The care home looked like a care home, but it was in a beautiful location, on a gentle hillside overlooking a pretty bay. Matt decided it would be an OK sort of place to live, if you didn’t have another choice, at least.
‘Dad’s got a little unit over here in the north wing,’ Nadine said, as they walked up a broad concrete path that curved parallel to the curved building.
‘I like what they’ve done to maximize the views.’ Matt turned to his right to admire the beach and park that the large picture windows afforded. ‘It must be nice waking up to that.’
‘For sure. Dad insisted that he got to come here if he wasn’t able to stay at home. I couldn’t look after him, it’s too much work for me.’
‘I can’t even imagine.’
Nadine stopped in front of a door. ‘Here we are. So, like I said, I haven’t told him you’re coming. He may get a shock or mightn’t understand who you are. Be patient, he doesn’t always make a lot of sense, but this is your Dad.’
Matt stood still and stiff as a board as Nadine tapped on the door. A grunt came from inside. Nadine opened the door and stepped in. Matt caught his first sight of his father, who faced the other direction and looked taut from this side. Nadine greeted him and said that she had brought a visitor with her.
‘What did you do that for?’ Matt’s father growled as he turned to see what intruder Nadine had dragged in.
Matt prepared to turn on his heels and run, but it was too late. His father’s face changed from a gruff frown into a glowing mass of smile, and then it changed again, into a screwed up mess of tears and shaking.
‘Matthew!’ His father cried. ‘You’ve finally come.’ He turned to Nadine. ‘I told you he’d come, didn’t I? I told you, and you all never believed me.’
Matthew was glued to the spot, uncomfortable as hell but overcome by the emotions his father showed and those that flooded over himself. His father was actually happy to see him. His father loved him. Matt took a deep breath, walked over, shook his father’s hand and took a seat next to him at the small round table. It was a good place to start.
They talked about family for the next hour, about what went wrong and why they had been apart so long. Andy Robertson never blamed Matthew’s mother for any of what happened, only himself. As Matt listened to his father, he felt himself getting lighter. A tingly warmth trickled through his body, leaving him feeling giddy. He knew, that with some effort from both sides, they could build a relationship. There was a lot of ground to make up.
‘So what do you do Matt? Why are you in New Zealand? You didn’t just come to find me?’
Matt wanted to lie, but would never deceive someone like that. ‘I’m here on business. A bit of research I guess you would say.’
‘You’re a researcher too? I used to dabble in academics.’
‘Dad,’ Nadine said, teasing him, ‘you didn’t just dabble. You spent hours in that shed of yours chasing down one theory or another.’
‘Right you are dear. Right you are.’ He turned back to Matt. ‘So, what’s your study?’
‘I’m a Professor of History at the University of South-West England. I double majored in History and Archaeology, and then continued with a doctorate in history, mostly in Switzerland.’ Matt looked at Nadine and his father. They stared at each other, smiles dancing between them.
‘When did you say your relationship with your mother got strained?’ his father asked
‘About when I went to Switzerland. The distance, it put a strain on things.’
‘Explains a lot.’ Nadine directed her comment at Matt’s father.
‘Indeed.’
‘What?’ Matt was perplexed.
‘Your mother never told you what I did for a living?’
‘No. She barely ever mentioned you.’
‘I’m going to hazard a guess here, Matt. Your mother didn’t become distant with you because of the physical distance. She became distant with you because you followed in your father’s footsteps.’
Matt was perplexed. His father was a historian?
‘It must have damned near killed your mum when you left her to study the same subject that I pissed her off so much with.’
‘Ah.’ Was this guilt he was feeling? He felt guilty for upsetting his Mum by following his passion? This was silly.
‘What are you studying in New Zealand?’ Matt’s father asked, pulling himself up with his good arm, as if to hear better.
‘Something a little controversial.’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘Dad’s no stranger to controversy,’ Nadine said.
‘What do you mean?’ Matt asked.
‘I tended to buck against the norm a little with some of my research.’
‘Revisionism?’
