he was happy about that, too. Another adventure. He filmed me all through the pregnancy, and in labor, too, even in the birthing room, and shared it on his feed. That wasn’t my favorite thing, but I thought—he wants this. He’s excited about this. I’m lucky.”
“So what happened?” Zane asked. “To disillusion you?”
She laughed, just a huff of breath. “You can tell?”
“Well, yeh. Pretty obvious that you’ve got some wounds.”
“Pretty simple. He was a risk-taker. He liked excitement. He liked adventure. That was the whole idea. I was the steady one, the home front. That was OK, because Iamthat person. I like teaching Year One. I like being home with my kids. I liked cooking for your whanau today. I’m not … I’m not exciting, but I told myself that was OK. And didn’t ask about other women, because I was pretty sure I knew the answer. And I’m going to tell you the rest pretty quickly, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s your story. Tell it how you want.”
“I fell pregnant with George. One of those things you do when part of you knows it’s a bad idea, and the rest of you is trying to wrap those ties around your whanau, to hold it together any way you can. Meanwhile, Peter went to Africa to film himself traveling, then decided to go on safari. The trip was meant to be six weeks, but he extended it and went to Botswana.”
“While you were pregnant,” Zane said. “And he met a hippo, I presume.”
“What I didn’t know until later,” she said, “was that he used some drugs. Again—naïve. You don’t find many drug users in primary schools, so what did I know? Recreationally, that was all, but still. Always looking for excitement, like I said. Anyway, he went on safari and ended up, eventually, in the Okavango Delta. It’s a huge area. Marshy. Full of wildlife. The guides pole these dugout canoes through the waterways—reeds all around, you know the type of place—and luckily, they know what they’re doing, because it’s an insane thing todo when you think about it. Tourists hardly ever meet any misfortune, though, even though the place is full of hippos and six-meter crocs. Hippos are the fourth most dangerous African animal, did you know that? They kill hundreds of people every year, even though they’re herbivores. They’re aggressive, and they’re extremely territorial. Do you know what the most dangerous animal is?”
“I’d guess water buffalo, if it’s meant to be a trick question. Or those crocs, maybe.”
“Mosquitoes. Mosquitoes cause the most deaths, and snakes are second. Your crocs are third. Anyway, to make a long story short—a story I didn’t learn until later—Peter got chatting with one of the guides. He was an attractive person, the kind who made friends everywhere. A bit like your brother Gordon.”
Zane made a face. “I hope not.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. That was probably unfair. I don’t know Gordon.”
“You know enough. But go on with the story.”
“Right. Peter wanted to try poling the canoe himself, and to have the guide film him doing it. For his feed, you know. And as you’d expect, that wasn’t allowed. So when the group was resting at camp that afternoon, he and the guide sneaked out in one of the canoes. The guide didn’t want to give Peter the pole, because he wasn’tthatstupid, but once they smoked some weed out there, it looked like a better idea. Although that’s legal in heaps of places now, and no worse than drinking, they say.”
“But you wouldn’t get drunk,” Zane said, “and head into a dangerous situation like that.”With two kids and another on the way,he didn’t say. He was furious, and he hadn’t even heard the story yet.
“No. Not if you had good sense. But Peter—that was his charm, you see, for the cameras and even without them. Hewas impulsive. He wasfun.They got high, and he poled the canoe, terribly at first—I saw the footage—and then a little better. They were laughing, because itwasfunny, and he was poling along, half falling out. All fun and games, until they stumbled into a family of hippos because the guide was distracted. And, of course, high.”
“Ah,” Zane said. “The hippo. Which isnota funny story, by the way.”
“No. Not to me. Peter tried to pole away fast. He just wasn’t good enough at it. He fell overboard.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yes. The guide was still giggling—you can hear it on the film—and shouting, ‘Swim! Swim!’ Peter tried, but the hippo got there first.” She looked at him at last. “He bit Peter in two. They have those huge mouths, you know, that they can open incredibly far. It looks funny, but it’s an aggressive act. A threat. I don’t imagine it looked funny to that guide, anyway, and it didn’t look funny to me. Peter didn’t see. That was the one thing that helped. He was headed away, swimming to the canoe. He didn’t see it coming for him.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeh. It was all on camera, and even though Finlay never saw it, thank God, that’s the image he has in his head. That’s why he worries about death and pretends he’s just interested.”
Zane could see the picture himself. It was right there. “Are you sure he didn’t see it?”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, he was sorry. She sat up straighter, and she went rigid. “You don’t think?—”
“I think,” Zane said, “that most things are out there. Most things end up leaked. I know that, because I’m a sportsman. You may want to ask him.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. I’d better do that.”
