

## The Colonel's Mistress

## A Novel

## by

## Hugh Mc Gerrel

Published by

Writers Own Press

2014

Published in ebook format at Smashwords.com

© Copyright Hugh Mc Gerrel 2014. All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-0-473-27878-6

Paperback limited edition published in New Zealand, February 2014

By Writers Own Press ©

ISBN: 978-0-473-27877-9

Cover: Daly's Wharf by Moonlight, Akaroa by Hugh McGerrel ©

First Published by Hugh McGerrel as an ebook with the title, Runaway or Die.

14th June 2013

at Smashwords.com

ISBN: 9781301518876

This is a work of fiction. All the characters are created out of the author's imagination and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

## * * *

## Chapter I

## Escape

"Shendra, are you in some sort of trouble? You've been distracted and looking a bit worried lately."

"Yes, you are right, Emily. I'm becoming worried and scared. I know I am being stalked; being watched. I just feel it. I sense danger but I don't know what it is or how to protect myself. I don't know who I can trust. I need someone; perhaps a boyfriend who would protect me. That's ironic, isn't it? I think that's what they are trying to keep me from. The source of the danger is the very thing that should be looking out for me... my family. My social life is very limited and carefully monitored by my father. He will turn up to collect me and take me home from evening functions. I don't tell him where I am but he mysteriously turns up and tries to pretend that he is simply doing me a favour. He always knows exactly where I am and what I'm doing."

"God, Shendra; that sounds bloody spooky to me. In fact, it's worse than spooky. You know that tall man from the psych lab; the one that seemed to be interested in you for a while... you know the one?"

"Yes, I rather liked him, but he is suddenly keeping his distance."

"Well, Shendra... I know why. He joined me for coffee this morning. He wanted to know all about you. He told me that some pair of well dressed toughs had bailed him up and told him to keep away from you. They said you are off limits, that you are not available. Keep away. Or else. No more warnings. He asked me if you are married, or promised to some rich mogul, or royalty."

"Oh Emily, I don't know what's going on. It will be my father up to his tricks again. He's a control freak but I didn't know he would go this far. After all, I am a grown woman. I think he is trying to protect me from the world for reasons of his own."

"Is it something to do with his or your Indian background.?"

"I haven't a clue, Emily. I'm only guessing that it's my father. He is not an easy man to talk to, but I'm going to have to confront him about this nonsense."

"He's not going to whisk you off to Pakistan and sell you off in marriage to some old man, is he? I've read of lots of cases of that happening."

I laughed. "No. Pakistan is not where my family come from. It would be India or Fiji, not Pakistan. Oh dear! It's not funny is it."

"I think we should look up a website to see if there is a support group for people in your position. We can use a computer here at the university so that he doesn't find out what you are up to."

"Emily, I've already started looking and I registered myself. Come: I'll show you what I have found out so far. Not much comfort though."

## * * *

My name is Shendra Khan. I was born in London in 1988 and moved to Fordwich in Kent when I was five or six. My mother was cold and distant. I came to understand why she was like that when I discovered that she was not my birth mother. I have not been able to find any trace of my real mother but it is clear from her name on my birth certificate that she was not of Fiji-Indian descent as is claimed by my father. I suspect that she was an English woman and that she and my father were not married. I guess that she must have run away from him when I was about two to three years old. I have no recollection of her. My father is a Fijian Indian who immigrated to the UK to serve in the British Army. My step-mother was married to my father during his holiday visit to Fiji in 1990. It was an arranged marriage decided by their two families. My step-mother generally related to me kindly but with little warmth.

I was at the end of my third year of study at Kent University in Canterbury, when I confronted my parents, they revealed that an arranged marriage was planned for me. I was aghast. It was just as Emily and I had thought. I was determined that it was not going to happen to me, but I pretended to gradually acquiesce. I continued my usual routines although I knew I was being watched. My demeanour was clearly changed. In my own mind, I felt fearful. Actually it was more than fear; it was really a state of terror. I followed the news articles about the sad case of a young woman in London who was murdered by her uncles because she tried to flee from an arranged marriage. That really alarmed me. I did not think individual rights would be violated so blatantly in our modern society. The Home Office web site had lots of advice and contact numbers to call. I knew better than to try to connect to them from home; Emily and I used the university facilities and contacted them anonymously. They were very concerned for my safety.

I could no longer relate in the same way to my parents or my sisters. I had always been very close to my half sisters, Ranjana and Kavita. They were both very beautiful and much darker in every way than me. I love them dearly. They were often seeking my views about the 'modern' world, but I had become reserved and secretive. I did not know what to tell them especially about my inner thoughts.

I asked my 'mother' about my university studies for the next year. She said, "Your intended -in-laws agree that you should continue your studies and complete your masters. You will have to talk to them about that when we all meet next week-end."

Oh Shit, I thought. Their plans for my marriage are well advanced and I have not a clue who my husband is to be. When I told Emily she urged me to act quickly.

## * * *

The next day, I went into the university as was my habit, saying I had books to return to the Templeman Library. Once I was on campus I went first to Student admin. I went to the student enrolment desk and explained that I had to withdraw my enrolment for the forthcoming academic year and obtained a refund for the fees I had paid for the next year. It was surprisingly easy – my bank account was suddenly nearly £9000 in credit! My father is going to be livid when he finds out.

I went to the library, returned the books and then I walked to Canterbury West Train Station. I took out my phone and texted the Forced Marriage Unit 02070080151: im escaping. on train to heathrow term 3. shendra khan'

I had a reply within minutes: someone can meet u. When do u arrive.

I replied: if i make the rite tube connections. about 1610

text on ur arrival at t3. fmu

I was excited but scared stiff and I was hungry. The train seemed to be the slowest ever. When I changed trains at Paddington I was able to buy a sandwich. I felt that I needed to keep my strength up but food did not stop my knees from trembling.

Once on the Heathrow Connect train I felt more secure. Only 35 minutes to go. I looked through my backpack which had been my daily companion since I had started at Kent University. I was checking that I had the essentials. I wasn't able to pack much because it had to look like a normal day when I left home. I had my passport, my phone, my laptop, a couple of changes of underwear and a jersey in case of cold weather, shorts and another top. I had no idea what the temperatures would be in Vancouver. I would have to buy what I needed when I got there. I was wearing jeans and a light blouse. That was now the extent of all my worldly possessions. This was an adventure that I had not been expecting.

I got off the train and started along the platform to the main concourse, texting the FMU as I walked, so, I was caught by surprise when my arm was gripped and my father said, "Where are you going, my darling daughter?"

"Oh my god! I... I, I am, I am just coming to meet someone."

"Oh, that's alright then. I'll be able to give you a lift home, won't I? Who are you meeting?'

I didn't know what to say. I just jabbered some nonsense. My father's grip was hurting and he was pushing me on forcefully. I thought that my little escape plan was over and things were not going to be very nice for me. And then there was someone tugging my other arm. A woman's voice said,

"Shendra? Shendra? I am Tanita Menzies from the FMU. Are you alright?"

I gasped out, "Help. Help me!"

Then there were two policemen blocking our path.

"Sir, let go that woman. Let go!"

My father yelled at me, right in my face, "Shendra, I can't believe that you would do this. I just can't believe it. You are dishonouring your whole family."

I yelled back at him, "I can't believe that you would do this to me!"

The FMU lady piped up, "Let's go somewhere more private.

"I'm not going without my daughter."

The cops went each side of him and talking quietly led us into an empty office space. My father, however, was not in any mood to hear any one else. He still was shouting.

"Why the hell are you going to Canada, Shendra? Do you think we will not find you there? You are going to be very bloody sorry for the disgrace you are bringing on our family. We have family everywhere. We will find you. Goodbye and good, good rid good..."

He couldn't bring himself to say it. He turned and stamped out.

The lady from the Forced Marriage Unit was very kind and said that she would take me through the embarkation process, but I told her through my tears that I would have to go somewhere else now.

"My father will try and track me down. He must have been hacking into my computer searches for suitable flights. I should have been more careful."

I knew that there was a flight to New Zealand a little later. She accompanied me through the process of purchasing a ticket with my credit card for a late flight to Auckland, New Zealand and right through to the boarding area. She gave me a standard official printed letter bearing a Foreign and Commonwealth Office letterhead. She had written on it, by hand, a note saying that she had assisted me with my transit and in the event of any problems, officials should contact her for more information. She even went to the trouble of going away and returning with a small battered suitcase so that I would look like a genuine tourist.

"That may help you avoid any suspicious immigration officials," she said. "Don't try to enter New Zealand as a resident. You can apply for residency later. Go as a tourist and if asked, say you were intending to do some work to get around the country. They permit some working holiday visas but I don't know the details. If they stop you, use the letter I gave you. We do work in together with most Commonwealth country's immigration officials. If they know your predicament they may even be able to give you refugee status. If you get sent back here use that same phone number again.

The flight was long and boring. I didn't know how I would cope with such a long flight but despite my agitated mind I did sleep for a lot of the time. During a refuelling stopover in Hong Kong I was able to buy some extra personal items and a tourist guide to New Zealand. I was starting to adopt the role of a tourist. I bought some food items to carry but on the last leg of my journey I was given immigration forms and a declaration card to fill in which stated that I was not able to take any food items into New Zealand. Food had to be discarded. I had to answer a number of questions regarding my intentions such as the purpose of my visit and how long I was going to stay. I put down two to three months. That should give me enough time to make some decisions.

On arrival we were all guided like sheep into pens. I dropped my uneaten fruit into the conspicuous bins and followed the crowd to the luggage carousel and eventually found myself at a desk where an official took my declaration card and my passport.

"You don't seem to have any plans and you have given no contact address. Why do you want to visit New Zealand?"

I didn't know what to say. Thinking was beyond me and then the tears began to flow. The official was watching me closely. I could feel eyes on me from every direction.

"Why are you entering New Zealand? Are you carrying any drugs?"

I blurted out, "I had to get away from someone." I handed him the letter from the FMU.

I was taken into a private room where I was left to wait a long time. I was watched by someone through a murky window. Eventually the door opened and two stern looking women began asking me a lot of questions about whether I intended to work in New Zealand and how much money did I bring with me. They looked at one another and then rose and left me alone in the room once again. I thought I was going to be on the next plane out.

After some time:- it seemed like forever, another official in a suit came in. He was bearded and wore a turban. He sat and just looked at me for some minutes occasionally looking down at a file of papers. Finally, he said, "Shendra, I will give you some advice; unofficial advice. I am guessing from your name on your passport that you are of Indian descent. There is a large Indian population here in Auckland. You may want to venture further south perhaps and anglicise or change your name for casual contacts but, not of course, for official dealings. For that you should use your passport names. Now I am giving you a six month working visa. If you want to stay longer you should apply to Immigration Services. These pamphlets will explain everything. You are free to go. Enjoy New Zealand. Good luck.

Wow! The relief swept over me. I floated out of the building into the bright fresh air of a New Zealand morning. I had a few more decisions to make. Coffee – that's what I need. I am totally alone. I need someone I can talk with, but I know no one. I followed the signs to the domestic terminal, found a café and set up my laptop. I opened a blank page to type a list of things I needed to do. I thought of my father trying to track me down. He could very well guess my changed travel plan and have people in the Indian community looking out for me at Auckland Airport. I should not hang about here. But, wherever I went, my credit card transactions would show up on the statements mailed to my home address. I had no doubt he would open and read them. I felt an urgent need to move on, but I had to empty my bank and credit card accounts to block the trail of my movements. I had to do that before I went anywhere else. I made the decision to stay in Auckland for a maximum of five days. That should give me enough time to max out my credit card and my bank debit card.

I started an email to my friend, Emily in Canterbury in Kent and then with a shock I had a vision of my father poking in to my web mail accounts and seeing every message I sent. I still had my phone but I knew that GPS tracking would make its use risky.

I got out my phone and noted all the contact numbers I wanted to keep and then removed the SIM card and destroyed it. I would buy a new phone and get a New Zealand internet provider for my computer. My father had ruled my life for long enough. I felt at that moment that I was my own person; an independent woman.

I enjoyed those five days in Auckland. I found a backpackers' hostel as a base and played the part of a tourist. I felt good. This was the start of a new life. I bought a few clothes appropriate to my new situation and strong shoes for exploring my new world. I found a phone shop and bought a new phone and got hooked up to their internet service. I even used my new name; Tanita McLean, Tina for short. I had a bit of trouble getting a bank account. I had to use my passport name and because I didn't have a fixed address I could have only a limited account with a debit card and no cheques or internet banking access.

I set up a gmail account using an alias: no1swife. I sent an email to Emily saying that I was enjoying a holiday but, gave her no details of my location. I asked her to call my stepmother to say that I was well. I added in underlined text: do not give my email address to my parents. I desperately wanted to talk to my sisters but that was too risky.

On the afternoon of Thursday, the second day of September, I took a flight to Christchurch.

The tourist guide described Christchurch as the most English of New Zealand cities and the largest in the South Island. Its Englishness is a bit of an overstatement. It has some beautiful stone buildings and is very English in places, but it is not English like my lovely city of Canterbury. The old university, now called the Arts Centre is located over the road from the Backpacker Hostel where I have made myself at home. I looked forward to a quiet night. I needed to collect my thoughts and think what I should do next. I had been well established in my university programme majoring in psychology. I was looking forward to my final professional year and now I am in a strange new world with no job experience and incomplete qualifications. I will have to find work before my funds are all gone.

The thought of my father tracking me from the other side of the world was always uppermost in my mind even though I was in the midst of good company. The camaraderie among the backpackers was great for morale. It was impossible to be glum in their company. I became very friendly with one Kiwi girl who was a bubbly ball of fun. Gretchen was a laugh a minute. She volunteered herself to be my personal guide.

"Tomorrow," she said, "I will show you around the city. But, tonight, I can see you need a bit of spirit lifting. Fun and frolics. That's what you need. I'll take you to The Strip. That's an area of the central city along the river bank. It is alive at night. There are restaurants, bars, bands, night clubs. So get out your best gear and away we'll go."

"I don't have any best gear. I'm travelling light.

"Never fear when Gretchen's near," she laughed. "Those tight jeans will do. They show off your arse nicely. Your top is a bit naff though. Let me fix it up."

She boldly took my blouse, un-tucked it from my jeans, undid the bottom buttons tied it up exposing my midriff. Wow, I was transformed. I could imagine how my father would have reacted if I had tried to go out of the house like this. But, what the hell I thought, He's not here so I will live a little for a change!

Gretchen grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door and away we went, down the footpath, laughing and giggling. The Strip was just a short walk away, but the atmosphere was amazing. People were dancing and cavorting right out on to the street. Gretchen waved to a group of girls sitting at a set of tables. Even in my innocence I could see that they were different. Gretchen introduced me.

"This is my new friend, Tina. She's new here – from England. Oh, and I think she's straight so keep your kinky hands off her."

Everybody laughed but they gave me a fine welcome. Most of Gretchen's friends were fellow university students and I was able to glean a few bits of information about enrolling next year. It seemed that I would have to become a New Zealand resident or else pay huge fees as a foreign student. One girl was a psychology major. She described the degree structure as being a little bit different from the English system. She was doing her fourth year which she called her 'honours year'. She seemed to think that was what I would have to do if I wanted to work in psych. All was good humoured and I was soon enjoying the joking and banter. But, although I could enjoy the fun and the talk, I didn't have any inclination to touch or kiss as most of them were doing. I liked boys and that was that. At least I knew where I stood. But there were no males hanging around this particular group. I'd had a few wines and when Gretchen reminded me that I had been intending to have an early night I happily called goodnight and we somewhat unsteadily walked 'home'.

I went to sleep wondering about finishing my qualifications in New Zealand. It seemed possible but I still had the problem of earning a living. I had learned from my conversations that jobs are scarce and I suffered from the disadvantage of never having worked for wages – no experience and no references.

The following morning I rose rather late. Gretchen had told me that she had the day free and would spend it with me to help me orientate myself in my new world. There was no sign of her so I showered and got dressed for what looked like a cool day. I breakfasted and was tidying up my bed space when she arrived looking fresh and ready for a day out.

"I have been down the road getting my old car. I can't park it near here because it is all a time restricted zone. I park it about two or three kilometres away, outside the four avenues which defines the Central Business District. So, let's see. What do you want to look at?"

"Well, I would like to have a general look around. I would like to visit the university. Perhaps I might be able to continue my studies. I won't know until I ask."

"Good," she said. "I need to check in there with my tutor. I'll leave you at the Registry and meet you in an hour on the library steps. You can't miss it. And then we'll have lunch in the student café."

"Tell me, why do you live in the hostel when you live full time in Christchurch?

"Oh, there's a simple explanation for that. I could just no longer stand the filth and the constant argie bargie of my student flat. I'd come home to get a meal and the place was always a filthy, grotty mess with flies buzzing around the food leftovers. The place stank. It was revolting. The girls were worse than the boys much to my surprise. I went home to the flat a couple of weeks ago and decided that I could stand it no longer. I packed up and left. All my stuff is in my uni locker or in the back of my car. I am looking for a place. There's a chance my part time employer may be able to help me."

"What is this part time work? I thought your fine art course would be pretty well full on."

"Yes it is. But my work does have a connection to my studies. I can tell you that I don't need an expensive wardrobe for my job." She laughed heartily to herself.

"Well," I said. "What's the joke? What do you do?"

"I just take off all of my clothes and stand there! He's an artist and I'm his model. Well, one of them. I also do some art work for him. Preparing canvases and cleaning brushes and his palette and things like that. Sort of an artist's dog's body."

"Jesus!" I said in surprise. "I couldn't do that, display myself naked."

"I was pretty shy the first time, but I soon got used to it. It is all very business-like and professional. Sometimes he has students present but if anyone steps outside the line, outside his code, they soon know. He gives them 'the look'. He doesn't say a word. He simply fixes them with his stare. He just stares until they are forced to look away. They get the message."

"You said that you had hopes that he might be able to help you with your accommodation problem."

"Yep. Maybe. He's very wealthy and owns lots of property; flats and apartments. It's a long shot but I'll be able to ask him on Monday."

I talked to a clerk in the university registry office and was given lots of student information for enrolment for the coming academic year. It was quite clear that I would have to have New Zealand residential status and even then it would be problematic. Parental income declaration and guarantees were necessary and quite out of the question in my circumstances. I had to face facts. I needed to find a new career path. That was disappointing. I had taken a liking to the university. I liked the campus and the happy atmosphere of the place.

In the afternoon Gretchen drove me about Christchurch, proudly showing off some of her special places particularly beaches. There were plenty of them it seemed. One she took great delight in showing me was over a hill in a little bay.

"This is where you come if you don't have any swimming gear. That end of the beach is unofficially, clothing optional. It's a bit too cold today though," she laughed. "It's one of my favourite places in summer."

She drove me through the pretty little seaside town of Sumner and then to the Port Hills and along the Summit Road which gave wonderful views over the city. I thought to myself, yes, this peaceful city will do me very nicely.

In the evening, Gretchen had other things to do so I spent some time walking around the central city looking at the sights and visiting a few shops. I found a backpackers' store where I bought a few items including an all weather sleeping bag. When I returned to the hostel I found Gretchen getting ready for bed. She told me that Saturday and Sunday were her study days and she would be working in the student library on some final projects and an art theory essay.

I thought it would be a good idea to try out the sleeping bag so I laid it out on top the bed and wriggled into it. I was tired so in no time I was asleep in spite the dormitory lights.

I had been soundly asleep for some hours when suddenly, I was wide awake. I was being violently thrown around. I had no control. I was trapped in my sleeping bag as I was being shaken up and down and sideways, and trying to hold on to the bed. There were sounds of glass smashing as windows exploded and things were banging and crashing. The noise was like nothing I had ever heard before. After what seemed like a very long time it all subsided but people were shouting and screaming and sirens and horns were blasting. And it was pitch dark. There was no power – no lights.

Gretchen yelled at me, "That was an earthquake and a bloody big one. We've got to get out of here. Grab your gear and let's go. There will be another one coming for sure."

In the faint light of a weak moon coming in the windows we gathered our things and humped our way out of the building. Once outside I wondered where to go but just followed Gretchen and everyone else over the road and into the park. Of course! The open air where there were not things to fall on us. People were wandering around. Everyone was checking up on everyone else. It was too dark to do much else but wait until the sun rose. The air was cold with a slight wind and I was wearing very little having just stuffed my things into my pack in my rush to get out. My sleeping bag was the best place to be for the time being.

Then there was a very deep roar and seconds later, a loud rumbling sound and the ground beneath us started to buck and jump – the first of the aftershocks. People started to moan and someone screamed but there was not the feeling of terror that I felt the first time.

Gretchen tried to phone some friends to see if they were O.K., but could get through to no one. The phone system was seriously overloaded. People had gathered in groups around others who had radios but initially there was not much information to be had; only that authorities were asking people to not use phones or roads because of infrastructure damage and overloading. We could see flashing red lights and the rushing traffic on the far side of the park as people tried to make their way to friends and relatives.

Once the rather weak sun lit the sky we went to find Gretchen's car. At least it would be a place out of the cold wind. As we walked we came upon little groups of people in obvious states of shock, some just staring at damaged buildings. As we approached her car we saw that a brick wall alongside it had fallen out across the road. Her car was hardly damaged but two cars in front of it were almost totally buried and rescue workers were trying to see into them to check for occupants. At first, they would not allow us to come closer, but when they were satisfied that the cars we empty they helped us move rubble away until Gretchen was able to drive off. There had been a radio broadcast about various refuge centres that were being set up and they were asking for volunteers. We thought that we would go and see if we could be of help to others. Gretchen was familiar with one centre at Burnside High School where she had once been a student. She knew exactly where to go but it took us hours because of damaged roads and traffic jams. There were several cars that had fallen into collapsed sections of road. In other places there had been eruptions of liquefied silt so that we needed to manoeuvre about them and find alternative routes. Everywhere we looked there were obvious signs of damage to buildings and knots of people gathered and giving comfort to the distressed.

When we arrived at the refuge centre we were asked if we had any special skills. I said that I had had some training in counselling in disaster situations. I was taken to an entrance hall where I was appointed to the task welcoming distressed victims. I was glad I was able to be of some use. Some were very distressed. There were young families, children who had become separated from their families and confused elderly people.

I continued in my role there for about three weeks. The place provided me with all my food and accommodation and I was getting known by the Ministry of Social Development management who were running the show. When the refuge wound down I was asked if I would like a temporary paid job with them. The job involved being a part of a team which went around suburban housing checking that the occupants were able to care for themselves or were not trapped in damaged housing. The focus was on elderly or infirm people. There were only a very small number that needed assistance or support but it was a very satisfying job. When that project was finished I was offered more work as a counsellor with the ministry. I couldn't get work as a psychologist without at least a masters degree but my bachelors degree was a sufficient qualification to work as a counsellor. I thought I had fallen on my feet. I only needed to fill out the formal application forms but they required me to have a motor vehicle licence and birth certificate and proof of entitlement to residence in New Zealand. I had become known as Tanita McLean and I had never learnt to drive. And so I returned to being a casual tourist, desperately seeking a place in the world.

Gretchen had returned to her studies and work. We remained good friends and kept in touch by text and phone. I had difficulty in finding accommodation, constantly moving from one hostel to another. She had negotiated an arrangement with her part time employer who let her use one of the guest chalets on his property in lieu of wages.

"Andrew may let you move in with me." She said, "I'll talk to him about that idea."

I like Gretchen a lot. As a friend. But she is lesbian and I would be concerned that she may hope for more than friendship. I was not attracted to her in a sexual sense at all. I said I would think about it. I asked her what she thought about me coming clean with Immigration New Zealand and trying for full residential status.

"Well, why not give it a go. How would your father and the Indian brotherhood know about it? You could have an official identity that you keep secret and live your day to day life as Tanita McLean.

I worked through the Immigration Service website guide, but found myself blocked at every turn. I was just not eligible. I decided to visit the Immigration Office in Christchurch, in person, and tell them all, and ask their advice. The immigration staff were polite and outwardly helpful, but there seemed to be obstacles at every turn. They would not answer questions – they were expert at looking vague; blank. I showed them the letter from the Forced Marriage Unit. The clerk read it impassively and passed it back to me. I was told that I would have to apply using the appropriate forms. I decided to take the risk and apply using my official name and give my address as the hostel. But, then they wanted an up-front non-refundable payment of nearly a thousand dollars. And they were giving me no indication of whether I would be successful. And now they knew that I was in the country: they could finally deport me. I did not have the money to gamble on this process. I would be better to go to another country where I already had right of entry and residence. France, Italy, Scotland, Denmark, were all possible. I had been a fool to come here. Although I loved the place and the people, I was not welcome in the official sense. I left the office without filing my application. I picked up my forms and left. I wandered the streets thinking about my next moves. This city was stuffed and still having strong earthquakes every few days. Why would I want to stay here?

I was in a right old gloomy mood. My twenty second birthday had come and gone and nobody had even known about it. I rang Gretchen to let her know about the immigration fiasco.

"I think it is about time that I woke up to my big mistake. In my panic to get away from the marriage farce I had tried to go as far away as I could. New Zealand was a serious error of judgement. I have to go back to the Northern Hemisphere. That's where I belong."

"Tina, you need time to think. You're not in the right frame of mind to make decisions right now. Let's have a night out on the town. I need to celebrate anyway. It's the end of my exams, so – what about it? Where are you now?"

"In town. High Street,' I said.

"O.K. Let's meet in Poplar Lane; about 5:30. You can bunk here for the night."

I was relieved to have the accommodation solved for the night. I was homeless again and sick of carrying all my gear. I had thought I would have to go to the camping ground again. The camping ground community hall floor was always a last resort.

As usual, Gretchen was surrounded with a bunch of high spirited friends. We all had a good time and lots of fun. When the time came to leave I was definitely a bit pissed but happy. Gretchen drove superbly well I thought. I think she was over the limit but neither of us said anything and we arrived safely back at her chalet. Andrew, her boss, saw us arrive and came over and greeted us. He was tall, well built and not as old as I expected. I thought, maybe just over thirty. He was not bald, but he had very short cropped hair. His lack of hair was offset by a very neatly trimmed black beard.

"Andrew, this is my friend Tina. I've told you about her. She has had a bit too much to drink and she's homeless and jobless." Gretchen laughed. "I thought she could bunk on my sofa for the night."

"That's fine with me. I will talk about it with you both in the morning." He smiled quite warmly to me and left us to get inside.

As we went in, giggling like school girls, I thought to myself; oh dear! I am going to be spending the night with my beautiful queer friend. I was still laughing but nervous. What's going to happen next?

Gretchen made us both a strong drink of coffee then set it down at the small table. As she sat down she looked at me very seriously.

"Tina. You don't need to worry. You are quite safe. I'm not going to make a pass at you'"

"Phew!" I said. And then we both laughed till tears ran down our faces.

I slept soundly that night and awoke surprisingly clear-headed. It was daylight. I could hear the shower running. I wondered what Andrew wanted to talk about. Does he know that Gretchen prefers girls? While I was contemplating that, Gretchen emerged from the shower stark naked; beautiful and completely natural and unashamed. She threw me a towel and said, "Shower's free!" The chalet was one roomed with a little shower cubicle. There was no room in here for false modesty so I followed her example, threw off my clothes and went into the shower.

As I came back into the room, I heard a bell like sound and then Andrew's voice came over an intercom.

"Breakfast is ready in the main kitchen."

We went into the house to the wonderful smell of frying bacon.

"I hope you are not a vegetarian." He was smiling and friendly. What a bloody wonderful boss I thought.

"Sit down and eat. I have a proposition to put to you Tina. If you are fully recovered from your wild night on the town, I'll tell you what I'm thinking."

I thought, oh, oh, I hope it is not about nude modelling.

He sat himself down opposite us. He was smiling and looking from one to the other of us.

"Tina. I understand that you are in a bit of difficulty at the moment. You need a job and you need somewhere to live. Is that right?"

I nodded and waited. Andrew took his time; he meticulously cut up his bacon and egg and slowly began to eat.

"So it seems that you and I both have some problems. My housekeeper, Mrs Baldwin, is a very timid and frightened woman. She told me that she can't stand another earthquake. She has packed her bags and yesterday, I took her to the airport. She has gone to stay with her family in Rotorua. Now that's a laugh isn't it? I would have thought that place was always on the verge of blowing up.'

Gretchen and I both laughed dutifully. I began to see where this might be leading.

"I am in urgent need of a housekeeper." I looked at him and he looked at me. "Well, what do you think? Could you do the job?"

I was not sure. I needed time to get used to the idea.

"What does the job entail? What would I have to do?"

"Well, you know – you would run the house. Like a wife. Um er, but not a wife. You understand? Washing, ironing, tidying, cleaning, shopping, preparing meals, looking after an occasional guest—that sort of stuff. Do you think you could do that?"

"I could try. I don't know about the shopping though. I can't drive."

"That's no problem. Someone else can do that or you can shop online and get it delivered. Gretchen told me a little about the fix you are in so the job's yours if you want it. You can live in the downstairs suite in the west wing. You would eat as part of the family except when we have guests. I am away every Friday, Saturday and back Sunday. My sister-in-law lives in the house during the week too. She is a widow. My brother David came to an unfortunate and early end a few years ago. Sometimes her twin daughters or her older son come to stay."

He could see that I was hesitating. I couldn't decide because I didn't know what I was going to do about staying in New Zealand.

"You can start today and stay as long as you like: a week or a year. It's up to you."

"O.K. but do I get paid too?"

Yes, of course, free board and lodgings and $200 a week in the hand and no tax. The tax man does not expect the wife's money to be taxed. You would be the house's wife. Not my wife you understand."

We all laughed and I said, "Yes I agree."

He looked delighted, stood up and shook my hand and said, "Good. I am late for my work now so I will go and let you get on with your work. The house is all yours to run as you see fit... Go and explore and do what you think needs to be done. You are in charge of everything indoors except the business area and the studio. There's a clipboard on the wall over there. Orders of the day."

I laughed, "That sounds very official."

"Oh, it's a bit of fun really—family tradition. My father was a navy man. Now, Gretchen, you show Tina around the house; I'll see you in the studio in half an hour."

Gretchen and I went up to the clipboard. We read, "Enjoy your day."

"Tina, this is a very big house. I haven't seen all of it—never been upstairs. Shall we go up there first? Follow me; this way."

She led me to a grand stairway and up we went. It certainly was a very large house. The bedrooms were very large with very plush amenities. The housekeeper's bedroom downstairs was nearly as large. It was complete with a lounge area with television and a desk. There was a set of keys on the desk and a laminated sheet listing the housekeeper's duties.

I didn't know how long I would be able to stay here but I was going to enjoy it.

Gretchen went off to her work area and I set out to familiarise myself with the kitchen.

I had done plenty of Indian cooking but otherwise I was a complete novice.

I cleaned up the remains of our breakfast and took stock of the food supplies trying to compose the evening meal. I found what I thought would be sufficient ingredients for making a vegetable korma and curried lamb. That would be a safe beginning. If it was not used it would freeze well for another day. I made an early start on it so that the flavours would have time to suffuse.

I went across the courtyard to Gretchen's chalet to collect my gear. I was surprised by the number of cars parked. As I was returning, carrying my stuff, a tall, skinny man of mature vintage approached me.

"Hello. I'm Kevin. I'm the chauffeur, and handyman and general dogsbody around here. You must be the new housekeeper. Damn sight better looking than the last one I must say." He laughed loudly. "You'll like it here. Andrew's a good bloke. Lorna's O.K. too. Can I help you carry that stuff?"

'No. I can manage it. Nice to meet you."

He stepped in front of me and opened the door for me and then followed me into the kitchen.

"You'll be seeing quite a bit of me. I will be doing errands for you. Just give me your orders and I'll be at your service. Now I'll just get myself a cup of tea if you don't mind."

He seemed to know his way around the kitchen. I left him there while I took my things through to my room. I watched him from my window as he emerged from the back door carrying a steaming mug down the yard and into a garage. My first impression of him was uneasy. I will be watching him, I think.

The bed had been stripped so I found linen and made it up. I put my things in drawers and in the walk-in wardrobe and then set my computer up on the desk.

I had been worrying a lot about my little sisters but I could not fathom a safe way of communicating with them that would be untraceable by my father. I had emailed Emily my University friend, but she had not replied. I decided that I would have another try at emailing her. I was fairly sure that she would not have betrayed me. I started the email and then I thought better of it. Why had she not replied to my last one? I looked at my watch: it was nearly midnight in U.K. I knew her habits well. She would normally be studying well into the night.

I got out my phone and called her mobile.

"Shendra! Where the hell are you? What is going on?"

"Never mind where I am. I am keeping that secret for good reason,"

"I have been told that you have run away but I pretend that I don't know anything about it. People keep asking me why. Is it a man?"

"Really! Well, er, yes. But not the way they are thinking." I started to laugh.

"What's funny? Tell me Shendra. What is so funny?"

I pulled myself together. "Emily, Tell them the truth. I have run away from a man not with a man. Tell them my parents tried to force me into a marriage; into an arranged marriage and that I do not even know who the man is. Tell them I am not ashamed. Tell them that I ran away to save myself; that I had to escape."

"Oh, Shendra, I know and I feel so sorry for your situation. Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine for the moment, but I am worried about my sisters. How are they?"

"I don't know Shendra. I haven't seen them for a while now. They don't show up at university any more. I haven't been able to email or phone you. Your phone is dead and I've lost your new email address. You see, when I gave your mother your message your father was around here like a shot. He talked with my father downstairs for a while. Then my father came to my room and said he wanted to borrow my computer for a while. I said I would just finish off what I was doing and then I would bring it down. Well, I guessed that your father was after your address so I deleted my address book and uninstalled Internet explorer and deleted all the files that I thought they might be wanting. Then my father was back in my room with your father. They snatched my laptop and took it away. I got it back a couple of days later. I don't think your father got what he wanted because he has been pestering me ever since. But of course I had lost your address."

"Emily, you are brilliant. Save my phone number under a false name just in case someone gets hold of it. If you can get through to Ranjana or Kavita give them my gmail address: no1swife@gmail.com I don't think my exact location could be tracked through that. But, look, I've got to go. Call me if you have any news.

"But, Shendra, where are you?"

I ended the call. It was wonderful to talk to her; but now I was a mess.

After a while, I went into my luxurious bathroom and washed my face and tidied myself up. I lay down on the bed to think over my conversation with Emily. There was a knock on the door and Gretchen came in.

"We are all about to have some lunch—hey, what's up? You look a bit upset."

"I'm O.K. now. I have been talking to my friend in England. She told me that my sisters have disappeared. I'm a bit worried. My parents could be trying to save face by offering one of them in my place."

"Put it out of your mind for the moment. Come and have lunch."

I went with Gretchen to the kitchen and found quite a little gathering at the table.

"Wow, Tanita. You have filled the room with wonderful smells. Is that going to be our dinner? I hope so," said Andrew. Without waiting for an answer he carried on, "Let me introduce you to Mrs Lorna Yorke, my secretary and company manager of Yorke Holdings. She has a staff of four who are not normally part of the household. And this is Josephine Hood; she's the head gardener; and Kevin White, chauffeur and general factotum who I think you have already met. They live together in the flat above the garages. "

We shook hands all around and there was happy banter and much laughter. This was certainly a friendly place to work. Everybody was helping themselves to things in the pantry and fridge. I began to think I was a spare wheel.

When lunch was over, everyone dispersed back to their work. I was left to clean up and put things away, which of course was my job. Once again, I was left to my own devices. I thought I should get deeper into the role of housekeeper and make it look as if I was earning my keep. I found a vacuum cleaner and started working my way through the upstairs rooms. I realised that this was a big job and I would have to make myself some sort of roster so that I could spread the work throughout the week. I went back to my room and sitting at the desk I rummaged for paper in the drawers and found myself becoming acquainted with my predecessor. She was apparently a well organised person and had a file of household information. She too had devised a schedule to spread the load through the week. There were purchasing records and even meal plans. I was indeed very lucky. In fact I wondered if she had intentionally left these records as kind assistance to the next housekeeper.

There were four of us who sat down to dinner. Andrew, Lorna, Gretchen and I. I was almost embarrassed with the praise for my Indian cooking. I was pretty pleased myself.

Andrew let me know that I would not always need to cook the evening meal. They were not all home for dinner every night, and Andrew said that he was a cooking enthusiast and would insist on having his turn. "I am absent from here on most Fridays and Saturdays and late on Sundays. And Lorna is the same."

That last statement made me wonder, if perhaps, Lorna and Andrew were a couple.

Andrew smiled at me and said, "I am usually here Monday to Thursday. So we may squabble about who is going to cook. One night, I hope you can give me lessons on Indian cooking."

"Oh, I am no expert. I have not done much cooking except for helping my mother at home."

After the meal I cleaned up the kitchen and retired to my room—my own room; with the luxury of my own TV. As I prepared for bed my phone rang. I checked the sender and it was not Gretchen: so very cautiously I said hello.

"Hi Shendra. It's me: Kavita, and Ranjana is here too. Emily gave us your number."

"Oh, my dear sisters. Where are you, Kavita? What's been happening? Emily said you had disappeared."

"We are in France. We know why you ran away, and then, we could see the signs. One of us was going to be the replacement for you; probably me. When we realised we simply went in to Canterbury and withdrew all our money from the bank and hopped on to the train to Paris. We got to the south and got jobs. Now where are you?"

I hesitated. Should I reveal my hiding place?

"Um, I'm in Auckland, New Zealand." I expected her to be surprised. But, no.

"Yes, that's where we thought. We overheard – on purpose – Daddy telling Mummy that you were in New Zealand. He'd hacked into Emily's computer. She seemed to think that she had deleted everything, but you know him. What made you pick New Zealand?"

"Oh, a mixture of chance and wanting to be as far away as it was possible to go. Did Emily give you my email addy?"

"Yes she did but we didn't feel it was safe. You know Daddy. We don't trust any of the social media either. Your email address is now an open book to him. You had better change it or at least stop using it. Here's Jana."

"Hello Shendra. Are you alright. Have you got a job and everything?"

"Hi Ranjana. I'm so happy to hear from you. Yes I have a job but I don't think I will be able to stay here very long. Only have a visitor's visa and the immigration department is not very friendly or empathetic here. They won't give me any information unless I make an application which costs a stack of money. And then they may turn me down and no refunds are allowed. I have thought that I may move to France. What are you working at?"

"We are both working as English speakers at a help desk for travellers. Shendra, we don't want to use your email address. Your email is not secure I heard that you are using the same password that you have had for years. Daddy will know it!"

"Oh shit! How could I be so stupid? That password was even his idea. Fordwich1988. Our town and my birth year: Once he had my email addy he could monitor everything. How much does he know?"

"Everything you have done on gmail I would think. We only know as much as we could hear through the wall. Using a glass against your ear, and against the wall, does work—but we could not hear everything. You must close that account and find another one. But, in case he gets into your computer somehow, please, don't connect with us. This telephone is a new one so that's the best way for us to keep in touch."

"Here's Kavita again.... Hi Shendra. I could hear what you were saying to Ranjana. Have you moved again? Daddy thinks you are in Christchurch."

"Oh hell! I am in Christchurch. I have slipped up in a big way. I will have to do something about that. No more email blunders. I will have to work on that."

"This international call will be costing us a fortune. An occasional text should be safe to keep us all in touch. We've got to go to work now. So bye for now."

I was severely rattled by this news. I will have to put my father off the scent—get a new email address. But first I should send a few messages that will lead him to wrong conclusions. I think Gretchen is still awake so I ring her mobile phone.

"Gretchen, I have discovered that my father has tracked me to Christchurch. I need to put him off the scent. I will be sending you a few false emails. Can you play along with it?"

Gretchen readily agreed. And so I set up the computer and sent her an email asking her to pick me up from the hospital main entrance and take me to the airport to catch a flight back to Auckland at midday tomorrow. She replied almost immediately agreeing to the arrangement. I sent a few other misleading ones to a fictitious immigration advisor and to a travel agent. Another invention was an email to decline the job offer from the ministry of social development. That will have them scratching their heads!

I nearly made the mistake of closing my gmail account. I realised that it would be more confusing to him if I left a dead end. I would just stop using that account and open a new one. I chose hotmail and a new identity and another password; to a really impossible one. AVice%Mayx7$m. That should do the trick. It was a totally meaningless string.

I tried watching TV for a while but I couldn't settle to it. My mind was stuck on thoughts of my father prowling through my emails from I don't know how long ago. I finally went to bed and to my surprise went straight to sleep.

I woke quite early and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. I had no idea what would be required of me. I hoped that a cooked breakfast was not the norm. I simply set out a few things and made sure the water was boiled for tea. I found a toaster and had just got it loaded when Andrew appeared followed soon after by Lorna. Andrew said that he had a special day planned for me but would not explain further than saying that I was to be ready for Kevin at about 10 o'clock. Lorna said to plan a quick and easy, evening dinner, for four.

I cleaned up and did a few chores, wondering all the while what creepy Kevin was going to be doing.

Right on ten he appeared in the kitchen bearing some books and paperwork.

