Chapters (42)
- Cover
- CHAPPY
- ALSO BY PATRICIA GRACE
- In Praise of Patricia Grace
- Kerehi Waiariki Grace
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- Also by Patricia Grace
- THE BEGINNING
Oriwia became silent, not speaking until we came to the house. ‘Now I’ve something to show you,’ she said as we went inside.
While she was away looking for whatever it was, I removed my jacket and went through the notes I’d taken, wishing my grandmother didn’t have a habit of leaving stories in mid-air. I’d already begun typing by the time she returned with three bamboo baskets. These so entranced me that I forgot about unfinished stories for the moment.
One was a simple carrying basket, wide and shallow, suitable for shopping. Another, tall and elegantly shaped, was meant for the display of flowers. A third, which I could see had been well used, was a baby’s cradle. I imagined the ‘long hands’ which had threaded and tied, shaped and bound these. I thought of the young mother taking up a shopping basket and stepping out, saw her at a bench arranging flowers, or in a room placing a sleeping baby – my mother or my aunt. I thought of how objects can call to us from across time.
Chapter 9
Aki
When I first brought Chappy home he was shaky and pale with bones like clothesline props lifting skin away from flesh. On coming home after being away at sea for two years, I could see his face had rounded and his body had filled out. His skin was clear, beige, glowing as though polished.
I found him making a bicycle. He had collected parts, mainly from Jimmy’s yard, and was now working on getting wheel rims into shape – not that he had tyres to go on the rims he told me. That was a problem for another day.
‘Oriwia wants you to marry her,’ I said. His progress in our language was impressive, so I’m sure he understood what I said. It was just that he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He turned away from me so that I couldn’t see his face, but too late. I’d already glimpsed, in his half-moon eyes, sudden joy.
‘Wants me to bring? Take? Do? Make?’ He turned to face me again.
‘No, no, no. Oriwia wants to have a wedding with you.’ One of my hands was Oriwia, one was Chappy. I brought my hands together to make a wedding. The bike wheel and the spanner clattered to the ground. A long sigh came from him. He sat down. I sat beside him.