‘You could say that. Though I never actually got to prove any of my theories. But nuff about them, what’ve you got?’
Matt could see his father was clearly interested, and heck, he was in a wheelchair in a care home. He couldn’t cause any trouble. Besides, Warren’s theory had worn a little thin and Matt could do with any help he could get.
‘A colleague of mine has found a Celtic burial site, up north.’
Matt’s father appeared to be instantly healed. He virtually launched himself out of the wheelchair with excitement. ‘He found what?’
‘He found two coins and a mirror.’
‘Ritualistically accurate,’ Matt’s father said. ‘Has the site been properly sanctioned?’
‘Kind of.’ Matt was a little embarrassed. ‘The DCI has taken over the site, but they only know about the coins.’
‘How so?’
‘My friend moved the mirror.’
Disappointment registered all over Andy Robertson’s face. Matt saw the change in mood and had a sinking feeling that what he said had serious relevance to the success of the research. ‘Your friend has ruined any chance you had of proving anything with the burial site. What a bumbling idiot.’
Matt was about to defend Warren, but thought better of it just in time. ‘He was worried the DCI would sanction the site and destroy the evidence.’
‘The DCI is many things, Matt, and yes they’ve been guilty of some pretty shoddy work. But I don’t reckon the DCI would ever actually destroy a valid theory.’
‘Surely not.’ Nadine agreed with their father.
Matt grew uncomfortable with this conversation and steered it back to his father’s work. ‘What theories were you working on?’ That was a bit obvious, but it seemed to have the desired effect.
‘Mostly I dabbled with the theory that the Spanish discovered and populated New Zealand around 1536.’
‘You have it pinpointed down to a year?’
‘It’s a theory. If my theory is correct, then yes, they arrived here around 1536. It’s not as exciting as your Celts beating the Maori here, of course, but it’s still fascinating stuff.’
‘Did you get far?’
‘I was really close. But I had to give up. My stroke.’
‘Dad got so emotionally involved in his work and the DCI gave him so much grief. Basically all of academia gave him a hard time. I said for years that they caused his stroke,’ Nadine said.
‘Yet you defend them?’
‘They’ve done a lot of good for the country. I could have gone about my research a little more quietly.’ His father answered for her.
‘What did you have, exactly?’
‘I had some concrete leads. It’s so long ago and I haven’t thought about it since.’ His father turned to him and beamed a huge smile. ‘Buy hey, why don’t you have a look at my notes? See if they’re of any interest to you?’
That was an idea worth some thought. Though in fact, it took Matt only a few seconds to decide. He already had his doubts about the strength of the evidence pointing to the Celts and they were now added to by his father’s and Aimee’s opinion that the mirror would become irrelevant due to non-disclosure. Now, with so much to support the Spanish theory, such as the helmet, the Pohutukawa in Spain, questions about hangis, kumara and kumara storage houses, gaining access to his father’s notes was just enough to push Matt to the tipping point.
Matt straightened up in his chair. ‘I’d be very interested to look over your notes.’
‘You can go and get them.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Home,’ Nadine said, ‘the shed out the back.’
‘Your place?’
‘No, our place. Where I grew up. Down in Nelson.’
‘Nelson? That’s in the South Island isn’t it?’ Matt asked, hoping his memory of the in-flight magazine map served him well.
‘At the top of it, yeah. Three hours ferry from Wellington, and two hours’ drive.’
‘It would be a good excuse to see the country,’ Matt said, ‘and I have to admit things are drying up a little on the Celtic investigation.’
‘I think you’ll find that the Celtic investigation goes nowhere,’ Matt’s father said. ‘Will your friend by upset if you change tack, or are you a free agent?’
‘Free agent. Besides, Warren is a great guy. He’s just out to make sure that New Zealand knows her true history, whatever that may be. He’s bound to want to tag along for the ride, he’s an enthusiast.’
‘Sounds like my kind of man.’
‘I guess I better write down some details then,’ Matt said. ‘Where is this shed exactly? How can I get access to the property? It isn’t yours anymore, is it?’
