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“She finished her degree last year,” Atticus says, “and she’s doing a Masters in Archaeology now. She’s smarter than both the boys put together.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I know.” I indicate to turn toward Philip’s road. “So... uh... did you hear about Linc?”
Lincoln Green started at the school with me, and the first time we met—when I joked that he was named after the color of Robin Hood’s tights—he hit me, but it was just the start of a beautiful friendship. Like me, at the time he’d been an angry and resentful young guy, born into poverty, and with no positive role models or opportunities to improve himself. After Linc’s father beat him so badly that he ended up in hospital, a teacher put Linc’s name forward to Atticus, who took him in hoping he could turn things around for him.
Linc spent four years at Greenfield and was doing just fine until Atticus caught him kissing Elora. Linc was eighteen and she was only fourteen, and Atticus went supernova on his arse and told him he had to leave the school. Linc had caught the archaeology bug from the family and had developed his obsession with Egypt by that point, and Atticus had just found him a place on a youth volunteer group in Cairo, so within a week, Linc was sent packing, and as far as I know, he hasn’t been back. Elora cried for days after he left, but Atticus remained unmovable and announced that if he found Linc within a mile of her, he’d call the police and have Linc put behind bars for being a pedophile.
I was gutted for Linc at the time, and shocked at Atticus’s reaction. It was just a kiss, after all; it wasn’t as if Atticus had caught them having sex. But Elora is his baby girl, and he perceived Linc’s actions as an abuse of his generosity, his kind nature, and his investment in the lad. Privately, I think Atticus saw Linc as a third son, which is why Linc’s behavior shocked him maybe more than it ordinarily would have.
Last week, though, Joel texted me to say he’d heard that Linc’s father had died, and he was returning to New Zealand for the funeral.
“I heard,” Atticus says. “I told him nine years ago that if I caught him within a mile of my daughter, I’d wring his neck, and nothing has changed in that regard.”
I give a sad sigh. Now I’m older, I understand his protectiveness toward his daughter, but I’m sure that Linc would like to see him again, as Linc thought of him like a father, the same way I did. Still, it’s none of my business.
“Well, I’d better go,” I say awkwardly. “I’ll call you when I’ve spoken to Philip.”
“Yes, we’ll speak soon.”
I end the call. I feel a little more hopeful now, although of course it doesn’t mean that Philip will let Rangi go.
My heart aches at the thought of what the kid’s been through. It feels ironic to be in a similar situation with Juliette, and to be as powerless as Rangi to affect the outcome.
I navigate the maze of roads into the suburb where Philip lives. It’s one of the poorer areas of the city, where the houses are smaller and close together, the crime rates are high, there are burnt-out and abandoned cars, and someone was even murdered last year in a house in a nearby street. I wish he’d let me buy him somewhere nicer, but that’s never going to happen.
Still, hopefully he’ll now let me help his son.
I pull up outside his house, only then wishing I’d brought the Range Rover rather than the BMW, but it’s too late now. Glaring at a couple of youths who are hanging about further down the street, I lock the car and head up the path to the front door.
Philip opens it and gives me the upward nod of the head that’s a silent welcome. I return it, walk by him into the hallway, and go through to the living room.
Everyone’s there—Mum, Teariki, Philip’s current wife Hine, their young daughter Kaia, Philip’s other two children, our sister, Liza, and her husband and kids, and also Philip’s first wife and Rangi’s mum, Ngaire.
Jesus. Poor Rangi.
Everyone says hello, and I bend to hug Kaia as she runs up to me. “Are you here to help Rangi?” she asks. There are tears in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing her back. “Come on, he’ll be all right.”
“Kaia found him yesterday,” Ngaire says.
Ah, man. I kiss Kaia on the top of her head. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur as she hugs me tightly. “But we’ll do our best to help him, eh?”
She nods and releases me as her mum pulls her away.
“Come on,” Philip says roughly.
I follow him out into the hallway, then catch his arm as he goes to walk upstairs. “Can I talk to you first?”
He nods, and we go out into the kitchen. It’s a mess out here, with dirty pots and pans in the sink and plates covered in half-eaten food stacked up on the draining board. I try not to look at it and focus on his face.
“I want to talk to you about Greenfield,” I say.
He leans against the sink and folds his arms. “I thought you might.”
I fix him with a firm gaze. “Come on, he needs help—more than a stern talking to about being a man. He’s lonely and lost, and this—losing Ellie and the baby—has crushed him. He needs something to hang onto, or it’s just going to happen again.”
“I know.” He’s stiff with resentment and dislike, but then he brushes a hand over his face. “Okay. If he wants to go, I won’t stop him.”