"We'll have a cuppa before we start. Has Andrew told you what we are doing? He wants me to start teaching you to drive."

I shook my head.

"What's the problem?"

"I've not got New Zealand citizenship yet."

"The first step is to get a learner's licence. That only needs your passport. I'll take you to the issuing office and wait outside. So go and get your passport."

I felt a bit uncertain but maybe I can keep the passport to myself. I went to my room, found an envelope and placed my passport inside, put it in my handbag and returned to the kitchen. We finished our tea and then he led me outside where a small black car was parked and opened the passenger door. As we drove away he gave a running commentary of what he was doing. We arrived at the licensing office and Kevin let me go in on my own. The clerk was friendly and helpful but he turned me down because I could not prove my address. He told me what I could do to overcome that problem. I should wait until I had a bank statement bearing my address.

I told Kevin that there would be a delay. It could not be issued at this time.

"Oh well, bloody bureaucracy always gets in the way. How long do you have to wait?"

I said that it may be a few weeks. He drove me back home. I took particular note of the street sign and house number so that I would know it for another occasion. If you don't even know your address you can look pretty silly as I had just found out!

"I am still going to start your lessons. We will have to stay off public roads until you get your L plates."

He continued up the drive way and past the house and all the outbuildings. He drove through a gate in the back fence to a set of paddocks.

"You will be able to practise in the fields to your hearts content—without breaking any laws. Now we will change seats."

He turned out to be a very good teacher and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. After about an hour he had me drive back through the gate and into the yard. I looked through the driving licence study manuals Kevin had left for me and then prepared the table for lunch. After lunch Lorna handed me a Visa debit card which she said I could use to make any purchases for household supplies. She instructed me that she required all receipts for accounting purposes.

"Have a good look through the fridges and pantry and see that you have sufficient supplies for the next week or so and anything else that is needed for the house. Get Kevin to drive you to the shops this afternoon or tomorrow if you prefer. Andrew and I won't be here till Monday so you can please yourself what you do until then."

I spent a good part of the afternoon taking stock of everything and making a list. I needed enough resources to plan meals for the week. I prepared a light meal for the evening so I kept myself quite busy. That was good because it stopped me thinking about the news of my father's invasion of my privacy. Even if he knew I was in Christchurch, I doubted that he would be able to find me in the Yorke household. I felt secure for the time being.

The next morning, a Friday, I thought I might be able to hang out with Gretchen but she had other plans. As Andrew was away she wanted to make full use of the studio. She had work of her own that she wanted to do. Kevin turned up at morning tea time so I asked if he could take me to do the shopping. He was very happy to oblige but he insisted that I do some driving practice in the paddock first. Then, he drove me out to the shops. I thought he would sit in the car waiting like my father does when my step-mother does her shopping. But no, he was with me all the way, helping me find things and managing the trolley. I was worried that he would be trying to see the pin-number that I had written on my hand. But, he kept well out of the way. He also waited patiently outside the bank when I went in to give them my new address and to arrange for them to send a statement.

When we were returning to the house I said to Kevin "What do you think about that van parked over the road from the entrance-way? I'm sure there is someone in it and it has been there every time we've been out."

"It does look a bit fishy. I'll go and have a look after we have unloaded the groceries."

I was still busy putting things away when he came in, puffing.

"You were right. He was up to something. I went the long way round and crossed over the road and surprised him. He had the door locked though. As soon as he saw me he started up and drove off spraying gravel as he went. Couldn't get a good look at him because of the tinted windows. All I could see was that he or she was blond or had white hair. You must have a very suspicious mind to have noticed him."

"Yes, you are right; I have. I don't think there is much we can do though is there?

"I will set up a security camera."

"Oh, can you do that?"

"That is one of my jobs. Come with me."

I followed him out to one of the garages and in through the side door. I expected it to contain cars and tools and the usual things that garages have. But this was a surprise. It was more like an office but no windows. There were desks and benches with computers and electronic equipment. There were video screens displaying views around the house.

"Can you watch everyone inside the house? Can you watch inside my room? Can you watch me?"

"No, No. Don't panic. The cameras are all outside the house and are aimed to maintain a view of doors and entrance ways. It is recorded but I don't sit and watch. That would be totally boring. If an alarm goes off I would look, but normally all the images are only recorded for security purposes. If you were to look, the cameras are all plainly visible—well most of them. A burglar or criminal type would spot them so they are mostly a deterrent. But every morning I scan the movements of the night before."

He fiddled at a keyboard and pointed at a bank of small screens. I could see the house exterior but nothing moved.

"Sometimes I see the odd cat or hedgehog or someone coming home. During the day there are lots of movements especially to the business area of the house. Now this view looks down towards the gate but it doesn't quite show that car we saw. That's why I will attach a camera by the letter box."

The following Monday morning Andrew was at breakfast. He must have returned during the night. Gretchen joined us and then the pair of them went off to the studio. I carried on with my work.

## Chapter II

I had soon got into a routine and the next few weeks passed very quickly. I was enjoying my new life, but I knew that it would not continue sweetly forever. I had only a couple of months left on my visa and then I would have to leave. Jocelyn, the gardener, and I had gradually become friendly. Sometimes she would ask me to help her outdoors. In that way I gained some knowledge of New Zealand gardening. It was, for me, a diversion from housework and allowed me the pleasure of working in the open air. Jocelyn informed me that she was a flatmate and not a partner of Kevin. I was still unsure of Kevin but I had no grounds for my unease. I tried pumping her about his background but she gave nothing away, saying only that they lived separate lives. They just shared accommodation. She certainly did go out a lot, always alone. Her reticence was matched by my own. In response to her questions I was intentionally vague, saying only, that I had lived in the U.K. for a while.

I had learnt how to find my way around the local suburbs and frequently made bus trips to Papanui or Northwood where I could browse shops. I avoided the central city because there was a lot of earthquake damage and access was very restricted.

My bank statement arrived in the letter box. I had been watching out for its arrival. I didn't want any one else seeing my other name. That would have blown my secret or at least aroused curiosity. The bank statement enabled me to get the driving licence process under way. I would have preferred the licence to be in my new name but it was better than nothing. I was then able to get my L plates so that I could take my lessons on the road. I would not be in New Zealand long enough to get a full licence but I enjoyed driving and it would be an additional qualification on my CV.

The latter days of December were very busy for me. Lorna had written a long list of jobs for me in preparation for Xmas when her family would be coming and going. Gretchen volunteered to help me in the kitchen. It was very pleasant working with her. We chattered away together as we worked. One day she surprised me with a new subject.

"Tina, I have seen the way that you look at Andrew. You're quite tall and Andrew is tall, so I think you would look an elegant couple. You really like him don't you? I mean really like him. Your eyes follow him around the room when you think no one is watching you."

She was chuckling to herself while I felt myself getting redder and redder.

I said, "Don't be silly! Of course not! He's the boss that's all.

But I was so flustered that she could see right through my attempt to deflect her questions.

"Well, I can day dream, can't I? I think he is out of my league. So that's the end of that. Now what are you doing this weekend?"

Gretchen was enjoying herself and ignored my question.

"We'll see. I am looking forward to the next episode," she said.

I busied myself clearing up the sink and bench. I kept my head down and Gretchen giggled, but let the conversation drop. I knew she would continue this line of conversation again at some time.

Xmas was a very strange experience for me. It was summer and did not have the seasonal atmosphere that I was used to. Lorna's son came and went. I barely noticed him and he certainly didn't notice me. Andrew's parents came and stayed the week before Xmas. I played my role as servant girl and of course dined alone. His father was a pleasant, jolly and active old man. His mother was a different kettle of fish. She came into 'my' kitchen one morning for what she called a talk.

"Miss McLean," she said, adopting a very formal tone, "You are doing good work running this household. However, in some respects, things are very sloppy and you are over-familiar. When you speak to my son, he is Mr Yorke to you, and my daughter-in-law, is Mrs Yorke, not Lorna. You are to address my husband as Commodore or sir, and me as Ma-am. You must remember your place. Things must be seen to be right and proper. That is all. Carry on!"

I was tempted to collect my gear and walk out, and leave her, to 'carry on'. The words 'get stuffed' were close to the end of my tongue. When they left next morning she left a few gold coins on her side table. My tip! I ignored the insulting offering and dusted around them. I left them where they lay. I knew that I had enemies but now I felt I had one more!

Christchurch was not much fun with its constant earthquakes – most were moderate but there were a few frightening moments. On Boxing Day, Gretchen and I were enjoying a picnic in the countryside with a few friends when a major quake hit. Our beautiful public picnic site, called 'The Groynes', consisted of a large area of small lakes and interconnecting streams. It all began to heave and I could see the land rolling and the water in the lakes sloshing back and forth. Reports soon came on the radio about more damage to the infrastructure of the city. I was beginning to feel glad that my stay was temporary.

About late January I had a much bigger fright. Two women from a local church turned up at my open kitchen door. Both of them were carrying black books—bibles perhaps. I told them I was not interested in any religion, but they had already made their way in. They persisted in a well rehearsed patter. I said that I'd made my own studies of religion and had firmly rejected them all; they did not make sense according to my rational 21st century philosophy.

"I have made up my mind. I can respect your beliefs but I prefer, certain knowledge, based on scientific principles. Now would you please leave!"

"But Shendra, we believe that there is good news for you in the bible."

"What did you call me?"

"Shendra. You are Shendra Khan are you not?"

I was truly alarmed now!

"No! My name is Tanita. I am the housewife here and I am demanding that you leave. At once!"

"We're sorry Tanita. We were told that you were Shendra."

The other woman persisted, "Where is Shendra?"

"Where did you get that name from? I don't know any Shendra," I lied.

They were looking confused but showing no signs of leaving. Then, Kevin came in. He looked menacingly at them and pointed to the door.

"You heard what Mrs Yorke said. Now get out!"

They both scuttled out and hurried down the path to the gate. I was shaken but puzzled. How did they know my name?

Kevin followed them to the gate and watched them for a few minutes.

I picked up the black bible that had been left on the bench and opened it looking for a clue to the owner. The book appeared unused and unmarked. Either it was intended as a gift or perhaps it was a prop. Were they playing a part or were they genuine evangelists? They were somehow not convincing, but, I was not sure.

Kevin came back in. "Are you alright?"

"I think so; just a bit shaken. But, why did you call me Mrs Yorke?"

Kevin laughed. "Well I don't know your surname and calling you Mrs Yorke gave you more authority. It seemed to work. A spur of the moment idea."

"How did you know I was in trouble? What made you come in?"

"I've been watching them on the surveillance cameras for a few days. They have been hanging around outside the gate. Walking back and forth—sort of aimless but watching. And, then I saw them arrive and walk up the drive and right in. I thought that I had better check."

"I'm glad you did. Thank you."

"I watched them leaving just now. They walked out of the gate, turned right and went past every entrance, so they were not going door to door. And then, they got into a white van about 100 metres along the road. I'm sure it was that same van!"

"Oh shit! They seem to be stalking me, I said. "Or perhaps someone else here," I added hastily.

That evening, after dinner, Andrew hung about in the kitchen helping me clear up.

"Kevin told me that you had unwanted callers this afternoon."

"Yes, and they called me by my official name. That was a shock. I thought that only you, Gretchen, Lorna, my bank, and the driving licence office knew that name.

"There are other possible ways that your name could have been linked to this address. The Immigration Service, or the mail from the driver licensing office. Kevin noted the registration plates on that van. He did a search and found that it is registered under the name of an unlisted business. There does seem to be something going on. Now, those bible women; did you get any impression of their character; did they look criminal types or threatening in any way."

"No, but, they were in control from the start. They seemed to know what they were doing—confident and well rehearsed. If they had not used my name I would not have been so alarmed. It seems to me that they wanted to identify me. Or to find Shendra Khan. Maybe they are working for my family; but if that is so, how did they track me to here."

Andrew was quiet for a while, then he said, "There had to be a third person – Kevin said they must have had a driver because they got in the passenger doors and then the van immediately drove off. I doubt if they are working for your family. They would have had family photos and have been able to identify you from them. What danger do you see if your family located you? Is your father likely to harm you?"

"Frankly, I just don't know. The family honour has been sullied and that matters a great deal to him; and to our relatives. If they abducted me they would want to punish me and they would probably marry me to someone against my will. There are networks that operate even in New Zealand. They would not see that they were doing anything wrong because they think within their own religious and cultural standards. In their eyes it is me who has done wrong. I am very frightened."

Andrew's arm went around my shoulder and gave a brief squeeze.

"Don't let it worry you too much. You are quite safe here, I'm sure. I don't think things such as you are thinking about, happen here, in New Zealand."

"Well, that's where you are wrong. There was a newspaper report in the paper just days ago. A Fiji Indian man, whose wife was going to leave him, took her one night up a country road and set her on fire and then drove off leaving her to burn to death. And on the TV there was a documentary report of forced marriages taking place in Hamilton. You're so kind, but I am not safe anywhere."

I could not stop the tears—they rolled down my cheeks. Andrew didn't know what to do. He passed me a paper towel. Then taking my hand he said,

"Now, now, calm down. We'll have to think up strategies to deal with any likely events that threaten you. Let's work out a few plans. We'll keep talking about security actions we can take. I don't think it is urgent so we'll take our time and work it out. There is someone here nearly all the time so help can be on hand in seconds. We can set up your mobile phone to send an instant text to several people at once."

"That sounds a good idea but in practice there are times when I am here on my own. Gretchen goes out visiting her own special friends. Kevin and Jocelyn go out at times and you and Lorna are away at least three days a week."

"Yes, Lorna and I have our longstanding habit of getting away at the week's end. Lorna has her own house in the country. It's a forty five minute drive, so she prefers to stay here to avoid the commute. I travel to Auckland and Wellington to visit my gallery people and I sometimes choose to spend some time painting and sketching outdoors. I also have a family holiday residence near Akaroa which I sometimes use. I never let my whereabouts be widely known so that I can ensure some life privacy."

"But, you don't know what its like. I am usually alone here. That's when I feel really vulnerable. Perhaps it is time I moved on. I am not part of anything here. I don't have any real group identity except the Yorke household. You've been very kind to me in my predicament but I need to build a life of my own. I need to do things which are fulfilling. Emotionally and intellectually—I'm in limbo. It's like I've been on holiday too long."

"I understand, but you should not rush into anything. There is no rush. You should take your time to plan your moves. And I actually like having you around. This week-end I'll be going up north on some business so you can come with me. Be my secretary. You will meet some people in the art world and see a bit more of New Zealand."

I realized that he was still holding my hand; I didn't know what to say. I felt confused and I hesitated.

"Right then! That's settled. I'll get Lorna's office to arrange the extra hotel room and airline booking. Well leave tomorrow in the late afternoon. Take a suitable suitcase from the box room. A secretary can't go into hotels with a backpack! Well I have things to do so I'll leave you to get organized."

He let go of my hand and busily rushed off to his studio. I stood there for a minute in a bit of a daze, unsure of what was happening to me and then I hurried after him. Gretchen was in the studio varnishing a painting of her own. Oh damn! Should I risk having her hear my idea?

"Andrew, I want to say thank you. But I have an idea. Come with me for a minute."

As Andrew and I left the room I glanced back and I saw Gretchen smiling and she gave me a big wink. God, that girl catches on fast!

Once out of the studio I said, "Thank you again. I appreciate your concern. It just occurred to me that I could hide my tracks a bit if I go to Auckland as Shendra Kahn and come back as Tanita McLean. In case Immigration Services are able to follow my movements."

"Good idea. I'll see to that in the morning. I was worried for the moment that you were going to back out of our little holiday. Oh, and I think you need to go out in the morning and buy some suitable gear for a secretary. Use the housekeeping bank card and I'll sort that out with Lorna later."

I was out as early as possible next morning enjoying myself in the shopping mall. I bought a deep red business frock and an off-white jacket and a couple of pairs of shoes. I bought a few more personal things on my own bankcard. When I returned, laden with shopping bags, Kevin was cleaning up in the kitchen.

"Andrew said you will be going away for a few days; that you are worried about your security after the bible women incident. I'll keep my eye on things while you are away. I have seen no sign of them or the van. When will you be back?

"I don't know for sure—probably Monday morning."

I went to my room and put my phone and my laptop on charge. I packed my borrowed case but it looked quite empty. I put on my new shoes and practised walking around the room. Such feminine things were frowned upon in my old life. I needed a bit of time to get accustomed to them! I collected my passport and other stuff that were in the name of Shendra Khan. I thought that it would be wise to leave nothing that could be of interest to any snoopers.

There were still a couple of hours before we left so I got to work catching up on the jobs I should have done in the morning. Andrew came looking for me. "Be ready to leave at 5 pm," he called.

"Okay."

I went and showered and changed and got my things ready to pick up. God, I was feeling nervous.

## Chapter III

I carried my luggage to the door thinking that Andrew would be driving us, but it was Kevin in the driver's seat. Andrew appeared, loaded our stuff into the boot and helped me into the rear seat. He got in the front and said to Kevin, "We both have some business in Auckland. Can you collect us from the airport on Monday morning at 9:30. The same flight as usual.

And so Shendra Khan left Christchurch for the last time or so I hoped. I would be returning as Tanita McLean on Monday.

When we arrived at the Hotel Mercure by taxi, a porter arrived on the scene to take our luggage.

"Good evening Mr Yorke. It's nice to see you again."

I followed them in to reception feeling very shy and embarrassed. Andrew was obviously well known here. I was pleased that we were each given our own separate room keys. The porter had preceded us with the baggage and was there to show us in to our rooms.

"Can you be ready for dinner in five minutes, Tina?"

"Make it ten," I replied.

The dining room was on the top floor of the hotel. The lighting was dim or perhaps I should say, intimate. The walls were glass allowing a wonderful view over Auckland and the harbour. Andrew was behaving very formally, and correctly. He helped me into my chair; I had never had that happen before. When it came to ordering he said that he was familiar with the place and knew their menu.

"So do you mind if I order for you?"

I said I was happy about that. The prices were outside my means and I did not want to know.

Andrew was looking very serious, even stern, to begin with, but after we had both sampled the wines he seemed to relax. He asked me about my sisters and wanted to know how they were getting on in France.

"Do they speak a bit of French?'

"Yes, we are all quite fluent because my father's work with NATO took us to different places. We went to schools in France and Germany so we speak both languages. We were in France for a much longer period so that is our second language. Our home in Kent was close to Dover so we frequently crossed the channel and there were often school trips to France. I love France."

"What do you like so much about France?"

"Oh, I like it in so many ways. The people, the language, and the art galleries, especially the impressionist artists."

"I had no idea that you knew about art. You never make any comment about my work or the other stuff you see around the house."

"I would never presume to comment on your work. Or Gretchen's for that matter. I'm not qualified to offer an opinion."

"Anyone can have an opinion on art—even the ignorant. Artists have to grow thick skins and learn to know what criticisms are valid or useful. If you say nothing the artist will think that his painting has made no impact at all—that his creation does not affect you in any way. It's called the damp squib effect. A painting is supposed to arouse some feelings in the viewer. Sometimes the feelings won't necessarily be pleasant. For example, Picasso's 'Guernica' communicates horror and disgust and fear, but it does so magnificently well. You would not want it on your bedroom wall though. Enough of that! I think you should choose the dessert."

"I know what I would like but I don't think I could eat it all. The pavlova with cream and liqueur pickled strawberries."

"We could order one and share it if you like that idea?"

"Perfect!" I said.

I thought we would have one dish and two spoons but when it arrived, Andrew took his spoon and fed me. Then using the same spoon he took some for himself. Then he fed me again and so on until the dish was empty.

This was followed by a Drambuie; deliciously smooth and sweet with the hint of fire.

When we left the dining room we went to our floor and he took me by the hand and led me to my room. I used my key card and went in; he followed me and then taking hold of my shoulders he turned me to face him. He was looking very serious.

He said, "Tina, I want you to know that I really like you. I want to take this very slowly now. I want you to be sure about what happens next. So I'll say goodnight now. Then he kissed me on the cheek and turned and walked to the door.

"I am sure already. I am sure!"

"I'll see you in the morning. Knock on my door when you are ready for breakfast. Goodnight Tina."

He gently closed the door and I stood there, trembling.

"Oh Andrew, I am sure. I really am sure" I sobbed, tears flowing.

When I got into bed I thought I would not sleep that night. My body was on fire. I wanted him so much. I cried into my pillow and finally, sleep did come.

When morning came I dressed in my secretary's outfit, walked out of my room and knocked on Andrew's door and then carried on down the corridor. I was definitely grumpy. He caught up with me as I went into the lift. I refused to look at him.

"You are in a funny mood," he said.

"What would you expect?"

"I'm sorry. I did not sleep very well last night either."

"Good! It serves you right."

"Oh dear. I'm very sorry. It's not your fault. I'll explain later, after breakfast."

The lift door opened and I walked out, leaving him to run after me again. A waiter greeted me at the dining room entrance and showed me to a table with Andrew trying to catch up. The breakfast area was crowded so it was not possible to carry on a dignified row. We ate in relative silence.

On returning to my room, Andrew followed me in. I turned, facing him.

"Please allow me to come in and explain. I didn't mean to hurt you, or offend you. Exactly the reverse. I want to protect you. I did not want you to feel under any obligation. And another thing—I was scared. You have become very precious to me and I don't want to lose you. Can we turn the clock back and start again—back to last night?"

"Yes, I'd like that, but not right now. The moment has passed. Let's carry on and enjoy the day together. Then perhaps we can come back here and have an early night."

I smiled up at him then giggled happily. Andrew smiled broadly. The ice was broken. Both of us were very relieved. I think that was our first row and it's over. We made our plans for the day.

This was a normal working day for Andrew. Our first port of call was across the harbour in Devonport. We walked out of the hotel into a warm sunny morning and across an intersection and one hundred metres to the ferry terminal. The ferry journey was smooth; the sky blue with fluffy white clouds floating above.

We walked from the Devonport Ferry terminal to the first of the galleries where Andrew introduced me to the three owners as his secretary. Everyone was most pleasant. We all chattered light-heartedly together for some minutes. Then the conversation suddenly became more serious.

"Andrew, we have had some offers for both your current paintings. The recession is real you know. You may have to lower your expectations if you really want to sell. Buyers are demanding some consideration in the present market."

Andrew responded without hesitation, "They are both very large paintings. They are my creations—they come out of my soul. They will only fit in very large homes. Those sorts of people are in no need of discounts. I don't want them to go to someone who cannot appreciate their real value. I am inclined to think that I should be raising the price not reducing it. Let them stew a bit longer. If they are too tight to buy them, I will consider offering them on permanent loan to some public gallery. The figure stands; $19,000 and $21,000, as before."

Phew! No wonder he is rich.

The discussion moved to the smaller paintings of his 'protégé' Gretchen Holmes. Some of them had been sold. She will be pleased, I thought.

The discussions had been firm but in good humour and we concluded with some art world gossip and promises to keep in touch. We shook hands, and then left, to stroll to another gallery and to find some light lunch. There was plenty to choose from in this attractive little town.

Andrew explained that different galleries tended to specialise in their own chosen styles and price ranges. Our next visit was to a cooperative gallery which carried a less sophisticated style of mostly experimental art.

"We're just looking," he said to me as we went in. "It's good to see what other artists are doing and to keep in touch with others in the art world. Another reason to visit is to self-promote. An artist needs to do more than just produce art. You've got to be known and to keep your name 'up there'. Most artists don't like that aspect of their work."

The mood was much lighter in the co-op. The paintings were more varied in style and quality. The art was less professional but had qualities of originality and freshness. But for beauty of composition and expression of emotion, the professional fine art galleries were my choice. I just could never imagine being able to own that art.

We found a lovely restaurant with a sheltered outdoor dining area. We enjoyed a fine lunch and a fine view of the sea and the local village life style. I thought, this would be a nice place to live. Andrew agreed even though, as he pointed out, this was a premium real estate area.

We returned to the city on the ferry. Andrew said that he wanted to visit some galleries in Auckland's Queen Street if I could stand more art. The exercise must have been good for us. Queen Street is all uphill. However, we were disappointed to discover that the city's art gallery was closed for extensive renovation and repairs. Our hotel was located at the bottom of the hill so we wandered slowly back, exploring a multitude of shops on the way.

When we returned to our hotel it was far too early for dinner. I suggested that I would like some time to clean up and change after the heat of the summer's day. I was feeling very tense about our planned early night. How could I manage my shyness? Andrew must have read my mind and said, "Let's begin our evening with a couple of drinks in the hotel lounge. A gin and tonic is just the thing for this hot weather."

We found the lounge to be very quiet at that time of the day. There was an intimate little area of tables that suited us. A waiter was quick to attend. I ordered a sparkling cider and Andrew a gin and tonic. We chatted away, reviewing our day and our thoughts about the quaint little village of Devonport. Then we were quiet for a minute or two both thinking our own thoughts. Andrew looked as tense as I felt.

"Tina. I know you had hopes last night that we would achieve a meeting of our er, er between our er, souls or er. Um."

"Andrew," I interrupted. "I can't bear this beating around the bush. I wanted you. I wanted sex. My body was screaming for you. I wanted you to touch me all over. I still do. I don't want you to set me on fire, and then have you douse my flames with ice all over again. I want sex. I've wanted it all day. What are you afraid of?"

"I'm sorry, Tina. I just don't know how to handle this. It is what I want too. I just don't want to frighten you away. I don't want it to go awry. I'm scared I will offend you."

"Andrew, you are my boss, but right now we are going to change roles. Put down your glass and come upstairs with me."

I took his hand and led him to the lifts. I took him to my room and closed the door behind us.

I took his hand and led him to the lifts. I took him to my room and closed the door behind us and then, standing facing him, I said, "I want you to undress me. Now undo these buttons. Gradually he took off my blouse and then my brassiere.

"Oh you are so beautiful."

"But you see people nude every day."

"This is different. They are just bodies, but I adore you."

He fumbled with the skirt and then it fell away. Slowly I became totally naked. And I was not shy any more. I felt proud. He picked me up and laid me on the bed then bending over my prostrate body he kissed my breast, his beard felt soft and perfect as it brushed over my nipples. Oh at last. His kissing and his tickling beard worked down my belly. My skin was rippling and pulsing as he explored me slowly with his fingers and his lips and his beard; I heard myself moaning quietly. Then, he stood, moved to the end of the bed and gently pushed my knees apart. He was looking at my secret place.

"Oh, no Andrew—don't stare at my ugly bits."

"Oh, my dearest Tina. You are mistaken. That is beautiful. I should get you a mirror so that you can see what I see. It is so beautiful; it is your flower, the flower of your body. I want to touch your flower, touch the petals. May I touch you there, Tina?

"Please. Yes please." I was holding my breath in anticipation. I felt his gentle loving touching as he explored my flower.

"There is your stamen!"

He touched my stamen and my body trembled all over sending waves of intense ecstasy, pulsing through me. This was better than anything I could ever have dreamed of. Andrew was playing with my body as if it were a musical instrument. I knew that he was getting enormous pleasure in witnessing the music coursing through me. Orgasms flowed one after another. I was crying and moaning, but he kept on with the symphony of sensual delight.

Finally, he paused and repositioned my body on a stack of pillows and cushions so that my secret flower was presented for his complete access. Slowly, gently, he inserted his stiff member in to the flower—into the very heart of my being. My whole pelvic region became a tumultuous volcano as we both exploded. I was transported to a new world of bliss. We were, both of us, making a lot of noise; yelling and screaming.

We lay for some time in a state of utter peace: we quietly stroked and fondled each other. Andrew extolled the beauty of my secret flower and I marvelled at his skill as the conductor of our symphony of love. I said that I was eager to repeat the performance.

"Later," he said. "It is time for dinner. We need to eat to keep our strength up. Lets bathe and wash one another then dress for fine dining."

He ran a large bath, then, we tenderly washed each other. I fondled his organ of delight and I said,

"If my special region is to be called my secret flower what shall we call this? It could be your staff of life; or your rod of fire. No that sounds too aggressive. It shall be called your magic wand. That's it. I love you and your magic wand."

We dressed and went out to a very posh restaurant. We had not one attentive waiter, but three. I felt as if I had become a royal person. We went home to our hotel and had an early night, but we did not sleep till late.

The next day was a Saturday and Andrew had planned to visit a gallery or two in Newmarket and he said that I needed to extend my wardrobe. We arose for a light breakfast of coffee and crackers. I was completely naked wandering around our room. It felt free and natural—there was nothing left to hide.

We travelled to Newmarket by train and enjoyed the art galleries. Andrew had no business to do. It was just a visit to keep himself known. The art was fresh and exciting but we were soon finished our viewing. He took me to a famous fashion shop on Broadway and gave them whispered instructions then he left me saying he would be back in an hour.

The staff said that they had been told to dress me for formal events such as first nights and exhibition openings. I was a bit confused, but they were determined to make it fun. They were certainly enjoying themselves. When Andrew returned he was presented with several large carry bags and a bill which shocked me. It was more than I could ever have imagined spending on myself.

The day passed quickly. Andrew had us driven by taxi all over Auckland, to lunch and then, to his favourite places. We returned to our hotel in the late afternoon. He was keen to see the result of the shopping and had me out of my dress in an instant.

"My god! Did you go out like that—wearing no knickers?" He clapped his hands, laughing loudly. "What did the sales people think?"

"Well, they were a bit startled, but they didn't comment. My secret flower is a bit tender so I left them off," I said, joining in the laughter.

## Chapter IV

Kevin met us as we arrived on Monday morning. "I'm sorry. I have some bad news for you both. There was a break-in yesterday morning; about two am. They only got into Tina's room. The alarm went off and the security guys were here very quickly. The bastards were well away by then. They have ransacked Tina's room but they didn't have time to get into the rest of the house."

"What can you see on the videos?"

"There are quite clear pictures of them. There were two people but they are not identifiable. They were wearing masks and Mickey Mouse costumes. They looked like they were both male but, I'm not certain. The police have been but, I'm sorry to say, there is not much hope. It's hard to be sure but they could have been using a white van; too dark to see what colour. My guess is that it is the same one that we have seen here before."

Andrew was decisive about what should be done to keep me safe. "You are not sleeping in that room again. You must shift your stuff upstairs into the bedroom between Lorna's and mine for the time being. I think I will like that," he said, smiling at me with a twinkle in his eye.

I examined the contents of my room. Nothing was missing and there was nothing that pointed to the existence of Shendra Khan. I collected all my personal stuff and re-installed them in my new room upstairs. After lunch Andrew came up to see how I was. He reminded me of my words of last week when I said that I had no sense of belonging. I had felt that I was drifting with no purpose in life and needed to take some action but I had no idea what I wanted. At that time I had begun to think again of fleeing to France.

"Andrew, things have changed now. There is now one thing that I know I want, for certain. That is," I hesitated. "I want to stay here with you. For as long as you'll have me."

"Tina, I'll have you as long as long as you'll have me, I want you as long as I live. I can't say forever, because there is no forever. I say that, not just because of our wondrous sex. What is more important, and what I love, is the essence of you. I love your bright and happy disposition. Your mind and your personality, all fit me like a glove on a hand. I know that I am a dreamer and a romantic. That's why Lorna runs the business and I paint and try to create beauty. She has the steel qualities to manage our commercial assets and she will be wary of your motives when I inform her, of our becoming a couple.

"Do you have to tell her just yet? Can't we carry on as we are until she gets used to the idea?"

Andrew laughed.

"She's not silly. She's a very shrewd woman. She already knows that we went away for the week-end. She knows that you're not my secretary. She has read the signs of our mutual interest in one another. She knows there is a connecting door between our rooms. You don't need to worry about her. She knows your background and how you came to be here. She likes you."

"But, I'll feel embarrassed. Can't we keep it secret for a little while?"

"Tina, I think that secret is already out." He smiled.

"But I have another worry. I still feel the fear of being hunted and of being deported. What if I have to run away again?"

"I'll make sure that you are not left alone again. I will make some changes to my routines. You will come with me every week-end from now on. Now I want to show you how this connecting door works. You see there is a button in the centre of each door knob. If you press the button, I can't open it from my side and vice versa. That means you can have your own privacy whenever you want it."

He smiled at me and I smiled right back at him.

"I don't think I'll be using my button; but, it might make things look okay to any nosy people prying into our secret lives."

## Chapter V

I awoke next morning in my new role as the 'mistress of this house' as Andrew called it. There would be no difference to my working routines but somehow I felt different in myself.

Later in the morning a new threat popped out the blue. I cleared the letter box and found among the daily junk, a letter addressed to Shendra Khan. Inside was a letter from the New Zealand online auction firm, Trademe, thanking me for authenticating my trading address. I had never participated in Trademe. I talked with Andrew about it later in the day. We decided to destroy it. Any reply would be likely to cause TradeMe to make further inquiries. Ignoring it would create a dead end. A few days later I got a letter from a bank offering me, Shendra, a pre-approved loan and then there followed a regular stream of addressed advertising mail. I returned them marking the envelope 'not known at this address,' in the hope that it would stem the flow. Someone knew that I was here and was systematically setting out to un-nerve me. They were succeeding.

One morning, about half way through February, Lorna came in for breakfast wearing a big grin.

"You must have been out all night. When I came past your room the door was open and I saw that your bed had not been slept in."

She stood there, looking from me to Andrew and back again grinning broadly. I didn't know where to look so I concentrated my attention on the toaster.

Finally, she said, "Well, I'm pleased for you both. Enjoy it while you can and I hope it works out for the two of you. I foresee some consequences, as there are for all things. Some problems are looming over the horizon so we will have to think ahead. Let's have a family meeting after dinner tonight. Andrew, I know you hate business matters but they won't just go away by ignoring them."

She stepped over and hugged me. She whispered in my ear, "Welcome and good luck. And, remember you can always come to me if you need to talk. About anything."

Dinner that evening was a bit subdued. I felt very tense and the conversation was strained. Afterwards, Lorna led the way into her private office. She was in charge and she set the tone of the meeting with her first words.

"Tina, you are about to take part in a business meeting of the Cornish Family Trust. The trust is named after Mrs Yorke's family who started the business in the beginning of the last century. At this stage you are a guest. The trustees are Andrew, me, and Commodore and Mrs Yorke. The trust is set up to make very little or zero profit so that it doesn't pay any significant tax. It purpose is to own and control other entities which do make wealth. It is designed to protect the family assets. It owns property which includes this house. It can claim expenses against any of its income. At present your weekly wage is categorised as an expense; part of the household running expenses. That is to change. As from this moment you are fired – sacked."

"Shit! Are you putting me out?"

I looked from Lorna to Andrew and back again. They were smiling.

"It's OK, Tina," said Andrew. "You will still be staying here with me. I just cannot continue our relationship with you being paid to be here. What would that look like? You can continue doing the same work as the house's wife but you will not be paid. You and I will share my income. If you choose to do other work then you can employ some one else to do house work for you."

Lorna, looking very serious, came over to me and took my hand

"Tina, you will soon learn what a complex family structure we have created. You need to know a bit about the family history so that you can understand what we will be asking you to do. Now, it is time to join the others.

The wall mounted TV screen was connected via the computer to display a Skype telephone conference call. It sprang into life and there, facing me, were Andrew's parents. Both were smiling pleasantly but I wondered what orders I was going to hear from 'Madame' Yorke. They both greeted us all.

I felt uncomfortable but I held myself together and said, "Good evening, Commodore and Mrs Yorke."

The Commodore spoke first, "Hello Tina. We have heard nothing but good reports about you from Lorna. Welcome to the family business. And by the way, I'm Alf and this is Pauline," he said pointing at 'Ma-am'. "We are on a quite different footing now, so it's first names all round."

"That's right Tina. I'm Pauline, and as far as I'm concerned, you are part of the family now."

I could not understand much of the business discussion that followed so I just tried to look sensible.

After the phone call, Lorna explained to me that I was now invited to be a guest member of the family trust. However, in the meantime, although I would be able to take part in meetings, I would not have any official power. I was an apprentice, not a trustee.

Lorna passed some documents to me to sign. "Take them with you and talk them over with Andrew. They are disclaimers to any rights or powers or liabilities. It is for your protection as well ours"

"You see my late husband, David, was enticed and then entrapped by a very clever, scheming woman. She did a lot of damage to our family business and would have been in line to inheriting considerable power. When David realized what he had done he took her for a ride on his pride and joy, his Harley Davidson motorcycle. He drove at full speed straight over the Scarborough Cliffs and into the sea."

"Oh, I'm sorry Lorna. That must have been dreadful for you." I was shocked. I had not heard how David had died. Now, I realized what Andrew had been struggling with when he said he was scared in my hotel room. It was not just that he was scared he would lose me. He was scared of me because of what happened to his brother.

Later I told him that I now knew why it was so hard for him to put trust in me.

"My dear Tina, I'm so glad that I have overcome that fear. I am so glad that you are the wonderful person you are. I have seen your worry and your fear but you have shown no sign of bitterness. You have accepted that your old life is a fact of the past but you have moved on. Perhaps with some regret; but, you have not said one unkind word about your parents."

"Perhaps that is because of the psychologist in me. I am able to stand aside from my feelings and understand them from a rational point of view. Except when they concern you, and when I feel hungry for you. Then, I just enjoy them; I don't need to think. Whenever I was in the presence of my father I felt fear. It was not because he ever did me any physical harm. He controlled people merely by his air of dominance—he radiated power. It was an intentional force that he used constantly. You were compelled to obey. He was like a hypnotist. No! A puppeteer."

"But, Tina, if he appeared here now, you would not be in his power. You could stand up to him and tell him that you will live your life in your own way and then tell him to go away."

"Andy, darling, you don't understand. Even if he can't force me directly, he will find a way to influence others to work his will. If he finds me, I'm still vulnerable. He could claim that I have stolen money from him as a result of my cashing in my university fees that he paid. He could call immigration and cause me to leave New Zealand, because, I'm now about to become an overstayer. He will always find a way to get what he wants."

"Well we will have to think about out-manoeuvring him. First of all, let's look into the problem of your immigration status. You gave up dealing with them because they wanted money up front before they would even discuss your situation. And then, there was the risk that knowing your address they could rule against you and deport you. As far as we know the immigration people do not know where you are. The best way to deal with them at this stage is through an immigration lawyer. I have been exploring the immigration web site. There are several alternative grounds for applying that were not available to you before."

"Andrew, just because I have moved into your bedroom isn't going to change their minds."

"Oh yes it will. There is a category of immigration for partners or spouses of New Zealand citizens. There are a few glitches that we would have to deal with. One is about how to prove that it is a genuine relationship and another is that you may have to apply from outside of the country. We could find ways to comply."

"I hope that you are not going to propose marriage. We have both agreed that marriage is never going to be an option for us. As two fully consenting adults we can choose to cohabit without any reference to a church or state. At this stage of our relationship I hope that it continues indefinitely but, we don't know what the future holds. You might come to despise me, to hate my habits, or my cooking, or, or something."

"Hey, Tina, darling, you must get out of the habit of foreseeing the worst possible outcomes of things. I'm not going to hate you. I can't imagine such a thing. I believe that we will grow more deeply connected over time. What we were talking about was the pragmatic necessity of satisfying the immigration bureaucrats. It would be good to make some public, or social commitment to each other in a manner that we can present to officialdom—to the bloody bureaucrats."

"Well, what are you suggesting?"

"We could get Lorna to draw up some legal document – an agreement about our joint status perhaps? We could set up a joint bank account or buy something in our joint names."

I felt myself warming to his ideas but I did not have much to contribute in the way of funds. I would have an insignificant share.

"I need some time to think about it. It's a bit much for me to get used to."

"Tina I'm not expecting you to give up anything. You should keep your own bank account and stuff. You need to do that for your own sense of security. I've already said that you will be sharing my income. That's where the money for the joint bank account will come from. It's a little bit unsatisfactory using your old surname to identify yourself at the bank but we need that to establish ourselves as a couple. I think we will be able to set up the account with the name of Andrew and Tanita Yorke on the cheques and cards. Let's do it tomorrow."

I am sure of Andrew but I don't know what to think of this arrangement.

"I don't think the bank or immigration will be happy with that. We will just have to put up with having the name Khan on the account."

"Yes, you are right. But we can put, simply, Yorke, on the cheques and card."

Things were looking up. I could begin to see a future.

"I have a few surprises for you to come. I have been keeping some secrets. This weekend we'll go to Akaroa and I'll reveal all. I hope that you don't dump me and run away to France or somewhere."

He was still smiling broadly so I am guessing all will be well.

"Oh! One more thing I must say is that you are not to tell anyone where we are going. Just say that you don't know – it is a mystery weekend. I'll finish my work early and we will go to the bank after lunch and then leave town."

What will I need to take with me? When are we coming back?"

"Just pack your essentials; strong shoes, and maybe an informal evening dress and swimwear and towels. We may go out on Saturday night. Perhaps you will get to meet some of my friends."

"I can't wait," I said. "I was beginning to wonder about your friends. I've never seen any around here – only clients and business people."

"There is a reason for that – you'll see. Now at the moment, I have to get back to my work and arrange for Gretchen to look after things tomorrow afternoon. Could you ring to make an appointment at a bank straight after lunch? You choose which bank; one of the New Zealand owned ones for preference."

