In a Fishbone Church Read online

  Pulse 93

  May 14 Thur

  Had a letter from Etta, Gene got his limit of ducks on opening day & a pheasant & a brace of quail on Sunday.

  May 31 Sun

  Mucked about today I made 2 keys up one for Carnelian’s 21st birthday & the other one I will keep for a pattern. I have made them out of Stainless Steel wire & on each one I have brazed a small cup hook. The idea is (unlike the usual 21st key which is useless) you can hang these up on the wall & keys can be kept thereon, making the 21st key a useful article. I will make enquiries re price & may sell some. A good standby if the rod orders run out.

  Jul 1 Wed

  Tomorrow Gene & Etta fly to Christchurch. I wonder how they feel, because a plane with 23 people on board has gone missing near Auckland believed crashed in the mountains. Very unsettling. Colin got the strap at school today I reckon his teacher has the right idea

  Jul 2 Thur

  The plane lost yesterday has been discovered all 23 on board were killed instantly & burned. Mum & I met Gene & Etta at the Airport at 5.15 p.m. Gene fetched some photos of his Wellington job down with him & they show just how good he is as a Forman. Health V Good.

  Marsha 6 p.m.

  Jul 4 Sat

  The big night Carnelian’s 21st party. 130 guests were there & she got about £230 worth of presents. We had 22 1/2 galls of beer, 4 doz bottles ale, 12 1/2 bottles of sherry, 2 whisky 2 brandy 2 gin 2 1/2 galls punch as well as soft drinks. Alma, Mum’s sister, who made the cake, said it weighed at least 43lbs that is 13lbs short of 1/2 Cwt. Jimmy amused us all he had a go at rolling one of my cigarettes & he made us laugh when he did the licking part. He doesn’t miss a thing, he is sharp like his Grandad. He used 2 swear words tonight Shitpot & Bugger he also had a glass of beer he’s tough

  Jul 12 Sun

  We took Gene to the airport. Etta is staying on for a few days with her folks. Gene presented us with a Pheasant he shot, he had it mounted & its wonderful. Gene it will be yours someday. He flew out at 3.40 p.m. Carnelian had a little cry Mum had a big cry.

  Jul 18 Sat

  Etta telephoned from her parents she is not allowed to see us it is beyond me.

  Dolly 4 p.m.

  Marsha 7 p.m.

  Aug 13 Thur

  No Beryl, she rang, had Colin to the Doctor, he will live. In the meantime I have no staff.

  Sep 5 Sat

  Carnelian had Neville round for tea Carnelian & her fancy chipped potatoes, the house full of stinking smells & blue smoke. I told Neville that when I see him now I associate him with crook smells. Carnelian not pleased. I heard Colin got a hiding from his Father. Ha Bloody Ha.

  Sep 22 Tue

  Mum finishing a cardigan for me. Gene out Deer Stalking in the Taupo district.

  Later – Mum has finished my cardigan it is lovely. I have it on. Heard tonight Gene wounded a pig & his mate got a Deer.

  Oct 3 Sat

  Bad luck in my garden today I put so much chicken manure on my main row of raspberries that I killed them

  Oct 25 Sun

  How does a champion feel to run second. I went out to the Waimak at Midnight to get one particular whitebait spot & Rob was to bring the family out this morning. Alas, champion that I was to get there before 1 a.m., I only came second. Blast the enemy. I came straight home & slept in bed instead. Drove over a hare on the way. Neville & Carnelian were apparently asleep on the couch (Oh Dear) & Mum got up & let me in.

  Nov 20 Fri

  Out this morning at 5 a.m. but these bloody whitebait don’t run to suit me, only themselves. I got 2ozs & was in the shop by 9 a.m. Beryl & Jim came for tea Beryl talked about her & Rob taking over the shop. I am considering it but Rob will have to get a bit of sense. Jim aged not quite 3 called me an awkward mongrel

  Dec 6 Sun

  Carnelian Violet, who at the moment has the place smelling like a Chinese shit house with whatever she is cooking in special oil, is expecting Arnold over for tea. When he was introduced to Beryl & Rob I remarked take a good look its his third visit here. Afterwards Carnelian was very sour about it I got a shock she would be so sour

  Dec 7 Mon

  I have not said much to Carnelian today

  Dec 19 Sat

  Went to Beryl’s for a Xmas Party tonight Carnelian dressed as Father Xmas & Jimmy didn’t know her. We gave him a gun with caps for Xmas & it was really to his liking, bang, bang all night. We ate the skate caught by me at Birdlings Flat & it was good a fish as I have ever eaten.

