Blue Smoke (5 page)

‘Lachie says that you do a superb job of it, too,’ Kepa said. ‘And do not forget, Tamar, that you are getting on in years. It is time you relaxed.’

Tamar snorted. ‘That’s good coming from you. You’re older than I am.’

Kepa smiled benignly. ‘But only by one year.’ Then he became serious again. ‘We are growing old, my dear. Time does not stop even for a man and a woman lucky enough to come together as
late in life as we have.’ He almost added
finally
, but stopped out of respect for Andrew’s memory.

‘Oh, I know all that,’ Tamar replied, waving a hand dismissively. ‘But I’ve been thinking about who will run things — Kenmore, and the family itself — when I finally do go. Which,’ she added firmly, ‘I fully intend won’t be for some time yet.’

Kepa settled back in his seat. ‘You are not pleased with the way Joseph is managing the station?’

‘Oh, I am, I’m delighted. He and Owen are doing a fine job. And of course Lachie’s input is still invaluable.’ Her face clouded momentarily. ‘Although Lachie won’t last forever either. No, it’s really James I’m worried about. It disturbs me greatly to think about what he might do with his share of Kenmore when I’m gone, and perhaps even the others’ shares. I know he’s starting to make a name for himself as a banker, but I suspect that his personal finances are a shambles. Well, no, I don’t suspect it, I
know
. I’m concerned that he might sell his share — or be coerced into selling it — and I would hate that. And so would Andrew, if he were still alive. I would be extremely opposed to any Kenmore land passing out of the family.’

Kepa opened his mouth to speak, but Tamar held up a hand. ‘So I’ve decided to play a more prominent role in the management of Kenmore, after consulting with Joseph and Owen and Lachie, naturally, and I’ll be setting up a series of trusts so that none of the land can be sold off, or passed on to anyone outside the family, without the approval of a majority of the trustees.’

‘And who will the trustees be?’ Kepa asked, although he thought he already knew.

‘Well, after I’m gone, my children, of course. All of them. And Erin, when Lachie goes.’

‘James will not like that.’

‘I don’t care, Kepa. I love James dearly, but I will not allow him,
or any of the others if it comes to that, to jeopardise Kenmore. Andrew and Lachie put their lives into the station, and it must stay in the family.’ She reached for a glass of water on the night stand and took a sip. Her face now took on a very determined expression. ‘So while I am still here, I am going to do my utmost to make sure that all of the children, and that includes Joseph and Erin, and James, regardless of what he might think about it, retain access to what is rightfully theirs. They are my family, Kepa, and I will fight for their interests until my last breath.’

Kenmore, 1933

N
apier rebuilt itself in the years after the earth quake. Ruined shops, offices and houses were gradually cleared and replaced with brand-new, starkly modern buildings. An elegant and poignant memorial to those who had died was built on Marine Parade. Bridges and roads were repaired, and the local economy began to recover — as much as the Depression allowed. Many unemployed men found work in the city’s reconstruction, which prompted more than one optimistic local to note that every cloud had a silver lining.

Tamar was left with a limp — which, to her extreme annoyance, necessitated the use of a cane (at least while she wasn’t in public) — and a warning from her doctor to heed the weakened state of her heart. She ignored him, and threw herself into her family’s affairs with enthusiasm and a vigour that amused Lachie, startled James, delighted the grandchildren and heartened everyone else.

She became more involved with the children’s schools, although this year, much against her protestations, Bonnie and Leila had gone off to board at Iona College in Havelock North. It had been decided, though, as much for the sake of peace and quiet as anything else, that it would be for the best. And the twins loved
it, although it was less clear whether the school loved having them. Their academic progress had been, for the most part, quite acceptable to date, but both had already been reprimanded for ‘conduct unbecoming to young ladies’. Drew had joined Liam and Duncan, now in his last year, at Napier Boys’, and Billy had started there as well, Joseph having refused to even contemplate sending him to Te Aute College, which he had loathed. Now only Ana and Robert remained at Kenmore, and James and Lucy’s daughter Kathleen would soon be joining Bonnie and Leila at Iona College.

Tamar had also become more involved in the business of the station. Since Andrew died she had thoroughly enjoyed managing Kenmore’s books, finding real satisfaction in seeing the numbers entered squarely into the black columns of her ledgers. Over the past two years, however, as a result of the Depression and the associated drop in wool prices, Kenmore’s profit margins had been reduced significantly. But the station was much better off than smaller land owners, many of whom had been forced to walk off their land, leaving behind paddocks and homes and lives they had worked years to establish. Heartbroken on their behalf, Tamar gave such men work at Kenmore whenever she could, even when the station could barely afford it. Lachie sat her down one day and pointed out, kindly but bluntly, that if she did not stop hiring unemployed farmers and farm labourers because she felt sorry for their families, they could well be walking off their own land in the not too distant future. Tamar had told him not to be ridiculous, but had not taken on anyone new since.