## Chapter VI

When we finished at the bank, Andrew told me that I needed more driving practice and this was the ideal opportunity. I had not driven on the open road so this was an adventure for me. He gave me the directions and I drove the one hundred kilometres of winding hilly road to the village of Akaroa. I only had glimpses of the scenery because I had to concentrate on driving. Suddenly, I found myself driving up a very narrow road into the little town.

"Keep on going down Rue Lavaud and turn next right;... and now turn left into Rue Jolie. We should be able to find a parking space along here."

He led me to a small supermarket where we bought supplies for his pantry as he called it. Then he led me on a walking tour of the quaint town. There were people wandering just like us. Most, I was told, were tourists from the ship moored in the harbour. I felt that I could relax here, where no one knew me.

Andrew delighted in pointing out the features and told me the history of the French settlement of Akaroa.

"There are few permanent residents here nowadays. In the summer the town is filled with holiday-makers and tourists. It is very quiet in the winter and the population falls to less than a thousand."

"Where are we going to stay? Have you booked accommodation?"

"No, Tina. I am going to take you home; to my place. That will be the first of my secrets to be revealed."

He had me drive back out of town and then guided me down narrow, twisting roads, until we reached a bush clad area with steep hills rising to one side. Then he had me turn on to a gravel track which led off the road and down to a small cove. I expected a flash, expensive home but was surprised to find myself driving in to a yard in front of a sandy beach which was overlooked by an ancient, decrepit house.

"Come on," he said as he leaped eagerly out of the car. He led the way up a rough hewn path to a once grand entrance. He took my hand as we followed the covered verandah to a side entrance. He unlocked the door and then picked me up and carried me in. It seemed that he had rehearsed this moment in his mind and he was making a symbolic statement to me.

He set me down in the centre of very large and beautiful kitchen and looked at me, smiling tentatively. I looked from him to the wonderful view of the beach and the harbour beyond.

"What do you think of my mansion? This is only stage one, of course. I will re-build the other rooms one by one." He let me see into the rest of the house which was in a state of total chaos. I didn't know what to think at first. I was expecting a romantic setting for our weekend, but this was a building site. Then, I followed him out of some French doors on to the verandah and looked down at the car below and then to the beach and then to the open bay beyond. The vista was truly beautiful looking across the harbour and to the mountains in the distance. I could see that this was a perfect site for a dream home. It was secluded by hedges and a forest of native trees. I could look to the beach and the sea but I could not be seen from neighbouring properties or from the road. This was a world away from the world.

"Andy, this is lovely and it's going to be even lovelier one day. It's wonderful. What a beautiful project."

"Geez! That's a relief. It's my dream, but, I thought you might hate it. I hope that we can work on it together and make it a special place. At the moment there is only one room; the kitchen-dining-bed-sitting room. But, I have plans drawn up for the next stages. You can look and tell me if I should make changes."

'There is no bathroom. Where do I wash.?"

Andy pointed, "Out there in the bay. It's okay now in the summer. I'll have to get a move on if we are to have a bathroom by winter!" He laughed. "I was going to work on the living room and the first bedroom next."

"I have a problem. I know that you said to bring my swimming gear. I just don't have any. When I go swimming with Gretchen and her friends we go to that clothes optional area."

"Then you will have to bathe after dark!"

"It's still very warm and the tide is full. I'd like to go swimming now. Does anyone else come down this track? It seems to end here."

"That track, as you call it, is our own private road. There is a gate I can close where it comes off the main road. Boats can come into the beach, but, I've only rarely seen them except in the holiday seasons. I have discouraged them by placing a lot of mooring and fishing buoys in the bay. I think we can risk it. Let's swim before dinner."

The water was warm and gentle. Andrew tried catching me but I was, by far, the faster swimmer. I was thrilled by the freedom of our own beach and the slight risk of discovery by stray intruders. When we decided to return to the 'house' it was Andy who led. He was far better at running up hill so he was ready for me when I got near the house. He had got hold of a hose which he used to spray me with cold water. It was necessary, he said, to rinse off the salt water. He used the water to stimulate my skin and then we rolled around on the grass and enjoyed uninhibited sex in the open air under the late afternoon sunshine. I was lucky it was my turn on top because later Andy had to lie on his front while I went over his bottom with tweezers, removing the prickles.

After our sports session we worked together in the kitchen zone putting together a salad of rocket lettuce, avocados, cocktail tomatoes, black olives and cold meat. Andy found a bottle of a fine Riesling in the fridge which went down very well. I asked him if he had more secrets to share with me.

"Indeed I do," he said. "There is quite a bit that you don't know about me, yet. I think it could take some time. I'm not sure where to start. Perhaps, you should ask me what you feel you need to know."

"O.K. I would like to know about er – well, er. Oh, bugger it! I don't know how to be polite about it. Shit this is difficult. You see I would like to hear about your past love life. You've obviously had more experience than me; so I'm very curious."

"Oh shit! That is the question I have been most dreading. I would like to say, mind your own bloody business. But, I am aware that it is your business. I just hope that you won't feel badly towards me. I know that I have been a bit of a cad in the past. After my brother's troubles I have been rather afraid of women. Once they get a sniff of my potential wealth they change. Of course, it may be me that changed. I could never trust them. They became, in my mind, a source of danger, a threat. And, so I created my own defence system. I would only date women in other towns and kept my real address secret. I would always use an alias. I used to tell myself that I would reveal my identity when and if I became convinced that they were safe. There was only one woman that I came to trust. Then, I discovered that she had been keeping a guilty secret from me."

"Oh, was she married of something?"

"She was, no, is, a beautiful person, but she was always a reluctant lover and I could never get her to be really enthusiastic about lovemaking. She was very inhibited. One evening, we went back to her place and when I went into her bedroom, I saw the walls covered with religious pictures. I was taken by surprise and asked her where had they all come from. She told me then, that she had been in the habit of taking them down when she knew I was coming. She could not bear the idea of having sex while being reminded that God, or Mary, or Jesus, was watching. I was shattered because she knew of my distaste for religion and had pretended to share my views."

"Do you still see her around?"

"Only occasionally; and then, from a distance. I give her a wave, sometimes. She's married now to some other poor bugger."

"So, I don't have any competition to worry about?"

"No. Not at all. Oh well, there was one girl here in Akaroa. But, that was just a brief fling. She still hangs around among my friends. She's in the past but we're still friends in a casual way. You may meet her on Saturday night. Marion is her name. She's a nice person, but there was never anything serious between us."

"It doesn't seem to be a very long list."

"No. It is not. And, I can tell you there has been nobody in the last six months."

"What about me?"

"Well, yes, you have been in my sights during that time; you and nobody else. Didn't you know?"

"I had been wondering—and lusting."

"I knew that. So had I!"

We had an early night. It was cramped in the single bed but very cosy. The next morning we awakened to the sound of heavy rain so we were forced to stay indoors. Andy spread the drawings of the building construction plans on the table and explained what was to come. He had intentions of building in stages that would fit together over a period of time, so that he could do the work room by room. He would continue, as before; his art work and painting for four days a week, and work on the house for three days. In that way he could keep his house as a secret from the family business for as long as possible.

"You see," he said, "My mother is a control freak. If she knew about this place she would be here in flash and telling me what to do. I love her, but I have to be a bit devious to retain ownership of my own life. Lorna and I are good friends but Mother is the boss and Lorna reports to her. Lorna knows I keep some secrets but she is happy with that. If she doesn't know then Mother can't worm it out of her."

"O.K. But, what do I say to Lorna if she asks where we went this weekend?"

"I don't think she will ask, but if that happens, just say a romantic holiday and don't say where. She won't probe."

"Good. Now the rain has stopped and I have to go and dig a hole. I suppose that's like the pioneer women of earlier times. Can I make a plea that you build the bathroom next? That is more important than any other room."

Andrew laughed and said, "Yes Ma-am."

## Chapter VII

I was glad that I had the presence of mind to bring some working clothes for the week end. Andrew wanted of get on with building work and I was happy to help and I was eager to learn even though it was not natural for my physique. Carpentry was not on my list of skills but, I was able to help. I was getting some ideas about the interior design and Andy was pleased to have me participate. The house was long rather than wide so it was going to be possible to make the most of the sun and the view. I had a vision of a bathroom with a view but Andy quite rightly argued the case for putting all the functional rooms on the south side – away from the sun. Even his intended studio would be to the rear. As he explained, direct sunlight was not desirable while painting. It is never constant and shadows keep shifting across the easel.

We worked together placing insulation in the ceiling. It was a dirty job and the air temperature was hot. We finished that job and were very dirty and sweaty. In spite of the heat it was intermittently raining in heavy showers. I thought Andy was off his head when he suggested an afternoon swim.

"What does it matter about a little bit of rain when it's hot and you're naked and you're going swimming? You're going to get wet in sea water and afterwards the rain will rinse off the salt."

After our swim we wandered about on the beach in the warm rain. We chattered about the idyllic setting and how we might beautify the garden and the house. Andy suddenly interrupted the conversation as he stood back admiring the sight of me. I didn't actually blush but I felt a warm glow pass through my body.

"You remember I talked about the beauty of your secret flower? I still see it as beautiful – you are beautiful and your face is beautiful – but, you wouldn't go out without doing your hair, would you?

"Oh, I could never shave it all off. I've always seen it as signifying my womanhood."

"Well, your pubic hair is untidy. No! Unkempt is the word! It's a wild forest."

I can't very well go to a hairdresser and ask for a hair-do down there, can I," I said, laughing happily.

"I think there would be someone who specialises in pubic hair styles. I don't think you should attempt it yourself. Even with the best of mirror setups you would have trouble. It would be a shame to make a botch of it. I don't think I would trust Gretchen to do the job – or any of her other mates!"

We both doubled up in laughter.

"I could do it for you though. I've brought my beard and hair trimmer set with me. I'm sure I can do a lovely job. After all I have a special interest in it haven't I? I have just the style for you."

"O.K. Let's see how well you can keep your mind on the job. And if you fuck it up I get to trim your beard for you!"

"Hell! That worries me more than a little bit. I think I will be able to do the job to your satisfaction. So, I accept the risk. Let's get on with it before you change your mind. Come on!"

We ran back up the beach and up to the house, laughing all the way. Andy took a blanket from the bed and spread it out on the dinner table. With his camera and my laptop computer we arranged things so that I could watch the progress. First of all he combed my mound and then using an electric hair clipper, he very carefully and slowly, shaped the front of my pubis into a fluff ball. There was still plenty of hair but now it stood proudly as a centre piece. I was thrilled at the transformation. Andy changed to a new shaver device and began removing untidy wispy hairs from my groin area and alongside my labia. Now the vibration of the shaver started to tickle and excite me.

"Keep still! I don't want to nick any important things down here."

We started laughing. I tried to follow his orders. But, my body was beginning to have a mind of its own. I knew I was really wet and Andy kept mopping up with tissues which only excited me all the more. He calmly worked on to finish, this, his latest work of art.

At last he put aside the shaving gear and held the camera in position so that I could get a proper view. The first time I had really seen myself. I was delighted and proud of my new found, beautiful, secret flower. I could see now what he could see. He put the camera and laptop in a safe place and eagerly, I received his gentle and loving attention of the nicest kind, right there, on the dinner table.

We decided that work was finished for the day and as there was no television at this house and the radio reception was very poor in this part of Banks Peninsular, we were going to have to invent our own entertainment or drive in to Akaroa. While we were contemplating this, Andy's phone burst into life.

"It's a text from Bertie. He wants to know if I am here. If so, what's for tea? What do your think? Are you happy to stay here and entertain my friend or will I arrange for us to meet him in Akaroa?"

"I'm happy to entertain here. We've got enough of everything to make a fine dinner. The only thing we are short of is some form of booze. A nice red would go well with that steak you bought."

"O.K. I'll text him back."

I went into the kitchen and began to explore the fridge. We were short of herbs and spices but there was plenty of other stuff. I got to work composing a meal for three, then, Andy came into the kitchen to announce that Bertie was bringing some one else so the meal was going to be for four. "And, you don't need to cook: he's bringing fish and chips for four."

"Who's the fourth one Andy?"

"I have no idea; he didn't say. I hope it is not his brother. He swears like a trooper and usually gets drunk and offends people with his idea of humour."

I got on with putting away the stuff back in to the fridge. Andy finished clearing up the dinner table!

We needed to put on some clothes and I needed to tidy myself for the visitors. I was just finished getting ready when I heard a loud gong sounding outside. Andy grinned.

"I forgot to tell you about that. I have a device rigged up so that if anything comes through our front gate from the road there is a warning sounded outside. It's electronic; not a real gong. It can be heard right down to the beach."

I was feeling very nervous. This was the first of Andy's long standing friends that I was about to meet. Andy was up in a flash as they entered and began his introductions.

"Tina I would like to introduce my old friends, Bertie and Marion. Tina – Bertie, whose real name is Robert and Marion, whose real name is Marion."

Bertie responded, "Wow, I'm delighted to meet you. You must be his new girlfriend. Andy is a lucky fellow."

Andy immediately replied, "Not that new. About six months new. We are a couple."

Marion joined in, "Tina, I'm very pleased to meet you and welcome. Andy always has his little secrets and he has kept this one very close. I know that we are going to get along just fine."

So now I had met the dreaded ex. I was pleased that she seemed relaxed about the meeting. It was a big surprise to her as well as to me. She could have been another one to add to my list of enemies but she turned out to be warm and friendly. The four of us spent the rest of the evening drinking beer, because that was all we had, getting slightly tipsy and having lots of laughter. Bertie, whose real name was Robert, had a great time telling tales about Andy's exploits of his youth in Akaroa. I learnt a lot. I didn't know that Andy had learnt a trade before he took up art. He and Bertie were apprentices together and were both electricians. They still occasionally worked together. As Andy put it, he needed 'to keep his hand in' to keep his licence up to date.

Bertie suddenly announced that he was too pissed to risk driving so he would sleep on the floor and Marion could have the sofa. So we turned off the lights and climbed into our respective sleeping places. I felt sorry for Bertie but was not altogether surprised when I realised that he was sharing the sofa.

In the morning, after we had breakfasted, Bertie and Andy went off on some mission they had thought up. Marion and I washed up and tidied up from the night before.

"I'm sorry that we have no bathroom. We go down to the beach to bathe. I can lend you a towel. But, you can use buckets if you want."

"No, no. I'll join you in the sea if you don't mind."

"Right!" I said and passed her a towel. I stripped off and carrying my towel I led the way down to the beach. She looked a little surprised but followed suit, then, hurried after me into the sea. She was a little heavier built than me but very fit and swam strongly. After the swim we lay on the sand in the hot morning sunshine to dry off.

"Tina. There is something I need to say to you. I guess that Andy has already told you about me. And him. And the past. I want you to know that all that stuff is in the past. We were young rebels then. A bit naughty. But it was never serious. We are friends, but quite different people. We would never be compatible. He is not at all religious and I'm a dedicated Christian. A naughty Christian; sometimes guilty, but a Christian nevertheless. I've screwed around quite bit – still do. I like it. I pray and get forgiven so then I do it again. That's what I like about Christianity. Another thing – I have never been able to understand his paintings. My idea of art is that it shows something I can recognise; like Constables or Rembrandts or like photographs."

"So, Tina. I want you to know that I will never intrude into your relationship with Andy. He sounds committed to you and when Andy is committed to something he is resolutely determined. You are absolutely safe with him. I know it! I know too that we can be friends – you, me, and Andy."

I was moved to tears but I felt grateful that she could open up to me like that. It was more than I expected. I had been worried and tense about our situation but that was now resolved.

"Thank you, Marion. I'm really pleased that we have cleared that up. I too hope that we can continue as friends. I don't want to spoil Andy's friendship group. I know that it is important to him. Thank you again."

Then we were both silent with our thoughts until the gong sounded. I said, "That'll be the men returning. We'd better find our clothes."

We ran back up the beach to the house and just made it inside. I thought to myself, I love that gong.

When they went off I had no idea what they were up to. I saw that Bertie was driving the car and towing a trailer loaded with building materials. Marion and I dressed, then went out to see what they had been up to.

"Where is Andy?"

"He is bringing his boat. There he is just coming into the bay."

We saw that Andy was coming into the bay on a beautiful motor yacht. He picked up his mooring buoy and then came ashore in a dingy. He and Bertie busied themselves with ropes and chains to make a more secure mooring arrangement. This was something that both men were very familiar with. Messing about in boats was clearly a fairly regular activity for them. At Bertie's suggestion we went back to the house and put together a picnic lunch. The afternoon was spent pottering about and doing some fishing with moderate success. We had enough flounders for our evening meal.

Andy had to be back at his work on Monday morning so we left 'The Secret House' as darkness fell and drove back to Christchurch. Kevin appeared while we were unloading the car.

"All's been well while you were away. It has been very quiet. Gretchen has been here most of the time working in the studio. Where did you to get to this time?"

Andy replied without hesitation, "Hanmer Springs and Kaikoura. See you in the morning. Goodnight."

As we went upstairs I said, "That was a quick response you gave Kevin. I hope he doesn't ask me anything about those places. I've never been to either of them."

"Just say we spent most of our time in the Hot Pools and walking in the forests then change the subject as quick as you can. I don't want him knowing anything about Akaroa."

We were both knackered after our busy week-end and went to bed early like a couple of old folks.

The next morning I thought I was awake early, but Andy was already up and busy in his studio getting organised for the week's work. I fell into my usual routine and went down to the kitchen and started getting breakfast ready. Gretchen bounced into the room with a very cheeky expression on her face.

"Wow. I can tell you've had a good time. You are glowing. What have you been up to, if I may ask?"

I hesitated. Should I say anything about Akaroa? I trusted Gretchen but it was Andy's secret and the fewer people who knew of it the better. I decided to waffle. "It was a really lovely week-end. Just lazing about, enjoying the sun and the surf and walking in forests."

"Hmm. I see. I wonder where that can be. Can't be Hanmer, 'cos you've got no swimming gear. My guess is, a lonely beach; Kaikoura or the Marlborough Sounds. Am I right? Tell me!"

"I'm not saying any more. Now what did you do with your week-end?"

"Oh, I worked on my latest masterpiece. By the way, there was someone here looking for you on Saturday morning. A man in a suit. He was asking for Tanita Yorke. I said I didn't know the name, that I was not family. I was just doing some odd jobs about the house. He was quite persistent, aggressively so. He wouldn't leave a name or say what he wanted. In the end I had to tell him to leave."

Andy had come in for breakfast and heard the end of Gretchen's conversation.

"We'll go and see Kevin and have a look at his videos of Saturday morning. What time was this Gretchen?"

As soon as we had breakfasted Andy and I went to find Kevin. He quickly came up with the video and zoomed in to the man talking to Gretchen at the kitchen door. Neither of us recognised the man. He was very well dressed and had come in on foot. Kevin changed the view to the letter box camera. We saw the man walk briskly down the road to a car waiting with a driver. It was just too far away to get a view of the number.

No one knew me as Tanita Yorke. The name I had been using was Tanita McLean. The bank had my name as Shendra Khan because I needed to use my passport to open both my own and our joint account. Our new account had our names down as T and A Yorke to go on our card and cheque books and they were still on the way to us by mail so that could not be the basis of this person's visit. The housekeeping debit card bore the name, Yorke House. My name was never connected to it and if it had been linked by familiar usage it would have been Tina. So who could this man be? I felt an urge to move on, once again, but I was not going away from Andy. At least this time the enquiry wasn't for Shendra so it was not likely to be my family hunting me. The only other people who would be trying to find me would be the Immigration Service but they didn't know me as Tanita Yorke or McLean. According to their records I am Shendra Khan.

I tried to put the whole business out of my mind and so I got on with my work even though I was technically sacked. Lorna or Andrew had to get busy and find a replacement but I was not going anywhere in a hurry. Unless, of course, I really felt an immediate threat. At this stage I felt worried but not about to panic.

The next day was Tuesday 22nd. February. It was not a date that I would forget. I had gone to Northlands shopping mall to buy some swimming clothes. I had made my purchases and was heading back to the car. Kevin had gone before me with the household grocery stuff and was waiting for me in the car park. I was walking towards the exit of the building when there was a roar and everything was shaking. There was noise of smashing glass and masonry falling. When it stopped after what felt like a long time I picked myself up from the floor and ran out the entrance. The sound of sirens and alarm bells added to the chaos. I found the car and Kevin getting into the driver's seat. I jumped in and Kevin took off as fast as he could...

"We've got to get clear of this area. Everyone will be rushing to get to their families or to get their kids from school. Look at the congestion; its blocking everything up already. I'll try the back streets."

It was a matter of making haste slowly. The streets were full of cars. The first of the after shocks hit and again there was violent shaking and we could see the power poles rocking and the wires were heaving around, shaking like whips lashing. The roadway was buckled and hazardous with large holes into which vehicles had fallen. We gradually made our way home. Everybody was outside, not daring to go back in. That earthquake destroyed the central business area of the city and most of the houses in the eastern suburbs. It was going to take years to recover, and what was worse, we soon had reports of many fatalities. If ever I needed an excuse to leave Christchurch, this was it. But, I would not be going without Andy.

All normal activity had ceased. We gathered round in the kitchen where we could hear the news reports of the disaster. It appeared that we had suffered less in the northwest of the city. The Yorke house had some minor damage but it was still structurally sound as far as we knew. For others, things were not too good. Roads and sewers suffered severe damage and many bridges were down and there were continuing quakes that sent us diving for cover over and over again. The city's transport system had ground to a halt. Electricity was off for hours so battery powered radios were what kept us all informed. Many people had to walk for miles to get to their homes and families. Andrew and Kevin went off to check on neighbours while Lorna and I prepared the unoccupied chalets so that they could be made available to homeless people. The radio broadcast instructions on how to make primitive outdoor lavatories and advising on the sterilization of water.

We organised a meal from a stock of emergency rations that had been stored in bins in one of the garages after the first earthquake. There was enough bottled water and tinned food to last several days and a gas fuelled camp stove to cook or boil water. Nobody complained about the basic menu. Smaller quakes continued to rattle the crockery and our nerves. Once it was dark there was nothing to do but go to bed. Both Andy and I slept fully clothed, ready for a quick escape if necessary.

By morning things looked much better. The electricity was restored and breakfast was normal. We were able to watch the TV news and see the state of the inner city. I couldn't believe it would ever be the same. So many buildings had been destroyed and nearly two hundred lives were lost.

Our normal routines were completely disrupted so we existed in a state of limbo. No one could settle to work. Andy could not focus his mind on painting and Lorna's staff did not come in to work. The authorities had appealed to people to stay home if they were not involved in essential work. Many roads were closed and the central city was closed to all but emergency workers. The army and police were manning check points to control the entrance of people. Business was at standstill.

It was not until the following week that mail delivery resumed. Among the pile there were two envelopes addressed to Miss Shendra Khan. Oh dear. I had not thought of my own troubles for the last week. Now, the nasty feelings were activated once more. The feeling of wanting to run away; to escape. The feeling of fear, of unknown enemies – of being hunted.

I found Andy at work in his studio. He was repairing canvases that had been damaged and was not in the best of moods. I showed him the envelopes.

"What do you think? Should I destroy them or return them to sender, on-opened?"

He stared at the letters and then said, "Bugger. I think we'll have to open them and see if there is a clue to who the bastard is that is pestering you."

He took a craft knife and carefully slit the ends off the envelopes so that he could re-seal them. He then withdrew a single sheet of paper from the first one and handed it to me. I unfolded it and found a message made of capital letters cut from a magazine and glued to the otherwise blank page.

WE KNOW

WHERE U ARE

"Oh my God! Who is doing this? What can I do? Shit! Now what is the other one?"

Andrew passed it to me. It was printed on an official letterhead from the Immigration Service. I read it out to Andy.

"Dear Miss Khan. According to our information your visa to enter New Zealand has expired and you are still residing at the above address. You are now classified as an overstayer. You should urgently contact your case manager and make arrangements to leave immediately or you will be deported within 14 days. If there are extenuating circumstances you may call at the Christchurch office and discuss the matter with our officials"

"Oh Andy; what do I do now? We can't comply with that last paragraph. Not since Tuesday's earthquake. The immigration office is in the centre of the city's Red Zone. It's in the no go area. Their building will be rubble."

"My darling Tina, we will work it out. Please don't let it get you down. We just have to think rationally and see what options we have. The most important thing for me is that I want you. I want to keep you. You and I staying together is the most important factor, and everything else will have to fit in with that, one way or another. In my view the Immigration Service has a bad reputation. Kindness and human compassion do not seem to be in their book of rules. I am resolved that whatever they think or do: we will stay together. If they make you leave, then I will leave with you. We could choose to spend six months somewhere else, then alternate six months here. I have already made an anonymous internet enquiry but they will not give any indication of what outcomes may be expected. They just say – make a formal application. It's like dealing with a machine."

"Yes Andy. I have already tried that route, but they wanted money up front and I don't have that sort of money to risk."

"There are two of us now and I have the money. They do have a nasty habit of refusing and then saying you can only re-apply from outside the country. We are able to leave for a while. I can paint anywhere. I am sure that it can be done"

"But, what about your secret house and all your gallery and teaching commitments?"

"I would like the luxury of planning according to my own timetable. That would be the ideal and I'm sure it can be done. My mother won't be pleased, though."

"Andy, thank you. But, who are these other people who keep pestering me? I find it hard to ignore them: or him."

"If you do not have the threat of the Immigration Department then you do not need to be afraid of them, or him. You would be a law-abiding citizen. You could go to the police and lay a complaint. Leave them to deal with it. That poster letter says, 'We know where you are.' Plural. There is more than just your father. Who could they be?"

"I've thought about that a great deal. It could be my father, and my step-mother. It could be the person I was betrothed to, or his family. I can't think of anyone else. It doesn't matter who. I am simply scared all the time. If I did not have you I would simply run away and disappear somewhere else: France or England, probably. I am only here, because you are here!"

"In that case I have to take responsibility. Let's think out a definite plan; an action plan. The first step is to stop being intimidated. Then, we go to the police with this letter. Next, we make a formal application for a residence visa on the grounds that we are a couple. We are both reluctant to get married because of our distaste for the established mores of church and state. So: what I propose is that we declare our mutual commitment to the world by means of a Civil Union."

"Andrew, darling. That sounds as if you are proposing to me. Shouldn't you get down on one knee?

"If that will make you happy: I just hope no one comes in and catches us... So, now; my darling Tina, will you take me as your partner in civil union?"

Yes, Yes, Yes. I will. I love you. Now, you silly bugger, will you get up before Gretchen comes in."

"Just one thing I must say. I will never refer to you as 'my wife'. That implies, to me, some sort of possession or inferiority, a status lower than that of the male partner. I think I prefer the French term; ma femme."

"I think that is just as bad. My lover! No: that's not right. My love? No, that's not it either. My Lady. That sounds better, and I will call you My Gentleman. Actually, nothing seems right. Partner could mean a business relationship or a dancing partner. This needs thinking about."

"Well, that is something we can think about later. There is one other matter. We are being a bit rushed. We need evidence of our commitment to get your residency visa. We haven't time to organise a grand event. I can understand that from the feminine perspective, you might have liked a grand ceremony."

"Yes oh yes. But circumstances don't allow it. Perhaps we should aim to keep the civil union quiet. We can plan for a grand event later – our first anniversary perhaps?

Tina, my love – I think you are right. We'll keep the civil ceremony secret; very low key. Just a couple of witnesses. Gretchen and – er, I was going to say Lorna but, she would report to my mother in minutes. Oh! There's another problem. She'll have to know sometime. If she is not told she will be as angry as hell. I'll have to call her and explain the urgency and I will tell her there will be a more public event later."

"So, then Lorna can be a witness after all?"

"Yes."

"Well. I'll get on to the web and find out what happens next with the civil union, and the immigration people. Can I go and tell Gretchen the news?

"Yes. Of course! I know Gretchen will be delighted. Regards the other question; the other letter. No: something has been dawning on me. We have been trying to work out how you have been tracked to this address. How many people know your address and your official name? Your enemies have found you here. Only two people here know your real name; Gretchen and Lorna. I trust them both without any reservation. I doubt that either of them would even have your surname or could spell it correctly. Can you think of anyone else?"

"Only Kevin. He may have heard those evangelists using my official name although I doubt that he would be able to spell it correctly. I thought that maybe someone spotted me somewhere and followed me home. That seems unlikely."

"I agree. Your enemies would've had a difficult job finding you in this city by chance."

I was beginning to catch on to Andy's line of thought. The weak link in my armour, is of course, my computer. Andy was watching my expression. I could see that he saw my realization dawning.

"Oh shit! Shit! Bloody shit! I'm a bloody fool. It's my computer isn't it?"

"I'm afraid it is. Although, you are not a fool. It has only just occurred to me as well. I wonder if he could have hacked into it. Would your father know much about that sort of thing?"

"He certainly would. That was his job. It was very secret but that is what he worked at until very recently. I don't know what his job has been since he left the army. He was always very mysterious about his work. I just thought he worked in an office. He always knew what I was doing, but I didn't think he would have any way of accessing my New Zealand internet connection. I'll bet that he had installed a trojan horse and every time I'd go online he would get all my activities transmitted back to him."

"Did you take your computer with you last week-end?"

"Yes, but I didn't use it. Oh yes we did. You used it for displaying the shaving of my pubes. Oh my God—could he? Oh no!"

"Relax, Tina. It was only set up to display the camera view and your USB stick was not plugged in."

"Oh, thank god for that. I've not used it since we came back and I've never made any reference to Akaroa. Perhaps I should just not use it anymore."

"I'm not sure about that. If you suddenly stop using it he will know that you have rumbled his game."

"That's true but he will know about our earthquakes; especially if he is here in Christchurch. So, he may think something has happened to me. He may then send his scouts out once more. It's a guessing game. I have not a clue what I should do. What do you think?"

"Like you, I can only guess at the best course. Perhaps, just use your computer for innocuous and random activity and don't communicate with your sisters or friends. To put him off the scent you could spend some time searching for flights to Fiji or Canada. Look up immigration rules of other lands. If you want to search for other information, use my desktop. I think it is very secure – the security firm are always checking it out with all of Lorna's office stuff. Your phone is probably safe enough to keep in touch with your sisters, but, don't give them any idea of your movements. That's enough to think about for a while. We'll go and see the police at some later date after we are on-side with immigration."

Gretchen came bustling into the studio with her arms full of art materials.

"What's that I heard about the police?"

Andy quickly replied, "Never mind about that. We have some news for you. Tina, will you tell her or will I?"

I couldn't get my tongue into gear. I just sat grinning.

"I can guess. You're pregnant aren't you," she said looking at us with a gleeful expression. "You are, aren't you?"

Andy and I both laughed.

"Tell me, tell me!"

Andy pulled himself together and said, "No, no, not quite. We have decided to become officially a couple. We are arranging a civil union for as soon as possible."

"Oh, whoopee. Congratulations, I am so glad and pleased for both of you."

I said, "We are keeping it very quiet for the moment. It's just for the Immigration Service – so that I can get residence."

"Oh yeah. You expect me to believe that? I can't imagine a more natural couple than you two. You can't keep your hands off each other. I am so pleased for you both. Can I be your bridesmaid?"

"Hey. Hang-on a moment. We are serious. At the present time we need to do this to satisfy the rigid immigration system before I get deported. We are already seriously committed. Yes, we are going to have a public ceremony when my problems are finally fixed."

Gretchen was so delighted she could not contain herself. She was jumping up and down and clapping her hands like a five year old. Andrew, in contrast, was looking serious.

"Look, Gretchen. We are glad you are happy for us. We are happy for us too. We are treating this as urgent because Tina has had more threatening stuff sent to her. In addition, she has had an official threat of deportation from the authorities. We have to act swiftly to get her residency settled before she can take any action to defend herself.

I said, "Gretchen, you are invited. But, we haven't arranged anything yet. We have to apply to the Registrar of Civil Unions and then set a date and place. We have to follow the procedure. I hope that you can be at the ceremony as an official witness."

"Sure thing, Tina. Who else is coming?"

"We will see who is available. Our primary concern at the moment is speed. We will definitely have a more organised public event later. Now, I'll go and see what we have to do next. They must have a web site."

"Tina, Andrew. You can't just go back to work. We need to celebrate."

Andrew agreed. "We should organise a bit of a party or a dinner. The trouble with that is that most of the restaurants are destroyed or inaccessible in the red zone. Our timing couldn't have been worse! We'll have to have a few wines here."

I went off and used Andy's desktop computer to find out how to go about the civil union. It was surprisingly easy and I soon had the forms printed out. I saw that I would have to get some information about my mother that I had never been told. I had only ever had a short version of a certificate of birth so I then started searching for U.K. birth certificates. Within an hour I had my mother's name and a full birth certificate ordered. I began a genealogy search and discovered more than I thought possible. I was getting excited and lost track of time but now I knew I had a good chance of finding the lost part of my family. I made myself leave the computer and get on with my work. I told myself that this detective work could wait for the time being. I really had more serious and urgent worries to attend to.

I took the civil union forms for Andy to fill in his particulars. He was eager to have the forms presented, in person, as required. He stopped what he was doing and we both went off to lodge our application and set a date. The offices of the registrar were in temporary premises because of the earthquakes. The central city had been destroyed – it was, by then, closed to all except demolition crews. They apologised that, because of the lack of space, we would not be able to have a large assembly of friends – just two witnesses. We assured them that it would not be a problem and that we are planning to have a big celebration at a later date.

Our evening meal quickly took on the atmosphere of a party despite the rather ordinary menu that was all I could manage in the time we had left. In fact, we cheated when we found an Indian take-away that was still in operation. Kevin had gone to some trouble to have flowers to decorate the grand table in the dining room and sprays for everyone to wear. It was a delightful occasion and it made my day special. So, a fun evening developed with Lorna, her daughter and a son who was visiting from his Air Force base, Gretchen and her queer friend Roxanne, and Kevin. Andy and I were pleased that we were having a little bit of a celebration. Lorna, taking on the role of mistress of ceremony stood up and gave a little speech and explained our need for haste to satisfy the immigration department.

I was on a high that evening, but half way through the next day, I came back down to earth with a thump. Lorna had spent a lot of her valuable time checking my status with the Immigration Service. She even managed an anonymous interview with one of their officials. Something I had been scared to do. I was apprehensive that they would somehow track me down and deport me instantly. Lorna had given them a scenario of a fictional person that fitted my profile. She had called Andy and I into her office. The news was grim.

"You are not eligible to apply for residence as a partner of a New Zealander until you have been in your relationship for 12 months. But, you are not allowed to remain in the country for longer than the six months of your original visitor's visa. You must leave the country immediately."

"Then, how would we be able to maintain our relationship?"

"They don't seem to think in logical or humane ways. I asked that very question and their answer is that once you have left the country you can make application either online of by mail. But they will not deal with any application while you are in New Zealand. You should also send them a letter explaining the reasons why you stayed after your visa had expired. I was told that the longer you overstayed the more difficult it would be to get residence."

"Did you ask about whether our civil union would make any difference?"

"I did and the answer is that it would not make any difference in itself but it would be a favourable factor towards establishing your relationship as genuine. Not much good news I'm sorry to say."

"But, Lorna, this is cruel. They are virtually stating that Andy and I are finished."

I could see that Andy was hopping mad. He said, "I had a feeling that Immigration would play rough. They have an ugly reputation, but they will not win this one! I don't know how, but we will find a way. Bugger them. What sort of people can work in that sort of job? What do they tell their friends and family about what they do at work each day? I can't believe that my country behaves like this. Tina we will find our way around this."

"Andrew, I hope you are not suggesting that Tina has to lead her life as a fugitive forever. You have to face the fact that they have the power to do virtually what they like if she is an overstayer. You can't hide her. As soon as she uses a government service such as a school or a hospital, she'll be a gonna. What does she do when this coming census takes place, or if she buys a car, or gets a speeding ticket, or has to get a tax number for a job. It is essential that she gets granted residence if you are to stay together."

Andrew was looking pleased with himself.

"I have another idea," he said... "I know how we can stay together. We will simply become eternal tourists. Tina, you should go back to the U.K. and I will come with you. I can stay there for six months as a tourist. Then we come back and you can stay here six months as a tourist. I can paint anywhere. We go back and forth. It will always be summer! Then we can keep re-applying from outside the country until they submit. How's that sound for a plan?"

I looked from Andy to Lorna and back again. I liked what he said but Lorna did not seem pleased.

"Andrew, you can't just absent yourself now. The family firm needs you. That bare land behind this house is ripe for development. The earthquake has destroyed so many homes in Christchurch and the land they were on has been declared unfit for building. So, building land is going to be soaring in price. This is just the thing we have been waiting for and you will be needed to help in developing those sites. We are talking multi-millions."

"Lorna, there is no rush. The value will continue to rise and Tina will eventually get resident status. We can do quite lot at long range. I don't have to be right here. As far as I'm concerned this is settled. I can be free to go quite soon. Problem over! Oh, another small problem has been solved too. The housekeeper – I met a woman when I was checking neighbours after the big quake. Mrs Hughes just along the road a bit; lost her job when the place she worked was destroyed. She's about sixty, a widow, was the manager of a workplace cafeteria. Her house is a good indication of her suitability; immaculate. I said that I would discuss it with you. Now, Tina, can you spend some time finding flights for us to go away as soon after the civil union is sorted. You could even ring Immigration and tell them you are booked to leave. That may keep them from taking action before we are ready."

Andy sat back, looking smug. He was quite pleased with himself. He was in control again. We left Lorna looking unsettled. I felt that she was unsure that the end of our troubles was quite so easy. I didn't know whether to be jubilant just yet.

It was Thursday so Andy was looking forward to going to Akaroa for the week-end. As we left Lorna's offices Andy said quietly to me, "I don't want Kevin or anyone else to know where we are going so pack your bag so that we look to be travelling away. I'll get Kevin to take us to the airport and then we'll get a rental car to travel to Akaroa. It's ruse that I have often used."

Ha ha! More cloak and dagger action. I like that.

I was glad to return to 'The Secret House, La Maison Secret. It felt like our own place – a home. I was going to miss it when we left to travel to Britain. We sat up late planning our sojourn. We would make the best of the situation and enjoy it. I was going to enjoy showing Andy some of my favourite places in France and the UK. Although I had come to love New Zealand, I still felt longings for the lands of my childhood.

We went in to Akaroa town for breakfast. Andy was in high spirits. There was no wind and the sun was hot. After our breakfast of bagels filled with bacon and mushrooms, we walked up the hill to a splendid nature sanctuary called Tane's Garden. It was not large in area but full of native trees. We followed the pathways until we came to a lookout over the harbour. We sat and quietly enjoyed the view, and the tranquillity. The sounds of bellbirds, and the native wood pigeons, surrounded us. The wood pigeons were huge and made a loud sound as their wings beat the air in flight. The Bellbirds, though harder to see in the dense forest growth, made their presence known by their beautiful, happy, music. We were content to simply be there; utterly absorbed in, and feeling a part of the natural world. I felt a state of quiet bliss and so I sat in total peace. This was the world as it should always be.

Andy took up a newspaper he had brought with him. He read quietly while I sat and floated in my joyous, dreamlike meditations. Until:... his mood suddenly changed. I could sense his body tension. He stood up looked as if he wanted leave.

"Andy, what's wrong? Is there some bad news in that paper? What is it?"

He stood there and looked at me so seriously that I became alarmed.

"Tina, what is your father's first name again?"

"Govindra: why do you ask?"

Andy was slow to respond. I tensed wondering what my father had dreamt up this time. Was he advertising for me?

"Tina, I think there is some bad news for you. Brace yourself. I will read it out to you."

He took a deep breath and began to read.

"The body of a fully clothed male was found on Thursday morning, drifting near Godley Heads in Lyttleton Harbour. According to the documents found on his person he was Govindra Khan, a British Army officer travelling in New Zealand. His identity is yet to be confirmed. Police have not been able to contact any of his family but it is thought that his wife was on holiday with him. A daughter is known to be in New Zealand and there are two other daughters believed to be living somewhere in Europe. The circumstances of his death are suspicious."

He stood quietly for a moment or two. He didn't know what to say – and neither did I. I didn't know what to think. I was oscillating between the poles of sadness and gladness. On the one hand, I was horrified that my father was dead, but on the other, I was relieved to be free of his oppression. I had never hated him, but I had feared him, and was pleased now to be released from his dominance. He had many characteristics which I loved. He also had many that I loathed. I think that he was in some way the victim of his times and circumstances. He did not know what it was to be kind and gentle. In his world, and his work, things were black and white, right and wrong.

I did not move. And neither did Andy. I sat and stared at the beautiful world in front of me. Something ugly had happened and yet the world impassively continued in its existence in spite of all else. I thought I should cry but nothing stirred in my inner self. I was numb: but I was aware. How could I go on? What should I be feeling? Does this mean that I am free of my stalkers? Can I stop hiding?

"Tina, you'll need some time to absorb this. We should go home to our secret house and take time to work out what this is going to mean for us. Should we go to the police? They obviously know that you are in the country. Probably the Immigration Service and the police are in communication. If you turn up at an airport trying to leave the country, they will nab you."