  A short

  survival

  guide

  ‘I’ve decided to write a book,’ says Gene one morning. ‘Now that both the girls are away, and I’m not working, I’ve decided to do something productive with my time.’ He folds the newspaper and pushes his chair away from the table.

  Etta looks up from her toast. ‘A book? What sort of book?’

  Gene converts Christina’s room into a study. He brings her old desk in from the garage and dusts it, and he shifts her dressing table out. The hinged mirror wobbles as he carries it, so he presses his cheek against it to hold it steady. He’s puffing by the time he reaches the garage. His breath creates clouds on the mirror.

  When Christina comes home at Easter she has to sleep in Bridget’s room.

  ‘What have you done with my dressing table?’ she says. ‘And my toys? Where’s Blue Doggie?’

  Gene laughs. ‘How old are you?’

  Christina ignores him.

  ‘Now, then,’ says Etta. ‘All your things are just out in the garage, safely packed away. Dad needed the room. He’s writing a book.’

  ‘Why can’t he use Bridget’s room? Since she’s off flatting with the Antonychrist.’

  ‘Well we don’t know how long that’ll last,’ whispers Etta. ‘Antony is a very unusual boy.’

  ‘I can’t believe you let her move in with him. There was such a huge stink when I wanted to go out with Donald Musgrove, just because he had a motorbike, and now Bridget’s shacked up with the Prince of Darkness himself.’

  ‘They’re just flatting together. Aren’t they, Gene.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ says Christina.

  ‘He wears makeup,’ says Gene. ‘I don’t think he likes girls.’

  Etta touches Christina on the arm. ‘It’s still your home, love. You know there’s always a bed here for you.’

  ‘Yeah. In the garage,’ says Christina. ‘What sort of book?’

  When Etta and Gene are out she creeps into her old room.

  It smells of new paint; Gene has been redecorating. The walls are a mossy green, which actually isn’t too bad, but it looks like he only had the patience to do one coat. The sun is streaming in, and Christina can make out the old dark pattern of her wallpaper through the green.

  She opens the wardrobe and finds it filled with other peoples clothes: a couple of Gene’s old suits that are too good to give away, Etta’s best outfits, still like new and covered in filmy plastic which is printed with suffocation warnings.

  There are a few things she doesn’t recognise at all.

  She is surprised to see that Gene has positioned the desk under the window. He discouraged her from doing this right through school. It provides too many opportunities for distraction, he said. He had learnt that at night school in the fifties, in his Construction Management classes. When Christina left for med school Gene’s one piece of advice was ‘Don’t put your desk by a window’. Different subject to what I studied, he said, but many of the principles are the same. He’s got no idea, Christina said to Etta, and Etta said no, probably not, but he’d not been able to go to university, and she should count herself lucky.

  She leafs through the notes that are sitting on the desk, feeling quite justified in doing so; it is her desk, after all. There are biro sketches of shelters made of branches and leaves, and different methods of building a fire, and numerous lists.

  To my father, for all his useful advice on

  Dedicated to Clifford Stilton, who showed me


  This book is dedicated to my late father, in thanks for his wise

  To Cliff (1900–1985), without whose advice I would never

  For Dad.

  Christina scans a neat table showing The Effects of Water Loss on the Body. Thirst, it says in the first column. Vague discomfort. Economy of movement. It seems accurate; it corresponds with what she has had to learn by heart. Flushed skin. Impatience. Increased pulse rate. She moves to the second column. Dizziness, she reads, nodding. Tingling limbs. Blue skin. Slurred speech. She wonders how he knows this; he left school at fifteen. He must have looked it up somewhere. He could have just asked her. Cloudy vision. Shrunken skin. Numb skin.

