The End?

You may have noticed that there have not been any updates to this blog/writing dump for a week now. This isn't because I have grown lazy and stopped writing, but because, well, I've kinda finished the first draft!!!1!

So ahead of me now lies the task of editing all that I have written, making sure that it all makes sense, no holes are left gaping in the narrative (other than the deliberate ones), and that the styles and flow are consistent for each arc throughout the novel. That also mean that there won't be too many updates on this here blog. From time to time I might drop in to say Hi, or to dump some of the chaff that I cut from my field of words. I prefer that to merely walking away and making this yet another ghost site taking up storage space in some shed on the other side of the world.

For now, goodbye. I wish you all a safe and merry time.

Lloyd

the last of the letters

Marshall, [Wed 23]

Tremors keep shaking the city, making getting anything done a bit of a tough ask. With each aftershock more damage is done, and existing damange is exacerbated. Awnings and verandahs and chimneys are collapsing, and more and more people are getting hurt. As I’m sure you’re aware the rescue effort at the cathedral and the collapsed building in the city is happening as fast as they safely can. It’s apparently a very difficult and dangerous job, as stuff keeps shifting with each new tremor. People are praying for the best, but expecting the worst. Firey’s, police and army personnel from all over the place are being flown into the city to help with the rescues and cleanup. They are (quite rightly) getting priority right now.

Engineers have also started to trickle in to start assessing the damage. Those that aren’t helping with the rescue effort are going from house to house figuring out whether people can move back into their houses or not. They haven’t reached our suburb yet, but some families have moved back in to their houses already. The school has been given the all clear, so we’ll be here until we’re given the all-clear. We expect that to happen either today or tomorrow. Until then, we cross our fingers and pray for those still in the rubble. There’s not much else we can do. We feel so pathetic sitting in the park while all this important work is being done.

I miss you terribly. I broke down and cried after we hung up earlier. The stress finally got to me. I went for a walk, but the wreckage all around did little to make me feel better. The word on the airport is that it’ll be open again for international flights from this afternoon. They’re apparently rescheduling everything, so I should expect an email or phone call letting me know when my flight is. I want to leave as soon as possible, but on the other hand I fell like I’ll be abandoning my family, leaving them stuck in the middle of this nightmare while I go back to my comfortable, easy-going lifestyle. I’ll talk it over with my parents tonight and make a decision about when to leave from there.

I look forward to talking to you again tonight. I’ll call after I’ve spoken with my parents and let you know what my plans are then.

Many hugs and kisses, Hazel

Marshall, [Wed 23]

Just a heads up, my flight has been scheduled for tomorrow morning at 6:40am Chch time. I’ll let you know whether I’ll be on it after I’ve talked it over with my parents. Dad has gone off to help a neighbour rebuild his verandah. He somehow managed to convince us all that at the moment he is better off working than sitting on his arse. It seems insane in hindsight to have let him go. Anyway, I’ll call after he’s got back.

Holy crap, it’s all so soon! I only just realised that. Pardon me while I freak out a bit.

Thinking of you, Hazel XXXX

Hazel, [Wed 23]

No worries. You know, maybe it would be a good idea to stay that extra day. Give you that time to help your folks get settled back into the house, say your goodbyes properly and all that. Now don’t try and turn that around into me not wanting you home- I absolutely can’t wait for you to return.

That is all. Marshall. X

Marshall, [Thurs 24]

Sorry I couldn’t give you a definitive answer when I called last night. Dad had run off again, to another friend’s house. So I didn’t get the chance to talk to him (and Mum) until this morning. It sort of forced my hand a bit, so I’ve inadvertantly decided to take your advice and postpone leaving until tomorrow morning. The flight regime is the same, just 24 hours later. So I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon! Are you still OK to pick me up from the airport?

I’m helping settle Mum and Dad back into the house today. We were given the all clear to go home yesterday evening, but chose to stay another night on the squeaky single mattresses instead. Don’t ask me why. Some things no longer make sense amongst all the chaos and the ruins. But anyway, today is the day.

