there diving for oysters off the concrete pier, collecting them in great piles to cart away in their aged pick-ups.
Petrol from the boat engines lay in purple-green pools on the surface of the water, but it did not seem to worry them. They called out cheerfully to their beautiful raggedy children who watched with their legs dangling in the water, their white teeth suddenly dazzling at some private joke.
A young Maori boy was poling an ancient canoe around the edges of the bay in the shallows by the trees, bending and digging his pole into the mud, his arm muscles flexing as he began to make it skim across the water, gaining confidence and pace with each stroke.
Out of nowhere came a memory. So slight it was a floater dancing in front of my eyes; a second, a fleeting second of remembrance. A long, empty beach at evening and a Malaysian fisherman poling fast across the horizon as the sun faded. He was silhouetted in black, like a cut-out against the dying sun, before he disappeared into the suddenness of a tropical night. Suddenly, behind me a shadowy figure appeared from nowhere, sliding past me away fast into the darkness; gone before I could turn.
The image faded abruptly leaving me full of unease. I saw Jack coming towards me and I got heavily to my feet and walked towards him. Whenever I saw him from a distance I felt a rush of gratitude. He was a lovely, uncomplicated man who made life easy; made loving effortless.
We got to Kerikeri early and Jack immediately got talking to people he knew, not difficult in a small place with a tiny landing strip. I paced up and down watching the sky, imagining Fleur emerging from the plane, getting into our ancient car, viewing our house for the first time. I wanted the time to come and go in a flash, leaving us as we were, content and hidden in our own lives, without any outside interruptions to halt the succession of each day.
The speck in the sky appeared and everyone stood looking skyward, jangling car keys, waiting. There were mutters and sometimes ribald murmurs. Most families, it seemed, had wanted and not so wanted visitors about to descend from the small jaw of the aircraft.
Jack threw his arm around me as the little two-engined plane circled and landed. Steps were wheeled out, and as the aircraft door was thrown open I realised that I was hardly breathing. Would Fleur be first out? Last?
People descended singly, blinking as they emerged. We watched everyone get off the plane and still we stood staring at the now empty doorway, waiting, but my mother did not appear.
‘Oh dear,’ Jack said.
‘Oh God. I might have known.’
‘Did you check she was on this flight?’
‘Yes. I also checked her flight from Singapore was on schedule.’
‘OK. Let’s go and talk to someone at the desk.’
The girl looked down her list. Yes, Mrs Campbell was on the passenger list. The girl got up and went out and talked to the two pilots and then came back. Mrs Campbell had not taken the flight from Auckland, despite calls over the Tannoy.
Was it possible, Jack asked, for her to make a telephone call to see if Mrs Campbell had been on the flight from Singapore to Auckland?
The girl looked irritated as I rummaged in my bag for Fleur’s flight number from Singapore. She obviously wanted to go off-duty. ‘I’ll try, but you might have to do it yourself from home…the lines get busy.’
‘That would be great of you. Melanie, isn’t it? So sorry to be a nuisance…’ Jack said smoothly, giving her his most toothy and boyish grin. It did the trick.
She spoke on the phone for some time, obviously being transferred from one department to another. Then she looked at us and nodded. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh.’ She shot me a look. ‘Yes. Someone’s here in Kerikeri to meet her. Her daughter. Yes. OK. I’ll put her on.’ She handed me the receiver.
‘Hello?’ I said. ‘I’m Nikki Montrose, Mrs Campbell’s daughter.’
‘Hi there.’ The Kiwi voice was relaxed, wanted to reassure. ‘Now, Mrs Montrose, try not to worry, perhaps there is a message waiting for you at home. Mrs Campbell was on the passenger list from Heathrow to Singapore but she was not on the second leg of her flight from Singapore to Auckland.’
‘Did she book in for her flight to Auckland from Singapore airport? Did her luggage have to be offloaded when she didn’t board?’
‘No. The information I have is that she did not return from her stopover in Singapore and the flight left without her.’
‘Oh God,’ I said.
‘Could I have your home telephone number, Mrs Montrose? If we hear anything we’ll contact you straight away, but what I advise is for you to contact her stopover hotel. Do you have the name of it?’
‘Yes. It was the Singapore Hilton. It’s Miss, by the way, I’m not married.’
‘I’m sorry’ the man said ‘to hear that, Ms Montrose.’
Humour was the last thing I felt like responding to. I also caught a quick flash of regret cross Jack’s face, because I didn’t want to get married.
‘It could be your mother has been taken ill or missed her flight for some reason and is booked on a later one…’ I could hear him fiddling with his computer. ‘She is not on any of the flights out of Singapore tonight or tomorrow…Sorry, I don’t think I can help you further at the moment…’
‘Thanks…you’ve helped all you can. Thank you for your time. If you hear anything you will contact—’
‘Of course. No worries. Good luck, Ms Montrose. I’m sure you’ll find your mother safe and well. Old people do go astray, you know.’
I laughed as I put the phone down. Fleur, old! Never. But she was vague.
We thanked Melanie and left the now deserted little terminal. As we drove slowly home I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know whether I was annoyed or anxious.
‘It seems you were right, Nik, she has gone walkabout.’ Jack looked at my face. ‘Darlin’, you really are worried something’s happened to her?’
‘I was being facetious before, Jack. Fleur is perfectly capable of travelling long distances. She spent her whole childhood doing it. How can you miss a plane on a stopover? A bus picks you up and deposits you, bang, at the airport. She knew we were meeting her. If something has happened why hasn’t she rung us?’
‘As soon as we get home we’ll ring that Singapore hotel. There may be a message waiting for us.’
But there wasn’t. Dark seemed to descend quickly and the house seemed oddly stilled. We had been poised waiting for Fleur. I didn’t want her to be ill and alone in some huge hotel full of strangers.
I rang the Singapore Hilton and could not make the first girl understand what I wanted and needed to know. I could feel my voice rising and Jack took the phone and calmly went over it all again. Then he put his hand over the mouthpiece.
‘They’re getting the manager.’
Jack repeated his message once more and then listened. I watched his face change and he flashed me an anxious look. He gave the man our number and said, yes, we would ring later.