"What does, suspicious circumstances mean, in this situation? It sounds like they suspect that someone has done him in. I have a motive don't I? If I front up, things may be even worse than before."

"I agree: it does look bad. On the other hand we know you are innocent. So, they can't have anything on you. The danger here is that the police in New Zealand have a history of sending the wrong people to gaol. They are so determined to get convictions they have gone through hell and high water to get or create evidence. They are like pit bull terriers on P. Getting a result matters more than getting things right."

It was some moments before I moved. I was holding myself in, like a swimmer underwater. All the muscles of my body were rigidly holding me stationary in time and space. Then – I slowly released my breath and brought myself back into the present.

"Andy, my father is gone, but I still feel scared. Let's think about it for a while to see what the implications are."

"I think we should quietly make our way back to our house. I don't want to be seen in the town. Too many people know me here. If I am seen with you, someone may connect us and track you through me."

"Yes, but, I think we should stock up on supplies just in case we want to hole up here. In the past, I have seen people being invaded by the news media. I don't want to face cameras and be pestered by personal questions in full view of the whole world."

We made our way back to our Secret House with a full load of tinned food and other long lasting goods.

Neither of us could settle to anything. We needed time to think, and to absorb the new reality, of our situation. I occupied myself by exploring the forest around our house, an area of some twelve acres. It extended all the way from the rear walls of the house right up the hill to the road. It was overgrown with native bush and trees and very nearly impenetrable. Andy and I had discussed plans for this area of the property. We intended to cut walking tracks to wind through the trees so that the natural life of the landscape would be opened up for our enjoyment and perhaps, in the future, for our friends and visitors. At this time, it was a perfect retreat where I did not need to speak, a place where my mind could wander, where I could allow my brain cells to re-order themselves, and give me the peace to come to terms with the facts of my life.

When evening came, we sat and began to share our thoughts and to make some decisions, such as dealing with possible police interviews.

"I can't understand why I feel so sad. When I left England, I hoped I would never see my father again. Now, he is dead. I know I'll never see him again and I feel bereft. I feel guilty, because he and I can never make our peace. I am worried about my step mother. I have had more attachment to her than my father, even without the genetic link. I wonder how she fits into the event."

"He may be dead, Tina, but I'm afraid he has projected his evil influence forward to your life – our life. If we try to leave the country now you will almost certainly be intercepted. Your name will be on a wanted list of the police and no doubt they will alert Immigration. If you were lucky enough to get out, you would not get back in. Where would that leave us? Would we be finished?"

"No! Everything is changed now. He is dead: I am no longer being hunted. I will go to the police. I have not done anything wrong. I am innocent of any crime. In their eyes I might appear to have a motive, but that is all. We are going to the U.K. anyway. I don't want to implicate you in this mess. I don't have to be on the run from my father anymore. I will arrange flights and then fess up to Immigration and the police. Then, I'll go back to the U.K. or France and you follow as soon as you are ready. We return here next summer and continue together, going back and forth until Immigration give in."

"Yes, you are right. Let's not rush into it though. We should stay here until Monday when Lorna, as your lawyer, is able to accompany you; just in case the police get things wrong!"

We spent the rest of the week-end working on the house and trying to keep our minds off the pressing problems of Govindra and the Immigration Service. Andy took me out in the boat and gave me lessons on mooring lines and boat handling. He explained that if I had to stay here on my own, the boat was an alternative form of transport to Akaroa. I still had to serve another couple of months of practical experience before I would be eligible for my full licence to drive a car on my own. We also tried a bit of fishing: flounder was plentiful and provided a nice change in diet.

On Sunday evening we drove back to Christchurch Airport. Andy rang Kevin who was awaiting his call. After returning the rental car we wended our way to the pickup Zone, where Kevin collected us for home. He was none the wiser and assumed we had been in Auckland. Before bed, I worked on Andy's computer, searching flights from Christchurch to Heathrow, London. I made tentative bookings for the two of us to the end of March or April. Andy needed that much time to be organised for an extended absence. The urgency for me was to provide evidence of my departure to satisfy Immigration. I went to bed blissfully unaware of the troubles the morning was to bring.

## Chapter VIII

The first shock of the morning was the article Andy was confronted with when he opened the newspaper.

'The Khan Mystery. The man found floating in Lyttleton Harbour last Thursday morning bore no signs of assault. The body appears to have been uninjured but sources have also revealed that he did not drown. However, the cause of death remains unknown. The police are seeking information about the whereabouts of two persons of interest, his wife, Roshan Khan, and his daughter, Shendra Khan whose bank account has not been touched since last month when a considerable cash withdrawal was made. Anyone with information regarding these people...'

"Bloody hell Tina, they'll be here pretty soon by the sound of that. If they have details of your bank account they'll have details of your address for sure. It would be wise to contact them before they contact you. It will appear as more innocent than if they have to come and get you!"

"O.K. – O.K. I'll go and phone them right now. I won't use this address. I'll pack my back pack and claim to be touring and sleeping in hostels as before I came here. I'll..."

"Tina! You are not thinking straight. You are panicking. They will already know this address remember. Just be honest, except, don't mention The Secret House. Just take your passport to identify yourself and print out those airline tickets in case you have to deal with Immigration as well. You don't need to hide anything now. You are not guilty of anything other than overstaying, and then only a week or two. Oh actually more than a month now. If they insist on your address just say you are staying with a friend at this address. Don't forget your phone so you can let me know what's going on. I will come with you. I've got my usual Monday appointments which I will have to put off. I will get Gretchen to deal with them."

I went and printed out the tickets that were only in the form of a booking only. I had yet to pay, but they were, at least, evidence of my intention to leave the country. I decided to use my own phone to call the police.

I said, "Good morning. I saw an article in this morning's news..."

"What is your name and address?" She demanded.

I ignored the power game and started again. "I've called to speak to someone about an article in this morning's Press about... "

"I need your name and address first so that we can get the right files. We have our procedures. Now, what is your name?" My ire was raised and I was determined that she was not going to intimidate me.

"I would like to speak to someone in charge, please."

"That is me. Now, your name and address!"

"Forget it," I said.

I hung up. . I realised how tense and fragile I was feeling. I had reacted without thinking. I should have simply given my name. I was so used to hiding that I had become excessively anxious about revealing my personal details. I tried to regain my composure before trying again. My phone began to ring. I took my time and answered, "Shendra Khan speaking."

"Hello Shendra. Are you able to speak freely now?"

"Yes. I am ringing about the body in Lyttleton Harbour."

"Well, I'll see who is dealing with that. Do you have some information about the case?"

"Yes, I think it could be my father."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Constable Jenkins is handling that. Now then, we would normally get you to come in to see us, but because of the earthquakes it could be difficult. We are located in the Red Zone so someone will come out to you instead. Where are you at the moment? Are you alright – are you safe?"

"Yes, I'm okay. I'm at 343 Claridges Road."

"Okay. Stay where you are. Someone will be there very soon."

I went to tell Andrew. I found him in the studio with Gretchen telling her what he wanted done while he was out. I told him the police were on their way.

"Damn! I would have liked to have Lorna come too, but she is not coming in for while. She said, as you don't know anything you have only to keep saying you don't know. If they start harassing you, refer them to her as your lawyer. They have no right to detain you unless you are arrested, then, say nothing: absolutely nothing. Gretchen, I'll leave you to look after the place while we are gone. No one is scheduled until after lunch."

We walked out to the gate to await their arrival. We saw them coming at speed. God, they were in a hurry. They both got out of the car and introduced themselves as Constable Bob Jenkins and Detective Sergeant Sheila Cummins.

The constable asked if I had proof of my identity. I held out my passport. The woman put out her hand to take it from me. She was making it clear she was the boss. She studied it and then said, "I see that you are Shendra, and you have said that Colonel Govindra Khan is your father. Can you give me any evidence of that?"

"No, what would you need? DNA?"

"Perhaps we will. Now, can we take you to see if you can identify the body? It is quite a long drive out of Christchurch as the morgue has had to be re-located to Burnham Military Camp because of the earthquakes. We understand that this process could be a bit traumatic for you but we will take care of you as much as we can."

Andy and I got into the back seat and we drove off in silence.

When we arrived the Constable asked Andy if he had known Govindra Khan.

"No. I've never met him."

"Then you should wait here in the lobby."

"I insist that I accompany Shendra as her support person."

The two cops exchanged glances and then after a delay, the woman said, "Okay, but you must not communicate with Shendra until the identification process is completed."

I don't think I had ever been so nervous about anything before in my life. We were led into a small room and up to a gurney with an attendant on one side. The detective asked me if I was ready. I nodded—and then the attendant folded down the sheet to reveal my father. This was the first time I had ever seen a dead person. Yes, it was him – but not him. He did not seem real.

"Do you recognise this person, Shendra?"

"Yes, it is my father," I said in a small voice. "It is him, Govindra Khan."

"Do you know if he had any distinguishing marks on his body?"

"No. Oh, yes. He had some scars on his leg, his knee and a strange mark on his upper arm; I think it was from some inoculation. That's all I know of."

The attendant folded down the sheet to reveal his upper torso. I pointed to the mark. Then he delicately drew up the sheet to expose his knees and there were the scars of his old injury.

"Do you want to spend some private time with him before we leave?" I looked at Andrew and shook my head. We were then led away to an office where I filled in the official forms of identification.

I asked if that was all. I was ready to go home.

"We have some questions we must ask you and then we'll take you home. First of all, when was the last time you saw your father?" The constable was taking notes.

"In August, last year, in Heathrow Airport. I was running away from home. I was in the company of an official from the Home Office; The Forced Marriages Unit. A policeman escorted him away."

"Has there been any communication since then?"

"No."

"Have you been in communication with other members of your family?"

"Er, no."

"You hesitated. Are you sure that you haven't been in touch with your mother or your sisters."

"Only briefly: a long time ago. Then we discovered that he was hacking our email so we agreed to stop it."

"Where are they now?"

"I don't know. The last I heard they were in France somewhere."

"Whereabouts in France are they?"

"I don't know."

"When did your father come to New Zealand?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you can tell me."

"Where is your mother?"

From this point I answered 'I don't know' to every question, until they wanted to know of my movements in New Zealand. Then I either fibbed or waffled. There were a few trick questions which I managed to deflect.

I said, "I have told you all I know. I would like to go home now."

"Where is your home now, Miss Khan?"

"You already know the answer to that. Can we go?"

"We don't think you have told us everything Miss Khan."

The constable decided that it was his turn to ask a few questions.

"Did you hate your father, Miss Khan?"

"No." I surprised myself.

"Did you love him?

So now they were going to probe and trick me. I remembered the instructions Lorna had given.

"I have nothing more to say. I want to leave now."

"You forget that we are providing the transport and we have quite a bit to do yet."

"I want to leave: now!"

"Miss Khan, I was asking you whether..." Andrew interrupted as he stood up.

"You heard what Shendra said. We want to leave now!"

The detective said, "You are free to go at any time."

Andrew took my hand and led me out the door. Once outside we realised that we were on our own. They meant it when they said that they were providing the transport. We were being left to walk the fifty kilometres home. Andy kept muttering, "They're bloody bastards. They're bloody bastards." Once we got to the main road we started trying to thumb a ride. This was a first for me. I was surprised how soon it was when a car pulled over.

"Where are you going mate?"

Andy said, "We've been stranded; we're trying to get to Christchurch."

"Hop in the back. That's where I'm bound."

The driver was clearly in need of the company. He didn't stop talking the whole way. Andy did well to keep him happy; I was not in the mood for small talk.

As soon as we got back, Lorna wanted to know all the details. Andy amazed me when he handed her an MP3 player. He had recorded the whole proceedings. All I wanted was a cup of coffee. I was totally knackered.

I found mail addressed to me on the kitchen table. It included another of those letters made up from paper cuttings. This time it simply said: WE ARE STILL WATCHING YOU. Again there was no signature. The other was from a charity appeal. I threw it in the bin and then I stopped to ponder how they had my address; as Shendra Khan. The third envelope addressed to me as Shendra, contained a statement from our new bank, showing a very healthy balance. Most of that money was Andy's contribution. It seemed that the whole world now knew me as Shendra Khan. I may as well give up on hiding myself now. The main purpose of concealing my real name was to hide from my father and Immigration. Regardless of the failure of my alias, I had come to like my new name, Tanita and especially Tina. Andy assured me that after our civil union I would be able to use his surname. So I would be Mrs Tina Yorke.

As I worked on preparing our evening meal I let my mind wander on the matter of the letter made of cuttings. It reminded me of something, but, I could not quite access that set of brain cells. I tried to visualise someone cutting up magazines to make up messages from the letter. I interrupted my cooking to cut up a magazine with the kitchen scissors.

Then it came to me. My step mother using letters for word games for us children. It was Roshan who was sending me those letters. That meant that she had not suffered the same fate as her husband. She must be around somewhere. I went to the bin to check the postmark – no stamp – it had been hand-delivered!

I turned off the cooking elements and went in search of Kevin. Sure enough! When he looked through the pictures from the letter box camera—there she was: my step mother, Roshan Khan! It was not a very good image—it had been dawn or dusk and she moved very quickly. There was no doubt; it was her. I decided to keep this new information to myself for the time being.

As we were finishing our meal, Andy said. "I believe you have identified the phantom postie."

"My God! Does Kevin report everything to you?"

"Yes, that's one part of his job – security. He said that you didn't name the person but, he thinks you recognised him."

"It wasn't a him, it was a her. It was my stepmother."

"Really!" Could you see a vehicle in the video?

"No, and she doesn't drive. The time stamp on the video was last night at 19:45."

"That means, she is still alive and here in Christchurch. The letter says, we are still watching, which seems to indicate that there is someone else other than your father. Have you any idea who that could be?"

"No. I can think of other members of the family but it would be wild guess work. I have never thought of her as a source of danger. She is not malevolent or violent. She might be angry at me, but I don't fear her. And in case you are wondering, I don't think she killed my father. If it had been the other way round, then yes, I could imagine my father killing her. He used to beat her up occasionally. She would not be strong enough to do him in. And it appeared that he was not injured."

"What about poison? Would she have known what to do?"

"Umm, maybe, but, I doubt it. The police would have known that by now I would think. I wonder how they can be so certain that he didn't drown."

"I guess that there was no water in his lungs. Perhaps he coughed it up and then collapsed. They are saying that he was dead when he entered the water. They may be concealing facts which they know – for their own reasons."

"Yes, and by the way, we could be jumping to the wrong conclusion about Roshan not working with my father, just because, she says 'we', in the letter. She may not know that he is dead. If she hasn't been reading the paper or listening to the news, she could still be in blissful ignorance. She may be in a hotel or somewhere, waiting for him to come home. He was like that. On one occasion during an argument, I even heard Roshan say to him, 'you spend more time with your mistress than with me'. That shocked me at the time. My father had old time values. He believed that the male is dominant and that women are meant to serve. He was in charge of the family. But, Roshan seemed to acquiesce. she just quietly put up with things. I don't think for one moment, that she would have killed him."

"Well, there isn't much we can do for the moment. No doubt your mother will return with another letter drop. I'll ask Kevin to look out for her."

"No, he might frighten her off. I want to talk to her. She is the key to finding out who is harassing me. I will put a sign on the letter box with my phone number. She may respond to that.

"Right then – I will go and do some work to catch up on my absences."

I had decided that I will try and track my real mother down. I have her maiden name but she could well be married. I didn't have much luck trying to find my mother's address under her maiden name of Alice Linstead. I tried searching marriages but got no leads.

I gave up and tidied up the house for the new housekeeper who was due to start work at the beginning of the next week. I had put a sign on the letter box, but I didn't have much hope. I could think of nothing else to do about Roshan. I noticed that I had slowly stopped referring to her as my mother and had formed a new habit of calling her by her first name.

It had been a long day and I was very tired but I did not feel like sleeping. I couldn't settle to reading. My mind was so busy endlessly going over the day's events. When Andy came to bed he was obviously in the same state and we spent a restless night.

The next morning I was doing my usual chores when my cell phone began ringing in the distance. I hurried to find it but I was too late. I checked the caller hoping it was Gretchen because I needed to discuss my attire for Thursday – the civil union ceremony. But, it was not a number I recognised. I called cautiously; wondering who knows my number. A voice answered—it was my step-mother.

"Shendra, Shendra. Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Are you on your own? Is it safe to talk?"

"Yes, of course."

"I need to talk to you Shendra. Where can we meet?"

"Well, you could come here, to my place."

"No, No! I might be seen; it is not safe."

"Do you know about the buses? Could you catch a number ten in half an hour? I'll be on it."

"Okay. Good idea. That's good, but don't talk to me on the bus. Wait 'til we get off at the bus exchange. If I'm not being followed, we can go to a coffee shop."

"I'll have to hurry to catch it. If we miss each other, wait at the bus exchange."

She hung up without saying another word. I hurried out and walked quickly to the bus stop about 200 metres from home. As the bus travelled towards the city, I watched all the passengers getting on and off. There was no sign of Roshan. This was going to be a wasted journey. On arriving at the exchange I went into the waiting room and sat down. The woman sitting alongside lowered her newspaper and looked over the top. It was Roshan. She shrieked in delight. I leaped up – we hugged each other despite my bitter feelings towards her.

"Oh, Shendra, I am so glad that I have found you. I have wanted to meet up with you for so long, to say I'm sorry. I need to explain to you."

As we walked away to find a less public area to continue our conversation, she kept looking around, behind and in every direction, as if she was trained to watch out for enemies. . I thought that I had found my hunter, but she appeared to feel more hunted than I did. We bought our coffees and settled ourselves at an outdoor table.

"Shendra, we have been so worried. We wanted to warn you about the danger you are in, but, we dared not approach in case we gave your hiding place away. Are you alright with those people in that big house?"

"Roshan, I'm fine. That is my home at the moment. I'm perfectly safe there."

"Your father and I have been watching over you. He also wants to tell you how sorry he is. I am worried about him. He went off for a few days to scout the territory as he puts it. I have been keeping my eye on you while he is away. I saw the police come and get you and I was concerned. What was that about, Shendra?"

Oh my God—she doesn't know! I tried to speak but I only stammered. I didn't know what to say next. How could I break the news to her in such a public arena? What the hell do I say?

"Mummy, do you read the local papers?"

"Well, not much, only the world news. I don't bother much about the local stuff. Why are you asking—have you been in the news? What have you done now?"

"Mummy, I don't know how to break this to you. It's not about me. It's Daddy."

"What's he done then?"

"Mummy, please brace yourself. I'm very sorry to give you such bad news. You see..."

"Has he got himself in trouble with the police?"

"It's worse than that – the police collected me to identify him. He is—oh Mummy, he is, oh..."

"He's dead. Is that it? Is he dead?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry to give you such bad news. Yes, he is dead."

She sat for a moment in stunned silence—then a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. Then, it was really messy. We hugged each other sobbing and feeling fools in such a public place, but not caring. Eventually, we composed ourselves and started talking about my father—how their marriage had been an arranged one, how they had both suffered.

"He was not really a violent man; but, he was a very angry man. He came here to find you to say how sorry he was; to release you from guilt."

"That is so sad, but I did not – do not – feel any guilt."

"I understand Shendra, but you were brought up in the Western world. We were stuck between the old ways and the modern. You did the only thing you could at the time. I wish I had been able to do that, twenty years ago. I loved your father, but not as a woman loving a man. We loved each other simply as two people trapped by their heritage. He was angry and often took it out on me, but I was just as bad in my own way."

Roshan said she was sure that it was her cousins that had done the deed. Her family had been grossly offended by my running away. One of their son's was betrothed to me when we were infants. They had come from Mumbai with vengeance in their hearts.

"What about me. Am I safe now," I asked.

"I don't know, Shendra.

"Will they forget about me when I marry someone else?"

"I think so but I don't know for sure."

I told her then about Andy and our civil union only two days away. I invited her to come but she said that would be unwise as she would be leading them to me. I said that I would send a driver to pick her up from a public place to which she happily agreed.

The café staff had witnessed our very public grief. A waiter appeared with another coffee for each of us. "On the house," he said.

We carried on our conversation and made plans to keep in touch. Roshan said that my father had installed viruses in our computers and he could follow me and my sisters around the world through global positioning systems. My sisters had sold their computers and phones and thus disappeared from his surveillance. He wasted a lot of time tracking some foreign travellers until he discovered he'd been tricked.

I said, "Yes they warned me, but I didn't realise he was able to continue once I stopped emailing."

"He was clever. Every time you switched on he was sent data and he could operate your computer remotely. That was his work, you know – his speciality. He drove around in a van picking up signals. He was able to keep his eye on my cousins as well. He wanted to protect you from them."

"I see it all now. I thought I was being hunted by him. Are you going to be okay—will they be likely to do you harm?"

"They're probably pre-occupied in not getting caught for his murder. I think they will lie low or even leave New Zealand. I should go to the police, I suppose. Would they think I was implicated?"

"Yes, they probably would. And, you would get entangled with their machinations. I expect that they will already be looking for you."

"Well, they will have a job. Govindra hid his movements to keep out of sight of the cousins. We were travelling under the name of Mr and Mrs Robert and Mary Patel. Really commonplace names. The motel has been paid in cash on a weekly basis. So there is no likelihood of being found in a hurry."

"You will be discovered if you try to leave the country though. You are going to have to face the authorities at some time. Leave it a few days until you get over the shock."

We travelled back together. I told her briefly about my problems with Immigration Services and my need to leave the country. She got out of the bus in Papanui Road to return to her motel. I stayed on the bus to Claridges Road and home, where I found an anxious Andy. Gretchen was just annoyed.

"How could you disappear like that? We were going to go out together to get you dressed up for your big day. Now we have only one day."

I told them of my meeting with Roshan and the continuing danger from my step-mother's cousins. Andy immediately saw the implications, "I think we should tell the police as soon as possible. There is no reason to keep things from them. Once they hear about the danger from your cousins they may be able to give some protection."

"I agree but we should wait until after our ceremony. The police will be all over us with their crass and clumsy ways of doing things. I'm more concerned with setting things right with the Immigration Service at the moment.

Andy frowned. "Well they have been pretty blunt in their latest communications: they said that you must leave the country immediately. On the other hand I think the police are likely to take the opposite view. They have a murder to investigate. They will not want you vanishing from their view."

"If we submit their forms applying for my residency permit they will at least know our intentions. At this stage I am not wanted by the police: I am not guilty of anything except overstaying my visa. We should send my application with a covering letter giving my reasons for overstaying and a photocopy of the letter from the Forced Marriages Unit. I don't expect that I will get residency granted before I leave the country but at least they will know what is going on. I don't want to get on any black list of prohibited immigrants they probably have."

"Yes, I agree. Let's get the immigration processes in motion."

Andy and I spent the evening working on the forms and a covering letter. We photocopied all the relevant material and posted the lot before we had any second thoughts. We went and had a few drinks in one of the few bars that were still functioning after the last big quake. It was crowded and very noisy – not very romantic but we needed a break.

The next day was reserved for preparations for our big day. Gretchen and I went shopping. Andy had instructed us both to spend whatever we liked to dress up for the occasion. I took Gretchen to meet my step-mother who insisted on highly devious shenanigans to make sure of her, and our, security. She had been well trained by my father. We showed her the morning's newspaper which showed a picture of two men the police wanted to talk to regarding the death of Govindra Khan. She explained that she didn't want to talk to police so she had phoned and left a message giving them the names of her cousins – Sameer and Rashid Mukherjee. The pictures appeared to be from their passports. We wondered how they came by them.

The day of the civil union ceremony arrived with both Andy and I feeling a little unsettled. For me, I felt this was not going to be the grand event of my life as most girls envision. However, it all turned out to be a very pleasant day in every respect. There was a nice little crowd gathered. Lorna had brought her daughter Elizabeth. I was surprised to find more friends than I had expected. Andy and Gretchen had secretly invited Roxanne, Bertie, and Marion. Kevin was there, very graciously escorting my stepmother

Andy added his usual romantic flavour with a poem he had borrowed. We had rehearsed it and read alternating stanzas.

"Tina, I take you for my lifelong partner, because you hear my thoughts and understand my dreams".

"Andrew, I take you as my life partner, because you are my best friend and fill my life with music."

"Tina, it is with you that I will experience, and savour all the wonders of the world."

"Andrew, I chose you because it is your patience and wisdom, which calms my impulsive nature."

"Tina, it is in partnership with you that I will be led to the fulfilment of my dreams."

"Andrew, it is you that I need, for the nourishment of my being, you are my reason for living."

"Tina it is with you at my side that I will triumph over the challenges on my way through life's journey."

"Andrew, it is your love and your friendship that will guide me to know my true self."

"Tina, I chose you, over all others, every day, for all the days of my life."

"Andrew, I will cherish you and give myself to you and none other for all of my life."

The registrar was kind and made us feel special but, we were pleased that we had added our own words as the official ceremony would have, otherwise, been very brief.

My step-mother was very emotional and also very happy. I felt so glad that she had been able to be present. I would have liked to have had my sisters there as well. To round off the ceremony we all moved on to a hotel for a very flash lunch. Kevin was doing a fine job of looking after Roshan. I had never seen him in a suit before. I was beginning to be less suspicious of him now that I had come to know him better. There is, however, something odd that niggles. I hope that my concerns are without foundation.

Gretchen drove Andy and I to the airport where I was expecting our ruse would come into play as usual. I had a surprise when we did not go to the car rental counter. We were booked on an aircraft bound for Rotorua. It was to be a new experience for me – a short honeymoon at a swanky tourist resort. Great! I had wanted to go there from the day of my arrival in New Zealand.

## Chapter IX

After a magnificent week in Rotorua, we were about to return to Christchurch so Andy texted Kevin to arrange our pickup from the airport. A few seconds later, Kevin phoned back to report that a couple of Indian men, had been hanging around outside our entrance way. He went and asked them what they were doing. They told him that they were looking for Shendra and Roshan. He told them that they were at the wrong address. Bugger. What an anticlimax to our lovely honeymoon. We had to revise our next moves. Andy thanked Kevin for his alertness and then told him that we would not be back until the next day. I wondered what he was up to because he carried on boarding our aircraft. He explained his new plan on the plane.

"Once we arrive at Christchurch airport we'll get a rental car and travel on to our 'Secret House'. Tomorrow, I will return the rental car to the airport on my own. I will call Kevin to collect me. I will then be able to suss out what has been going on without revealing your location. As far as Kevin and the others are concerned, you have gone off on a side journey."

"Gee, that was a bit of quick thinking, Andy. I have always felt uneasy about Kevin and it seems that you do not fully trust him either."

"You should never trust an alcoholic. His career as a naval officer went to pieces as a result of many incidents of drunken behaviour 'unbecoming an officer in Her Majesty's Service', as they call it. He now won't touch a drop of the stuff. He avoids social situations because of the temptations. He prefers to keep to himself. He is employed here because he is a friend of my father. It is a place of sanctuary for him."

"I have always thought there was something creepy about him. I didn't know what made me feel that."

"That is because he maintains a wall around himself. He keeps backing off and that makes him look guilty. He is also worried about running into old acquaintances – people who know about some of the bizarre events in his former life. He feels some shame for his past."

"Oh, now I feel bad about how I have kept my distance."

"Well, that's what he wants. He doesn't want to let people into his private world. It's best that you don't intrude. I would trust him with my life when he's sober. If he succumbs to temptation he would lose control of his tongue. I take the position that if he doesn't know any confidential information about me, or us, then he is perfectly safe. So the less he knows the better."

We collected a car from the rental company that Andy regularly used and set off for Akaroa. Once outside the city limits Andy pulled over.

"You can drive, you need the practice."

"Are you sure? I'm still on my learner's licence and that is not acceptable to the rental company."

"That's true but I'm sure you will be okay. You really do need the practice. By the way, I've bought two new phones so that the police, or your stalkers, can't track us. One is for you, the other is for me. My thinking is that we will only use them to talk to each other so that we are on no one else's contact list; we isolate our personal calls from all other phones."

"Andy, that's a brilliant idea. I feel much more secure already. The phones have always been risky. I know my father could hack them in no time at all and so, no doubt, could the police; and maybe the Indian cousins have the means to do the same thing."

I enjoyed the drive and we were both delighted to return to our private world. In the afternoon Andy took me out in the boat and gave me further lessons in seamanship and local navigation. We tied up for a while at the end of Daly's Wharf and made a quick walk to the supermarket to stock up our supplies. Andy made special mention of the limited time that was allowed for a boat to be left tied up. The wharf was in frequent use by tour operators so we, as casual users, have to ensure their safe access.

On our return journey Andy had me travel to Takamatua Jetty and manoeuvre alongside and tie up. I liked the feel of the power of the diesel engine and enjoyed working it to push the sixteen metre boat back against the swell and gently bring it alongside. He got me to leave the jetty and cast off, and then motor out and return to the jetty. I repeated the procedure several times until I felt absolutely confident. I took the boat across the harbour, back to our beach where I picked up our mooring and secured everything for the night. The dinghy had been left on the beach so I had to take off my clothes and swim ashore, get the dinghy, and return to collect my clothes, the shopping, and Andy. All this was to get me familiar with using the boat when he left me to look after myself at our house. I still didn't have a motor car licence so the boat would be my only form of transport if I needed anything from Akaroa township. I did not need a licence to drive the boat and I was pleased to have some freedom of movement.

Andy returned to Christchurch early the next morning leaving me to amuse myself. He was worried about me being lonely but I reassured him with a whole list of things I had wanted to do. Cutting the tracks in the forest was one thing that I really wanted to get on with. In fact, it is a job which is going to take years. We had already explored and made some plans so I intended to keep nibbling at the bush, a little bit at a time. The idea was to allow human access without disturbing the wild natural world any more than absolutely necessary. I could see myself spending hours drawing and photographing the native New Zealand fauna even though I knew virtually nothing about it at this stage. If I spent enough time at it I would eventually gain sufficient familiarity to be able to recognise and name some of the native flora and fauna.

I spent most of the morning on that project. I was lost to the world outside in a cocoon of peace and tranquillity. I was happy to be alone for a while; the constant fear of my stalkers, all but forgotten, as I pottered quietly at my work.

I stopped for some lunch when my body angrily let me know that I had done enough of such hard physical activity for one day. I went to the beach and lay in the gentle surf, letting the sea massage me all over. My peace was interrupted by the sound of the gong. Who the hell could this be? I raced up to the house to get into some clothes.

"Hi, Tina. Are you there?"

Ah, it's Marion. I rushed out to meet her. I was so pleased to see another human; my face must have been splitting in half.

"Hi, Marion. How did you know I was here?'

"I saw you and Andy at Takamatua jetty yesterday, mucking about in your boat so I knew you must be here. Where did you go after your ceremony?"

"Rotorua and Lake Taupo. We would have liked to have had more time there, but circumstances dictate everything we do, as usual."

"I don't understand what drives you two. I was talking to Bertie after your civil wedding. He was very puzzled. He said that he didn't understand what the secrecy has been about—he is always being told that someone is stalking you. That was all he knew."

"Oh bugger! It sounds as if my secret is leaking out. Well, if you know this much I will have to trust you with the rest of the story. You see, I had to run away from home because I was being forced into an arranged marriage. I thought that New Zealand and England were far enough apart that I would be safe. Not long after I arrived I found that I was being tracked wherever I went. I would've gone back to England or somewhere in Europe but I'm afraid that I fell for my darling Andy."

"Well, all's well that ends well as they say. What a lovely story!"

"Yes, but:... there are complications."

"How come? You are no use now as an arranged bride—you are already hooked."

"That's true, though there are more problems yet to be solved. I am also now officially an overstayer. We are still working through that one."

I decided that I would not reveal any more.

"It was nice that your mother was able to be here for your wedding. Couldn't your father come too?"

"No, that was not possible." I was not going to tell her about my father's murder.

"Are your stalkers still trying to follow you?"

"Yes, but I don't want to go into that. I'm sure I can trust you, but the fact is, the less you know, the less chance it will accidentally get out. You will know all one day, I'm sure. Now, tell me, what are you doing today, why are you not at work?"

She laughed, "Actually, I took a 'sicky' – a mental health day. It's necessary sometimes."

"Well, I'm glad you did. I'm glad of the company. I am happy to be alone occasionally. I would rather be with Andy today but he had to go into town for business reasons."

"Why didn't you go too? Are you avoiding your stalkers? Why are they still hassling you?"

My mental alarm bells had begun to ring. She was probing more than I liked. I tried to laugh it off.

"Too many questions; that's enough. Come and see what I have been doing in the forest. I'm really loving working at my project. You might be able to tell me the names of some of the plants, especially the trees. I want to get to know them."

"I don't know if I will be able to help you much. My knowledge is very limited. I would like to see what you are doing though."

So we went outside to the forest. Marion appeared to be impressed by the work I had done so far. I was not sure what I was going to do to entertain her after that. I had become quite wary after her questioning so I was relieved when she said that she had to get away. I wondered if I could trust her and whether I was getting paranoid. I realised that I had become very suspicious of everyone, of late.

The day was turning cold so, when she left, I went indoors to find some warmer clothes. I wanted to check my phone but I knew that I had to resist the temptation. I had to keep my normal phone switched off to keep it from responding to cell phone towers. There was a text from Andy on my private phone.

Not free 2 talk. There r developments. Stay where u r. dont call me. I ll ring soon. Luv A.

Oh hell, I thought. I don't know what is going on and I have no access to newspapers or radio and there is no TV. I love my peace and quiet but there are limits to that. Roshan intended to contact the police after our civil union ceremony. I wondered if she had done that. She was so anxious about being found by the Mukherjee cousins. I felt a strong desire to call her, but that would spoil our new phone security arrangements. I don't know anything about phone hacking; only that it was possible that someone could discover my location. I must not take the risk – I must keep myself under control. I realise that I am working myself up into a state of agitation. I know that the cure is activity. I make a huge effort to calm down and find some displacement action. I set about frantically doing housework and immediately began to feel better. The house was really quite tidy and clean but I found things to keep me busy. I prepared an evening meal for one. It was going to be a long night.

As the evening slowly transformed to night I became agitated once again. It was deathly quiet—there were not even any books to read. In the end I started to look through Andy's drawing and sketching materials. I had sometimes used his pencils to doodle on past occasions and as I looked through his sketch book I had the idea to begin teaching myself to draw so that I could record the plants of the forest. I did sometimes draw in an un-tutored fashion. Now I could use this time as an opportunity to do some serious practice.

I was soon totally involved in my drawing. When the phone rang, I jumped in fright. Andy had a lot to tell me.

"I need to get this in order in my mind before I try to fill you in; such a lot has been happening. The police are seriously interested in your activities and mine. First of all, the Mukherjee cousins have not been seen since Kevin spoke to them. Roshan had rung the police and left a message to the effect that she believed that the cousins killed your father. She thought that they would act on her message without bothering her but they traced her call and found her in no time at all. They spent quite a bit of time questioning her but she really doesn't know anything that is convincing to them. In the meantime, she has been told not to leave town. My parents are hopping mad saying that I have got myself entangled with a problem family. They have gone off you, that's for sure."

"I don't blame them. I'm very sorry, Andy. I am mucking up your life and I feel really bad about it."

"Tina, we are in this together. I love you. Life takes its own course. Shit happens; but it all works out in the end. We will get it sorted. I have explained to the police about the danger you are in – that you have run away in fear of the cousins' vengeance. I think the police may be working with the idea that the Mukherjees are a fiction – they really grilled Kevin and suggested that I put him up to the story. When I talked to him, his description of the Mukherjees matched Roshan's so I am certain that it is them he spoke to. He said the cousins were polite and they accepted that he had never heard of you. I don't think the police believe Kevin and they keep asking him about you and our civil union. He repeats that you are Tanita and he doesn't know any Shendra."

"I should talk to them. I have no reason to fear them; they are only doing their job, but I don't want to come out of hiding until the Mukherjees are locked up. They killed my father and I am next on their list. Tell them that I will meet them when they have caught the Mukherjees. Why are the police so anxious to find me?"

"Don't you realise that you are a prime suspect for the murder of your father? And of course, so is Roshan. The fact you are missing is also very suspicious in their minds. You should remember that I can't give them messages from you—they would then know that we are in communication. I have simply told them that you have run away in fear of the Mukherjees and I don't know where you are."

"Andy, I'm also very worried that I have not contacted the Immigration Service. We don't want to get further into their bad books. Could you ring them and tell them I am planning to leave the country but the police enquiry is stopping me for the time being – just to keep them happy."

"Yep. Good idea. I'll do..."

"Andy, Andy. I hear someone coughing. Oh, oh and now there is a banging sound on the roof. What shall I do? On God oh..."

"Tina, calm down. Calm down! Listen to me. That noise is almost certainly the sound of possums coughing. They sound human. And, the banging on the roof will be them dropping off the trees and sliding down the iron roof. It's very common – I'm surprised you haven't heard it before. Tina, did you hear what I said?"

"Er, well, yes, but are you sure? It sounds like there are people up there."

"I'm certain. If it was a human you would have heard the gong as they entered the place. Humans would be most unlikely to be running around on the roof in the dark. It is really common for possums to do that at night."

"It seems to have stopped. I'm not convinced though."

"Tina, I'm sure it is possums. Just don't panic. Take the lantern and go outside and shine it on the roof. I'll stay on the phone. Just gather your courage and do it."

I didn't want to unlock the door and go outside. I was trembling like a leaf in the wind. Eventually I did as Andy said, and with my heart in my mouth, I stepped out into the night. I shone the lantern on to the roof but could see no animals. Then I saw the red eyes reflecting my light. It was just as Andy said. God, I don't think I was ever so frightened in my life. I gradually pulled myself together and returned inside.

"Andy, I can't wait until this trouble is over. I am becoming a nervous wreck. I have this urge again – to run away. But I have nowhere left to run to. Can I come back home with you? I want to come home."

"Tina, I don't want you to come back here just yet. There is one more thing I haven't told you. Kevin has spotted the white van again a number of times. It is sometimes parked down the street and sometimes cruising back and forth past our gateway. Previously, I had thought that it was your father, but it must be the Mukherjees. I have told the police but they don't seem interested. So you see, you are safer where you are for the moment."

"Yes – okay, I know what you are saying but, it is hard to sit here on my own. I can't even keep up with the news or hear music. I am usually happy with my own company; it's just the worry of not knowing what's going on but at the same time knowing that there is someone out there who wants to do me harm. I have been trying to keep busy. I found some art materials of your's. I thought that I could spend some time teaching myself to draw and to try doing watercolours.

"Why is it that beginners always want to make a start in art using watercolours? It is the most difficult of all the art mediums. It is also the most beautiful and the most exciting when it is mastered."

"Well, why do you always work in oils if watercolours are so good?"

"Purely commercial reasons, Tina. Watercolour paintings do not usually get the same prices; they are more fragile; they need to be framed behind glass; they are often not considered as serious art; they are usually restricted in size; and so the list goes on. It would certainly be an excellent form of distraction but, you should understand that if you are serious about it you should be thinking of it as a long term project. It takes a lot of time to acquire the skills of a watercolour artist. You can hone your drawing skills until I can get some painting materials to bring you next weekend."

"I will be looking forward to that. I can't wait 'til we are together again."

We continued our conversation for a long time and I realised that Andy was doing his best to keep me amused and entertained.

I was awake early next morning with a few plans for the day. I did some quick housework and hurried outside to my forest. My previous work had made a little progress. The path that I had cut was quite concealed and could barely be seen from the outside. I felt pleased that my path did not create much intrusion – the privacy of nature remained just as I intended. I continued, lost in time, cutting back lower tree branches to allow more access deeper into the secluded domain. My meditative work was interrupted by the gong. I thought, who could it be this time – perhaps Marion had given herself another day off. I kept myself hidden while I peered through a gap. A police car drove down to the house. I heard the sound of knocking but I kept quiet and waited. I watched a policeman going around the house, looking in the windows and then he wandered out of sight. A few minutes passed and then he drove back up the hill to our gate and I heard the sound of the car fade away leaving me in peace once again.

I was not surprised at the police becoming interested in our Secret House because records in a number of official offices would show Andy's property ownership. I knew that I had been lucky but I also knew that they would be back again sooner or later. I must remain alert and leave no obvious signs of my habitation.

When my body began to let me know that I had done enough for the day, I returned to the house and gathered some things and went to the boat. I tethered the dinghy to the stern and motored out into the harbour. I was going out for the day! I anchored just offshore near the Akaroa wharf and took the dinghy ashore and pulled it up the beach and tied it up to a convenient post. A short walk uphill along Church Street brought me to the Akaroa library where I chatted to a very friendly librarian about art instruction books. She told me where I might be able to buy art materials in the township. I chose a large selection of watercolour painting books and then walked down the hill to the small row of shops. Unfortunately, the only art materials available were meant for children, but I thought that they were a start and I could see about better quality stuff at another time. Andy would, no doubt, bring me some real artist's supplies later on.