So I’d better get stuck into it. I’ll talk to you later.

Love you, Hazel.

A photograph

Back at the house atop the hill Hazel pulled the photograph out of her jacket pocket and showed it to Beth.

            “Huh, would you look at that? I think that’s Phillip’s father! Where did you find this?”

            “In the wall of the crumbling cottage across the causeway. We thought it might something important, given its hiding place.”

            “Well yes, I suppose it is. Phillip, come look at this!” Shee called out over her shoulder. “Phillip?”

            They all looked around the wall to the living room, where Phillip sat in his comfy chair, the latest edition of the Countryman open on his lap. His head was tilted back and mouth wide open. A snore vibrated his soft palate. They each smiled.

            “Oh well. We’ll show him later.” Beth looked down at the photograph again. “He sure was an attractive man, even if he was a bit awkward.”

            “Huh, really?” Hazel looked over Beth’s arm at the photo. “I guess he was.”

            “What do you mean ‘he was awkward’?” Marshall said.

            “Oh you know. He was a bit… different that’s all. Not like any of the other men I knew. Don’t get me wrong; he was a wonderful, generous man. But there was something a bit different about him. He was very good at what he did on the farm, but he wasn’t that great at making conversation. He was socially awkward, that was all.”

            “So that’s where Phillip gets it from then?”

            “Ha! Not the least bit. Phillip’s social awkwardness comes from deliberately trying to overstep the line of appropriate conversation. He’s a devious old devil.”

“And yet you married him…”

            “Marshall!”

            “And yet I married him…” Beth sighed, “And it seems like you are headed down exactly the same path. Anyway, best not to wake him. I’ll just put this over here until he wakes up.” Beth walked over to the rough timber cabinet in the living room and propped the photograph up amongst the photoframes strewn across its surface.

Hazel returns, and another letter

They packed the cardboard and supplies in the back of the van and piled into it and Alby’s Gemini and set out for the domestic airport with windows down and tinny speakers piping bad 90’s pop hits at any passersby. At the lights Zach and Alby synched their mix-tapes to the same spot and they drove in stereo down Guildford Road. Everyone got into the spirit and sang along at the highest volume they could, competing for the title of loudest vehicle.

            

            In the carpark they organised who would carry what. Alby, Zach, Mattias and Piers squeezed into the packing-box aeroplane and figured out how they would actually walk around with it on, co-ordinating a system of left-right-left-right. They practiced down the roadway making aeroplane noises like 8-year-olds until they could effectively, if not smoothly, run as a unit without tripping over each other’s legs.

            Once they were confident enough, they huddled around for an inspiration pep-talk from Alby before setting off as a group to the arrivals lounge. Pilar lead the way walking backwards and waving her arms around like a member of the runway staff directing a plane into dock. The placarders followed, their signs furled for fear of drawing even more attention to themselves.

            The glass doors parted and allowed the party to enter, but within a minute there were a clutch of security guards and a couple of police encircling them at distance. A policeman finally approached, thumbs cocked around his belt like some wild-west gunslinger.

            “How’s it going guys? What’s going on?”

            “Not much, sir. Just waiting for our friend to arrive.” Marshall got in quickly, before anyone else could say anything to garner even more suspicion.

            “That right?” They all nodded. “Where are they coming from?”

            “The next flight from Melbourne. It’s my girlfriend. She’s coming back from Christchurch.”

            “That’s quite the get up you’ve got there. Do you mind if I take a look at it?”

            “Sure, sure. No worries.”

            “Could I get you guys to hop out a minute?”

            Vague mutterings could be heard, but they dutifully complied. They unhitched the elastic straps from their shoulders and carefully lowered the plane to the floor before stepping out. The policemen afforded themselves a smile back and forth.

            “It’s not everyday we get a plane in the airport itself…”

            “I s’pose not.”

            “Could we take a look at the signs you guys have got?”

            They looked at each other confused.

            “To see if there’s anything offensive. There are kids around, you see? We don’t want to offend anyone.” He indicated around the vast hall to validate his statements.

