Harlequin Rex (38 page)

‘It's
not
that
you're
not
welcome
for
a
few
days,
like.
No,
old
friends
are
nice,'
said
Antonia.
‘It's
just
that
we
have
to
prioritise
at
this
stage
of
our
lives.'
And
unemployed
old
friends
with
vague
pasts,
and
even
more
vague
prospects,
who
turned
up
on
the
doorstep
were
low
priority
in
anyone's
book.
David
could
understand
that,
would
feel
the
same
way
if
the
situation
was
reversed.

Yet
it
was
Antonia
who
unwittingly
provided
the
means
for
him
to
move
on.
The
three
of
them
were
having
Caesar
salad
for
tea,
in
an
evening
which
cast
the
hill
shadows
across
the
bay.
She
said
that
the
rehab
had
been
sent
a
circular
for
staff
about
vacancies
at
the
Slaven
Centre
at
Mahakipawa
in
the
Sounds.
Residential
positions
both
medical
and
ancillary,
and
well
paid
too,
but
of
course
it
was
the
place
that
took
people
with
the
new
disease
—
that
regressive
behaviour
thing
which
was
popularly
called
Harlequin's 
disease,
because
it
got
at
the
brain
with
such
bizarre,
ill-
sorted
effects.

‘Mad
cow
stuff,
isn't
it?'
said
Chris.

‘You
mean
Creutzfeldt-J
akob
Disease,'
she
said.
‘No.
Bill
Stenness
says
it's
a
regressive
brain
disorder:
atavistic,
involuntary
behaviours.
'

‘Jesus
—
atavistic?
What's
that
when 
it's
at
home?'
said
Chris.

‘The
oldest
parts
of
the
brain
take
over
again,
I
think.'

‘So,
mad
caveman
disease.'
Chris
became
increasingly
cheerful.
All
those
people
gathered
up
by
Harlequin,
while
he
was
nicely
set
up
in
Hataitai
with
a
villa,
a
low-key
distribution
business,
and
a
divorced
woman
adequately
keen
on
bed
sports.

‘What's
so
bad
about
it?'
asked
David.

‘No
one's
sorted
out
how
you
get
it,
have
they,'
said
Antonia.
‘It
could
be
contagious,
and
the
whole
place
is
that
isolated,
stuck
away
up
the
Sounds
somewhere.
No
wonder
they
struggle
for
staff.
The
rehab's
no
picnic,
but
I
wouldn't
have
a
job
in
a
Harlequin
place
for
any
salary
you
could
name.'

‘Out
of
sight,
out
of
mind,'
said
Chris
happily.
‘Who
wants
people
like
that
living
next
to
them.
A
sort
of
Halloween
for
real,
eh.
I
bet
the
authorities
wish
they
hadn't
closed
down
all
those
loony
bins
now.
'

David
had
a
letter
from
Mike
Wiremu,
commending
his
assistance
in
Paparua,
without
explicitly
saying
that
David
had
been
himself
an
inmate.
And
Antonia
left
the
headed
notepaper
of
her
rehab
unit
on
the
sunroom
table,
allowing
David
to
create
more
support
for
his
quasi-counselling
skills
by
forgery
above
the
name
of
Dr
William
W.
Stenness,
Director.

Such
modest
credentials
were
sufficient
to
bring
an
invitation
for
David
to
go
to
the
Slaven
Centre
at
Mahakipawa
for
an
interview
which
should
confirm
a
residential
aide
position.
The
letter
came
from
a
Dr
Alst 
Mousier
and
was
direct
and
candid.
‘Working
with
our
patients
requires
resilience
of
body
and
spirit,
'
he
wrote.
‘This
is
no
place
for
the
faint-hearted.
'

Although
Antonia
had
unwittingly
provided
for
David's
chance
to
go
to
ground,
he
told
her
nothing,
and
when
he
said
he
was
leaving
Wellington,
her
relief
expressed
itself
in
an
affectionate
attention
which
increased
as
his
departure
grew
closer.
‘Old
friends
are
nice,
'
she
said,
flaring
the
nostrils
of
her
Castilian
nose
as
if
to
keep
from
being
overcome
at
the
thought
of
parting. ‘
I
said
to
Chris
that
no
one
could
say
you've
been
any
bother.'
No
more
need
she
attempt
to
smother
the
involuntary
cries
from
their
bedroom.
Be
loud,
be
loud,
you
gorgeous
bitch,
Chris
would
say.
No
more
would
David
distract
her
from
determining
if
all
her
villa
doors
were
solid
kauri.
No
more
would
she
hide
her
pay
packet
under
the
tissue
box
in
the
top
drawer.
No
more
would
his
long
friendship
with
Chris
be
any
possible
threat.
Nor
did
he
give
any
destination
when
he
parted
with
Chris,
and
he
wasn't
pressed.
That
was
the
sort
of
life
they
had
—
and
understood.
Didn't
everyone
when
moving
on
have
reasons
why
it
was
better
not
to
leave
a
forwarding
address?

David
did
ask
for
Chris's
Picton
contact,
so
that
he
would
know
how
to
get
hold
of
the
prime
West
Coast
shit
that
he
liked
best.
‘It
seems
to
be
giving
you
a
real
edge,'
he
told
Chris,
as
they
walked
up
the
hill
from
the
pub
for
the
last
time.

‘I've
got
to
keep
it
out
of
Toni's
sight,'
said
Chris.
‘Anyway,
I've
got
together
a
few
bucks
for
you,
and
some
tinnies.
You
need
anything,
you
know
where
I
am.'

‘I'll
get
back
to
you
in
time.
'

‘We
had
a
good
set-up,
didn't
we?'

‘Yes,'
said
David.

‘I
reckon
it
was
just
bad
luck.
And
maybe
we
got
into
it
in
too
big
a
way.
The
real
bugger
was
that
you
lost
your
farm
because
of
it.'
David
had
nothing
to
say
to
that,
and
the
two
of
them
walked
on
up
the
slope.
‘That's
probably 
the
only
thing
that
I
feel
bad
about,
'
said
Chris.
‘You
know?'

‘There
was
always
that
risk,
'
said
David. ‘I
don't
think
about
it
much
now.'
What
else
could
they
say?
The
significance
of
it
made
them
uneasy
and,
after
one
keen
meeting
of
glances
between
them,
they
let
it
drop.
They
had
been
friends
for
a
long
time,
and
the
claims
they
made
on
each
other
no
longer
needed
the
advocacy
of
explanation.
Beth
Car,
the
place
of
his
family,
was
gone.
His
mother
and
father
were
gone.
The
early,
easy
expectations
he
had
assumed
as
of
right,
were
gone
too.