I bought myself an excellent lunch at a boulevard restaurant. As I sat there on my own, looking at the view and my boat bobbing at anchor, I thought to myself that this is an idyllic life style and I needed nothing else but a resident's visa and freedom from my stalkers. I also had a desire for more purpose – some real life goals. My original plans to further my academic goals and a career in psychology were now but a faded dream. I had lost interest, at least for the time being. I was in no position to make plans until I had a more definite and secure foundation for my life. With Andy as my life partner, I had no need of a job to earn an income, but I had no desire to swan around through life as a useless, rich, playgirl. Andy is an exemplar to me, of being a worker contributing to society, while having no need to earn money to live. He has a useful trade and also has a destiny as an accomplished professional artist creating works of beauty for the world to enjoy. I adore him. Perhaps that is my real purpose in life; to nurture him and his talents. I don't think he would like that. He doesn't see me as an object, as a mother figure, as a trophy wife, or as décor. I should ask him for his views if we can ever get around to having a serious discussion that is not related to the pressing problems of personal safety.

My mental meanderings were disturbed by my boatie's eye on the weather. The sea was becoming quite choppy with a rising wind. It was time for me to head for home. The journey was very rough as the boat pushed into a fierce Nor-west head wind. The sea was not yet dangerous but it looked as if it would become so before long. As I manoeuvered towards our little bay I was aware that I would have to make a difficult turn during which I would be exposed broadside to the wind and sea. I was concentrating on timing my manoeuvre and nearly missed seeing the police car parked in front the house. I carried on past the bay and when out of sight I made a gradual change in direction until I was on course for Takamatua Bay where I would be in sheltered water for the night. I didn't want to be trying to get back to the Secret House once darkness descended. I did not have a clue about navigating around in the dark; I would be certain to come to grief on the rocks. I was going to have another long night I thought and then I remembered my library books and the boat's radio. I should be able to get a signal away from the hills and on the water. I thought of food for an evening meal and breakfast. There was not much on board; just basic ingredients and a couple packets of biscuits. Well, I won't starve to death overnight. I can make cups of tea in the wee galley and perhaps I could try fishing if I become desperate.

I settled down to listen to the radio and to read my books. As it got darker I turned on the masthead riding light and with the light above the bunk I felt comfortable and secure. I enjoyed relaxing while the sea rocked my bed and was nearly asleep when my attention was caught by a newsreader speaking my name. It was something about police looking for Shendra Khan who is missing, and fears for her safety. It appeared that the police still had no idea of the cause of the death of my father, Govindra Khan. They gave a rather flattering description of me and asked that any sightings be reported to Constable Jenkins at Papanui Police. Now, that set me wondering: why aren't they broadcasting for information about Sameer and Rashid Mukherjee.

I was disappointed that Andy had not phoned me and his phone was switched off. I turned off everything but the riding light and snuggled down to the sounds of the sea slapping the hull. I slept the most wonderful refreshing sleep until dawn had long broken. There was nothing from Andy – no texts or calls. Something must be up. I considered it wise to avoid calling him. I did not want to compromise our secret phone so I restrained my impatience and concentrated on tidying myself up for the day. The sea and the wind had calmed down so I motored across the harbour and into our bay and watched the house for some time. Nothing moved. There was no sign of anyone. I had decided that the house was not as safe as it had been. If the police were watching it, I would be better to stay on the boat but there were things I needed. I paddled ashore and carefully went up to the house and found it still all secure. I got some essential items and made several trips out to the boat. My sleeping bag was the top of my list because I was barely warm enough through the autumn night. I took all my clothes and personal items because the police, or someone, may break in. I wanted to leave no trace of living here for the time being. I checked the front gate – it was still chained up – the cop must have put things back as he found it, as was the rural custom.

Once on board I started up and motored away across the harbour. I had to dream up some new activity to fill in my day. I did not want to be seen too often wandering about the town. I anchored in a different location and went ashore in search of a cooked breakfast. I was unlikely to be noticed because there was a cruise liner in the harbour and the place was teeming with tourists. I made a point of avoiding going to the same places as I had the day before. I didn't want to become known as a familiar figure.

I ordered a hearty breakfast of sausages bacon and eggs and sat myself down next to a group of French ladies, hoping to be lost in the crowd. I was enjoying my not very French fry-up when a policeman came wandering among the tables. He stopped and looked very hard at me. Oh bugger, I thought.

"Excuse me Miss, can I see your passport?"

I smiled my biggest smile and fluttered my eyes at him and said, "Very nice. Very Nice."

"Your passport?"

"Oui, lubbly day. Merci beaucoup. Pardon, je ne comprendre pas l'anglais.

One of the French ladies leaned over and said to me in French, "He wants to see your passport."

I told her very truthfully, in French, that my passport is on the boat and I do not want to talk to him. "He has been following me and ogling all morning. Tell him to go away. He is a creep!"

She turned and spoke in very good English, "The young lady left her passport on the boat. We were told that we would not need them just to visit the town. She is with us and she thinks you are molesting her. She wants you to go away."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Tell her I'm very sorry. I thought she was someone else."

He looked very puzzled but he went away, much to my relief. However, my problem was not quite resolved for the kind lady turned to me, and speaking in french she said,

"Now Mademoiselle; perhaps you owe us an explanation? I've never seen you on the ship. Where did you come from?"

"I am hiding in New Zealand from my relatives because they tried to force me into an arranged marriage and now I am an illegal immigrant. We are trying to sort it out but if the authorities catch up with me I will be sent back. I just need more time – it's very complicated."

"Mais oui!! Vous êtes francaise n'est-ce pas?"

"Oui, jai grandi lá-bas et je suis allé a l'école en France."

"Quand Même!"

I told her that I had grown up in France. She became quite excited – she had found a real French person living in New Zealand. I was in some difficulty in trying to leave them and they wanted to hear my whole story. Of course, that's the last thing I wanted, so I gave them a brief and highly colourful version to keep them on my side. They made me promise to keep in touch to let them know how things turned out. They gave me email addresses and eventually I managed to make my departure. I didn't think they were any sort of threat. After all, they were middle-aged, and on holiday; isolated from the real world, on their cruise ship.

I finished my meal and walked along the boulevarde to the supermarket and bought a couple of novels and a good stock of essential supplies that I could easily cook in the little galley of my floating home. By mid-afternoon I was back on board and cruising slowly and, I hoped inconspicuously, to a new part of the harbour where I could lie at anchor without attracting attention. My boat was visible to any dedicated watchers onshore especially from the surrounding hills. The summer holiday season was now well over and there were few boats moving about the harbour. I was confined because I was afraid to venture out into the open sea. The coastline outside the heads is not the place for inexperienced sailors. I knew that I would be challenged by my lonely existence. Boredom is not something that I cope with very well.

After a week of aimless existence, boredom had moved on to listlessness and worry. Winter showed its relentless advance – I was beginning to feel the cold and bathing in the sea had lost its charm. I had lost my long hair in an accident with the cooker. I had saved myself by jumping overboard but I looked a mess. I needed to visit the town to get more supplies. I knew I would be conspicuous because the town had been emptied of its summer inhabitants. The holiday-makers and the tourists had all gone. I could see the occasional figure on the beaches and the town boulevard. The place looked dead.

I decided on a quick foray to the supermarket and library. I anchored near Daly's Wharf and paddled ashore and made my errands as fast as possible. I found a tourist shop near the library that sold woollen goods, where I bought a delightful beanie hat to hide my semi-baldness, and a heavy winter jersey. As I left the shop I ran into a policeman coming in. He kindly helped me with my parcels as he apologised for our collision. He was not the same man who had demanded my passport and showed no sign of recognition. I hurried off, anxious to get out of his sight. I bought fish and chips for lunch and ate them on the beach front where I was surrounded by seagulls eager to share my lunch.

Back on board, I checked my phone for the millionth time. There was one missed call: an unknown number. I debated with myself on the wisdom of calling it back. No; not worth the risk. An hour later it rang again. I ignored it. Then, a text.

Hav nu fone. dont call bak, Will call soon. A

It was Andy playing cloak and dagger games again. What is he up to this time?

I waited but nothing happened so I motored around to Duvauchelles Bay where I know there was good cell phone reception. As far as I could tell my visit to town had not aroused any unwanted attention. I lolled about in a state of unease once again unable to settle to any activity. I was not happy in this location as the bay is too shallow for an overnight anchorage if the wind comes up. I hung a line over the side in the hope of catching a flounder or two. That was something I could do as I kept an eye out for nosey people. I had just pulled up my third fat flounder when the phone rang,

"Hello Tina. I'm missing you. I'm getting sick of this business."

"Andy, darling. I can't stand much more of this, I'm worried to death. I imagine all the time that the cousins are going to pop up and do me in. What's going on in Christchurch that you don't call me?"

"Tina, there is a hell of a lot going on but I was concerned that my phone was being monitored again so I have bought another one and I am ringing from a different place. The police are pestering me constantly. They keep asking what I have done with you! I know that you are not at our Secret House. They have told me they have searched it."

"I've been living on the boat. They don't seem to know about that so far. I've come face to face with police twice but not been recognised yet.

"You had better get out of Akaroa. Their questions are focusing on the house and if they keep asking around they will hear about the boat from someone. I think you are becoming number one suspect for the murder of your father."

"Hey why me? What about the Mukherjee cousins? What about my safety?"

"I think they believe that it was either you or your step-mother. That's the impression I get from their line of questioning. You both have the motives and the Mukherjees are off the hook. The police have met them now and they seem to think that they are fairly moderate and reasonable and they have perfect alibis – they were out of the country at that time."

"Why is there nothing on the news anymore? Do they know the cause of death yet?

"They are not telling me anything, but have you seen this morning's paper?"

"No. What's it saying?"

"Well some French paper has a scoop from a journalist on holiday in New Zealand. A really lurid story that some French girl is hiding in New Zealand from her family who drugged her and tried to force her into a marriage with an Indian relative. She described you well but got your nationality wrong. She said the police tried to talk to you but you ran off."

"Oh hell. She's a sneaky woman. She helped me in the café when I was having a meal. A cop was demanding my passport and I pretended to be one of the tourists from a cruise ship and couldn't speak English. She came to my aid and sent him packing. When she got too nosy I gave her a modified account to keep her happy. She seemed so nice. I had no idea that she was a reporter. I should know by now: you can't trust anybody."

"Tina, you need to get out of Akaroa as soon as possible. The paper suggested a link between you and Govindra's death. The police will be making the connection too and Akaroa is going to become too hot for you. It is too late to catch the shuttle bus now. I will come and get you. I can be there in ninety minutes. Moor the boat in Takamatua Bay when it's nearly dark and wait until I get to the jetty."

"Oh, Andy thank goodness you are coming, Thank you. I am so glad all of a sudden. I didn't know how I was going to carry on; it's all getting too much. I am tired of looking over my shoulder all the time. I want to be with you and live a normal life. I'm just about ready to take my chances with the police. They can't have any evidence involving me because I didn't do it."

"Tina, you can't trust them any more than you can trust French ladies on a cruise ship. I'm not being funny. This is deadly serious."

"Yes, yes. I know. Just hurry – I can't wait to see you"

I pulled up my fishing lines and slowly sailed around to Takamatua. I moored the boat and prepared to wait for Andy. All was quiet on shore. There were a couple of women strolling but no one was taking any notice of me. The sound of my phone gave me a hell of a fright. It was Andy again.

"We have to cancel that plan. I am being followed!"

"Oh no! I can't bear the suspense any more..."

"Just hang on for a little while. I'll have to lead them away from Akaroa, I am diverting south. I will drive to Timaru or somewhere and look some one up. I'll arrange something else. I could phone Gretchen and get her to come for you. Lie low for the time being. Just relax if you can. Love you. Bye"

Oh! He's gone. I felt completely bereft. How could I carry on; but what else could I do? There was nothing to do, but wait? I busied myself packing up all my gear. I was surprised to see how much I had accumulated. I divided everything into two sets – one in my back pack for essentials for a quick exit and the rest into a canvas bag which had contained ropes. If I had the choice, I would like to take everything that would reveal my personal association with the boat. Library books were heavy but they could be traced to me and my account was in the name of Shendra Khan. A dead giveaway. The police would have no trouble with that one and the Mukherjees would no doubt find a way to confirm my identity from my leavings. I was now becoming paranoid once again and I couldn't wait to escape to a new hideaway. As darkness fell I avoided using lights and just listened to the radio. I was disappointed that there was no mention of the French woman's report that had been in the paper. I tried to sleep but I was too tense. It was a calm night with a full moon. Small waves were gently slapping the hull,

I think I was barely awake – dozing, when I heard a gentle knocking. Oh, shit! I was trapped in here with somebody at the stern hatch. I lay rigid, listening. Yes there it was again.

Then a voice called softly, "Tina, Tina, It's me, Bertie. I've come to help you. Can I come in? We've got to get you out of there."

I grabbed my torch from under my pillow and pointed it to entrance hatch. There was Bertie, wearing a beanie and looking all the world like a burglar at work,

"Andy sent me to get you out of here."

"Oh, Bertie, I'm so relieved it's you."

"You are being watched, but all is quiet at the moment. Nobody is about. Just grab your stuff and let's go."

I followed him out and into a little aluminium dinghy. He had no oars and made awkward use of a plank to paddle us to the jetty.

"I pinched this boat but it had no bloody oars. Some people are so inconsiderate."

"Bertie, where are you taking me?"

"Keep your voice down," he hissed. "You know how voices travel over water. I'm taking you to Marion's house. Andy's instructions. I think she is waiting up for you."

I got out of the dinghy at the steps of the jetty and struggled up with my load. Bertie dragged the dinghy up onto the beach and tied it to a tree.

"Now, old girl, give me some of those bags. We've got a steep walk up the hill to Marion's place. We need to keep pretty quiet. The neighbours must not know you are here."

I thought I was fit but that steep road was a hard climb with my load. I found myself puffing hard and stumbling on the rough road. Marion whispered a greeting to me at the door. Once we were all inside she turned on one small light. I was startled to discover there were two other people sitting quietly as if waiting. In the dim light I tried to remember where I had seen them before: two middle-aged women, both smiling hesitantly. Oh, my God – the two evangelists that Kevin had sent packing a few months ago. I didn't know how to respond. Had I been tricked?

I looked at Marion who was smiling broadly. There seemed to be a very long silence, broken at last by Bertie.

"Everything's okay, Tina. Andy knows what's going on. He is pissed off that he can't be here. Shall I introduce you?" looking at the two ladies he said I want you to meet Mrs Tina Yorke also known as Tina Mc Lean, also known as Shendra Khan."

Shit! What was he doing? They were smiling. Did they think I would become one of their converts? I must have looked shocked. All my instincts were telling me to run. But where to?

One of the women spoke up, "Don't worry, Tina. We are not Bible ladies: we mean you no harm but I think you will be surprised. This is your Aunt Millie and I am Alice Foster. I was Alice Linstead, your birth mother."

I didn't know what to say or do. I just stood and stared as the two women started to cry. I felt nothing; just confusion. I didn't know how to react. I moved to shake hands but Alice jumped up and put her arms around me and began to sob.

"I've waited so long for this day. I hope we are going to be friends. There is so much to tell you and I have so much to learn about being a mother." Aunt Millie joined in the cuddle and we all cried, even Marion and Bertie.

This was the beginning of a long night. Alice kept saying, "I've lost you once – I don't want to lose you again,"

"Alice; I can't call you Mummy at this stage of my life. Do you mind if I call you Alice for a while, until I get used to the idea. How did you lose me? I can't understand how that can happen. I want to know everything."

"It can happen very easily. You see, I suffered a mental break down and ended up institutionalised for quite a long time all because of Govindra Khan and his clan. Soon after you were born he went away taking you with him, saying it was because I was not fit to look after you. That was partially true – I had a severe case of post-natal depression and he did need to have you cared for, but later, he told me that you had become sick and had died. That only made my state worse and I was under care for some months. When I finally, was discharged, he was nowhere to be found. Later, I found that he had taken extended leave in Fiji and had married someone else. His army unit had moved away and I totally lost contact with him. I did not care that he had gone but I grieved for you for years.

Marion piped up and firmly insisted that we all go to bed. "Bertie and I have to go to work in the morning. The three of you will have to lie low for a day or two, so you will have plenty of time to get to know each other."

She showed us to our separate rooms then she disappeared with Bertie into a third bedroom. I was bursting with questions so it was with some reluctance that I went to bed. My mind was buzzing so I thought sleep would be impossible. When I woke the morning was well advanced. I crept out and found my new aunt preparing a breakfast.

"Good morning Aunt Millie."

"Good morning Tina. Alice is in the shower. I have instructions from Marion. She said that the holiday bach next door is occupied and she is sure they are from the police. She is sure that they were watching you. They would have a similar great view of the bay to that," she said, pointing to the lounge window. "So, we must remain inside and keep quiet."

I looked out and saw a magnificent view of the harbour and Takamatua Bay below. My boat, moored near the jetty was in clear view. I wondered how long they had been spying on me. It felt very creepy. Because I had been moving every day it must be by chance that I had come under such close surveillance. If I had stayed there last night they would have swooped and I would now be in a police station 'helping with their enquiries'.

"I have been lucky. If I stayed there one more day they would have got me."

"That's why Andy asked Bertie to get you out of there. He rang him last night in a great state of agitation. So here you are. This can't go on for long though. We'll have to move again very soon."

"Why do you have to hide from them? I thought it was me they were after."

"Yes, you are right, but that's because they don't know we exist yet. We want to keep it that way."

My new mother had joined us. They looked from me to one another.

"Good morning my darling daughter. You are looking puzzled. That's because there is much that you don't know yet. We have met Andy and he has filled us in on events as far as he knows them. There is much that you are not yet aware of. Let's have breakfast and then we will tell you all we know. But, look someone is snooping about your boat."

A little outboard dinghy was aimlessly driving around the bay and kept coming close to my boat then going around again. Then, it went alongside and the man started knocking on the hull and than peering in the cabin windows. He climbed on board and tried the locks and appearing satisfied that no one was on board, he zoomed back to the jetty where two uniformed policewomen were watching. So I had missed their visit by a very slim margin! The police moved out of our line of vision.

Breakfast was very prolonged as I had so many questions and my new family's history was complicated. They were avoiding my questions about why they had come to New Zealand. That was surely no chance coincidence. Every time I asked they returned to another story of family connections.

In exasperation I burst out. "Mummy, how did you discover I was alive and how did you know to look in New Zealand? Tell me!"

She was startled that I had called her Mummy – and so was I. But, it did the trick. I started to get answers.

"Oh. Oh. Well um, Millie was in a bus in Canterbury when she saw him – Govindra – walking along the street. She was certain it was him and later she searched the phone books and electoral rolls. You tell her Millie."

"I found his address so I parked near his house and waited. I don't know what I was going to say to him. He had deliberately avoided contact with our family and I had always felt angry towards him. I finally plucked up the courage and went up to the door just as two young women came out. I asked if Govindra Khan lived here. One of them said yes; that's our father. I then asked, making out that I was checking if I had the right person; when were they born. They said they were born in 1993 and 1991 they volunteered the information that they had an older sister and her birth year was 1988. I think I looked a bit mystified and they said she was their half-sister and her name was Shendra. I was quite stunned for a minute and then I said I was sorry, it must be the wrong Govindra Khan and left in a hurry. I stewed for a few days and then rang Alice."

Alice then continued, "I thought Millie must have got it wrong. I didn't want to meet Govindra face to face. There was no Khan in the phone book, so there was no alternative – we had to call at the house. We argued about it for a while. I was avoiding confronting him. We eventually made the decision and went back to the house together and knocked at the door. A young woman answered. I asked for Shendra or Govindra. She said her name was Emily; she was house sitting. She told me that you had gone to New Zealand and Govindra and Roshan had gone to find you. I said I was a relative and she readily informed me that you had run away from your arranged marriage and then your sisters ran away as well. She had an email address for you but it never worked for us. There was no forwarding address for any of you. There was an email address for Govindra but we have never had a reply. Emily expected that some member of the family would call her some time, but the only contact had been from Govindra's solicitors acting on their behalf for various matters. I am afraid that I was not quite in full possession of my senses. Emily told me that you were her friend and I was so eager to learn all about you that she got suspicious and refused to tell me anything more. I even told her that I am your birth mother but I think she believed that we were deranged.

"It was a difficult time for Alice. She did not make a convincing presentation of herself and Emily obviously thought she had said too much and told us to go away. We went home and discussed the situation with our men folk. Charlie – he must be your stepfather, is here in New Zealand. He is a builder and is working fulltime doing earthquake rebuilding."

Alice chipped in, "We have obtained resident status because they need all the construction workers they can lay hands on. Millie's husband stayed behind in the U.K. because he is working under a contract."

Millie jumped up waving her arms at us. "Be quiet!" she hissed. "There are police out there in the front yard." She lay down on the floor behind a couch and we quickly followed her example. We ignored the door bell but we could hear them moving around the deck, trying doors and, most likely, peering in the windows. We remained where we were for a long time after their noises had ceased. I crept to a window and carefully keeping out of view I was able to see them going from one house to another. until they disappeared down the hill. We realised that they were doing neighbourhood enquiries and probably did not have any specific ideas about our location. It would be wise to move on when we felt safe to do so. But I was anxious to learn more about my new family and wanted to hear more.

The rest of the day flew by as I plied Alice and Millie with endless questions. I found that they knew more than me about many of the goings on back in Christchurch while I had been living on the boat on the harbour. They had met Roshan and Andy and at another time, the Mukherjee cousins. They shared Andy's view that the cousins did not seem to be intent on doing me harm. They were sure, however, that the police had already formed strong views of my involvement with the death of my father. The whole focus of their attention was on me and where I had been on certain days. The Mukherjees had been out of New Zealand visiting relatives in Fiji during the period of Govindra's demise so they were beyond suspicion.

"That leaves me as the prime suspect! Jesus Christ! How can anyone prove that they didn't do something? I know I didn't do it, but how can I possibly prove it? If they believe that I am guilty, what is their evidence for that? How can I refute something when I don't know, what they think they know? How could I have killed him? He is – was – much bigger and stronger than me and he's the trained killer, not me."

Millie said, "They may like to think you did it with someone else's help. You and Andy had the habit of disappearing quite often. Can you prove where you were every minute of those days?"

"Surely, it's up to the police to find evidence. I have no idea what time things happened to my father so how can I answer that?"

My mother had become quite agitated, and started waving her ands at me. "Keep your voice down. I can't blame you for getting upset. We don't want anyone to hear that we are here. I know that you are feeling very anxious. Have you thought that the police don't know to look for anyone else if they don't talk to you to find that you are innocent?"

"I just do not trust them. They have a very bad history. I clearly had a motive and I have the feeling that they have made up their minds. Even the news media refer to me as the wanted person. Nobody is going to believe me. Do you both really believe that I am innocent? Do you? Do you?"

"Tears had started rolling down my cheeks. My mother, Alice, was crying as well.

"We know you didn't do it, Tina. We know you are innocent."

"How do you know? What haven't you told me? Who did it? You know, don't you!"

"We don't know who did it, but we know you didn't, because we were watching you. Actually, watching over you. We've been keeping watch ever since we first met in your kitchen. We were convinced that we had found you, but how could we be certain. And, as you will remember, we had been moved on very swiftly. We tried writing letters to you but there was no response."

"I was being bombarded by dozens of anonymous letters. Nobody except the bank and the driver licence people had that address. Remember, I was in hiding so we simply destroyed, or returned unopened, anything which was not in officially addressed envelopes. I thought that any other mail was just phishing attempts by my father or the Indian mafia. If you had introduced yourselves properly..."

"Look, Tina. I had not seen you since you were only one or two weeks old. I didn't know you by anything other than your name. I knew that you would be hiding. We were trying to reconnoitre without giving your game away. We didn't know what you looked like, and we didn't want to give you away to some other person. The idea of pretending to be evangelists was Millie's; to give us a chance at getting to know if you were you. It would have worked, but your bodyguard was too alert for us!"

"Yes, he was quick, wasn't he? At the time I was very grateful to him for that."

"Didn't you get the note I left in one of the bibles?"

"No. I put them both straight into the recycling bin."

We all had a good laugh and then Millie brought us back to earth.

"Not so loud. I know laughing is good for our mental health but we are hiding: so keep the noise down. We really need to think about moving on. It is kind of Bertie and Marion to put us up, but the police will be looking for you, Tina. They obviously knew you were on the boat yesterday and you were gone by this morning. They won't have just forgotten about you. It's too easy to just lie low. It won't be too hard for them to associate Bertie with Andy. Sooner or later they will be calling here. Our van is parked in the camp ground in Duvauchelle. Let's get some lunch together and then clean up and make our way over the paddocks behind here to the Old French Road. Hardly anyone uses that dirt road; Marion suggested that as an escape route. We'll split up there. I will walk to Duvauchelle, get the van, and then pick you both up."

I was glad to be taking some action; I wanted to talk some more to learn more about my maternal family and I would be asking more questions later. At this moment it was necessary to move. I got my luggage sorted out, discarding stuff that was too heavy, such as books which I put amongst Marion's collection.

We left Marion's place over the back fence and made the stiff climb across the hill and then along the deeply rutted 'Old French Road' to the junction of the Akaroa Highway. There was no one about and we were seen only by a herd of curious, but passive, cows which were more interested in their siesta. Millie carried on alongside the highway, looking as if she was out for her afternoon walk. We waited rather a long time and were surprised when the van went right past us followed soon after by a police car. We lay in our concealed resting place worrying what she was up to. It was a good half hour before she returned. We threw my stuff in the back and then drove off along the highway towards Christchurch. Millie explained that she had been spoken to by a policewoman as she walked into Duvauchelle. She was asked whether she had seen a young woman fitting my description, wandering about the area.

"Of course, I said no, but she was still bloody suspicious and wanted to know my address and where I was going. She obviously kept watching me because when I drove out of the camping ground, she got into her car and followed me. I went into the supermarket and bought a few things and when I came out she had disappeared. I went into a couple of shops and browsed until I was sure she was not watching before coming back for you."

"Tina, do you know if there is another road back to Christchurch?"

"Well there is a turn off just ahead but, it is an evil intersection; you have to cross the main highway on a blind bend. I'll guide you—start slowing down now, indicate a right turn and move onto the centre line... now turn right, there's nothing coming. Put your foot down! Oh, shit that bloody bus is going like a rocket. Phew, that was too close for comfort. Now you've got a steep climb up to the scenic road over Banks Peninsular to Christchurch."

We followed the narrow winding road along the crater rim and then the mountain road all the way back to Christchurch. It was the long way, but very little traffic and no habitation. We could have enjoyed the amazing views except for our concerns about getting accosted by the police and the problem of how to pass beyond the city. Our plan was to get completely away from the locations we had been known to frequent; to a place where we would be unknown to the police, and immigration, and the Mukherjees.

We drove on with none of us speaking – we were all deep in thought. Millie was a careful driver and she was concentrating on the narrow road. There were sheer drops first on one side and then on the other; there was no room for error, so it was not the time for idle discussion. We had not made a firm decision about our destination. I was concerned that this vehicle would now be on a police wanted list. Obviously, I was not alone with that thought because soon, Millie pulled into a lay-by, saying we need to talk and plan.

"We are heading into the city and there is no way around it. We have to go through it to go anywhere else. As far as I know, Tina, they have no clues to connect us with you other than the fact that the van was noticed in Akaroa by the policewoman at the time that they were looking for you. If we were to get stopped and you were not with us, we would be just two innocent, women tourists."

"Yes, Tina. Millie's right. We need to separate. We should drop you off at a bus stop and leave you to make your way to the northern side of the city. We can rendezvous opposite that new shopping complex on the Main North Road near Belfast."

"I know the place; it's called Northwood. There's a lonely bus stop just past the traffic lights. I think I could be a bit conspicuous standing there. I'll hang about the orchard stall nearby. It's about fifty metres past the bus stop. Now can we guess what time we can meet? We are getting near peak time traffic. It will take you at least an hour to get across the city. Better to make a later time so that neither of us is loitering."

"What do you think Millie; you are doing the driving? Is an hour enough?"

"Barely – I suggest that we make a set of pickup times so we don't spend time waiting. We can drive past our meeting place every half hour – on the hour and the half hour starting at 5pm."

I thought that sounded a good plan. We were soon into the city traffic flow and Millie stopped at the first bus stop we came to. I left my gear in the back of the van and just carried my handbag. I jumped on the first bus that came along and asked the driver for directions. I discovered I was going to have to make several changes of buses. I was going to be late for our meeting. The peak hour for the buses had begun and in each of the buses it was crowded. I felt happy and secure in the anonymous crowd – no one could follow me without me noticing as I changed several times from one bus to another.

The bus arrived at Northlands just after five thirty. I would have missed the van's second pass. I didn't want to hang about aimlessly so I crossed the road to the shopping hub and passed the time browsing. I returned to our rendezvous point and soon after I was amazed when the van drove straight past me. My mother was looking at me and gave a small wave as they sped by. Something must have gone wrong with our plan.

I returned to the shops to fill in more time and made another three attempts to meet the van but it did not turn up. It was getting dark and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. A cold wind and drizzle; not a night for sleeping out under a hedge! I had our secret phone in my bag. Should I, or should I not, call Andy. I was beginning to feel desperate so I decided to call, but only for long enough for just a couple of rings. Then Andy could make up his mind whether it was safe to call back. I waited – it was more than half an hour and our next rendezvous time had passed. Still no sign of the van.

Then my phone rang. I was overjoyed to hear Andy's voice.

"Let's keep this call brief, my Darling, Are you in trouble?"

"Yes, I'm stranded on the side of the road, opposite the Northwood Supa-Centa. I am wearing only a light dress and have lost all my stuff. I only have my hand bag. I'm wet and shivering and have nowhere to spend the night. I want to be with you. What should I do?"

"Tina darling, go to the supermarket there, and buy some stuff and muck around filling a trolley until I can get there."

I was so relieved and so happy to talk with him, even so briefly. The supermarket was warm but I was wet and shivering. Andy arrived in record time and we paid for a lot of unplanned shopping and wheeled the trolley out to his car. He was clearly nervous and his eyes were continually scanning. Once in the car I explained how the plan with Millie and Alice had somehow gone wrong and how all my luggage was still in the back of the van.

"Well I doubt that we will easily find accommodation in town in the present circumstances. The earthquakes have destroyed so many hotels and motels. There is no one else in the house tonight but Kevin is still home in his flat and Gretchen may be coming and going to her chalet. I will sneak you in, but although I trust Kevin, the police know about the video cameras. And I cannot expect Kevin to lie to the police. It is better to just keep him in the dark. I will park the car down the drive and you can get out and go in the dark over the lawn to the french doors of the studio and wait for me to let you in."

It was wonderful to be back in the house and reunited with Andy and in my familiar surroundings. And to be together in our own big bed.

The next morning we talked for a long time catching up on each other's news and the activities of the police and my other enemies.

"But, Tina: Why and where were you running away to with Alice and Millie?'

"Well, it became obvious that the police were after me. We watched them watching the boat and then going on board thinking that they had me nicely snared. It was only a matter of time before they started searching from house to house. They had already tried knocking on the doors. That policewoman who stopped Aunt Millie had a good description of me."

"We have handled this problem wrong in every way. In the past I would have cautiously trusted the police. Not the immigration people though. They already had a copy of that letter from the British authorities so they should have been doing their best for you. There are things going on that we have not understood. We believe the Mukherjees are a serious threat to you, but they have not openly declared it to you."

"They don't need to tell me. I know the culture and the hard line attitudes of my relatives. I'm terrified of falling into their clutches. Even though I was not informed, I am aware that I was promised – betrothed – to someone in the Mukherjee clan. I have brought dishonour upon them all and that is a serious business. I will be punished; maybe killed if they get me."

"Tina, I have a thought. Perhaps they are not coming for you front on, so to speak. They could be setting you up for the murder of your father."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that. In-ya-face violence is more their style – you know – of the culture. I have been following such things on the Shakti web site. I am worried about the police but I am very much more afraid of the Mukherjees. If it came to the point of having to choose I would rather turn myself in to the police than fall into the clutches of the family. I would be safer in gaol! Now that's something I hadn't considered."

"Oh shit. I can't bear to think of how this is going to end. I doubt that the Mukherjees would be prepared to drop their vendetta even if you were imprisoned... I keep coming back to why the police have become fixated on you as the cause of your father's death. We never hear what evidence they have. You saw your father in the mortuary; apparently unharmed. They must know the cause of his death. They are keeping that to themselves. It is hard to prove you didn't do it if you don't know what it is that leads them to you."

"They are using a lot of their resources to catch me. They are not doing that for no good reason. I have just realised that I have some evidence in my favour. Millie and Alice said to me that they know I didn't do it. They will be my witnesses."

"How do they know?"

"They said that they know it wasn't me because they had been following and watching me for ages. They know where I was when my father died."

"We should bear that in mind. It may save you from the police but would they protect you from the Mukherjees and immigration? And Millie and Alice wouldn't have a clue where you were when we had our secret trips away. I think their evidence may be somewhat shaky."

"Yes, you are right. I am not ready to give myself up just yet. I am also worried about what happened to Millie and Alice. Why didn't they come back for me? They were scared off for some reason. They've got all my gear. I have not much to wear left here. I will need to get some warm clothing from somewhere."

"Well in the meantime you will have to lie low. Lorna will not be back until Monday morning. You will have to stay confined upstairs so that no one sees you. I can go out and buy some essentials for you. I'll go downstairs now and keep up the appearance of normality. Gretchen will be in the studio and she may have visitors coming and going."

"Okay. I'd like to see Gretchen. What do you think?"

"It's a bit risky. If she's on her own I'll bring her up to you. Be careful what you say. Don't tell her anything about Akaroa though. The less she knows, the less risk that she will let something slip. Just remember that the police will be watching this place. I've seen no sign of them but they know this as your home address."

Andy went off downstairs and I started looking through my wardrobe in search of winter clothes to replace what I had left in the van. I found a few items to keep me decent and warm in the cool winter days. I was seriously short of tops and woollen clothing for winter wear.

I was interrupted by a soft knock at the bedroom door and Gretchen came in. We were delighted to see each other. She wanted to hear all about my adventures as she called them. It was difficult responding to her concern and yet not telling her where I had been or what had been going on. She understood the need for Andy's and my secrecy. I told her about my new hobby of drawing and painting and she was eager to teach me and help me when I am free to re-enter the world.

"Gretchen, next to Andy, you are my very best friend. I don't want to keep things from you, but as Andy says, if you don't know something, you can't accidentally let it slip. I don't know who my enemies are. The Police and Immigration are certainly not my friends and they are constantly snooping. I don't know, for sure who murdered my father and they have given me no information that is not in the news media. Poor Roshan has not even been able to have a normal funeral. They have kept the body for what they called evidential purposes."

"I feel for you – I don't know what I'd do if I were you. As far as I can see, there are few people in New Zealand who would have had a motive. That's probably why the police have focussed on you. If your mother's cousins have a genuine alibi, then there are only you and Roshan in their sights. Roshan has not been avoiding them. You look guilty because you have been hiding from them."

"I know my father had other enemies from his secret work and family feuds, and of course the Mukherjees could have paid someone. There are plenty of other possible suspects. Why pick on me?"

"There must be something that you don't know about – some strong evidence that points to you. If they don't eliminate you from their list of suspects they will continue chasing after you. Their enquiries will be deflected from the murderer."

"If they catch me, then their interests will be permanently deflected. If I get convicted they will have no reason to enquire further. The case will be closed."

"Do they know about you running away from the arranged marriage? Have you told them? Has anyone told them about the issues of family honour and retribution?"

"I told them that's why I came to New Zealand. But, in their eyes that makes a plausible motive for me. I don't know how much they understand about the culture of shame and honour, and family feuds and vengeance."

"Bloody hell, Tina. This is a God-awful mess."

"It gets worse. Has Andy told you about my mother?"

"Roshan? What's happened to her?"

"No. I mean my real mother – my birth mother."

"I don't know anything about her. Who is she? What has she to do with all this?"

"I'm not sure that I should tell you. You know our mantra – if you don't know, you can't tell. I don't think the police know of her existence yet. I'll just say; I have met her."

"Really? What's she like? Where is she? Come on – you know you can trust me. Tell me."

"Of course I trust you. It's just that things can leak out. I'll just say I have met her and I like her. We seemed to bond quite naturally. We have a lot to learn about each other, so I look forward to spending time with her and catching up all the details of my extended family."

"Where is she now? Did you meet in person?"

"I won't tell you anything more at the moment. I actually don't know where she is now. I needed more time with her. There is still much that I don't know."

"Oh you're infuriating. I understand, but I'm bursting to know all about it."

"I've said more than I should have. Let's leave that topic alone for the moment. I've got to think about where I am going to next. I will have to be gone before the weekend is over and everyone comes back. I don't know what Andy has in mind. He always seems to come up with bright ideas."

"It wasn't a very bright idea to bring you here. What made you come here? You must know that the fuzz will be watching the house. How are you going to move on without them spotting you?"

"I agree; it was a mistake to come here, but I was desperate. I need this all to end. I have got you and a lot of other people entangled in my messy life and I am very sorry about that. I keep thinking that I should just turn myself in but I seriously don't trust them."

"If you can't trust them, then who can you trust? But, yes, I am not sure of them either. The TV news last night featured a man who had been in prison on remand for a month for assaulting a cop. The judge finally discharged him after watching news footage of the incident. The bloke was coming to the aid of the constable in a fracas. He should have been hailed as a hero, but, they got it wrong. They need to examine the police culture. They behave like cowboys most of the time."

"Thanks Gretchen. I needed that re-assurance!"

We were both laughing when were brought back to the present by the house phone ringing. Gretchen went to answer it. I went to the landing and tried to listen. It seemed to be Andy she was talking to. I was tempted to go down the stairs, but then, looking through the stairwell window, I saw a police car parked a short way along the other side of the street. So, I thought, they are definitely watching. They must have seen Andy go out.

When Gretchen came back up the stairs, I pointed to the window. She nodded.

"Yes, Andy saw them. You are right; Andy has a plan."

"When Andy went out did they stop him? Why would they let him drive away without stopping him? I could have been hiding in the car? They are not that silly."

"Hmm. Perhaps they had another car tail him or they have some other means of tracking his car. I wonder what would happen if I drove out in my car? I'll drive out and see what happens. I want a newspaper so I'll go to the corner shop and see what happens. You watch from here."

I heard her locking the front door as she went out. I couldn't see into the yard from the upstairs window, but I could see the cop in his car as he became alert, watching up our driveway. As Gretchen emerged his red flashing lights came on and he leapt out signalling her to stop. He crossed the road to where she must have stopped but I couldn't see past the trees. A few minutes later I saw the cop return to his car and I could see Gretchen's car going away. He turned off the flashing lights and appeared to be talking on a phone. A few minutes later he got out and walked up our driveway. I could hear him trying doors and knocking. He was out of my view. I waited some time before he re-appeared on his way back to his car where he resumed his watch.

It was a very creepy feeling to have someone overtly stalking me. I already knew that it had been going on, but it was much worse to actually watch them at it. I should be immune to it by now but this was different and disturbing. I wanted to flee. I told myself that I needed to keep myself under control and wait for Gretchen and Andy. I filled in the time by tidying myself up and getting my things together to have ready for a quick escape. I was already tense so the shock of a very big earthquake hit my nervous system with intensified effect. I was thrown around and fell to the floor. The noise was colossal. The house was being really tested with violent lateral shaking; suffering but remaining upright. The quake had almost subsided when there was a violent crash which I later found to be the collapse of a brick chimney. I saw the police car suddenly move off with its lights flashing and siren screaming. I was pleased that the cop had found something more urgent to attend to. Perhaps this was my opportunity to escape.

Gretchen arrived soon after followed minutes later by Andy.

"Righto you two. Let's get into action. I have realised that my car has had a tracking device attached. That's why the cop didn't need to follow me. So I'll park here then we'll go off in Gretchen's car. You lie down in the back and cover yourself up. Gretchen, you drive us sedately to the airport."

"Where are we going?"

"You are going to Nelson. Your mother will be expecting you. She will be looking out for you on the steps of Nelson Cathedral at midday tomorrow, Sunday. If the weather is bad then she'll be inside looking like a tourist. If you are not there she will be there again on Monday. I have some cash for you, so don't use your bank cards. The police will be watching your accounts."

The airport terminal was in chaos because of the earthquake and the traffic was gridlocked. Andy instructed Gretchen to let me out at the drop-off – I was to find my own way to Nelson. Ah, another adventure!

There were no direct flights to Nelson. I had to fly first to Wellington, and then transfer to a Nelson flight. I bought my ticket under a false name and paid out of the wad of notes that Andy had given me. There were no questions asked and a short time later I boarded a flight to Wellington. On arrival I went to a booking desk and bought a ticket for Nelson, using another name. The Nelson journey was very quick in the smallest plane I have ever been in. I could watch the pilot and see all that was going on in front. I thought, that might be a nice career for me – I would love that. It could be difficult though; studying for a pilot's licence in prison!