            “Sure.” At Marshall’s indication they turned their signs over for the officer’s to read.

            “They’re a bit dark, aren’t they?” the one in charge asked, pointing over the top of the signs.

            “What’s wrong with a bit of dark humour?” opined Mattias. The others glared at him. “What?” he said, pleading his innocence.

            “Nothing, I s’pose. Just not to everyone’s taste. Some people could be offended by it, especially so soon after the earthquake, that’s all. But I think it’s all above board.” He nodded to his colleague, who handed the sign back to Donna. “There’s nothing there that could be deemed offensive. What do you have in there?” He reached out an arm towards the box being carried by Marshall.

            “This? Oh, just some streamers and stuff.”

            “Do you mind if take a look?”

            “No. Go for it.” Marshall handed the box over to the one in charge.

            “What are these?” he held up a bag filled with colourful plastic.

            “Ah dear. Party poppers.” Marshall saw where this was headed.

            “And what were you planning to do with them?”

            “Pop them!” Alby couldn’t help himself, and he giggled to himself as Zach, then Pilar, slapped him over the back of the head. The officers looked at him; Marshall facepalmed.

            “In an airport? Do you think that’s wise?”

            “No sir.” Marshall reverted to submission before anyone else could crack wise.

            “No sir, indeed. We can’t have popping sounds and gunpowder going off all over the place, now can we? Imagine the commotion that could cause. We could have to shut the airport down with all the panic. How’d you like that?”

            “Sorry sir. We didn’t think about that.”

            “So it seems.” He turned the bag over in his hands. “We’ll be taking these. You can keep the rest of it.”

            “Thanks.”

“Just try to think about what you’re doing and where you’re doing it. You don’t want to create a scene, do you?”

“No sir.”

“And try not to bring too much attention to yourselves. And clean up after yourselves, OK?”

            “OK.”

            “Right then. Take care.” The officers sauntered back to the group of security guards standing watch 10 meters away to explain what was going on.

            “Take care.” Marshall turned back to his friends and smiled wryly.

            “Yes sir, no sir, 3 bags full sir.” Alby parroted and laughed.

            Marshall blushed. “We’re all still here, aren’t we?” he said as justification.

            “Anyway, which flight is she on?” Donna was looking up at the arrivals board.

            Marshall reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper torn out of the corner of a notebook.

            “There it is! It’s due in ten minutes. QF147.” Piers beat everyone to it. Marshall slipped the paper back into his pocket.

            “Do we want to go up there?” Mattias pointed up the escalators.

            “And go through security with all this?” Donna laughed.

            “I guess not, then.”

            “It’ll be another 20 minutes before it lands, parks and lets everyone off.”

            “Still. Too much effort.”

            A quick poll was conducted, and they decided to stay down in the luggage hall. Zach and Donna went to the kiosk to grab snacks and water for everyone.

            As they were fishing the last of the crumbs out of the bottom of the tube of crisps people began to descend the escalators from the lounge to the hall. Licking salt from their fingers the boys got back into their aircraft and lifted it onto their shoulders as the rest picked up the signs and sorted out who was holding what and in what order. They jiggled with anticipation, peering excitedly up the stairs to the bank of people waiting to descend- suits with briefcases, families with small colourful children, salt-bleached surfers with matted hair.

            

            Finally the object of their desire appeared three people back from the top of the escalator. Pilar raised the call. “HAZEL!”

            They all cheered and whooped, waving their signs in the air as she peered down on them from on high. She stepped onto the escalator and threw her head back in a full-blooded laugh and slapped her hands in delight. She waved at the signs and banner bobbing up and down in their own cleared circle amongst the crowd. On the ground floor, concerned looks were exchanged between fellow passengers at the barely contained circle of youth. The police looked on trying to hide their amusement from the worried onlookers.