  She is tempted to add some comments of her own – never administer hot drinks to victims of exposure or always remember to remove a tourniquet – but she places the pages back in their original position and when she leaves the room it is as if she has never been there at all.

  That night she tells Gene he should invest in a computer.

  ‘You can’t seriously be intending to write the thing out longhand,’ she says. ‘I know a guy who’d give you a good deal. Possibly a spreadsheet package.’

  Gene nods and says yes indeed, he’ll certainly think about that.

  ‘It was very thoughtful of her,’ he says to Etta. And he is pleased Christina is interested in his project, but it would be cheating, he decides, to write a survival guide using a computer. He would feel like one of those high-tech anglers with their electronic fish-finders, or a hunter who uses radar equipment to find a stag.

  ‘By the way, Dad,’ says Christina, ‘why did you put the desk under the window?’ And Gene clears his throat and says there is a very good reason for that, a very good reason. It is so he can look out at the bush and visualise what he would do if he were missing in it.

  Gene shuffles his notes, trying to get them into some sort of order. He can’t decide whether River Crossing should come before or after Making a Fire, and whether he should include anything on medicinal plants at all. Poisonous Plants, he writes at the top of a page, and underlines it in red. Then he doodles a skull and crossbones in the margin. And another underneath his heading. He looks at his moss-green walls, then out the window at the hills, then back at the walls. He’s done a pretty good paint job, if he does say so himself. Not too bad at all. Maybe he’ll do his chair as well; there should be enough paint left.

  There are twenty-five bricks per row in the fence across the street, and twelve rows, which makes a total of 300 bricks. Gene has always been good at maths. The Fitzroy family back out of their drive at 11.25 a.m., return home three minutes later, and drive off again at 11.32 a.m. Peter Fitzroy drives with one hand, and runs the other through his thinning hair. Etta has said she will divorce Gene if he goes bald. Ten cars pass, of which three are white, two red, one brown, three blue and one green. This includes the Fitzroys’ car (blue), which is counted once only. Don Crandell takes seventeen minutes to mow his front lawn, and does not do the strip by the footpath in front of his house.

  Perhaps, Gene thinks, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to ask Christina about that computer deal. One has to move with the times. He thinks back to his days as an apprentice, when he did all his calculations on paper. Everyone did. He covered reams with figures determining the correct angle for a mitred corner, or the amount of cladding needed for a three-bedroomed bungalow. But now even he uses a calculator, and it does have a Space Invaders game on it.

  ‘Best thing I ever bought,’ he says, a number of times. ‘The typing still needs a bit of practice, but you can’t fight technology.’ Every night he places the dust cover over his computer, and every morning he removes it again, and begins work.

  Bridget won’t go near the thing when she visits. She says computers emit harmful levels of radiation, and are probably evil. Etta says she hopes this doesn’t mean Bridget is going odd again, and Gene says he’s sure she’s all right, if she’s not interested she’s not interested. Because now that he’s become accustomed to using the computer, he doesn’t want anyone else touching it.

  There are many sources of nutrition in the New Zealand wilderness, and there is no need to fear starvation should you find yourself lost. Statistically speaking, you have a much greater chance of being killed by a wild animal such as a boar or a stag than you do of starving; the only fine print is that YOU MUST ARM YOURSELF WITH KNOWLEDGE. This means learning in advance and by heart the skills that may save your life.

  Most of us think of meat when we think of food, and New Zealand is certainly one of the best places to be stranded. Indeed, when we consider that, in a survival situation, protected or endangered species become fair game, I am sure many sportsmen would choose to go missing for a few days! But even if you have never hunted before, animals should always be your first avenue of nutrition. And who knows, you may wish to pursue this hobby once you are safely back in the civilised world.

  You may be unable to take advantage of the surrounding wildlife, however, if you are suffering from exhaustion or injury. If this is the case, you must not despair; in the wilderness such an emotion can be far worse an enemy than any physical impairment. While many hunters may scorn a vegetarian diet in their day to day life, plants do represent a viable food source when survival is at stake.