It was early evening when I arrived and a cold wind was blowing. I found the nearest hotel using a free phone and was collected by a courtesy car. When the driver called my name I didn't respond for a while. I had forgotten my latest name! When I did respond I laughed and said that my ears were blocked from the flight.

The hotel dining room was almost deserted. I felt conspicuous at a table all on my own and the very pleasant man at the nearby table kept trying to chat me up. In the end I told him I couldn't join him as I was expecting my husband who was exceedingly jealous and I might get into a lot of trouble. He looked shocked but he left me in peace after that.

The rest of the evening was fairly boring. Bad television and I had nothing to read. I indulged myself in a luxurious bath trying out all the hotel's complimentary lotions and shampoos. I lay, basking, in the warmth. I thought with pleasure, about meeting my mother again tomorrow. We still had a lot to learn about each other.

## Chapter X

## The Raid

I woke to the sound of very loud knocking. I don't wear pyjamas so it took me a while to find a pair of shorts and pull them on. And all the while the knocking carried on. From my bedroom window, I could see a police car in my driveway. In a little moment of panic I thought that perhaps something had happened to Tina.

Knock knock knock. Pause. Knock knock knock. Pause... Knock knock knock, On and on. What can be so urgent?

As I open the door the cop steps backwards, his hand on his belt.

"What's happened? What do you want?"

"We would like to ask you a few questions, sir. May we come in?"

Immediately, I am alert. I know about this stuff, I know my rights and what I should do. Lorna has given Tanita and I, several lectures on civil rights and warned that police can, and do, distort innocent answers to suit their own pre-conceptions. It is best to say nothing – a citizen has the right to remain silent.

"No. It is not convenient just now," I said firmly. "Come back in about an hour when I am dressed."

I moved to close the door, but suddenly, the second policeman came out of the shadow and tried to place his boot in the doorway. But he wasn't quick enough and I succeeded in closing the door.

"Come back in an hour," I shouted.

That should be long enough for me to have a shower and gather my wits. I had no reason to fear the police. In fact I have the utmost respect for them. Well, most of them. They are just doing their job and a very important job it is too. But, in our circumstances, they have been antagonistic and unsympathetic to Tina's predicament. I have had the first-hand personal experience of their undesirable, 'other' culture; a culture grown out of power and their daily contact with the seamy side of society.

As soon as I was dressed and presentable to the world I went and located the little booklet on civil rights that Lorna had given me. The hour that I had set for the policeman was nearly up. I hastily scanned the essential facts and memorised some suggested responses to possible scenarios.

I felt confident and quite relaxed as I went on with my normal morning routines. My studio needed to be set up ready for the day. I turned on the heating, and the music then, laid out my painting equipment. I placed a newly prepared canvas on the large easel and tried to focus my mind on the vision I had imagined for the morning's work. I intended to paint a grisaille under-painting and do some sketches of my model, Gretchen. I had arranged for her to work for most of the day. I unlocked the french doors opening from the studio to the courtyard so that Gretchen could come straight in. There was still no sign of the police. They were more than two hours late so I put them out of my mind.

I went off to the kitchen to make some coffee and unlock the back door for my daily housekeeper's arrival. I had just poured myself a lovely aromatic cup of coffee when she walked in.

"Good morning Mrs Hughes. Help yourself to some coffee."

She replied as usual, "Good morning, sir."

And I responded as usual, "Don't call me sir."

"What are all the police cars doing down the road?"

"I don't know what they are up to. They were here this morning at the crack of dawn. Wanted to come in and ask me questions about I don't know what. I told them to go away and come back when I got dressed but I haven't seen them since. If they come back, show them into the drawing room to wait. Give them a cup of tea to keep them happy."

I returned to the studio to find Gretchen coming through the French doors. She greeted me cheerily and went straight into the changing room. Gretchen is one of my pupils – brilliant talent but very bloody poor. She models for me a dozen or so hours each week and in return I give her coaching and allow her to share my studio space whenever she wants. Sometimes she watches, or she sketches alongside me when I work from other models. Most of the time in the studio she is naked and perfectly relaxed. I am blessed with a high degree of trust in my dealings with all my models, clothed or nude. That is because I give them each a printed code of behaviour so they know that their safety and dignity is paramount. They are able to have a friend sit in during the session if they wish and there is nearly always someone else in the house.

As Gretchen emerged from the changing room she said, "What are we doing today, Maestro?"

"I don't have any clear plans because of the disturbing antics of the police at dawn this morning. Now I am distracted by thoughts of some other possible interruptions.

"Yes," she said. "What are they doing out there? They must believe that Tina is still hiding here. There are cars and cops all along the road. It looks like a movie set."

"We need to ignore all that and get on with some work. Last week you were acting characters of your own invention. Let's do more of that. Just five minute poses and I will do pastel and charcoal sketches as I interpret them. Hop up on the dais and away you go. The timer is set to go every five minutes –starting now."

Gretchen adopted one pose after another. She is brilliant at inventing poses. The first was obviously Michael Jackson, then an Olympic athlete stopped in action. I was totally absorbed in creating gestural drawings with my charcoal sticks and one sheet of paper flew after another. This is a great warm-up activity before beginning the serious painting work of the day. It is an essential regular routine I follow, as have artists for ages past. It is the equivalent of a musician's scales or an athlete's limbering exercises. I could, and sometimes do, set up a jug or a still life, but nothing matches the challenge of the human face or figure.

We worked at this for about forty minutes and then I had Gretchen prepare some canvases for a triptych that I planned to create for an exhibition in Wellington in November. Oil paintings need time to complete the drying process before varnishing so I have to work steadily toward planned delivery dates. While Gretchen worked at her task I started on sketching and designing the new compositions.

Suddenly, the french doors were flung open and people were running all around the studio and into the main house. Someone was shouting "Police! Police! Don't move!" Over and over.

A man in a scruffy suit appeared before me.

"Are you Mr Arthur Andrew Yorke?"

I nodded trying to remember the responses I had rehearsed.

"Where is your wife, Mr Yorke?"

I was about to say that I'm not married; then I remembered my lines.

"I have nothing to say to you at this time."

"Oh dear! You sound like a very experienced criminal, Mr Yorke. What do you have to hide?"

"I have nothing to say to you. Please leave my property. Now!"

"We have a warrant to search these premises and I must warn you that we may arrest anyone who interferes or impedes our police business."

Cameras were flashing as other police dashed about the studio. I saw Gretchen reaching for her robe. The bald man in the scruffy suit followed my eyes and turned his attention on her. "Ah! And who might you be? You were told not to move."

"I think I have the right to preserve my dignity, Constable."

"I am not a constable. I am Detective Inspector Norman Jones. Now, your name and address?"

"Gretchen Jones and I don't have an address. My home was destroyed in the earthquakes. I sleep where I can, usually, in my car."

"Why are you naked, Miss Jones?"

"Well, why not? I wasn't expecting visitors."

The detective turned to one of the female cops and ordered her to take Gretchen away to get dressed and to examine her belongings. Things were happening all about me but totally out of my control. There were police carrying stuff, my stuff, out of the house. I felt helpless and angry but I knew that I had to control myself. If I tried to assert myself I would be likely to say things that I would regret. One drop of information would lead to another question, and then another. I was handicapped because I didn't know what had precipitated this event. Had something happened to Tanita?

"I ask you once again Mr Yorke, where is your wife?"

I shouted, "I am not married and that is all I will say."

I thought to myself I am losing my temper. I must keep under control. Once he has one item he will use it as wedge to tap into my mind.

One of the cops went up to Jones and gave him a note. Jones nodded.

"If you are not married, then who is the person known in this district as Mrs Yorke that lives at this address, and I'd like to know, who owns all the women's clothing in the various rooms and in the washing machine?"

Should I tell him or am I giving him too much, so that he will have another tap at the wedge. That seems a harmless question and if he doesn't know the answer he soon will. I take a deep breathe and then tell him.

"That's my brother's widow. She is also my company secretary and lawyer. She lives here during the week. She should be in her office by this time of the morning unless of course she has been scared off by your bloody gangsters."

Jones looked seriously shaken by my response. He collected himself together then turned to one of the note-taking coppers. A uniformed sergeant joined them and a whispered conversation between them ensued. They became quite agitated.

"I am very sorry Mr Yorke. There has been some sort of cock-up. Your secretary is in her office. Why didn't you tell us at the start? Everything will be put back as we found it.

Gretchen appeared beside me, now fully dressed. "What is going on?" she whispered. I shrugged my shoulders. I was truly bewildered, but also very anxious. The female constable came up to Gretchen holding out two mobile phones.

"This is yours I think," she said reading from the labels tied to the phones. Oh no, that is Mrs Tanita Yorke's phone. This is yours; Miss Gretchen Jones. I'll take this one to Mrs Yorke."

Inspector Jones had vanished leaving his minions to clear up the mess. Gretchen and I wandered off towards the kitchen where we found Mrs Hughes and my sister-in law, Lorna. I put my fingers to my lips and shook my head because there were still cops coming and going. Mrs Hughes had set out a lunch for us but nobody seemed very hungry. We picked at it while we waited for the cops to leave the scene of their crime.

"Did you get your cell phone back, Tanita?" I asked when peace had returned and the police had gone.

"Yes," Lorna grinned. "They kept calling me that and I just didn't bother to correct them. They didn't drop to their mistake even though my mobile got some texts from Tanita. But of course they may not connect her nick name, Tina, to Tanita. Oh, she's okay, by the way. She was just enquiring about our earthquake activity."

"I am very worried about her. The police kept asking about her whereabouts and I don't know why they have stepped up their attention. And why do they call her my wife? Don't they know about our civil union?"

Gretchen laughed and said "Perhaps that grubby detective didn't like to say 'your mistress' and perhaps he has been enquiring among the busy-bodies around here for some reason."

Lorna chimed in, "Yes, the local garage always asks me which Mrs Yorke I am when I charge things to our account."

Mrs Hughes had been listening to all this and was looking very bewildered. She had only been working for me after Tanita had gone away. We had intentionally kept this from her by referring only to a previous un-named housekeeper. I felt that the time had come to ease her curiosity and forestall any inquisitive gossip among her acquaintances.

"Mrs Hughes. You must be quite perplexed by all you have seen and heard today. It must sound very mysterious. It's time for you to know the facts of the matter. You see this other Mrs Yorke is my partner but, we chose not to marry because of our personal convictions. Strictly speaking she is not Mrs Tanita Yorke but that is the assumption made by many people and it is simpler to leave it at that. She doesn't live here at the moment because she was terrified by the constant earthquakes we've been having. She has gone overseas for a little while. So you see, I have told the police the truth when I say I'm not married. It is correct that I don't have a wife. She is my sexual partner; my civil union partner."

Mrs Hughes looked a bit uncomfortable. "Thank you for telling me. I had better get on with my work, I'm all behind now."

I called after her as she left the room,

"Don't worry if you've not been able to get everything done. Just do what's urgent."

Turning my attention to Lorna and Gretchen, I said quietly, "I'm worried that I have let the cat out of the bag. But, if some one is prying and asks Mrs Hughes the right questions she will now be giving them a false scent to follow. We know Tanita can't go out of the country. Her passport is, of course in her name as Shendra Khan, and she would be instantly detained and handed on to the police. She is trapped in New Zealand."

Gretchen stood up. "It's after one o'clock. Barry Jones is scheduled to model for us in less than half an hour.'

"There are too many Jones about the place today. What got into you Gretchen? What made you give that detective your surname as Jones?"

"I don't know. I didn't want to make things too easy for him to find me, and Jones just popped out! I don't want him to connect me and Tanita if ever he is looking in that direction. After all it was me that introduced Tina to this household. Jones and Holmes are so similar that I can always claim that he misheard me."

"Well done Gretchen. I will have to leave you to make use of Barry as you wish. I don't think he'll be any problem for you but we will be next door in Lorna's office. The studio is yours for the afternoon. Lorna and I will have to have a business meeting for the rest of the afternoon and we need to consult with Kevin about security as well. I don't want any more surprises like that again. One thing is certain: the police will be back."

"Yes you're right; I think they will. I don't like that Inspector Jones and I don't want to talk to him again, or any of them. Their questions are probing and devious. I just kept saying that Mrs Yorke would be in her office. Then, the constable asked if Mrs Yorke, is my friend. I don't think it was exactly a lie when I simply agreed that she is."

"Where are Kevin and Jocelyn? The video records will show Tina going about her business. Perhaps I need to destroy those records. It was just our good luck that their search didn't get to the out buildings. They would have had a lot more questions if they discovered our security video records. How would Kevin or Jos reply to police questions? I can't be seen to be priming them – I need to think about that. If we own up to them about Tina being in hiding, and explain the whole story, we can't expect them to lie to the police."

"Well, Andrew, I feel that they will be back and someone will crack in the end. Then where will we stand? Are we going to be in trouble? Is Tina in trouble? Oh, speak of the devil—here comes Kevin."

He gave a couple of knocks as he entered the kitchen. He looked anxiously at us both as if unsure whether to speak up in front of Gretchen.

"Have the cops all gone? What were they up to? I wasn't sure what to do when I saw them running all round the place. I hope I have done the right thing. I wiped all the computer files clean. Just in case there was something you wanted to keep private."

"Kevin, you did the right thing. I can't think what could have been incriminating or anything criminal, but I'm pleased you used your initiative."

"Oh, that's a relief! I could recover it all if you ever need it. I regularly upload all the data to a cloud storage but only I know how to retrieve it."

"Kevin, that's brilliant but, I don't want to know about it. Just forget it for the time being."

## Chapter XI

## Inspector Jones Bearing an Olive Branch.

I had a few good days of productive work before Inspector Jones made another attempt to poke in to our lives once again. This time he had turned up at the kitchen door and managed to persuade Mrs Hughes to show him through to me at work in the studio. I was not pleased. I did not feel comfortable with his presence but he seemed unfazed despite my lack of welcome. He arrogantly strode around my studio examining various works in progress as if he was in a public gallery.

"How long have you been painting, Mr Yorke?"

"All my life, Mr Jones. Now what do you want?"

"Inspector – that is my title. I am Inspector Jones. I know we didn't get off to a very good start. I would like to start again –to see if we can sort some things out. I am here to get your help. I am leading an investigation in to the murder of your, um, er, your lady's father. I believe she holds the key to our progress in this inquiry. We just need to talk with her. She does not need to be afraid of us. I'm sure she would like to put everything behind her. Why is she in hiding? Why can't she bear to speak with us? I would like to help her, but; she is showing all the signs of a guilty person. – Where is she Mr Yorke?"

I said nothing. I just stared at him. I knew that there was a great danger of giving him any information. It would simply lead to more questions and a constant burrowing that would lead to even more questions. If he got his clutches on Tina and came to the conclusion she was innocent, he would still be likely to pass her on to immigration for deportation. He was used to this game and was well practiced in staring people out. I focused my eyes on the end of his nose and waited – and waited.

"Okay Mr Yorke, I can see you are not going to co-operate. I could arrest you for hindering a police enquiry and then where would you be? Eh! Damn-it man. I'm warning you! I am going to close this case one way or another. I will win in the end.

"What will you win Inspector? Another promotion? But have you thought you might be going about this the wrong way? Why don't you give a bit, yourself? You keep us all in the dark and keep threatening us... Why would anyone take the risk of giving you information when you don't reveal your hand? You want to ask us questions from an undisclosed position. A game of blind man's bluff. – You only want to build a story out of what you can get others to say. A tit-bit here and a tit-bit there—and voila! You have caught a fish for the grist. You want me to cooperate, when your team, left us stranded with thirty miles to walk home, all because we wouldn't give them answers to questions, which we didn't know the answers to."

"I'm sorry, Mr Yorke. I did hear about that business, but you shouldn't bloody well make an issue of that. My advice to you is to answer our questions."

"And my advice to you, Mr Jones, is to stop shagging about. Get off your arse and go and find evidence and bloody well stop harassing innocent people."

I walked angrily across room and opened the french doors. I tried to maintain my dignity as I said loudly, "Now, please leave, Inspector."

When he didn't move, I said more loudly, "I've asked you to leave, now, go. Now! Fuck off or I will be calling the police!"

I held the door open wider and saw a policewoman standing there, notebook in hand.

Jones pushed past, elbowing me as he went out the door.

"I'll be back Mr Yorke, I'll be back."

He turned and marched briskly down the path with the policewoman trotting anxiously behind. I knew he had become an even more dangerous enemy. I knew that Inspector Jones meant what he said –he would be coming back. Perhaps I should follow Tina's example and disappear for a while.

I had a restless night. I was tossing and turning in my bed, trying to plan a secret holiday. I wanted to be with Tina again, so I decided I would make the most of the situation. I would get away from Inspector Jones and visit the object of my desires and the subject of his obsessive searches. I knew that my car had been bugged with some sort of tracking device. I could use that knowledge to confuse my trackers. Leave it parked it in a densely populated part of town and get a taxi to the airport. That could keep them busy for quite a while.

When I awoke and was capable of more rational thought, I realized my plan would be foolhardy and playing into Jones's strategies. My work schedule is also under pressure; I need to spend more time on my art. I have to be patient and continue my normal life routines as much as possible. It was normal for me to go away for long weekends, leaving late Thursday or early Friday. So that's what I would do; have Kevin take me to the airport as usual on Thursday afternoon, then take a plane to Wellington. I will be back with my darling Tina.

## Chapter XII

I got a text from Andy on our secret phone. "Coming 2 c u thurs nite. Luv u. A," I got so excited I startled Alice and Millie with my yell of delight.

"Andy's coming \- Andy's coming. He's coming to see me. Oh, I've been missing him so much. Bloody hell, I can't wait. Yipee!"

Millie, always the practical one, said, "Well, that's so good. But, Tina, there is not enough room here in this motel unit. You will have to go to the office and see if you can book the neighbouring one before the weekend crowd arrive."

"I have a better idea," said Alice. "I have been missing my husband too. We two could fly to Christchurch and spend a few days there. No one is looking for us as far as we know. The police were looking for Tina when they were following us. I don't think they have connected us with Tina other than the van."

I found a hairdresser close to the holiday park and got a new hair style that repaired the hair damage from my accident with the cooker when I was living on the boat. It cost me a fortune, but it was worth every penny. A new style and a new colour – copper red. The next few days were hard to bear; I had become very bitchy and my mother was much the same for probably the same reason. We guessed that Andy would be arriving on the early evening flight from Wellington so Alice and Millie booked themselves on the returning flight. That meant only one trip to the airport. It was a very good plan because it meant I would not have to drive on my learners' licence and risk any interviews with officialdom. Actually the airport is conveniently located very close to our accommodation so it was within walking distance if the need arose.

All went according to our plan; I waved goodbye to my mother and aunt and embraced my darling man seconds later. I had so much to tell him and so much lost time to make up.

"I love your new look. You look as if you have dressed up for an occasion."

"Yes, I have dressed for you. I can't wait to get you alone."

"Tina, my darling; I will be yours to do with as you like after we have eaten. Let's find a decent restaurant first. The night is young."

I drove him in the van back to the restaurant at the motel complex. We ordered and then while we waited for our meal he placed a courier envelope on the table and looked at me questioningly.

"I am curious about this package that was delivered just before I left to come here. It contains a passport that shows your picture, but it is in someone else's name. What the hell is going on? Do you know what it is about?"

"Yes. It was my mother's idea. She had my birth certificate as it was issued to her as my mother. She registered my birth as well as my father but in her maiden name of Linstead. I'm not sure if my father's copy is even genuine. My mother got the idea for us to apply for a UK passport for me in the name on her copy of the birth certificate. I was registered as Elizabeth Mary Linstead. We paid a big surcharge to get it processed and sent urgently. Do you see what this means – I now have a new legal identity. I can now go out of the country without being picked up as Shendra Khan. I can go to Europe or Australia for a break until this murder business is cleared up. I can get about New Zealand as a British tourist."

"Jesus, Tina. This is getting bloody complicated. What about our civil union? How will it affect that? What about the Immigration Service? What about our joint bank account?"

"I will simply disappear as Shendra Khan and after a bit of time, come back as Elizabeth Linstead. Hardly anyone here in New Zealand knows me as Shendra; only Gretchen and the police at the mortuary and a few official records such as driver licencing, and my step mother, and Marion and Bertie and Civil Union Registry. Oh there are a few but none would know where I had gone to."

"Oh shit! Tina I don't know what to think. It is going to take me a while to get my head around this. What shall I call you tonight? Oh, here comes our meal."

Then he laughed, and I knew all would be well.

We finished our meal in a leisurely fashion and then I took him home to my bed. I wanted him all to myself. We forgot about the serious business of the passport and the playful Andy emerged in the peace and privacy of my bedroom. He kissed me on my lips and then my eyes and then my arms. He unbuttoned my blouse and said,

"Oh Elizabeth – your breasts are magnificent. I want to kiss and suckle your beautiful breasts Elizabeth – God; Elizabeth is a real mouthful of a name. I like Tina better. I can't possibly call you Elizabeth. Perhaps Beth would be alright do you think? You are beautiful whatever name I use. Maybe I can call you Lisa. Lisa, I love your breasts; I love all of you, Lisa. My god, Lisa you are even more beautiful than Tina."

He kept talking and then interrupting himself, licking my nipples, then talking, then licking. Then he disappeared under my skirt and I felt him gently tantalising the petals of my flower.

"My god, Lisa your flower is even more beautiful that Tina's. I could stay under here forever. Your secret flower is like abstract art but I need more light to see the colours of the composition."

I reached down and pulled my skirt up, out of his way.

"Oh that's better I can see everything now. That is a lovely pink and here it is purple next to these soft cream folds."

I could feel his fingers touching each place as he described it. He kept up the running commentary as he explored and I was getting wetter and wetter and hotter and hotter. Even my ears felt hot. This is what I live for. I have been waiting too long and I feel myself beginning to explode.

"Andy I'm coming!"

"I know my darling – I can see your flower trembling and the opening is pulsing but I am going to stop you now. Then we can start again."

I feel his pattern of stimulation change and sure enough I am back off from the brink–I feel a circular motion, supremely pleasurable, then he begins stroking my whole flower, slowly, quietly and gentle. After a while he begins exploring again and telling me how beautiful I am –it is building up again and his fingers are inside and pressing upward and the climax is coming again and I feel pulsations and suddenly he stops: then the stroking, and he repeats everything all over again and again and then;--

"Andy I can't stop—I'm coming – Oh, Oh, Ahhh."

I am shuddering with waves of intense pleasure rising from my toes then up my whole body, over and over, until gently subsiding. I am glowing with warm waves flowing over me. When my body calms down, Andy removes the last of my clothes and then begins again, licking and kissing me all over—every part of me. I feel a new climax coming on but, now it is his turn, I climb on top of him and begin the ride of my life until he shudders and roars and I collapse on top of him.

We don't speak as we soak up the glorious wonder of it, then fall asleep where we lie, like a couple of drunks.

We didn't speak as we soaked up the glorious wonder of our love; then we fell asleep where we lay, like a couple of drunks.

In the morning we were woken by knocking, then, before we could respond, the door opened and a face appeared.

"Room service. Do you need – Oh sorry. I did call out. Sorry." the door closed behind the young woman.

"Oh dear! I think she got an eyeful!"

Andy said, "I don't think I want to meet her face to face for a while."

"She is one of the regular staff so you will have to see her during the day. I'm sure she has seen it all before. I bet she doesn't even turn a hair when you meet her again. I think we have overslept so we need to hurry if we want some breakfast."

"Right. We can save time if we bath together. I am only too keen to run my hands over your sweet body again."

"Okay, but I thought we were going to try and be quick!"

We both laughed and giggled through the bathing but managed to control ourselves for the sake of speed. I slowed our progress because I didn't want to ruin my new flash hair-do. At last we were presentable to the world at large. Alas, we were too late for the dining room; it was closed. I drove the van, under Andy's supervision, into the pleasant town centre where we found a coffee bar. Coffee and muffins made a change from my usual breakfast. The morning was bright and sunny and not too cold to eat at the outdoor tables.

"Tina. No I forgot; you are Lisa. I don't think this name change idea is going to work. Well, only if we leave all our friends and rellies behind and set up a new life. No, even then it won't work. I am sorry Tina. I can't disappear without losing everything; my family fortune, my established position as an artist, my assets and income. Who would I be? Mr Linstead. No! It doesn't make sense.

"Andy, you are not thinking straight. You are not getting the point of my second identity. It is simply an escape route. I can leave New Zealand for a break from my enemies when I need to – when things get too hot. I can get a new bank account and not have the police and immigration able to track my movements every time I make a transaction. I can travel back to the UK or France and you can come and meet up with me. Without this new passport I am unable to go in and out of New Zealand. If I tried to leave I would be picked up and handed on to the police. If I did succeed in leaving I wouldn't be able to return. I would be stopped at the border by NZ Immigration."

"Yes, yes. I understand. You would be Mrs Yorke when in Christchurch with me."

"That's right. This crazy situation will resolve itself when the police realise they are on the wrong track; when they solve the murder of my father. Then perhaps I will be able to make progress with Immigration."

There is one other thing. If you travelled out of the country to escape, I would not be able to follow you because they would track you through me. They would just follow me. There would have to be a definite interval. Which identity would you use in UK? Miss Linstead or Mrs Yorke or Shendra Khan.?"

"I think I would use my Linstead name just for travel. I may be able to take up my Khan identity in UK. I don't know. The UK or Aussie police may be asked to watch out for me as Shendra Khan. So far, I am unknown as Elizabeth Linstead. It would be best to only use it for travel or in an escape situation. Otherwise, I prefer to be known as Mrs Tina Yorke."

"Good. I agree. Now let's turn our mind towards a holiday mode. There is plenty to do in Nelson. There is a very good art gallery and a big artists' community in easy driving distance. I don't think we will try the beaches; but they are great in summer. What would you like to do?"

"I've been to the galleries in town with Alice and Millie but we haven't explored further afield. Is it too far to visit Golden Bay? I've heard a lot about it."

"Okay, lets go and see how far we get."

Andy had already paid in cash when we had ordered so I was surprised when he grabbed my arm as we were about to go out the door. He bent his head to my ear and said, "Shhhhh" and turned me back towards the counter.

"Can I take a couple more of your muffins to take away?"

He took his time paying in cash and counting his change. He was up to something. He slowly turned back to the door and led me out.

"What was that all about, Andy? Hey the car is back the other way. Where are you taking me?"

"Did you see the cop patrolling past on the footpath? He may have been looking disinterested but you can never be sure. I think we should avoid being noticed and linked to the van. We will wait till he has gone."

"Hell. I hadn't even seen him. You are very alert, but if I reacted every time I saw a cop I would become a nervous wreck. And I would start to look guilty."

"I suspect he was interested in you and he pretended disinterest. He saw you and his eyes became alert, then he looked away."

"You are not becoming jealous are you?"

"Of course. Now we will just keep walking around the block to make sure he has gone away."

We continued on our way and went into a couple of shops to browse and finally came back towards the van. I saw him through the window of an appliance store: he was inside, watching.

I steered Andy into a shop and whispered to him. We could still see him but I don't think he could see us. The shop we had entered was a drapery store.

"Andy, I am going to buy some fabric. You keep watching"

I browsed for a while and then approached the counter. I asked what they had in the way of a plain black material suitable for a head covering and scarf. I chose a lightweight fabric and asked the price. I fiddled about, just playing for time and then said it was too expensive.

"Do you have a remnant; about two metres?"

"Not in that colour but we have some pieces in a dark red that are quite cheap."

She went away and came back with a selection of lengths. I managed to dally for some time and then Andy came and up and nudged me.

"How much is this piece. I think I'll take it."

"It is a bit dearer but you could cut it to make it into a nice head scarf. It's twelve dollars."

"It will be just fine. Andy, have you got cash?

While he paid, I took the material and placed one end over my head and then wound it around my neck and draped it, in Indian fashion, so that it covered my shoulders and hung down over my upper body. Taking the stray end, I held it up so that most of my face was covered, exposing only my eyes.

After paying, Andy turned and looked at me in astonishment. The women behind the counter looked equally surprised. Andy walked to the door with me trotting behind at a respectful distance. Once outside I let him go even further ahead. I saw the cop on the other side of the road but he didn't seem to be taking any notice of us. After about a hundred metres, Andy crossed the road towards the van and I carried on to the next intersection. I had to guess what Andy would do next. I decided to turn right and keep walking towards our motel because he couldn't do a u-turn. The van was on the wrong side of the road and he was going to have to drive around the next block. I knew that if he missed me he would go back to the motel. Sure enough, after walking for over half an hour the van pulled up alongside and I was able to get in.

"Wow, that's a sexy outfit. How did you do that?"

'Remember, I grew up in an Indian household. And it's not supposed to be sexy."

"Well, I don't know who is kidding who, but, yes; it is very sexy. You have very sexy eyes Mrs Yorke."

"Well, Mr Yorke! You will have to control yourself, because I think we have a problem in need of urgent attention."

"Yes, the time has come for you to leave this lovely town. I am certain the patrolling policeman did not connect either of us to the van but, to be on the safe side, we must return it to the motel for Alice and Millie, and then leave town."

"Yes, I don't want them to become any further involved with my mess. I suspect they are getting anxious to move on. Alice is missing her husband. It has been a good time for me; getting to know my family. I feel part of them now. Where do you think we should go now?"

"I have no idea. I am of the view that Nelson is too small a city to hide in and now the police are alerted they will be actively looking for you."

Andy parked the van in the motel car park in a position out of view from the road. I packed up my few belongings and left the van keys and a cryptic note saying we had urgent business to attend to in the North Island.

We went to the office and left the keys for 'my aunts' who were expected to return on Sunday. We paid for the next week's tariff and assured them my relatives were indeed returning. The motel manager offered to drive us to the airport and Andy readily accepted. On the car journey to the nearby airport Andy embellished the facts of our sudden departure to give false leads to Australia.

Our actual destination was a matter of what flights were available. We ended up in Wellington, spending two nights in a hotel which was regularly used by Andy. He checked us in to adjoining rooms as brother and sister.

We had a lovely meal but the evening was spoilt by our need to decide our next moves.

"Andrew, I've had enough of this shit! It is never going to end you know. We think we are pretty smart, outwitting that bloody cop, Jones. And we may be able to do it till the day we die, but it is ruining our lives. I don't want to be parted from you – just a few days here and there, then, be on the run again. I want to have a life with us together, leading towards our own goals. We can't run away to a new life without you sacrificing everything. You have an established reputation as a wonderful artist. I am sure that I could escape to Europe and create a new life as Elizabeth Linstead; but that would be the end of us. I cannot even start to come to terms with that. You are the most important part of my life. If I lose that, I will have lost everything. I would rather die."

"Tina, I am prepared to disappear and go into permanent hiding with you. We could smuggle enough money out of the country and set up again in peace. I could begin painting in a new style. Start a brand new life."

"No, Andrew. It won't work. You would not be able to invent a new identity as an artist. As soon as you became prominent, your background would be a matter of great interest and you would be uncovered. No, we must face up to the fight; confront Jones and his bloody crew and challenge them to show their evidence. I didn't do it, so I can't imagine how I could possibly be convicted. I'd like to call his bluff."

"That sounds extremely risky, Tina. If he gets the chance to lock you up, you will be trapped and unable to fight back. I don't trust him. He sees this case as a possible huge loss of face; a scar on his reputation and a blight on his promotion prospects. He appears to have no other suspects. Who else would have wanted to murder your father? Do you have any ideas?"

"Quite a few, but they are no more than guesses. I know his work was often dangerous, but he never revealed exactly what he did. He would go away on mysterious journeys. He was very much obsessed with his security. He always used a remote start up for his car and used a mirror to check underneath it before getting in. The other obvious enemy was the Mukherjees and perhaps their paid assassins, in revenge for Govindra failing to provide the promised bride. I could speculate on many scenarios, but that is not evidence. Yes, I have quite a few ideas of who might have done it. I can just imagine the police laughing themselves silly if I mentioned any of them."

"We really need to find out what evidence they have against you or if they have any at all. We can't refute it, if we don't know what it is."

"Maybe we could do some thing to make them reveal it. But, I'm not prepared to meet him to discuss it. He'd have me inside before I could blink."

"Tina, I think you are onto something. Instead of worrying about him trapping you, let's see if we can trap him. You are a bait such that he would fall over his own feet in his hurry to catch you—yes let's turn the tables on him. It's time we went on the attack!"

Both of us became so excited that we were up most of the night thinking up a foolproof plan. And, at last, we had it!

On Sunday night we flew back to Christchurch and took a taxi to the end of the street. I sneaked back into the house in the darkness. I was going to remain hidden in our upper floor until we had our plan ready to go,

## Chapter XIII

We discussed our plan with Lorna to get her legal views of what we were about to do. She did not approve. She advised us of certain risky aspects.

"The police, and Jones in particular, must be willing participants. There must be no coercion on your part and you need to have witnesses and secure evidence of the whole business. If it all goes wrong, you must be seen to have been willing to cooperate with the police processes. You must have evidence of your own, of all that happens. You can't rely on police to produce evidence that is not in their favour. They have a history of withholding. Make sure you ask the questions and don't say anything or give information which could be used as evidence against you. And, of course, I will not be able to be present. Good luck."

Andy set up our trap in meticulous detail with every step timed and rehearsed with our friends. We decided on a Saturday night because the police are at their busiest then. I listened in when Andy rang Inspector Jones.

"Inspector Jones, its Andrew Yorke speaking. I was talking to the person you know as Shendra Khan a few days ago. She says that as she is completely innocent of anything to do with her father's death, but she would be willing to talk to you in order to stop the police harassment."

"Oh, that's very sensible. When can I see her?"

"In a few days. When she is back in town. Saturday evening is the best time. However, there are conditions."

"I'm sorry Mr Yorke. I don't do conditions. Just tell me where she is. I'll do the rest."

"Inspector Jones, she does not trust you. Either you agree to our terms or nothing. That's it."

"That's not how police business is done. I do not do deals."

"Very well then. We will make arrangements with someone who can negotiate. Who is your superior?"

"I am the officer in charge of this case. I decide how this is to be handled. I have taken over and been put in charge, because I get results, and I will. Tell me where she is and I will arrange for someone to pick her up."

"Inspector, if you change you mind in the next few minutes you can ring me back on this phone. Otherwise, forget it. I may ring your superior anyway. Goodbye."

Andy rang off and then laughed.

"God! He is a grumpy old bastard. I was determined I was not going to lose my temper. I bet he rings back. If he doesn't, I will ring his boss. Either way, this will be the end of his promotion prospects."

"You did well, Andy. You kept to your script and didn't lose your cool, but I'm nervous. He will be steaming mad and I think I will have to make myself scarce if he won't play ball. I wonder if he may now suspect that I am here. I think I should bolt overseas."

"Keep calm, Tina. I think he will ring back but to be on the safe side you could go out of town for a few nights. Gretchen is ready to go and willing to whisk you out of his reach."

"Yes, I think ...."

Andy's phone rang. He sat and let it ring for a while.

"Inspector?

"What are these conditions, Mr. Yorke?

"I am glad you have decided to be reasonable. I will meet you on Saturday evening and take you to her. You will be on your own and carry no weapons. I will guide you to our meeting place by phone. You will then follow my instructions. When you meet her, you are to provide her with whatever evidence you have which points to her being involved in the death of her father. She believes you have none because she is innocent. You are to reveal to her what you know about the cause of Govindra Khan's death. You are to make no moves to detain her. After the meeting I will guide you back."

"Okay. I will comply with that, but then, I think you will be compelled to believe her guilty. So prepare yourself."

"I think I will cope. Now I will need the number of a cell phone you will be carrying. I will make my first call at 6pm this coming Saturday."

"My phone is 02131....."

Andrew watched me write it down.

"Okay, I've got that. See you on Saturday. Bye."

"Andy, I don't trust him. I want my escape route open, and ready to use. I will book a hotel room near the airport for Saturday to Tuesday and if necessary make my escape as Elizabeth Linstead to somewhere. I will keep my escape bag at the ready. I may not need it but I want to be prepared."

"Good idea. We should also set up that bank account you opened in the name of Elizabeth Linstead so that I can access it to top up as necessary. I won't follow you straightaway because I would lead them to you. I also need to keep up with my work. I have some commitments and will need to reorganise all my business activities."

"I feel very fidgety right now. I don't know how I will cope with waiting for Saturday.

## Chapter XIV

Saturday.

I have left Tina in position for the meeting. Everyone is in place to deal with whatever is to come. Marion is in charge of the escape route. Her car is parked inconspicuously with Tina's escape bag in the boot. She also will be managing Bertie's jet boat. No one of the team know Tina's newest identity. If the need arises Shendra Khan will disappear and Elizabeth Linstead will arise in her place. My life will never be the same no matter how it all turns out.

Now I am waiting in a deserted car park. It is time to ring Jones. He answers immediately. I ask, "Where are you now?"

"I'm in my car in the Central Police Station car park."

"Do you have a full tank?"

"Okay, you are now to drive to the Tai Tapu domain. Call me when you arrive."

I know he will have back-up police following him so I will try to make it difficult for them. When he rings back I tell him to turn left and then right and then left again. When he next calls I tell him to do a u-turn and then drive to the main highway and head to Akaroa. He is beginning to get very grumpy so I leave him to continue his journey. The traffic is quite heavy and I can't be sure when he passes me by. I notice a batch of cars and among them a couple of police cars. I let him carry on until he calls to tell me when he is entering Akaroa.

"Do an about turn and come back, then stop at the shop at Duvauchelles and wait. I remind you, that you must be alone."

I left my car and crossed the road. The night is pitch black and I'm dressed in my black wet-suit so I am nearly invisible. I position myself in a ditch alongside the road, where I can watch without being seen. When he parked his car I rang and told him to leave the car, cross the road, and walk out on to the beach. I rose up and walked behind him. He let out a startled yelp when I spoke.

"It is low tide so we have a long walk. Now take of your shoes and all your clothes and put them in this plastic bag."

"Oh no. I draw the line at this. I'll keep my clothes on thank you very much."

"Please yourself: if you believe you can swim in all that clobber.... But the deal's off if you won't comply. I can't take responsibility for your safety if we are to go any further."

There was a long silence and then he said, "Okay, if I can keep my underpants on."

"I can understand your desire to keep your dignity so that will be okay but you must remove them, turn them inside out, then put them back on."

A weak moon gave enough light to see that he obeyed. He knew the reason for this demand. I took the bag of his stuff and placed it on a stack of rocks. It was a long walk on the muddy beach till we came to the gently lapping water, then we waded to where I had anchored my dinghy. I held the boat while he clambered aboard. I rowed using the familiar lights on the land to guide me. I had to make pauses in my rowing so that I could turn and see where I was going. I should have made Jones row the boat. When I came alongside my motor yacht Kevin was there to help us aboard. Tina stood back as if from a dangerous beast.

"Well we meet at last, Miss Khan."

"Yes, Mr Jones. We are expecting you to provide us with some answers. My first question to you is how did my father die? What was the cause of his death?"

"Miss Khan I understand that you may feel you have the right to know, but I am sorry, I don't know. The cause of death could not be established. The body showed no signs of injury. An autopsy was performed but the pathologist could not determine the cause of death. I rather hoped that you might be able to tell me.

"I see. Well! My second question is concerned with your fixation on me as the guilty party. Do you not have any other suspects? Why are you not looking for any one else?"

"Because, Miss Khan, I am convinced that you did it. You are the only person we know, who had a motive. You must have hated him."

"I don't think you have done your job Inspector. I can think of many people who could have had a motive. Why aren't you harassing them?"

"Give me a list of these other people. Who are they?"

"I have no intention to speculate. I don't want you badgering some other poor bugger. You should be acting on evidence, not guesswork or conjecture. Now that brings me to my next question. I don't believe you have any evidence which implicates me in my father's murder if that is what it was. You cannot, because I am innocent."

"That's not good enough Miss Khan; every criminal I have had anything to do with says that they are innocent. Frankly I don't believe you. You see, I have evidence!"

He was clutching a plastic bag containing a sheet of paper.

"We intercepted a letter from Govindra Khan to Roshan Khan. This is a photocopy. It reads; My Dear Roshan, I am afraid. I almost came face to face with her. I knew I could not meet her like that and I know she has every reason to be angry and full of hatred. I don't know what she will do but I have to face up to her and admit what I have done. I will try to get her alone and confess my stupidity and submit myself to her mercy. I will acknowledge her suffering and accept her judgement without reservation. If she wants to beat me to death, then it is no less than I deserve. However, it is my hope that I will return to you in a few days."

After a long pause he said, "How did you kill him Mrs York?"

Tina started shaking. I knew, and she knew, the woman in the letter was not her. It was her mother, Alice. But, we knew that she could not have killed him. If we revealed our knowledge, Inspector Jones was going to pursue another innocent person.

Tina stared at him and said nothing.

"Mrs Yorke, I am arresting you for the murder of your father, Govindra Khan and for the theft of approximately ten thousand pounds in Canterbury, Kent in July of 2010. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say....."

She started to laugh.