            Hazel was jumping up and down on the escalator, impatient with the sluggishness of the descent and being blocked in by twin lines of travellers, and had to try and be patient even once she stepped off and filtered towards the glass door separating her from her friends. Finally she squeezed through the crowd and walked, nonchalant but for the grin spreading wider and wider across her face, towards her singing and yelling group of friends. The aeroplane jogged down its abbreviated runway with all four cylinders spluttering and took flight to circle around Hazel, skimming close and dipping its wings from one side to the other. The banner wavers blew their party whistles and threw crepe paper streamers at their target.

            She made a beeline to her boyfriend. Their eyes met and they shared a secret smile. She gave herself to his embrace, lifted from the ground, and kissed him hard. The others joined in the hug until she was at the very centre of a scrum. They squeezed each other tight, before the aeroplane crash-landed on top of them, collapsing the group to the floor in a tangle of arms, legs, crepe paper, plastic and cardboard. Slowly they peeled off, and Hazel made her rounds of the group, hugging and kissing the cheeks of each in turn.

            Once they had all calmed down and they had stopped puffing and laughing they picked up the scraps of the decorations and placards, and the crumpled rubble of the aeroplane. The police came over and helped them collect the last of the rubbish, sharing a laugh with the welcoming committee and complimenting Hazel on her choice of friends. Alby, Zach, Mattias, Piers and Yoshi left the building jostling and bumping each other, having been revved up by the excitement of the day, while Pilar and Donna chatted animatedly with their prodigal friend. Marshall walked alongside with his hand in Hazel’s, just happy to have her back.

                                                              ***** 

Hazel, [Wed 23]

I’m so glad you and your family are safe and well. I can’t stress that enough. I can (almost) handle being without you for a few extra days, but I don’t know what I’d do without you forever.

I didn’t sleep too well last night from worry, so I’m really not surprised you didn’t sleep well either. What you’re going through certainly puts what I’ve feeling into perspective. I feel a bit of a fool now.

It really is horrible what has befallen your town. The images on the news are horrifying. The whole city seems to be in ruins. I can only imagine what everyone there is going through.

I’ll try to call during lunch. Right now I have to use my Western booking and strip some membranes (the bit that stinks of rotting eggs). Small fry, really.

Love you heaps and heaps.

Marshall

more letters

Today is the same sort of deal as the past couple of days- a seemingly endless stream of visitors and cakes. It’s a shame that Dad can’t eat any of it, what with his heart and all, so it’s left for us girls. But even we are struggling to get through it all. We’ve taken to packaging them up and regifting to neighbours and such.

I’m almost halfway through Anna Karenina now. I’ve managed to keep reading/writing between visitors and between dinner and bedtime. I’ve gotten into some sort of routine with it. Cool story Hazel. Yeah.

Oh well, I’d better get back to my family duties. Mum’s gone down to the shops, and those dishes aren’t going to wash themselves. Good luck back at work today.

Love you, Hazel. X.X.X.X.

Hey Hazel, [Mon 21]

Work today has been fine. I had a meeting with my supervisors down on the foreshore this morning. Dolphins were playing around the hulls of the boats and in the shallows, which was nice and peaceful. The bosses got caught up with pie-in-the-sky future stuff, so I managed to keep my current work ethic under the radar. I did manage to get through a lot of the reading I’d set for myself on Friday though, so I am getting back into the game. I did a qPCR this morning, and have a Western transferring right now. It’s all looking up work wise. I’m still feeling a little broken, but my time out yesterday certainly recharged my batteries a bit. And the knowledge that you’ll be back in a couple of days helps a whole lot. I feel like I can face another day at work now.

My timer is about to go off, so it’s back to the lab for me. Have fun with all those cakes.

Love you, Marshall XX

Good morning Marshall, [Tues 22 (morning)]

The date draws nearer! One more sleep and I’m on the plane. My plans for the day are the same as ever- look after the guests. Thankfully the stream of them is no longer continuous. More time for reading and writing for me. Speaking of which, I have utterly failed in my mission to write an actual old-fashioned letter to you. Dang. Too late now I suppose.

Right, up time. Give me a call when you wake up.

Hazel XX