Keely and Erin were also doing what they could to help those hit hard by the Depression. Once a fortnight they went into town and worked in the soup kitchens set up at relief depots, although often it was a thankless task. Many in the queues were children and women whose men were away on relief work, although some
were unemployed men themselves, periodically stood down from the miserably paid government-subsidised schemes. Keely and Erin both felt extremely uncomfortable standing behind the bare trestle tables doling out soup to disheartened and haggard women dressed almost in rags, their children shoeless or with sacks wrapped around their small feet for warmth. Or to men who had been skilled or even white-collar workers before the Depression but had humiliatingly lost almost everything since, and were often unable to meet anyone’s eyes because of their shame and despair.

The cousins took care to wear their plainest clothes, and after April of the previous year, when the mayoress of Dunedin was attacked by protesters after handing out parcels of food while wearing her best outfit complete with elegant dress gloves, were very pleased they had. The work was depressing but neither would contemplate not doing it. Not even Keely, who found herself having to bite her tongue on several occasions when the mood in the queues became unpleasant. And it frequently did. There was bitterness, sometimes pronounced, among the unemployed towards those they perceived to be better off.

One day a barefoot little girl, dressed in a frock that looked suspiciously like a man’s work shirt, muttered something to Keely as she was ladling soup.

‘I’m sorry, dear?’ Keely had responded pleasantly.

‘I
said
,’ replied the girl, her face screwing up in a scowl, ‘my mum said yous are all stuck-up bitches and you’re only doing this to make yourselves feel righteous!’

Keely froze, then slowly put down her ladle. ‘Did she now?’

‘Yes, I did,’ said a grim-faced woman behind the child, the straight line of her lips echoed by the brim of the unadorned cloche hat jammed low on her forehead. ‘And I’m not the only one as thinks that either, Mrs Fancy Land owner.’

Keely, astounded at such rudeness, opened her mouth to retaliate, but closed it again as she felt Erin tread heavily on her foot.

The woman continued, warming to her theme. ‘You all think you’re doing us such a favour, doling us out soup and bread when we can’t afford to buy our own, but whose fault’s that? Not ours! We didn’t ask to be unemployed!’ Mutters of approval around her spurred her on. ‘It’s the fault of the likes of you. Yes, it is! You on your big sheep farms with your cars and money and fancy schools for your kids. And your ruddy government that couldn’t see this coming and won’t even stump up with a few miserable shillings for those that can’t find work. How am I supposed to feed me kids, eh? This soup isn’t even enough to nourish a kitten!’ She whipped open her baggy brown coat to reveal her advanced pregnancy. ‘And what about this one, eh? Due in two weeks and I’ll be lucky if I can feed it meself, I’m that hungry. And me man’s away working up north on the roads for next to nothing, too far away to come home during the stand-down, so God knows when he’ll see this new one.’

Keely had relaxed now. Behind the woman’s anger she could sense fear and frustration, and realised that the attack wasn’t really personal.

The woman bit her lip, only just winning her battle against encroaching tears. ‘If you really want to do something useful, you tell your husbands to get on to the government and that bloody Coates and get them to change the economics. Telling the unemployed to eat grass! It’s the economics that’s got us where we are today!’

‘Yeah!’ declared the little girl enthusiastically, soup dribbling down her grubby chin.

Keely stopped herself from pointing out that the woman had only moments ago blamed sheep farmers.

‘You been listening to that man of yours too long, Lottie Baker,’ another woman said. ‘That’s his words.’

‘Too bloody right I have, and it’d do you good to listen to them and all.’

There was a lull then, which Keely filled by asking as politely as she could manage, ‘Would you still like this soup then, Mrs Baker?’

The woman’s head came up, and she straightened her back. ‘Yes, I would,’ she replied with dignity, her hand resting protectively on her distended belly. ‘I got me new one to think of.’

Afterwards, when Keely and Erin talked the incident over, they both agreed that what had struck them most was not the invective the woman had hurled at Keely, but the desperate, trapped look on her face when she’d said she still wanted the soup. As mothers themselves, it was something they both thought they understood.

Not long after that, when the government had reduced the pay for relief work even further, had come the riots and the looting. They started in Dunedin where members of the Unemployed Workers Movement rampaged through the centre of town, breaking windows and taking what they could, and spread to Auckland a few days later. The riots there were worse and continued over several days, ending only when the military was called in to restore order. Then it was the turn of Wellington, where the destruction and looting were the most widespread and violent yet.

Tamar had known for some time that something was up with James. Since July of the previous year, he had begun to show excessive interest in the economy, even for a banker, and had become very enthusiastic about a new political organisation called the New Zealand National Movement, which was busy convening meetings with sheep farmers and business men throughout the Hawke’s Bay. Then one day he arrived out at Kenmore unexpectedly, asking Tamar if he could speak with her in private.

When they’d settled themselves in the parlour, Tamar looked
at her son for a long moment, taking in his high colour and the uncharacteristic sparkle in his eyes.

‘What’s this about then? You certainly look excited about something.’