  The following list, with accompanying photographs, is a selection of some of the edible plants in the New Zealand bush. They have been chosen on the grounds of availability, ease of gathering and preparation, and nutritional value.

  Pieces of information begin to materialise in Gene’s head; things he has read over the years, or learned from experience, or been told by Clifford: that pollen has a very high energy value; that the purple-black berries of the tutu plant cause paralysis if eaten; that the nectar of flax may be sucked from the flowers. And then there is other information he cannot remember learning, but seems always to have known: that bracken roots can be as thick as a man’s finger; that the heart-shaped leaves of the kawakawa will reduce inflammation if applied to the skin; that in some parts of the country the weather can change without warning.

  While I would consider it wise to adhere to the above list, there are of course other possibilities I have not included because of their scarcity, their low nutritional value, or the difficulty involved in either obtaining or preparing them. If you are unsure about the edibility of any plant, the following test should be performed.

  ‘Put this on your tongue,’ said Clifford, picking a bright orange berry from a tree and handing it to Gene. ‘Hold it there until I tell you.’

  They continued along the steep track, Gene kicking up leaves with the toes of his blunt boots.

  After a couple of minutes, his tongue started to tingle. He rolled the berry around inside his mouth and kept walking, trying to step exactly where Clifford did. The tingling intensified; it felt like a spot of very potent sherbet was fizzing on his tongue. Then it started burning.

  ‘Dad,’ he said around the berry, but it came out like ‘Thath’.

  ‘Well? Anything yet?’ said Clifford.

  Gene nodded vigorously.

  ‘Here.’ Clifford held out his hand and Gene spat into it, then grabbed his water canteen and gulped down several mouth fills.

  ‘Karaka berries,’ said Clifford. ‘The burning tells you it’s poisonous.’

  There are several plants in the New Zealand bush that should never be ingested.

  ‘Ssh!’ said Clifford, and held up his hand. Gene heard movements in the bush ahead. He stood very still, his palm cupped around the butt of his rifle. Then, slowly, Clifford crouched down, and motioned for Gene to do the same. A few yards ahead of them, a fully grown wild boar emerged from the cover of the bush. It snuffled around in the leaves, unaware that it was being watched, and that Clifford was edging forward, easing his rifle into line with its heart.

  If you have a rifle with you, it can be used to

  a) alert help

  b) light a fire

  c) obtain food.
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br />   When attempting to shoot any sort of animal, always aim at a vital spot. The chest or the shoulder are the best targets with larger game.

  A frond tickled Gene’s cheek, but he didn’t dare brush it away. In front of him, Clifford had stopped. Gene could smell the damp forest floor, gun oil, wool, his own sweat. He glanced into the dark centre of the fern, where the new fronds lay curled like small, hairy fists. Then he looked back at the boar.

  Conserve ammunition as much as possible. Get as close as you can to your target before firing; do not be tempted to shoot too soon from too far away. Remain calm. Excitement or nerves will cause the barrel to tremble and the shots will probably be wild. Fire from a prone position if at all possible; otherwise kneel or sit rather than stand. If one is available, use a rock or a log to steady the rifle.

  Gene was just thinking how yellow the tusks were, not polished and white like the ones on Clifford’s mounted trophies, and then there was a single shot, and the pig was heaving and screaming, and then it fell.

  ‘Stay!’ hissed Clifford as Gene leapt to his feet and began running towards the boar.

  Reload immediately, even if the animal appears to be dead. Keep your eye on it at all times.

  They hadn’t brought the whole carcass back with them; it was far too heavy to carry. Clifford hacked off the head instead, and had it mounted. He hung it in the shop, above the bacon slicer, and sometimes hooked his apron over its tusks.

  Gene expects the finished book will sell extremely well. He imagines himself posing for his cover photograph: a bush backdrop, perhaps, and a well-polished rifle over his shoulder. A khaki jacket with lots of zips and pockets, a hat with sheepskin earflaps.

  ‘Did you know,’ he says to Etta that night as they are getting into bed, ‘that should you have no alternative but to cross a glacial stream, it is best to wait until morning?’