"Have you any idea how ridiculous you look standing there stark naked trying to look official. Now, take your hand off me. All I will say to you at this time, is that I am not the person referred to in that letter and I have no knowledge of the death of my father. As to the money, I say that I did not steal it. It was my money – I just did not use it for the purpose it was given. My father had good reason to be pissed off about it but legally it was mine and that is the end of the matter. Now we have to see about getting you returned to your uniform. I suppose you realise that the reason we insisted on your nudity was to make sure that you were not carrying any spy devices. We have our own recording of these conversations. If you'd like a copy we may be able to do that later."

"Miss Khan, or Mrs York, if you prefer; you are missing something here. You are under arrest and you must accompany me to the nearest police station. If you refuse, I will further charge you with resisting arrest. The game is up."

Tina looked at me. I gave her the signal; I nodded.

"Inspector Jones, you are a bonehead. I would rather die than suffer any more of your crap."

Before Jones could utter another word she casually turned and then, dived overboard. Kevin immediately gave a short blast on the foghorn and Marion answered with a blinking light to guide Tina to Bertie's jet boat.

"Oh bugger. Bloody hell. Yorke, have you got a lifebuoy to throw. Get some lights on."

Then he dived in after her. I knew that he would not be able to catch her. She knew where she was going and she is a very fast swimmer. I heard Marion start the boat and in seconds they were underway and disappeared into the darkness. I had to find Jones in the black water. I used a torch, unwilling to show anything more powerful that would signal our position to watching police onshore. It was only with difficulty that I located the stupid policeman and guided him around to the stern ladder. I must admit that I was not in any hurry. The longer the delay the better chance Tina had to get clear. But I didn't want him to drown. That would take some explaining.

Eventually, we got him on board and I made a fuss about him losing body heat and becoming hypothermic. He kept shouting and demanding my phone while I said he needed some clothing and went off to get blankets and to heat up water for hot drinks. Gretchen found some towels and made a show of looking after his welfare. He issued orders and became more angry which was good because that increased the confusion.

"York! Give me your phone. Where is it? We need to call the police and coastguard."

"Oh of course. Here it is but I don't think it will work now. It got soaked in the sea when we were wading to the dinghy. I think we had better get you ashore. Bertie, check the boat for lines hanging overboard. I don't want ropes getting tangled in the propeller. Gretchen, can you fix up a hot drink for the policeman. I think the water is boiling now. I'll get us under way as soon as Bertie says we are clear all round."

"York, you bloody bastard, you tricked me, but she won't get away. You are in trouble too now for interfering with police business. That is a serious charge. You will not make a fool of me. You are in trouble. Now: get this boat moving."

"Inspector, I have tried to help. I arranged this meeting for you. You could show some gratitude."

"Bugger you! Get me back ashore as fast as you can."

"I have to make haste slowly. It's black as the ace of spades. There could be other boats out there."

I chugged along at about two knots, making a wide sweep towards the main wharf.

"Where the hell are you going? Yorke! Why aren't you taking me back to Duvauchelles where I left my clothes and car?"

Well, I can't take this craft into the bay. The tide is right out now – we'll run aground. I'll drop you off at the Akaroa Wharf. You'll be able to borrow a phone from someone and get one of your colleagues to come and pick you up."

"Have you forgotten? I am naked and freezing cold. I can't go through the town like this."

"I can assure you Inspector, it will take a lot longer to row around the headland into the bay and I don't think I could leave you to find you own way through the mudflats. I could take you back to Daly's Wharf but that is further and I'd have to pick my way through the moorings in the dark."

"Damn you, Yorke. Just get me to the wharf as soon as possible."

Kevin and Gretchen were keeping quiet and out of the way. I knew they were splitting their sides. Kevin went and kept watch in the bow and Gretchen amidships. As I brought the boat up to the wharf, I manoeuvred up to the steel ladder. Jones bounded along the deck and grabbed the ladder just as the swell descended leaving him up in the air. With the low tide it was a good climb up to the top of the wharf and he lost the blanket into the water. So there he stood stark naked much to Gretchen's delight. She shrieked in laughter. I quietly backed away, then turned the boat back up-harbour and opened the throttle. My last sight of Jones was him running along the boulevard to find some sort of assistance.

"Perhaps someone will call the police about the naked man running through town," said Kevin! We all laughed heartily, but knew that Jones would be seeking his revenge.

I moored the boat by the secret house which was not a secret any more. The place was teeming with police. They were in disarray. All they seemed to know was that they were giving back-up regarding a planned arrest of a woman who had connections to this house. Gretchen was asked to prove her identity which she did with her driver's licence. Once again I did my best to delay them to give Marion and Tina the best chance of avoiding capture. Kevin had been given the task of recording the event and he was anxious to keep his gear out of sight. The cops were unaware of the significance of material that we were carrying into the house.

I was quietly confident that Tina was well clear. In fact, by now, I felt I could give myself the liberty to picture her moving into her hotel room.

Bertie's car had been left at the house so after some refreshments, I locked up, and he ferried Gretchen, Kevin and I around the harbour to Duvauchelles where I had left my car. I changed out of my wet-suit and then drove the three of us at a leisurely pace, back home to Christchurch. There was no news of Tina but we had agreed it was safer not to communicate until things settled down.

## Chapter XV

I wasn't able to say farewell to my darling Andy and we had agreed that it would not be wise to attempt any communication until I was well out of the way. We had devised a chain of contacts to use as a last resort when everything settled down. I had predicted the outcome of my meeting with the sleazy cop. I knew he was not to be trusted, but I had to be sure before I forced Andy to revise our future. I did not want to leave New Zealand but, I had run out of options. When Andy and I are able to re-unite we will have to devise new plans for our life.

Our planned meeting with Inspector Jones was a success in the way our little group coordinated and my escape went exactly as we had rehearsed. We were in our own familiar territory which was a major factor in our favour. Akaroa is accessible to the world by only one major route and one minor scenic road. Only two or three road blocks are needed for police to be able to capture fugitives. Our plan depended on us being out of the area before they knew that we were gone. As far as I was concerned it was all or nothing. If I died in the attempt that would be better than being labelled as a murderer and incarcerated for years. I have a natural fear of dying but not of death itself. I do not believe in supernatural beings or an afterlife of any sort. When life ends, there is nothing left to fear. So I had nothing to lose by escaping an intolerable situation. My only regret is that I have dragged Andy's well ordered life into a new and unknown phase.

Marion drove at a very moderate speed to avoid attracting attention. It was nearly midnight when she drew up at the hotel. We went in together to make sure that my room booking had not suffered any mishap. All was well. All they wanted was my credit card details and they had no objection to my guest and so Marion was spared the return journey to her home in Akaroa.

I was not ready to sleep. I set up my lap-top and quickly logged on to find suitable flights. I soon made the choice of the soonest possible departure. I reasoned that the police would soon be looking out for Shendra Khan at airports. Marion was also not ready for sleep and she enjoyed watching my search. It was not as easy as I would have liked. I did not want to go via Auckland. I wanted to be out of New Zealand at one stroke. I chose a flight leaving the next afternoon because it had no stops in New Zealand. I booked with no problems in my new name of Elizabeth Linstead.

The next day Marion helped me with a makeover in the hotel, then I checked out and said thanks and goodbye to Marion. I walked the short distance to the International Terminal in plenty of time and finally boarded without hindrance. I was relieved, and at the same time sad to be leaving New Zealand, but glad to be going to a place of safety. It was going to be exciting starting a new life once again. Andrew and I had talked about possible plans to live in England. He wanted to rent somewhere that had room for a studio. He had no fixed ideas of where to settle in England. He left the choice to me.

My biggest concern was to loose my identity as Shendra Khan. From now on, I was going to be known Mrs Elizabeth Linstead. When I arrived in London, Heathrow, I had to find a new place to live: an address away from my old life in Kent. Perhaps, to the west of London. I had always fancied Bath as a place to live. I was going to find it hard to be alone in the land of my birth, especially knowing that I had old friends not far away. But, wherever I lived, I somehow had to clear my name. I felt determined to find a way even at long range. It was going to be a long flight so I had plenty of time to think. I also wanted distraction to rest my frayed nerves. I'd bought a couple of books to read on the journey. It was hard to keep my mind from straying back to my immediate worries.

I arrived at Heathrow to a day of high summer. A good omen, I thought: What a nice time of year to begin a tour of Britain in search of a new way of life.

## Chapter XVI

Tina is gone. I am at a loss about my future and how to manage a transition. Our situation is going to be reversed. I will be trying to get permanent residence in the UK and Tina will be the sponsor. I hope the British Immigration service is more sensible and humane than New Zealand's. I have no ear to hear my worries or to help me refine new ideas. Lorna has gone cold on my relationship problems. She is good at giving legal information, but she sees inherent dangers in the love lives of people of disparate financial positions. Of course her view has been soured by her unfortunate experience. My parents, and Lorna and her daughters, think I've gone soft in the head over Tina. Maybe they are right, but that's the way I like it.

I am optimistic by nature; at least, I think so. I am also a rationalist, so I balance my optimism with a realistic view. I see the world and human nature as somewhat fickle and erratic. One can be optimistic but it is always wise to be ready for the unexpected and unpredictable. I have been fascinated by the modern sciences of complexity theory and chaos. When non-linearity exists in patterns of behaviour and events, then things can go rapidly unpredictable and wildly chaotic. So how can I know where my life path is going to lead?

I have spoken to my parents who assure me that my income from the family business will be maintained, but I must forgo any rights or control over the business. Lorna is the big wheel. That suits me fine as I am not suited to property dealing or negotiating with bankers. It is a shady business. Mostly, those who do well, I see as legalised crooks. They don't understand art and I don't understand, or can't come to terms with, the morality of real estate or the money market. They get rich but they produce nothing. I'm happy to let them get on with it. The carpenter builds a house and thus creates an asset; the banks and dealers play poker with the asset and artificially raise its value in terms of credit in their paper accounts. Money is not a real thing in the physical world; it is just a system, an idea in the collective mind of mankind. I prefer to collect material objects that have intrinsic value such as art, gold or jewellery.

Right now, I have to make some decisions about my goods and chattels. Our Secret House is a case in point. I will not be able to maintain it in good condition while I'm absent for long periods. Should I sell it, or arrange a trust to look after it. I would need to feed it money to keep things in order; the same with my boats and moorings. I will sell them all and give Bertie power of attorney to act on my behalf. I think I have just made a decision.

My art business – the production of art works, the mentoring and teaching, I can leave in the charge of Gretchen. I know she will be delighted and she will do a good job. She can act for me, as an agent, for works that I bring, or send back, from time to time. I reckon that I can be free to travel and work overseas in as soon as four weeks. Another decision made!

I wish I could talk to Tina. I am anxious to be with her but I'm worried that Jones and company will try to track me and thus get her. He turned up at my door soon after Tina had gone. He was in a really bad temper.

"Mr Yorke is Shendra Khan here?"

"No. I have no idea where she is."

"Look here Yorke. You must know. If you persist in this charade I will arrest you for causing a waste of police time and resources. And I could do you for that business on Saturday."

"Oh come, come, Jones. I was helping police. I arranged the meeting for you to speak to her. You frightened her and she bolted. You can't blame me for that. Now she has vanished, and I have not one clue where she is right now. I hope she does contact me sometime soon, but I don't think I will be telling you. I don't want to lose her. She meant it when she said she would rather die than lose her liberty. It is bad enough that she has lost her father and then you come along and willy nilly accuse her of murdering him. You are a coarse and stupid bastard. Leave my property and don't come back."

"I have some other questions regarding Saturday's events. I want to know, who were the other people helping you that night? There was a woman and there were at least two other people. Tell me who they are?"

"I have asked you to leave. I have nothing further to say to you. Now get off my doorstep and go!"

I was unable to close the door as he was half way inside. I knew better than to push him.

"Leave my property! Now!"

"Officer, you have heard my client ask you to leave. Do so at once or I will be lodging an official complaint."

Jones was purple with rage. He spluttered and just managed to keep himself from saying anything else in the presence of my solicitor. Then he stamped off down the drive.

"Thank you Lorna. You came along just in time."

"Don't thank me. I was just doing what I had to. This mess of yours is compounding and I don't want to become embroiled in it. You may be wise to make yourself scarce for a while. Join Tina wherever she is hiding and perhaps persuade her to give herself up. This can't go on forever and I have had enough of it."

"Lorna, I really don't know where she is, but we had contingency plans in case this got too hot to handle. I may be going away for some time. I need some administration to take place. I hope you can help me with it. I want to cash up my personal property and leave Gretchen in charge of the studio and art business. Are you willing to look after that – or must I get a new solicitor?"

She looked very serious and worried. She put her arms around me and hugged me.

"I'm sorry Andy. I am getting concerned that this is getting totally out of control. We know that Tina is innocent. She's been with us, or you, I should say, all during the time frame of the crime. She has had no opportunity to be involved in it. That man is determined to get a result for his own ego satisfaction or for promotion. He is not rational, but, he is dangerous. I am sorry I blew my top. Of course I will act for you; as long as I'm not in a position where there could be a conflict of interest."

"Jesus, Lorna, I don't want a family 'falling-out' over this. I only want to get my life back on track and settle down with Tina like any normal couple."

"Andy, come up to my office and we will work through what needs to be done. It won't be too complicated."

Lorna revised some of my intended plan but she approved in principle. She thought that I was putting Bertie in an onerous position and suggested a shared power of attorney so she or Bertie could administer my affairs. My properties in Akaroa will now be sold by auction. I could be free to go away as soon as Bertie could come in to sign the papers for his role. I felt very relieved and grateful. Now I can leave within days. I will be able to be with my darling Tina so much sooner than I had dreamed.

"Andy, I'm not even going to ask where you are going. I know it will be, to where Tina is hiding. It is best that I do not know."

"I have been wondering why that boorish cop hasn't arrested me yet. I think he hopes I will lead him to Tina. He thinks I don't know, but he has bugged my car so he is able to follow me wherever I go. I can put that knowledge to good use and lead him on a wild goose chase to keep him occupied while I go somewhere else.

Two days later, I had Bertie come in to Christchurch for dinner and to meet up with Lorna and I, and to sign the papers. I told him about the police bug on my car and my plan to lure Jones to a false trail to Tina. At his suggestion, I agreed to him driving my car back to Akaroa and dropping me off at a taxi stand in Papanui on the way. I was going to be travelling light – one suitcase and a back pack. I had my passport and a money belt holding a large amount of cash. The taxi took me to the airport and I managed to get a late flight to Auckland. The following morning I was on a flight to Tokyo and then next day, Heathrow. Goodbye Inspector Jones.

I wandered around the Heathrow terminal, using my cell phone to call Tina. I got no response. We had planned to use our secret phones to find one another in England. I kept getting a reply that the number was not available. There was a phone shop in the terminal and a very helpful young woman tried calling my number but according to her it didn't exist. She explained that I needed a new phone and a new account. This phone was incompatible with their network and so was Tina's. How the hell was I going to find her? I bought a new phone but she said there was no way she could find Tina. When she was setting up my new phone account she said I could choose any number I liked if it was available. I asked for my own old number and it was available —just the prefix was different.

I went on to a food bar and bought a coffee and muffin and sat down to try various number combinations using Tina's old number. I got a few replies and many no replies. I sent them all the same text message – Tina r u there? Andy.

I then pondered on what I should do next. Where the hell should I go? Where would Tina have gone a mere ten days before? She wouldn't have gone near her old home territory; that I knew. I had no idea at all. Zilch. I felt tired and disappointed. We thought we had the perfect system of connecting using our secret phone. Neither of us had foreseen this problem.

So where should I go now? I imagined her arriving here and trying to decide where to go. What would her thoughts have been? Keep away from Kent. I looked at the tiny map the airline had given out. From Heathrow, Kent is to the right. I decided to go left. I got up and walked decisively to the exit and saw a row of buses. One sign said Reading. I looked at my map and yes, it was to the left. I got on and paid with one of my new twenty quid notes.

Once in Reading I began wandering, glad that I had not much luggage. I came upon a hotel and had a quick look in the main doors. It looked okay and the reception was friendly and helpful. I explained that I had become separated from my partner as she had arrived a few days before me. I needed a room to rest up and with internet access.

She asked my name and when I hesitated she looked at me sharply. I was confused and felt very silly—I hadn't thought about a name. I needed to my keep my movements concealed.

"Ah, sorry. I was just thinking about my partner. Whether, perhaps, she might use her maiden name. My name is Linstead, Andrew Linstead." I gave a little laugh. "Jetlag." I said. I thought that must have sounded strange. "Can I use my credit card? No a debit card. Or cash would be better. I need to find a bank here." I had realised that the name on my credit card is Yorke. Good god, I hope Tina is doing better than me.

"Yes, cash will be fine. How long are you intending to stay, sir?

"Two or three days, I think."

"Linstead, that's not a very common name. We had a young lady of that name recently. Yes, here it is. Elizabeth Linstead. From Australia.'

"Really? Do you know where she went?"

"No, we do not have that information. Here is your key Mr Linstead. "

A porter showed me up to my room.

I felt totally knackered. I fell asleep in seconds. When I woke I had to do some mental gymnastics to calculate the local time. Thursday 7pm.

I didn't feel like dining in public and elected to have room service. It really felt like breakfast time. There was nothing on TV that appealed. So I got to work on my laptop. I found Tina's New Zealand webmail address and – Yes. It was active. There were several sent messages all along the lines of 'My beloved. Where are you? I seem to have lost contact. I am so lonely.' I noted she used no names. So I followed her example and sent another. 'I'm closer than you think'.

My dinner arrived and I picked at it for a while. I was not hungry enough for a full dinner. I tried surfing the television and was jolted out of my skin when my cell phone began ringing. The old secret one! I answered and it was my darling Tina.

"Oh thank goodness. Tina, darling, I thought I would never find you. I tried our phone but it didn't work."

"You silly bugger. You have to put the New Zealand prefix in front! +64"

"Yes of course. I am a silly bugger. I'm so pleased to find you. Where are you?"

"I'm in Bath. Not the bath; the city of Bath."

"I'm in Reading."

"Oh, my God. You are in England? So soon?"

"Yes, it got too hot for comfort. Jones was after my blood."

"I'm so glad that you are here. I was scared that I would lose you forever—that we wouldn't find each other in England."

"I understand my darling. I had no idea where to start looking. I was really worried. I can't wait to see you. I will leave here early tomorrow morning."

"I have a better idea. I'm in a backpacker hostel. Bath is lovely but not the town for us. It is quite a small city. It is too small and we would be really conspicuous. The people are nice, but very posh, and not sociable towards newcomers. Bath is a place I have rejected for our circumstances. I can catch a train back to Reading and be with you tonight. Where are you staying?"

"In the same hotel you used. It's close to the station I will go there and wait for you."

"I'm not sure when the next train goes to Reading. I'll ring again when I leave."

"Hurry, my darling,"

I used the internet to check the train timetables. With luck she will be here by 9 pm. I really like the transport system here. It is brilliant even though it's expensive.

I tried to read, and then to watch TV, but my mind would not settle. In the end I went out for a walk around the town centre. The physical activity was good and I was getting to know my way about. I managed to fill in the time and wandered to the station. There were quite a few people out in the pleasant summer evening and I realised that I was still on high alert because I kept scanning the faces expecting to see Inspector Jones or one of his cohort. I told myself how silly that was – he was twenty thousand kilometres away and had no idea that I had left town. But, it would not take long before he discovered my absence.

It was so good when Tina stepped off the train and into my arms. We had not been parted long, but we had a lot of catching up to do and lots of significant decisions to make.

The next morning dawned another fine day so I made enquiries of a possible walk and picnic in the countryside. I was told to go to the Thames River and follow the towpath. We needed to have peace for making plans about our immediate future. Tina was not impressed when we found the path; looming over it stood the grim high grey walls of the prison. The place where Oscar Wilde wrote The Ballad of Reading Gaol. However, we carried on and we enjoyed the riverside walk. It was very picturesque especially near the Caversham Marina where there were a great number of boats moored. This could be a paradise for me if we ignored the practical necessities of our lives. Perhaps in dreams of the future....

As we wandered I was able to give Tina the details of the events following her escape from Jones in Akaroa, twelve thousand miles away. She described her arrival in Great Britain and the conflicts she felt – the joy of being back in the land of her birth and at the same time the loss of the land and life she had come to love in New Zealand. Like me she had moments of near terror at the possibility of never finding me. The only sure link we had was through our phones but if that had failed we might have become really lost, or have to risk using connections in New Zealand which would expose us to our enemies once again.

We sat on a seat at Sonning Lock for a long time, watching the activities of boaties using the lock and could imagine ourselves living their life styles. The more pressing problems of planning our future together kept looming in our mind. We knew there were flaws in our efforts up to this stage. I had used my passport in my own name to travel to the UK. Jones & Co will find little difficulty in establishing the fact of my arrival in England. Tina's journey was better concealed, although, it would be an easy deduction to make that she and I intended to meet, and where I was, then so she would be.

"That is a serious mistake Andy."

"Yes, I agree, but as far as I'm concerned, it is a necessary risk. Being together is all important to me, so we must manage that risk. Once I left Heathrow airport, Andrew Yorke disappeared and you, as Shendra Khan, have not re-entered the UK. You disappeared in New Zealand and there is no trail showing you are in the UK. Of course, Jones and Co could easily guess. But, I think we are relatively safe for the near future."

"Yes, but, you don't really officially exist in this country except as a temporary visitor or tourist. You don't have National Insurance number, a work permit or a tax code. You will need a P45 to get a job. You can only earn cash 'under the table'. You won't be able to open a bank account. As soon as you try to register to legalise your activities you will set off all their alarm bells. After six months you will have become an overstayer and I know what that's like."

"I have no intention of getting a job. I carried in the maximum allowable amount of cash, nearly ₤20,000, and I have arranged with Lorna to deposit my allowance in your Linstead account. That is accessible by our Visa debit cards and I can monitor the account by internet banking. We just can't get large sums such as for a house purchase. We will have to rent. I can do my own work and sell my art. I see no reason why you are prevented from opening an account as Elizabeth Linstead, once we have an address."

"Yes, only; I see this as an interim solution. We know that it will have to be regularised sometime in the not very distant future. What if you needed medical services or if we have a child. You must not fall into the same vicious trap that I ended up in, in New Zealand. We must learn from our previous experience."

"You are right, Tina. I will start by applying for a permanent visa on the grounds of my relationship with Shendra Khan. I will be Andrew Yorke to the authorities and Andrew Linstead in my everyday dealings. Jones won't know about you or your whereabouts as Miss Linstead."

"No! No, no, no, Andrew. I will not risk becoming Shendra Khan again. You will have to apply for a visa under some other qualification—not any way connected to me. That is final."

"Okay, Tina. Okay. We will have to think it through again. Perhaps we can just live together and deal with things as they occur. The only real answer is to have the New Zealand Police find some one else responsible for your father's death."

"I think they have stopped looking because of Jones' rigid mind-set. Even the news media have lost interest. Could we remotely poke them to start some action?"

"I think that is a possible course of action. But, in the meantime, we carry on here as we are and keep thinking. And watching.

We wandered around the lock and at the invitation of the lockkeeper, crossed the little footbridge to the cafe set in the lock's beautiful garden. He proudly informed us that his garden had won many prizes over the years. He asked me where I came from as he noticed my different accent.

"Oh, er, I came from Scotland originally but I have spent many years in Australia. We are just looking about with the intention of resettling. I have relatives up north but I want to live nearer to London for business purposes."

After he had moved on, Tina said, "That was too much information. You will have to learn to deflect questions like that; be vague."

"Yes you are right. I must practise my technique for my new life in the underworld. Now, what are we going to do about transport? How long can we continue with only public transport? Shall we buy a car?"

"Well, I still have no licence, so I think we should make our choices about where to live with that in mind. You can only drive as a visitor to the UK under your real name. That might be risky."

"I don't think a car is a priority at this stage. A place to live is higher on our list. An address is really useful! But, I'm reluctant to pin us down just yet. I need to get to know my way around and to see what prospects exist for selling art. Some short term accommodation may be what we need. Let's not rush into anything."

"Okay but as winter approaches we may have to become more decisive. Let's get walking."

We followed the walking paths and found our way in to the village of Sonning where we wandered and browsed a cluster of shops. A house we were passing displayed a sign announcing it was available to rent, fully furnished for seven months. That would serve us well until the end of winter. I noted the telephone number. A bus conveniently came along, much to our relief, because we were unsure of our way back to Reading's town centre. On the way back to the hotel we went into an artists' supply shop but to my disappointment they only stocked children's and amateur painters' materials. The assistant was eager to help and said that they could get special requirements to order. I promised to return during the week.

We both felt we had done enough for one day and decided to relax before dinner. We settled in the guests' lounge bar for a couple of drinks and inevitably got into conversation with our fellow guests. One couple were curious about my accent, as usual, and asked where we came from.

"Oh, we are just idle wanderers, looking around before we finally settle down to a more serious life style."

The youngish woman asked Tina, "What sort of work do you do?"

"I am a recent graduate and trying to decide whether to do more study or look for a job; perhaps as a translator or an editor or something."

"There is not much work around here at the moment. We are on the way to find work in London. We were in Bristol; both in IT. My name's Angus by the way: Angus Forbes. And my wife is Helen."

Tina responded instantly, "I'm Lisa and my husband is Arthur."

When dinner was announced we went in together. They were eager to be friendly. Oh bugger, I thought. I find it a bit of a strain trying to maintain a false position in the world. I was worried that I would trip myself up with my lies. It was not my style to present a false image. Tina, though, seemed to be enjoying it, so I let her do most of the talking. I thought it best to tell the truth when Angus asked what work I did.

"I used to be a sparky, an electrician, but now I'm an artist. I'm a contemporary painter."

Helen said she was impressed. "How much do you get for your work?"

"Anywhere between five hundred dollars and twenty thousand."

"Dollars? American dollars?"

"Yeah, or Canadian" I realised that I had said a couple of New Zealand words. I didn't want to reveal my nationality. The meal was good but I continued feeling stressed and was happy when we finished. Back in our room, Tina, looked happy and enlivened by our social diversion. I was exhausted.

"Andy, don't look so worried. You need to get more practice at presenting yourself and maintaining your composure. We will probably never see them again. They seemed very nice. They are harmless, I reckon.

"Well I certainly hope so."

We spent the next couple of days getting a good look around before I got around to ringing the estate firm about the rental property. She was not impressed with our lack of references or rental history. I explained that I was usually in the position of landlord rather than tenant, but I think she was suspicious. She reluctantly agreed to take us to view the property. It was perfect for our situation. When she asked for a bond and the first month's rent I tried to pay her in cash. That was a mistake. She didn't warm to me at all. I'm sure she was going to tell us to get lost until Tina produced her Lloyds bank card and offered to pay that way.

We now had an address: our first home together! Although the place was furnished there was no bedding, so we bought the essentials and lugged our stuff out to Sonning on the bus. I was happy to spend the rest of the day tidying the garden and pottering outside. Tina was installing herself inside.

I had no art materials other than a sketch book and pencils. I needed to find a supplier. I had asked in a gallery and was told that a man in Reading operated from his home and I was given his number. When I rang and explained my situation and needs he could not have been more helpful. Phillip had stocks of professional artists' brushes, thinners, mediums, canvases gesso, paints and even easels. He arranged to call at my address with a range for me to choose from.

Duly, the next morning he turned up with a van full of stuff. Tina eagerly selected things for her interest in watercolours. I pressed her to buy really heavyweight watercolour paper even though it was very expensive. That was to avoid all the palaver of stretching the paper before painting on it.

I was most impressed with the brilliant service. I was back in business.

We had both missed out on breakfast; there was nothing in the cupboards. So I suggested we try out the local tea shop in the High Street and do some shopping on the return trip. The tea shop was very 'English' as one would expect, although very different to New Zealand. I was told I must stop verbalising comparisons to our old life.

"Yes," I agreed.

"Andy there is something I have not got around to telling you. Remember that couple we had dinner with: I discovered something that has bothered me. The following morning I was going up the corridor past their room. They were out, but the cleaners were busy and I asked if Mr and Mrs Forbes were still in. I was told that the gentleman had gone to breakfast but the lady is in the room opposite. I knocked and the door was open, so I called out and went in. There was no one in the room but the occupant was definitely a woman. They told us they were man and wife, but they had separate rooms. I'm very suspicious. If we run into them again we should be wary."

"That does seem odd. I was not at ease with them for some reason. Nothing I could put my finger on. If we see them again I think I will be in a hurry to get to an appointment; or give them some random bullshit."

"I hope I don't ever see them again. You were right. They were giving us a bullshit story. I thought you were showing signs of paranoia. Now, I wonder who they really are."

"Come on; It's time we got back to work. You have to be very self-disciplined when you are self employed. Slackness leads to a very slippery slope."

Tina laughed and said, "Yes, boss."

We picked up our back-packs which we took everywhere. They were our escape bags always at the ready, to pick up and go. They contained our essentials – phones, money, passports, our laptops and a change of underwear. We are always ready to go if ever danger presents itself.

I was eager to get back to our new studio to sort it out and make a start at our new artists' life. Tina wanted to take up her lessons where Gretchen left off. Tomorrow we planned to go into London to find our way around a few galleries and begin getting to know the art scene there. Today, I insisted we would work to 6pm. I had no model so she was to model for me for an hour, then, I was to model for her, for an hour. It worked quite well although it was difficult to guide her while I maintained a pose. The most difficult part was trying to get her to draw in a loose style.

"Remember you are not trying to make an exact image of what you see. You have to let go, and try to paint, or draw, what you feel. Express yourself—it is not technical drawing, it is art. If you want a perfect representation of what is in front of you, use a camera. You must learn to draw with the intention to create something new. Create, not replicate. You will see what I mean when we visit the galleries in London, one day soon I hope."

Our lives settled into a pleasant routine and although somewhat restricted because of our lack of transport we did manage a social life of sorts. Meeting new people was a risky business and we tended to keep a distance. The episode with the Forbes had soured our natural tendencies to easily make friends. We were on a nodding acquaintance with many of our neighbours and local pub regulars. I think their view of us was that we were reserved and aloof.

We made our visit to London a few of weeks later, beginning early in the morning. At Reading Station, while waiting for Tina to come from the loo, I was standing watching the bustling travellers from the overhead walkway which takes people from one platform to the other. I was astonished to see, below me, Angus Forbes (if that is his name) in deep conversation, walking beside bloody Inspector Jones. They went out of sight beneath the walkway. I struggled across the flow of the crowd to see where they were going. I was just in time to see them boarding the train to Bath Spa. I was in a state of shock when Tina came back.

"What's the matter Andy? You look half out of your wits. What's happened?"

"Can't talk here. Let's go to our London train. I'll tell you later."

The train was crowded; it was not easy to converse.

"I'll tell you when we get to Paddington. I saw him, Inspector Jones, get on the Bath train."

We were on the fast train to London but it seemed ages. We were both just about exploding with anxiety.

At Paddington it was frenetic but we found a seat in a quiet spot.

"God, Andrew, tell me what's going on?"

"From the over bridge, I saw bloody Jones, and that bloody Forbes fellow, walking and talking together. They got on to the Bath train. We've come half way round the world to get away from Jones, and there he is, as large as life. It can't be a coincidence."

"Are you sure it was them? You were up above them. Could you have been mistaken?"

"Absolutely certain. They were both dressed like London toffs. Jones was always in shabby clothes in New Zealand, but he was in a fine suit today. I don't remember mentioning Bath to the Forbes so why are they going there. Of course it may be nothing to do with us at all."

"Get real Andrew! Those Forbes meeting up with us and now finding they are in cahoots with Jones—there is no way that is coincidental. They have discovered that we have left the hotel in Reading and now they are backtracking our movements."

"Tina, I think you are on to it. That is the most likely explanation. But, if we didn't mention Bath why would they go there?"

"Because I had been tracked to Bath. Oh, oh, why did they, the Forbes, I mean – why did they find me or us in Reading? I think the penny has dropped. Oh no. Andy, remember when we were in Christchurch and I was being tracked, we realized that it was my computer which informed my father of my movements. It's my computer, isn't it? Bugger. I need to be able to communicate with the world somehow. Bugger, bugger."

"I'm afraid so Tina. It looks like you are right. It's not a hundred per cent certain but ninety nine per cent. Let's not let this ruin our first London trip. Put it out of our minds for a while and we'll carry on with our day out."

"Yes, we'll work it out later. I'm looking forward to the Tate Gallery."

"Okay. It's straight to the Tate. Now: you know London better than me. How do we get from Paddington to the Tate?"

"I don't know London all that well, even though I've been here numerous times over the years. Circle Line tube from memory. There's an information kiosk."

There is too much to absorb in one visit to the Tate and during lunch in the cafe we decided that the afternoon be devoted to sightseeing and some action was needed to deal with our traitorous computers. They had to go. Tina had realised that after Bath she had used my laptop. Perhaps one had inadvertently infected the other and that was how the Forbes had honed in on us in Reading. Then why had he and Jones set out for Bath. I was sure that my laptop was certainly betraying my location and Tina's was suspect too. Tina agreed; they both had to go.

"In future we will have to use internet cafes and not use the laptops anymore. We must write down on paper all of our essential email addresses and set up anonymous web addresses for ourselves. Then we should delete all our files after copying them to a flash drive." Don't copy anything that could have become contaminated.

"Yes Tina, then what do we do with the laptops? Leave them on a train or give them to someone."

"We'll go and buy a tablet and see if they will give us something off the price of the laptops."

"They will think we have nicked them! They might call the police."

"Okay, Andy, we'll try giving them away in an underground exit. First, we buy the flash drive then find a cafe or pub where we can work on transferring and deleting our files. Then go for a few bus rides to get to know our way around. We should ask someone where to find the best place to buy the flash drives."

We were directed to catch a bus or tube to Piccadilly Circus then Tottenham Court Rd. We bought the memory sticks and found a little pub and worked away at copying and deleting the files. We got some card and felt pens from the barman and wrote in large letters: Laptops for Sale £25 Each. We admired our handiwork and were quietly finishing our drinks when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Hullo, 'ullo, what have we got here? A bit of hot property is it?"

"Certainly not," said Tina. We are travelling and these things are a burden. They are heavy and we don't use them any more so we want rid of them."

"I'll believe you. Do they work alright?"

"Yes, they're fairly new. It was a mistake to bring them."

"I'll give you..."

"No haggling; It's fifty quid for the two of them. Final offer."

He slapped a fifty pound note on the table. "Okay No names. I won't ask any questions."

Tina passed over the two computers and he disappeared into the recesses of the bar and we quietly walked out. The barman was watching with a funny look on his face. We quickly went up the Tottenham Court Road to get away from the scene of our suspicious business dealings. If those computers are still carrying the subversive programme which tracks and reports our movements, then it will keep our enemies busy for a while.

It was a great relief to be rid of those two computers. We happily explored shops and galleries as we strolled about like tourists. There was a fully stocked artists' shop and a wonderful book store. The return journey to Reading was a bit of a struggle because we had not foreseen the peak time crowds so it was quite late and dark when we arrived home in Sonning. I had set up concealed strips of sticky tape in place as detectors of any intrusions, but all were secure.

We had established our daily working routines and the output of the Sonning studio steadily grew and Tina had started to develop as an artist. I enjoyed teaching her as she had a natural affinity and interest. I had long ago become aware her inner artist as I watched her viewing and appreciating works of art. Her fingers and hands tended to wave and move in the air in front of an art piece revealing the processes of her mind acting out the actual painting event.

I hired a model, Andrea, who came to us three mornings a week; it was impossible to instruct Tina as well as being her model. The new model took a great interest as I adopted my stern teacher role, and began my instruction.

"Now, Tina, I don't know how far you got with Gretchen's drawing tuition. I think we ought to start at the beginning again to make sure the basics are in place. So forgive me if I am repeating stuff."

"Art to me is something I have to do as an expression of an inner creative urge. I don't make the mistake of trying to reproduce reality. Art is about creating a new reality. You can make use of the real world for inspiration but you must not fall into the trap of copying it. The exception is when you are using something in the world to learn from, but, don't let if become a habit. Of course you can take something in the world and turn it into a new creation. A portrait is a case in point or a particular landscape. There is a subtle difference reproducing something and making something new. When I paint a portrait, I am not making a face, or a person. I am creating something which may, or may not, be recognisable as some person. I can take a photograph to make an exact image: that is a process. When I draw or paint a person I want to create something which relates to that person and conveys an expression of my experience in the world. I am in that painting too."

I paused and went and gathered a few items from around the studio.

"That's enough of that. I am now going to teach you something which at first will seem to contradict what I said. I am going to teach you to draw accurately. You will need to practice all your life to keep the skill alive. That's why I have a daily session of life drawing as often as I can. Now take this empty picture frame – you are going to hold it up then draw on the glass with a marker pen. Position yourself so that Andrea is in view within the frame and draw her outline. You have three minutes."

I watched as she drew on the glass and timed her. After the time was up I told her to stop.

"Andy, I can't believe that I did that. It is so good. But, isn't it cheating?"

"Why would it be cheating? Do you think it is cheating just because you found it easier? It is just a method, a technique. Durer. Picasso, Vermeer, da Vinci; all the great artists had their methods of training their eye and hand. Destructive critics often use arbitrary rules to find fault and usually miss the joy and beauty in front of them. There are technical rules about the best ways to use art materials, but no rules in how you create art. When you know what you are doing, you can break all the rules. You have to learn to ignore destructive criticism: even your own self-criticism. Now rub that off the glass and draw her from another viewpoint."

"This is going to be a routine for you until one day you decide you can take a short cut and transfer what you see before you, direct to the paper. But, still keep going back to the learning routine."

Over the next few months we began to feel that we were safe, although our vigilance remained at a high level. There were one or two weak areas we could do little about. The estate agent had had to establish our credentials at the beginning of our house rental. It had been Tina's passport that we used so we were known to her as Mr and Mrs Linstead. Our multiple names became a burden. The new model was a housewife in need of extra income. She was quick to learn her role. She knew us as Liz and Jim, but we frequently slipped up. We had to explain that Tina and Andy were nicknames. It was a flaw in our cover. It was difficult to remember who we were, and I hoped all the time, that there was no cross matching of our names going on behind the scenes. To our neighbours and a few others we were Liz and Jim Williams.

Another flaw was the signature on my paintings. If any one intercepted them they would soon be on our trail, because they were signed in my usual manner – 'Yorke'. The smaller casual paintings that I sold locally, I signed – A. Linstead. Whenever I painted outdoors, often near the lock I had one or two displayed for sale. That provided a bit of pocket money. My larger and more serious works were not for local sale. When the paint was dry enough, I packaged the paintings and sent them by courier to Gretchen in New Zealand. It was her job to varnish them and have them framed and delivered to the galleries. My style and interpretation was new, because my model was rather more mature than those I had used in the past. I was painting a woman; not a girl.

## Chapter XVII

Gretchen was managing my studio in Christchurch beyond my expectations. Our communication was not frequent and I had to initiate the calls via a variety of methods. Of course if her phone was being tapped they would have been able to listen in, although, it would have been difficult to trace my location.

Tina had been working assiduously at prodding the news media in New Zealand about the lack of progress on the Govindra Khan murder inquiry. She communicated with Press reporters through Gretchen who posted her messages on to them. Tina also had been writing letters to the editor to raise public interest in the case as an indication of New Zealand Police's ineptitude. She asked why the police forensic people could not find a cause. And why had they not revealed that Colonel Govindra Khan was a secret service agent – was he working for or against New Zealand interests? That was intended purely as provocation to stimulate public interest and debate.

Financially, I was doing well in New Zealand funds. However, I still did not have sufficient British funds to buy a house. Our rental term was coming near its end so we had to start making preparations to move on. I was also in danger of becoming an overstayer and I didn't want to fall into the vicious trap that Tina had woven for herself in New Zealand. We needed to be in UK long enough to establish a length of relationship that would satisfy UK immigration. And so we decided on a quick trip to Paris, something we both had been looking forward to. She was happy to be back again in her beloved France and able to use her language skills, chattering to people at every opportunity. She took me to her old schools in Paris to show me where she had lived and grown up. Of course, we spent a lot of time in Le Musée du Louvre and Le Musée d'Orsay but we found many other less well-known galleries. I noted Tina's preference for the modern styles and wondered what she might one day choose for herself. I had to remember to allow her to find her own personal style and to teach her to find her own way.

When we returned from France, I made a fresh entry to the UK. I had been making tentative enquiries with UK Immigration and now I was following their advice. Tina became Shendra again, at least temporarily, to maintain our civil union partnership with UK immigration authorities. We declared our civil union status and I made formal application for entry as the partner of a British citizen. We had a concern that the name Shendra Khan might carry an international alert from the New Zealand authorities, but nothing happened. It was an anti-climax.

All had gone so well during our visit to Paris that we had to keep reminding each other to watch out that we didn't get too cheeky. Shendra was still living under the shadow of that New Zealand arrest warrant so on our return to England we had to disappear once again.

On our return to Reading it was nearly time to move from our house in Sonning. A visit to the estate agent to make arrangements to end our tenancy brought us back to the reality of our situation.

"The owners' of the property have inspected the house while you were away. They were very impressed and would be happy if you continued for another three or four months."