James sat forward eagerly. ‘Yes, I am, actually. I’ve just been elected as an officer of the New Zealand Legion,’ he declared triumphantly.

‘I’m sorry, dear?’

James raised his voice. ‘The New Zealand Legion, Mam. The political movement destined to put an end to the Depression and change the way New Zealand is governed forever.’

‘Thank you, James, I’m not deaf yet.’ Tamar reached for her cup of tea and balanced it carefully on the wide arm of her chair. ‘The New Zealand Legion? I thought you were following the New Zealand National Movement?’

‘I am. The name’s been changed.’

Tamar said something she knew she would probably regret. ‘Oh yes, I read about it in one of the papers recently. Isn’t it a Fascist group?’

James looked thoroughly appalled, and Tamar had to stop herself from smiling. ‘No, it most certainly is not!’ he said.

‘Oh, well, I’m very sorry, James, but the editor of this particular news paper implied strongly that the New Zealand Legion has definite Fascist leanings.’

‘Rubbish. The papers can never write anything without distorting it one way or another. No, we’re a group of conservatives bound together by a common interest in saving this country from social and economic ruin resulting from state paternalism, overly liberal social policies and reckless borrowing. The Legion aims to maintain law and order, and encourage and stimulate what is best for our public life. We fully support nationalism and self-reliance.’

‘Really, James, you sound as though you’re reading straight
from some sort of political pamphlet.’

James reddened. ‘Certain words and phrases are particularly apt to describe what we hope to achieve. And I support their sentiments wholeheartedly.’

Tamar took a sip of her tea. ‘But isn’t the government we already have quite conservative? Didn’t you even vote for it yourself?’

‘It’s not doing what it was elected to do, and it has to be changed before matters in this country deteriorate any further, don’t you see?’

Tamar noted he had sidestepped her question. ‘All right then, dear, but what does this have to do with me?’

‘You don’t see, do you?’ James sighed in exasperation and sat back, ignoring the cup of tea going cold at his elbow. ‘Look, what sort of prices have you been getting for Kenmore wool lately? Not very good ones, I’ll bet.’

‘No, they’re not very good, as a matter of fact. They’ve dropped almost fifty per cent since the crash. And you know that, James, so why do you ask?’

‘Because I want to make sure
you
know it.’

‘Well, of course I know it. How could I not? I’ve managed Kenmore’s accounts for years.’

‘And do you know
why
the prices are so low?’

‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’

‘Because the Coalition government has mismanaged the market, that’s why. There must be rigid demarcation between state and private enterprise. An unbridled socialist government will be the death of New Zealand.’

Tamar was beginning to lose her patience. ‘Oh, get off your soapbox, James. Go back into town and have a look at the queues outside the soup kitchens and tell me again about our unbridled socialist government. That soup is the only meal some of those people get each day. Little children, James, and pregnant women surviving on one bowl of soup! It’s an absolute disgrace.’

‘Yes, but if the government wasn’t doling out that soup, those people would be encouraged to find work and support themselves!’

Tamar stared out through the French doors and breathed deeply through her nose until she had regained control of her temper. ‘What exactly was it you wanted to talk to me about, James?’

‘There’s not much point now,’ he replied truculently. ‘I can see you’ve a bee in your bonnet about what I’ve said already.’

Tamar fixed her son with a cool, controlled gaze. ‘There are no bees whatsoever in my bonnet. Please do go on.’

James, too enamoured with what he was about to say, missed the warning signs. ‘Well, you may or may not know that a lot of the members of the Legion, those from this area any way, and from the south, are sheep farmers. There are plenty of business men too, bankers and lawyers and what have you, but sheep farmers really are very well represented.’

‘Small land owners, or big station owners?’ Tamar asked. ‘Because a lot of the small farmers don’t have their land any more, a fact of which I’m sure, as a banker, you’ll be thoroughly aware.’

‘I mean station owners, farmers with substantial holdings. In fact, several out this way have joined just recently. And what I was considering … well, we, really, what we were considering …’

‘“We”?’

‘I and my colleagues, at the bank and in the Legion. We’d like to extend an invitation to you, as part owner and manager of one of the largest and more profitable sheep stations in the Hawke’s Bay, to join us, to become a member and support and contribute to our policies and help change New Zealand for the better. And Uncle Lachie too, of course.’

‘But James, I’m a woman.’

James missed his mother’s sarcasm completely. ‘In fact, Roland Peacocke suggested it himself. He had a word with me this week so I said I’d talk to you about it as soon as I had the opportunity.’

Tamar replaced her teacup on a side table. ‘The manager of the bank would like Lachie and me to become members of the New Zealand Legion?’

‘That’s right. It would be a great opportunity. Think of what could be achieved. If we could change the government, we could end the Depression here in New Zealand, improve profits for landowners, which of course includes us, and help get the country back on an even keel. It’s a tremendous thing to be involved in, Mam, it really is. And it would almost certainly mean an end to the Labour Party, which can only be good for New Zealand.’