Nadine explained to Matt how their father had gifted the property to a lady who had lived next door to them for twenty years. She was more than happy to agree to his conditions and swap rental life for home ownership. The house was transferred into her name, on the condition that she keep the shed out the back intact at all times and leave Andy’s stuff in there in storage. If anyone ever came with the key for the shed, she was to give them access. It was Andy’s way of hiding his research in a property that wasn’t in his name. Besides, Nadine was in Auckland and Andy wanted to be near her.
Matt was impressed. His father and Nadine had concocted a clever arrangement to ensure their house and work was loved and looked over for years to come. The lady and her family would pass the house down as long as they kept breeding. It was not allowed to be sold for a profit.
‘Take these two keys, Matt,’ his father said, handing him a key ring he had retrieved from his bedside drawer. One of them opens the shed. The other…, well, I don’t want to say anything here. The walls have ears you know. After you’ve gone through the contents of the shed, you’ll know what to do.’
Matt clutched the keys to his chest. This felt important. Very important. It wasn’t just about getting in on a new theory and investigation. Something about this felt like it should be done, almost by way of penance, for all the hatred he had felt towards the man sitting in front of him. A man that obviously had love overflowing, and deserved the same in return. Matt knew what he had to do. He would start planning in the morning.
Hemi sat outside the care home, enjoying the view. He knew that Andy Robertson was in residence in the home. Leigh had pulled through, as always, and supplied Hemi with a full dossier on the Robertson family. Two parts of the information were particularly interesting. Unfortunately, that meant putting in a call to Warren. He picked up his mobile and dialled.
‘Good morning, Hemi.’ Warren seemed particularly chirpy today. That will change, Hemi thought.
‘Good Morning Sir,’ Hemi said, flattering Warren. ‘I have some very important information for you.
‘Go ahead.’ He still sounded as happy as a box of birds.
‘I’m sitting outside a rest home in Browns Bay. Dr. Cameron is inside the rest home, visiting with a terminally ill man by the name of Andy Robertson.’
‘Yes?’
‘Andy Robertson is Dr. Cameron’s father.’
‘That’s nice for him,’ Warren said, in a voice that made Hemi feel momentarily small. I’ll teach you, you old bastard, he thought as he took a breath for his second revelation.
‘The name doesn’t mean anything to you then?’ Hemi asked, eating up the moment.
‘What name?’
‘Andy Robertson.’
‘No. Why? Should it?’ The worry started to show. Hemi went in for the kill.
‘Andy Robertson was what some at the government might refer to as an annoyance. A pseudo-historian.’
‘Are you serious? What theory was he pushing?’
‘The Spanish theory.’ Hemi said it as bluntly as he could, pushing the knife all the way home and twisting it a little for good measure.
Warren didn’t respond. He wasn’t silent though. Hemi heard him curse at the other end of the phone. There was also the sound of something thumping repeatedly and a keyboard being finger-bashed like there was no tomorrow.
‘Where did you get your information? God, I should have bloody looked him up when I found out his name.’
‘My sources remain private. You wouldn’t have employed me if I was in the habit of revealing my contacts. It’s a matter of integrity, you know.’ Hemi loved every second of this. He knew that there was probably no worse news that he could give Warren than the titbit he had just delivered. There was a minute of silence as Warren caught up with Hemi.
‘We have to be very careful,’ Warren said, ‘and we have to hope that Andy Robertson doesn’t have too much influence over his son.’
‘My understanding is that they’re estranged.’
‘Not anymore,’ Warren growled. ‘Fuck it! This is all we bloody need!’
Hemi stifled an amused laugh.
‘So the father had a stroke eh? Care home in Browns Bay. Well, if things get out of hand he shouldn’t be too hard to take care of.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Stroke victims are forever getting nasty illnesses. Don’t worry about it Hemi, I’ll take care of things if it comes to that, I have my ways. In the mean time, you keep watching Dr. Cameron. If he starts going too seriously down this Spanish track, I want to be the first person to know. You understand?’
‘Yes.’ Hemi hung up the phone. He understood. A little too well for his liking.