I looked at Tina, "What do you think, Tina? Shall we stay on for a while longer?"

"Can we think about it, Andy? It will mean revising our plans. We'll go to a pub and have a chat."

I turned back and was about to say we would return shortly when I saw that she was holding out a card.

"There was another visitor while you were away. A gentleman was inquiring after you both. He described you both very well and asked me to ring him when you returned, but you might as well ring him yourself."

I took the proffered card and said we would be back in half an hour.

There was a nice intimate little pub nearby where we could talk. I ordered a glass of cider for us both and found a booth I thought would be private enough in which to discuss our business.

"Bad news, Tina—we are going to have to reconsider our plans. Look who is asking about us." I passed her the card.

"Oh shit! Just when we were thinking we had escaped his clutches. I suppose he now knows my new identity, Elizabeth Linstead. We'll have to move on, won't we?"

"Yep, I'm afraid so. We were just lucky that the agent gave us the job of ringing him back. Did you notice his name? Not Inspector; no title at all; Norman B Jones and no address, only a London telephone number."

"I wonder how long we've got? I thought of this town as home. I don't want to leave here."

"I am not the person he has a warrant for. It is you and I don't think we should take any chances. I will go back this afternoon and clear out the last of our things. We thought we were leaving anyway and most of it is already gone. What I can't carry I'll put in the bin or leave behind. Just the easels and one or two blank canvasses remain."

"No, Andy: I'm sticking with you. Jones will be waiting for the phone call, so if we don't call he won't know we are back—we will have a couple of days grace. Besides, I have acquired a lot of stuff I don't want to dump. My art gear, some clothes, -- I am getting sick of running away and leaving treasured goods behind every few weeks. I need a base where I can leave stuff and retrieve it at will. One extra case with wheels would do it."

"Tina, that is impossible. We have to travel light. You know you can't lug a heavy case behind you all the time... Perhaps we could find somewhere to leave it."

"What about Andrea, our model? We know where she lives. We could ask her."

"Oh, Tina; I don't know what to say. Our situation is really urgent. I don't want to hang about. Maybe, um, if we hired a car it might be possible – or a river boat."

"Andrew. I think I have had enough of living on a boat in winter."

"It's spring."

"No Andy, a boat is a bad idea. It is too confining in the sense that it is bound to an easily tracked location. A mobile home or van would be better."

"Yes I agree, but there isn't the time to organise it. We must act fast. Perhaps a rental car for few days would enable us to carry our stuff away."

"Yes, let's do it now. We'll tell the estate agent we are off to Wales or somewhere in that direction and finish up the house rental."

We went and delivered the news – I could see the agent was disappointed. I told her we would be gone by morning. I suggested that perhaps we could have a reference in case of any future housing needs.

"Certainly. I can give you one right now – it is a standard pre-printed letter of recommendation. I just have to hand-write your name on it. By the way, that man who left his card rang while you were away: he wants you to ring him back as soon as possible. He acted a bit oddly on the phone. He said he needed to talk to you very urgently because you could be in some danger. Do you know him?"

"Yes, I think he is a bit nuts. I think he has been stalking my partner for a while. We'll call him later if we can. Well, thank you very much. It's been good doing business with you. Goodbye for now."

Our departure was a bit hurried and may have left her puzzled and too curious for our liking.

Our return to the only house we had ever had together, was a sad event. Neither of us wanted to leave. Tina collected her stuff with tears streaming the whole time. The suitcase we had bought on the way home was too large in my view but it was soon filled. Tina had assembled a lot of her art and firmly stated she was not going to part with it. She made her point very firmly. She stood facing me, with her hands on her hips, and said in a strong tone,

"I know I have a long way to go before my art is saleable, but it is my creation and I want to keep it all. I want to be able to look at it in the future and see how much I improved. It will all fit in to one of those cardboard boxes. I will post it all to myself in New Zealand in the hope we will return someday."

Finally, we were ready to go. Tina, wearing her backpack, valiantly struggled out with the suitcase. I carried her box and one of my own. It was really too much to allow us easy travel. We had decided to stay a night or two in our first hotel near the railway station. I hoped to persuade Tina to get rid of more stuff. We needed to pause for a while and make new plans. At this time we had no idea how Jones had tracked us down, so if we were not careful, we were likely to repeat the same mistakes. In some respects, life on the run was quite good fun, but the element of danger was ever present and ominous. We were now more than ready, to settle down as a normal couple. We wanted our lives back in our own control and to be rid of our stalkers. A taxi took us and our luggage to the hotel. It was not a happy place this time. We were simply desperate for a place to stay while we got our wits together and made some decisions.

"Tina, there is something about this whole business which doesn't make sense to me. Jones and company had been quite successfully monitoring our activities. Why didn't they pounce on us when we returned from France? He knew where we were living when he called on the estate agent. He could have had you, or us, arrested, with a few policemen awaiting our arrival back at the house, on a number of occasions. Why did he dally? Why did he tell the estate agent that we were in danger, and yet not act to catch us."

"Look, Andy, you are in this situation because of me. I am the person under police surveillance. I am their prime suspect for murder. You are only incidental to their case. Why don't we go our separate ways? You would be able to carry on a normal life while I disappeared forever. I don't think I will ever be free of this total mess. You don't have to put up with any more of it. Go, before our lives become any more complicated."

"What do you mean: more complicated?' Are you thinking, perhaps, children?"

"Yes, among other things."

"Tina, you are not errr?"

"No, Andy, I'm not pregnant. But, we would both like children one day. Not yet though; I haven't even got a career yet. And that's not likely to happen while I am continually running away. We can't even risk having friends let alone children. And I have said it before. I will not go to prison; not ever. I will kill myself first."

"Jesus, Tina. Don't talk like that. I can't bear to hear you talk like that."

"Well, I'm only telling you the truth Andy. I mean it! I am ruining your life and I can't stand it any longer. It is time that you became free of me and my troubles. I want you to go and leave me to sort it out – if I can."

I tried to hold her: to caress her, to soothe away her fears. She pushed me away. She wouldn't allow me near her. She just huddled up and sobbed, and I was helpless. She had never turned from me like this. After a while, I left her to calm down and I went into the shower. The hot jet relaxed me and my mind cleared allowing me to think, to see the hopelessness of our position, but I had no answers.

I emerged from the shower wearing only a towel and found she was gone. Her back pack and case were gone but she had left me her secret phone. I now had no way to re-connect with her. How would it be possible to find her again, with no clue, where in the world she might flee to? The railway station was obviously her first place of escape. I threw on some clothes and raced out of the hotel. In her haste she would jump on to the first available departing train. The choice was easy; there was only one train standing at the platform and I jumped aboard just in time.

I had no idea where this train was going but if she was on it then I would find her and bring her back. There were few passengers as I walked briskly through from one compartment to the next. I thought she was not on the train and was rapidly losing hope until I went into the last compartment. There were Jones and Forbes standing over someone. Shit! They had her. I went up to them in a rage about to do some wild act. Forbes came up to me raising his hands, signalling me to be calm.

"Yorke, she is very distressed. She will be alright once we explain everything to her. Can you help us calm her down? She believes that she is arrested. That is not the case. We are trying to protect her. Things are not what they seem. It is all very complicated. We need to go somewhere with more privacy to explain. If we can go back to your hotel room – that is the best plan."

"I don't know if I should trust you. Where is this train going?"

"London. But it will stop at the next station, Maidenhead. We'll get transport back to Reading. Please help us get her off the train. We don't want to use force. If we can't persuade her then we'll end up in London. I know you have no good reason to trust us because of how things turned out. Just help us get her back to Reading and everything will be made clear."

My head was swirling. Things can't get any worse – or can they?

Jones moved clear and indicated that I should help her out of her seat. Forbes had her things and he led us to the exit as the train pulled into the station at Maidenhead. To my surprise she meekly let me lead her out. As we emerged from the train I realised that there was a third person involved busily texting on a mobile phone. It was the so called, Helen Forbes.

There was a taxi waiting for us at the station entrance. These people were organised. We all piled into the taxi and went back to the hotel in Reading. Only Forbes and I guided Tina to our room so there was no fuss. The others appeared a minute or so later.

To my surprise, Jones was considerate and kind to Tina. He helped himself to our fridge and asked Tina what she would like to drink. Forbes took the role of chairman of our gathering.

"Andrew and Tina you have had a very bad time for a while and you must have been wondering what on earth was happening to you. I'll start by asking you to be patient. It will become clear, I assure you. Things will be better from now on. You have already met us, but the names you have for us are not our real names. You don't need to know our other names. We are a bit like you two really. So many names you some times end up in a bit of a muddle. Norman, you can give Tina her good news."

"Tina, you are not under arrest and you never were. You are not even a suspect for murder or any other crime. I was simply trying to get you out of a very dangerous set of circumstances that you were both totally unaware of. There is still danger but no longer imminent danger. You are safe for now. There was another reason for arresting you. We needed to seize some of your property. Unfortunately, we were not successful at the time. We were later."

Tina and I looked at one another. I shrugged.

"Mr Jones, what property was that?" she asked.

"They were your computers. We finally managed to buy them for twenty five pounds each. Yes, that cocky cockney who bought them in the London pub. He is one of our colleagues. We would've paid a lot more if we had to."

I asked, "If it was you lot who were tracking us, why did you want the computers?"

"We didn't want to track you. It was the computers we wanted to track. You were incidental to the project. We needed to learn how the system worked so that we could take back control of it."

"Why us?" said Tina.

Forbes looked a little disconcerted. He took a deep breath and said,

"Mrs Yorke it all began with your late father. He was one of our team. He was the leader. A genius I believe, who we were sad to lose. It was his project to begin with. He devised a method of tracking people; a method which he refined by having a whole cluster of computers which he infected with an application that continuously reported back to him the computers' exact locations. He made use of every computer he could lay his hands on. Of course, that included his friends' and families' computers. I know that information will not please you Mrs Yorke. He was able to follow you half-way around the world. And that of course has led to unpleasant repercussions for you and your friends. We are very sorry about that. There is worse to come though – another complication; and this is how you came to be endangered. Norman, over to you."

"Oh dear: I've got the sticky wicket again. Well, you can see how this clever app would be of use to other people. Shall we call them; the naughty people, and even worse – the really nasty people, of this world? They are some of the dangerous and malevolent fanatics that make human beings the most horrid and destructive of all the animals. We don't usually name them specifically; they belong, generally, to groups associated with international terrorism. Unfortunately, they needed the master computer that sent out and implanted the Trojan horses to be able to do any effective tracking for themselves. That was Govindra's computer and that has disappeared but also there was another to which it was linked – and that was your computer, Tina. The one you took to New Zealand. That too, is now in our hands so all would be well except that the nasty people thought you still were in possession of it. We have had to go to some bother to convince them that you have passed it on to us. So things are getting better and safer for you.

"What about the Indian men who are stalking me – the Mukherjees?"

"Ah! Well. The Mukherjees were not long in New Zealand. They seem harmless but the stalkers were, or are, someone else. They were opportunists hoping to make a profit from Govindra's invention. They may still be a problem but only if they keep getting tracking messages. It was them who you became aware of, on a number of occasions. I believe you were aware of a white van with dark tinted windows."

"How did you know about that?"

"We have been watching over you for a very long time. Govindra reported back to us very regularly. He was concerned about the risks of his application falling into the wrong hands and when you and your sisters took off with your portable computers he realised that you were all endangered. We believe that he lost his life while working trying to protect you and in the service of his country."

"We all came together today because it was important that you both were informed of the real facts and that you were no longer wanted by the authorities. It was just good fortune that you ran out while we were arriving and gathered in the lobby. It was easy to guess that you were taking flight again for some reason. We have never been far away. If we had managed to arrest you and take you into custody it would have been easier to protect you physically. However, things have now reached their climax. Some of the nasty stalkers in this country that have been causing you all this distress have all been taken into custody, but their leaders are still at large."

"Well, who are you? Are you army people like my father?"

"We are all part of the New Zealand and UK secret service as was Colonel Khan, your father. He was seconded to the SIS from the army; and had been for years. He was a specialist in communications. He had a real talent in code breaking and computer hacking. He will be sorely missed."

"Who killed him?"

"We may never know; at least with any legal certainty. However, we are of the opinion, that it was almost certainly people belonging to a fanatical political nest, whom he had been engaged in tracking in Europe for some months. They had turned the tables on him and were following him instead. The evidence of the cause of his death has been covered up for operational reasons of the Intelligence services. It was not true that there were no signs of injury to his body. There was a very small puncture wound to his left buttock with minor bruising. The pathologists discovered a veterinary drug, etorphine, in his body. It is probable that he was darted in an attempt to subdue and capture him. They may have been too late to administer, the antidote, naloxone; there were traces of it around his nasal passages. Some third party was certainly involved. How else could he end up floating in the sea in a plastic bag?"

"Who was the person my father referred to in his last letter to his wife? The letter that you claimed was conclusive evidence against me?"

"Mrs Yorke, I'm sincerely sorry about that – I have to confess we don't know who he was referring to. That is another mysterious item of information and may not have anything at all to do with his demise. It was, however, useful to get you into custody for your safety and to entrap your stalkers. We badly wanted your computer to have them think they were tracking you when, in fact, we were leading them into our trap. It would have worked too except that you were too clever for us and indeed, nearly too clever for your own good."

"Right, that's enough for now, Norman. There is just some administrative stuff to deal with. We will have to talk some more when you two have managed to come to terms with these events. You will be able to contact us in future if you need to discuss this some more. In England, you will be able to make contact through this number, and in New Zealand, Norman is the officer in charge of Police Government Liaison."

I asked, "Liaison between what and what?"

"That's all you need to know. Just ring Police HQ in Wellington and ask for PG Liaison. That will get a message to me and I will call you back. By the way your immigration and travel alerts will all be cleared by tomorrow. Immigration in both countries will give you and Mrs Yorke an easy time from now on. If you go back to France again you can relax: we won't be monitoring you in future."

"Oh, you were aware of our little trip to France?"

"Indeed we were. By the way; your sisters are in Paris. Ring Mrs Forbes tomorrow for their address. Well, that's it for now. We'll leave you in peace to get used to your new status as 'normal people'."

## Chapter XVIII

After they left the room, Tina and I sat stunned. We didn't know what to say to each other. This should have been the moment for rejoicing, but we felt like robots whose batteries had gone flat. It was me who moved first. I stood up and, I'm ashamed to say, began stamping like a child in a temper tantrum. Then I began shouting, "Those government bastards. The bloody fucking bastards. They just waltz away as if it was all a bloody stage show. All jolly good fun. Well, it wasn't fun. It was very bloody hard. They were playing with our lives and I will make a hell of a stir. I will go to the very top and lodge my complaint; to The Queen, The Prime Minister of New Zealand, and England too. I will sue them for the hurt and trouble they have caused us."

"Andy, please calm down. We'll be thrown out of the hotel. Let's be quietly rational about it. You have simply been unlucky to be mixed up with me and my father's crazy military spy club. I was the problem and the curse of your life. I am so sorry. They think my father was a hero. I think he was a puffed up ego-centric, dealer in misery and suffering. He was playing war games without regard to people. Look what he did to my mother, Alice, look what he did to me and my sisters. I am ashamed of him."

"Tina, my darling, you are right. We must remain quietly rational. I don't know how we return to normal as Forbes put it. It is going to take us a while. We have been lucky that I have had the money to carry us through. What would have happened to the average couple with limited resources? It would ruin them. I think we should go ahead and sue them – we don't need the money, but we could sue for millions, and put the money towards a fund to protect the innocent from the shenanigans of corrupt politicians and bureaucrats."

"I do love you. You are always wanting to right the wrongs of the world. But, you need to calm down and think what you are saying. The 'grey shadows' of the powerful are all in tight-knit little groups who know how to skate in their own slime. Who are you going to sue? Angus Forbes, Norman Jones or who? They have already told you that they don't exist. We don't even know their real names. We are just expendable small fry. The authorities will simply deny everything. It is the same all throughout the world. We could be dealing with any number of war happy entities: Israelis, Pakistanis, Fijian dictators, Syrians, US extreme right wingers, Indonesian Religious Right, Russian Mafia... Bad people with great power are everywhere. You won't win against them. They will just disappear into their own dark holes.

"Tina, we should not forget that we are not the only victims of these 'war games'. Where does this leave Roshan, or your mother Alice and her wider family; and your half sisters? We need to find all these people and try to mend the damage. I am not in a hurry to return to New Zealand as winter approaches there. We can make a brief visit to re-establish ourselves with our friends and family then come back to UK for the summer. We'll try to obtain residency in both countries. And after that, we will alternate as it suits us. Enjoy the best of each end of the world."

"My darling Andy. Thank you for being so supportive of me throughout this farce. I doubt that I will ever really trust bureaucrats or government officials in the future. I will be especially wary of military people. I remember hearing someone say 'you can never trust the military mind: it is mechanical, like a set of switches'. They lose their humanity very early in their training. Perhaps I should feel sorry for my father. I think he may have been a victim too."

"If we got rid of all the bad people in the world who would be left, and anyway, who decides who the bad people are? It is all too serious for me. I just want to get on with my life now and put the whole business behind us. Let's try to forget and concentrate on re-building our life together – the way we want it.

"Yes, yes, and it's time for some fun. I will always have the mysterious death of my father worrying me. I don't think we will ever know the facts, but someone does -- one of the grey shadow people."

"Let's see if we can find a party......"

"Andy, what a great idea – but first I want to call Gretchen and we should tell our legal eagle, Lorna."

Tina picked up one phone and I went to listen in on the other. Gretchen was not answering her phone; probably in her morning shower. I tried Lorna's number.

She responded to our excited news when we told her we were returning to New Zealand for a visit very soon. She listened to our abbreviated report and then became very serious and sober. The lawyer in her was coming to the fore. I told her about Inspector Jones and his cronies releasing us from any threat of arrest.

"Andy, I am not in any way convinced that Jones can be trusted. I think you need to calm down and think about this for a while. Tina, your father died in very mysterious circumstances. Do you seriously believe, they are going to just drop this case?"

"Oh shit Lorna, you've really pricked my balloon. What do you think we should do? I was so much looking forward to coming back."

"Yes, travel by all means. They are going to be watching you; in the meantime, carry on a normal life and at the same time keep on your guard. Be careful: they may appear to act casual and friendly, but always remember, they have unfinished business. They might have hopes that you will lead them to someone else or to new evidence. I'm thinking of some people that you know – I am not going to speak their names on the phone and neither should you. Don't get implicated in anything that you do not have full knowledge of. Other people could cause you to be associated with bad stuff."

"Oh dear. You have brought me back to earth with a sudden bump. I can't think who you are thinking of."

"Just be careful, Tina. Don't make waves in the cess pool!"

"Okay Lorna. I will be very keen to talk with you when we get back."

We rang off and Tina and I looked at one another.

"Who does she have in mind, Tina? Do you have any ideas?"

"I have no idea," she said loudly as she crossed the room. She came up to me and whispered in my ear. "Do you think those spooky people could have left any thing behind – listening devices or something like that? Do you think I'm becoming paranoid?"

"Let's go out to a restaurant and a bit if a walk for some fresh air."

We found a quiet Indian restaurant where we could dine and talk in safety, Tina went through her bag to see if there were any suspicious items that could have been put in while the grey people had been crowded into our room.

"All seems okay. Now, Andy who do you think Lorna was referring to. I have thought of one set of people that have not been mentioned. The spooks know about Roshan but I don't think they are aware of Alice and Millie. I will not attempt to phone them. I know where they were living in Christchurch though."

"Yes we should wait until we get back. We will take the first flight to New Zealand we can get."

"Yes Andy, but there is something I have to do first. I suspect Roshan will have returned to Kent by now. There was nothing left for her in New Zealand. I think she will have returned to her home in Fordwich. We can't risk phoning her so a quick trip to my old home is a priority."

"Good thinking. I haven't seen that part of the country. A rental car is my choice otherwise it would be a long way with many changes of buses or trains. The spooks will have less chance of following us if we use independent means of travel. For the present moment, let's concentrate on enjoying the meal."

The next morning we checked out of the hotel. I spoke quite loudly without looking at Mrs Forbes who was hovering nearby. I enquired about buses from Reading to Heathrow for Helen Forbes to overhear.

We were travelling light so it was easy to drift into the morning commuter crowds in the street. I knew of one car hire firm conveniently near the station to which we headed as we kept an eye out for Forbes and Co. The car hire was organised in very quick time – we chose an inconspicuous make and model and arranged to return it in two days at either Reading or Heathrow.

As we drove out of Reading we made a point of going first of all by a quiet route via Sonning so that we could keep a lookout for possible tails behind us. Tina gave me directions as she read the GPS navigator. First the M4 and when we reached the M25 we deviated from any pretence that we were going to Heathrow. Soon Tina was really enjoying herself getting in to familiar territory.

It was mid afternoon when we got on to Fordwich Road. She guided me to her parents' house, which surprised me with its grand size. I had always imagined her growing up in a tiny house but this was a good home suitable for a dignified Colonel and his family. Tina knocked on the back door and went straight in. Roshan was overjoyed. She kept asking if Ranjana and Kavita were coming too.

"I'm sorry Mum; this is a very quick visit today. My sisters are living in Paris. We've suffered many difficulties trying to escape arrest in New Zealand and then hiding here in England. The worst is over. I am no longer a wanted criminal but there are still a few problems to be solved. For one thing, I don't know if you are aware of it – you were, and probably still are, a suspect for the death of my father."

"Oh yes oh yes, Shendra. I know I have been on their list even though they didn't say so. They pestered me half to death and when you disappeared it was even worse. I stayed in New Zealand for a long time hoping to have a funeral for your poor father, but, they wouldn't release his body. After you'd gone I didn't ask anyone, I just got a flight and left the country. It was a nice place but terrible officials. No one helped me. I kept on using Govindra's credit card. It is still working! I see our bank statements every month and they are still paying in his salary. I can't do anything because I don't have any death certificate. His work phone number won't put me through to anyone. My lawyer says that if I have no evidence of his demise there is nothing he can do. The bank people tell me to go away because our joint account is in his name as the primary account holder. I just carry on and try not to worry."

Tina butted in before Roshan could draw another breath. "Mum this problem will sort itself out when his bosses manage to bring his project to an end. Of course you know he was working for the Secret Intelligence Service, don't you?"

"No, no Shendra. He was in the army – you know that."

"Well I know that he was in the SIS. That is why his work phone number is a dead end. They try to put you off."

"Mrs Khan, Tina is telling you the truth. We have met those people he worked with. They will never admit anything, but, we know for sure, and that is why there is so much concern about what happened to him. And why there is all this silly cloak and dagger stuff going on. It is all tangled up with his computer and phone hacking. They are desperate to get his computer back and they thought we would lead them to it. They are searching high and low for it."

"Oh really. Is that so? Well I know where it is! It is under my bed where he always kept it. I was jealous of it. I used to call it his mistress because he was so devoted to it! When I left New Zealand, I wrapped it up in my underwear and stuff and put it in my case and carried it with me, right back here. They asked me in the airport what it was, when they x-rayed my luggage. I just said it was my computer and they let me go through: No problem."

Tina and I cracked up. Roshan didn't know what was so funny."

"Mrs Khan, we are going away again for a week or two. Whatever you do – don't turn it on, while we are gone."

We took her into Canterbury for dinner and the chatter with Tina went on and on. Tina asked about her friend Emily.

"Oh, Emily is such a nice girl. She stayed in our house while I was in New Zealand and she looked after me for a while when I first came back but after a couple of weeks her father insisted she must come home. Her father was very friendly with Govindra, but he didn't seem to like me. Or perhaps it was you; he thought we might be a bad influence on her."

She laughed, but there was a slightly bitter note to it.

When we went to bed, Tina said that we should use her sisters' room because she felt a bit strange about the idea of sharing her girlhood bed with a man and it was only a narrow single bed. We pushed her sisters' two single beds together much to the amusement of Roshan.

Next morning, Tina and I took her mother out to do her shopping in Canterbury. She had been confined to shopping in the local village shops because she had never learnt to drive. There was a travel shop in Canterbury and I took the opportunity to organise our New Zealand flights. The agent found a suitable flight but I protested because it was scheduled for too early in the morning. She suggested staying in a hotel near the airport and that was what I chose. We would be able to have a leisurely drive tomorrow afternoon.

When I got back to the car to meet up with Roshan and Tina, I was immediately aware that something had happened in my absence. When I went to start the car Tina grabbed my arm.

"Stay here a minute. See that car, the big black one with the dark windows. I might be getting paranoid again – it is the third time I have seen it. Once yesterday, and twice today. It parks when we park, and no one gets out. Yesterday it was behind us when we arrived in Fordwich and it carried on towards Sturry. But today when we came out and turned into the road to Canterbury, it joined in behind us. Mum wants to go to Asko's so let's see if it follows us there."

I moved slowly out of the park and took my time and sure enough it stayed with us. I turned into a DIY shop and it came in too. I left Tina and Roshan watching while I went and bought a couple of screwdrivers. I got back in the car and drove off to Asko's, and the black car with the dark windows followed. Asko's car park was not very full and the black car sat quite a long way off. This time I sat in the car but I turned it round so that I was in position to watch them. Tina and her stepmother were gone for some time, but no one got out of the black limo. I guessed that whoever was in the car were our usual spooks. I needed to know. If they could play silly buggers, then so could I.

Tina and Roshan returned pushing a fully laden shopping trolley. I let them load the car so that I was able to keep the limo in full view. I then drove slowly to the exit lane – the limo followed then I stopped, blocking their passage. They couldn't go back because cars had come up behind them. Cars started hooting their horns so there was a right old commotion. A security guy came up to see what was going on.

"Those people in the black limo have been stalking my wife all afternoon. Can you call the police?"

"Certainly Guv. I'll just talk to them first and note the licence plate."

I got out of the car and went with him. This was going to make Jones look silly! The security man in his orange jacket was not going to get into a flap. He was taking his time. He casually went up to the driver's window and tapped very firmly until it wound down. He peered inside and I tried to see in as well. There were at least two people in the back.

"Excuse me, sir. We have had a complaint and the police have been called. Would you mind stepping out of the car for a moment?"

Other motorists came to see what the problem was so there was quite a nice little crowd gathered. The limo driver, wearing a chauffeur's cap, finally opened his door and stepped out, but he had raised the window again so I still couldn't identify the passengers. The driver had an accent I couldn't recognise. I guessed that he was of 'middle eastern' origin. I quickly tried to open the rear door but it was locked.

"Why you calling the police. Just tell this man get out of our way so we go." He looked around and saw that the cars behind were moving to access another exit lane. Moving quickly he jumped back in the car and reversed away and then joined the other exit lane.

The security man said he was sorry he could not stop them. He handed me the slip of paper with the licence number. There was nothing more I could do, except thank him, and go on our way. As we drove Roshan home she said, "No, definitely not Pakistani. It was the wrong accent and not Indian either."

Tina wanted me to drive around a bit of Kent so that I would get to know the place she had lived in, during her life before me. After unloading the car we set out on a journey through the lovely towns of Sandwich, Deal, Ramsgate, Broadstairs, Margate, Herne Bay, and back past Sturry to Fordwich.

She was very chatty on the whole journey and kept asking if I would like to live in this area. I said that Broadstairs seemed pretty nice.

"You would need to spend plenty of money to live there!"

I had used my trick of putting tape on the doors when we left the house. The tape on the back door had been broken. Inside, the house seemed to show no signs of any intruder. Roshan was sure nothing had been taken. I checked under the double bed in her room. The space was filled with suitcases and surplus household goods. Roshan was sure things had been moved. However, Govindra's computer was still there in one of the cases and carefully wrapped in towels and linen.

"I can't be certain but, I think it has been disturbed. It doesn't look quite how I wrapped it."

"Are you quite sure it is the same computer. One looks very much like another; how can you tell?"

"See that chain; he had that installed to prevent it being snatched. It has a lock attached to form a loop, which linked it to that wristband. It is a nuisance because it gets in the way all the time. He said it was necessary."

"Andy, why did they look at it and then leave it behind? They might be intending to come back. Roshan might be endangered if they come back."

"Because, my darling Tina, they know, they would be tracked everywhere they went. They want something on this computer, but they know they can't take it away. They will want to come back and work on it here. So, yes, it would be unwise for Roshan to stay here with this thing under her bed."

"Goodness me, Andrew – you are making me frightened to stay here alone. What should I do? Can I come away with you two?"

"Yes, Andy. If Govindra was killed for this then Roshan is really in danger. We could leave the computer and let them do what they wanted with it. Yes, then it would be all over."

"I'm not so sure, Tina. I don't know what they want and I don't know if they know. It could be something on the hard drive, or somewhere else. I don't know the deep stuff about computers so I wouldn't know where to look. Whatever it is, it must be very powerful and very malevolent. I will ring Kevin but it's the middle of the night there at the moment."

Tina ran out of the room. Roshan was standing looking at me with tears running out of her eyes.

"Roshan, of course you can come away with us. We are going for only two weeks so you can think if it as a little holiday. You'd be welcome. At the moment I don't know what to do about Govindra's computer."

Tina came running back into the room. "I've found her card; that Forbes woman. We should phone her. This is getting too big for us."

"I agree. I've asked Roshan to come with us on our New Zealand holiday."

Tina smiled and nodded in agreement and then dialled Helen Forbes' number. Of course she had to leave her number for someone to ring back. However, to our surprise, the response was amazingly fast. It was Angus Forbes. Tina gave him a quick resumé of the afternoon's events. Forbes asked where we were going to be, for the next twenty four hours, and then said he would make some arrangements, then ring back in a few minutes.

Roshan went about the house preparing it for her sudden departure. When Forbes rang back I answered the phone.

"Hello Yorke. I think you need to move fairly fast; you are in the middle of some nasty business. I suggest you advance your plans. Leave as soon as possible and take the computer with you, We will look after your hotel booking. You are going to be a day earlier than your original booking and there will be three of you. I cannot emphasise enough: you are all in danger there. Once you leave, head to the M25 and keep to busy public places. If you have to stop for a break go to a Hungry Horse and take the computer with you; concealed if possible. If you need urgent help on the way use this number and ask for Simpson. Now get going!"

"Okay we're off. Tina, Roshan grab what you need and let's go. Leave the computer in your case, Roshan. Have you got your passport?"

"Yes, I have the essentials. I'm ready."

Tina and I were well practised in grabbing our emergency bags. I spotted a pair of binoculars as I was leaving, and on an instinct, picked them up as I went out.

"Tina, I'd like you to drive and I'll go in the back seat."

"Hell, Andy, I've not driven a car for months."

"You'll be alright. You know the way better than me. Just drive quietly away. They may not recognise you, but they've had a good look at me. I'm going to be the lookout. I'd like to get a good look at them if I can."

Tina drove to the end of Fordwich Road, then turned towards Herne Bay.

"Are you sure you know where you are going, Tina?"

"Yes, Mum, I'm going the long way around Canterbury. It's getting near the busy time. At the moment there is no traffic behind us so I can be fairly sure we are not being followed."

She certainly had more idea of the geography than I did, I was happy to leave her to it. A major cross road was coming up ahead and it looked complicated but Tina drove on confidently. I kept quiet and waited to see what she would do. She seemed to be going the wrong way. She carried on to a second roundabout and came back the way the way we'd come before finally turning west on to the A299 heading towards the M25. I saw the cunning method in her apparent madness. As she continued on her way she negotiated around about each roundabout twice to try to spot anyone on our tail. Once we were on the M25 it was just a matter of following our nose. Tina had opted for the slow lane I was pleased to see. I was scanning cars coming up behind us, especially large black ones. After a couple of hours, a Hungry Horse appeared ahead. Following Forbes' instructions we turned in and made for the restaurant, carrying Roshan's case containing the computer, the Colonel's Mistress. The main reason for this stop was to make use of the toilet facilities, so it was necessary to go in turns. Roshan used her scarf to tie the handle of the case to Tina's wrist. I went off to the men's. When I returned, Roshan tied me to the case. Then it was Tina's turn; then Roshan.

I watched the people milling about us. All looked intent on their own activities and in minding their own business. Forbes had been very sure of a probable attempt to snatch the computer but it seemed very unlikely in this environment. If Govindra had not been murdered it would have seemed to be unreal. But, Tina's father had died and that was real. I looked around the people to see if someone was watching us and there were some who looked to be aimlessly watching the crowd. That is what people do in crowds so how can I pick out any suspicious characters?

I let Tina and Roshan buy some food for me while I held on to the precious cargo as if it was a box of diamonds. I felt vulnerable sitting at a table because I couldn't see what was happening behind me. I had only one free hand with the other tied to the case. I saw a table in a corner come free so I got up quickly and moved to it. Tina and her step-mother returned with the food and drinks.

"Why did you shift, Andy? I got a hell of a fright when I found you had gone."

"I feel safer in this corner and I can scan the crowd for anyone wearing black beards."

"Andrew, I'm surprised at you stereo-typing people like that. 'Have you looked in the mirror lately?" she said laughing.

"Oh! But they are different. Those people in the black limo, all had big bushy black beards – mine is neat and smaller."

We finished our meal very quickly and were anxious to get on with our journey before it got dark. I said I would drive so Tina went into the back seat with the binoculars. I drove in the slow lane so that we could watch the vehicles coming up from behind. Occasionally I moved into the middle lane to overtake very slow traffic and that's where I was when Tina yelled out.

"There's a big black limo coming up in the fast lane; very damn fast!"

I immediately moved to the slow lane and followed some trucks on to an exit ramp. I was neatly concealed by them and Tina reported them speeding well ahead.

"I don't think they would have seen us but where are you going now?"

"I have to find my way through the flyovers to get back on to the M25. It is a bit of a mess. It may take me a while to get back but that doesn't matter. They will be miles ahead by now. We can just take our time. It will be to our advantage if it gets dark. I might have trouble finding my way, though."

"Do not worry, Andrew. I am very good at using GPS. I always had to do that while Govindra drove. I will guide you directly to the hotel. Even in the dark!"

I pulled up at the front entrance of the hotel and a porter appeared instantly to help us with the luggage. At the reception desk the porter said that if we wished he would arrange the return of the car to the rental firm. l was happy to be relieved of that task. I gave him the keys and a tip. It was probably too much, but as a New Zealander, I was quite ignorant of tipping protocols.

Tina, at the desk, gave our name as the Yorke party. The receptionist became extra attentive.

"Yes, we have been expecting you. Your booking has been upgraded to a suite and a maid has been appointed to look after all your needs."

A second porter suddenly took our luggage and then tried to take the case that was tied to Tina's arm.

"Leave it please! I can manage that myself."

We arrived at our 'suite' and I looked around thinking who is going to be paying the bill for this."

There was a tap on the door and I found a young lady dressed like a French maid standing there.

"May I come in, sir? I will be staying with you for the next day or so. Mr Forbes sent me. He said to tell you that it would be best if you stay in your suite until you are ready to leave for New Zealand. I am to look after you. He said that he will not be coming to see you off personally. He is keeping out of the way, for now."

"I'm not too happy with this. How do I know that you are to be trusted – with looking after us, I mean."

"I understand your concern. I will be relieved later this evening by some one you already know: Mrs Helen Forbes. She will spend the night with you. Now, I have to ask; do you have the computer? Is it secure? I don't want to see it."

"Yes."

"And it has not been turned on, at all?"

"No, it has not. It seems that you are, who you say. Do you have a name?"

"Just call me Miss."

"Miss who?"

"Just Miss; or Miss April, if you have to have a name."

"Okay Miss April, I think we would like something to drink and a few sandwiches."

"I'm sorry Mr Yorke; I'm not that sort of maid. You will have to call room service for that. I will just observe."

I called room service. The three of us felt strangely unsettled by the presence of this maid who just 'observed'. We could not even have a conversation. Tina remained tied to the suitcase. Roshan tried to get her room organised. There was a large TV but there was no way any of us could settle to that. I tried asking 'Miss April', when we would see Mr Forbes. She gave us no information except that Mrs Forbes would be taking over from her later in the evening. It was the most un-natural of situations; time passed exceeding slowly. When our room service order arrived, it was Miss 'April" who unlocked the door and directed the two waiters. I noted that she continued wearing her handbag, hanging open, from around her neck. I was right out of my depth.

The evening dragged painfully on until nearly twelve o'clock when there was a gentle knocking at our door. Miss April asked me to open the door while she stood back with her hand in her handbag. I looked in the peep hole and saw Helen Forbes.

Miss April passed over her handbag as she went out. Helen Forbes was towing a small case on wheels. She smiled cheerily at us and came straight to the point.

"I will be guarding you three overnight. I need your assurance that you have not turned Govindra's computer on. That is important for your safety – and mine."

Roshan replied that it had not been turned on since she had last seen her husband.

"Good. Govindra's computer is rightfully your property Mrs Khan, so we are giving you a replacement. I have another very similar laptop for you to take with you and I will take the one you have brought. The replacement is brand new, so it is free of any spyware or viruses. Tomorrow morning, I will leave you to amuse yourself for the day.

We all set off for our beds—Helen Forbes set a sofa across the door saying that she would sleep there. We all slept well despite the rather unusual circumstances.

Next morning Mrs Forbes officiously roused us and then swapped the computers and left saying that we were free to do as we liked for the day and to catch our early morning flight next day as normal.

We were pleased to be rid of our dangerous cargo. I wanted to buy some new clothing. Travelling light makes things easier in many ways. However, I was short of fresh shirts and underwear. I filled in time shopping for clothing. Tina and Roshan went off separately. We had agreed on a meeting place for lunch.

I was sitting at a café table waiting for Tina and Roshan. I was idly watching a news flash. I could barely hear the announcer but the sense of his story came through. A car in the fast lane on the M25, north of Heathrow apparently exploded and went on fire and wildly out of control, crossing four lanes of traffic. There were three fatalities and the limo was completely destroyed. No other vehicles were seriously damaged. All the dead (or deceased as they are prone to say) were in the limo. And, I guessed, that is the end of Govindra's computer: the colonel's mistress.

We both eventually attained residential status in our two ends of the world. Our secret house in Akaroa had sold for a very good price and we bought a luxurious house in Broadstairs, Kent. It had a lot of space for family living and a large gallery, studio space, and workshops. During summer we spend four days a week painting and three days on business excursions. In the northern winter we travel back to our southern home. We have the best of both worlds.

## * * *

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The author would like to make it clear that he has considerable respect for the New Zealand Police even though they have a well known history of deviance. They wield considerable power and sometimes it is improperly used. New Zealanders can be, for the most part, secure in the knowledge that their police force is among the least corrupt in the world. However, ordinary citizens should always be vigilant and aware of their civil rights.

"Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority: still more when you superadd the tendency or the certainty of corruption by authority. There is no worse heresy than that the office sanctifies the holder of it." (Lord Acton, 1887)

A list of some wrongful convictions by NZ Police come to mind:

Arthur Allan Thomas, a New Zealand farmer, twice convicted of the murders of Harvey and Jeanette Crewe on June 17, 1970. Finally pardoned and compensation was paid.

David Doherty was convicted in 1993 on charges of abduction and the rape of an 11-year-old girl, served over 3 years in prison, acquitted in 1997 – new DNA evidence ruled him out.

David Bain was convicted in 1995 of the murder of all five members of his family the previous year. Bain's convictions were finally overturned in 2007 by the Privy Council. Still awaiting compensation.

Rex Haig convicted in 1995 of the murder of Mark Roderique, a crew member on Haig's fishing boat, Antares. The conviction was quashed by the Court of Appeal in August 2006

Aaron Farmer served 2 years and 3 months in prison for the rape of a Christchurch woman before being exonerated by DNA evidence

Tania Vini, Macushla Fuataha, both 14, and 15 year-old Lucy Akatere were jailed for terms of up to two years for the aggravated robbery of a 16 year-old school girl who was viciously slashed and bashed by five teenage girls. The girls served seven months in prison before being released. Police interviewing of the girls was shown to have been overbearing and deceitful. Detective Constable Trevor Franklin was accused of serious allegations of misconduct in relation to his tactics.

A man, name suppressed, was exonerated of allegations of indecent, assault on his two sons, both then aged under 12 years. He was convicted in 1995 and spent 14 months in prison before the Court of Appeal quashed the conviction. Police failed to disclose evidence to defence counsel. Compensation of more than $500,000 paid.

Wrongful seizure of property of Kim Dotcom – case still in progress.

A Tokoroa woman Mii Teotokai, a justice of the peace, wrongly accused of arson of a pre-school in 2005. Police have formally apologised for actions which were unprofessional, unreasonable and unjustified.

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Etorphine is often used to immobilize elephants and other large mammals. Etorphine is available legally only for veterinary use and is strictly governed by law. Diprenorphine (M5050), also known as Revivon, is an opioid receptor antagonist that can be administered in proportion to the amount of etorphine used (1.3 times) to reverse its effects. Veterinary-strength etorphine is fatal to humans. For this reason the package as supplied to vets always includes the human antidote as well as Etorphine. The human antidote is generally naloxone, not diprenorphine, and is always prepared prior to the preparation of etorphine to be immediately administered following accidental human exposure to etorphine. (Wikipedia)

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