We can’t let that happen. We will succeed. We have to.
Ten minutes later I join Scott outside. Prince, who’d had a sleep in the warm sun, lifts his head and watches us. When we leave, he follows. I’m sure he’s reluctant to give up his sunny spot for another stupid walk, but after a few miles, he’s jumping back and forth between Scott, who takes the lead, and me. For the first half hour, we walk in silence. I assume it’s easier now walking downhill than when we came up here yesterday because my leg muscles are no longer killing me.
After an hour we rest for ten minutes, just enough to eat a peanut butter and jam sandwich and munch on a nut-bar.
“I wouldn’t mind hearing what got the Gateways people so worked up. But only if you don’t mind talking about that stuff.”
Of course, I mind. What a stupid question. “I don’t know what to tell you, because I don’t know much at all. I know my parents were cold and uncaring, vicious and punitive. I had to call them Mr. and Mrs. Seagar and they punished me whenever I called them Mum and Dad. That’s all I can tell you. They were members of the New Gateways to God Community in Mosvale. That’s where we lived. Ask the others if you want to know more.”
Scott shrugs and draws lines in the dirt with the stick he found further up the mountain. “Hardly enough to get upset about you coming back into the region. Would someone else have more information?”
The sense I get is one of lots of people shoving to the back, like people squeezing for shelter under a tiny awning when a squall of rain catches them out. Knowing what’s going on inside is fun. It’s growing on me. Then I get a feeling of being sucked away by a giant vacuum cleaner.
“Move over, Sugar, I’ll take it from here.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lilly: 4 December 2015, Afternoon, Coming Down The Mountain
“Why do you want to know about our past?” I don’t believe in pussyfooting around and—for the life of me—I don’t know what good it will do to spoil a good day with sad stories about even sadder times in the distant past? All it gives you is a bad taste in the mouth, a foul mood, and a stomach ulcer. If Sky hadn’t nudged me to assist and spill the beans, I would have kept my mouth shut.
One thing is for sure; I’m rethinking my idea to ask Scottie to be my boyfriend. He’s much too deep and meaningful and touchy-feely, the kind of things I love to avoid.
Scottie grins at me. Bummer, he knows Elise is gone, and it’s me now. This man is getting much too familiar with us.
“I like to help, and to do that, it would help if I had the whole picture, Lilly.”
You go ahead and mock me. I know you recognized me.
“So?”
“I didn’t always crawl through the bush with a loaded rifle in my hand, sneaking up to deer or wild pigs.”
“And here I thought you shot your way out of your mother’s womb.” I laughed, although he didn’t join me. No sense of humor. I have to add that to my con-list.
“That wasn’t funny. Until fifteen years ago I used to be with the forensic unit team of the New Zealand police. I still have a few connections that could be helpful.”
“Okay, super sleuth, let’s keep walking and I’ll talk. Don’t interrupt me because I might not start again. I barely remember Elizabeth’s parents. You have to understand, we all believe we’ve been born out of Elizabeth. So, her parents are not ours. Elizabeth disappeared at about two years of age. That’s about the time I came along. There are a few photos of her and the parents in my aunt’s possession. In none of them, are we smiling. I couldn’t say whether the parents were happy about having us. Sure is, we weren’t happy about having them.”
Elizabeth, who is more dead than alive, wouldn’t be able to tell her story, but Sky tapped into her memories and gives words to Elizabeth’s story. I have to speak quickly, or I’ll choke on my words and stop talking. I push my feelings to the back of my mind and take a deep breath.
“The parents didn’t smile either. I don’t remember them ever expressing an emotion such as love. Their actions didn’t show they loved us. We must have been a wild baby. By the time we were two years old, we were already regulars at the hospital in Port Somers. Twice with a concussion, a broken leg, a broken arm, a broken shoulder, and several burns. I don’t remember any of that, but my body does. I couldn’t say how we got these injuries. All I know is I was petrified of both my parents. Always.”
I stumble over a rock and reach to Scottie for balance. His face shows shock.
“We lived at the Gateways compound in Mosvale. I don’t remember any of it, but Maddie showed us her memories of physical and sexual abuse, by the parents and other members of the Gateways community, including Horace and Helen. It’s sickening and I won’t go into detail.”
I’ve had enough for now and increase my pace until I’m more or less running along the forest path. I feel sick and dirty and if I were alone, I would throw off my clothes and jump into the stream we’ve been following for the last mile. Scottie is panting behind us. He catches up with me and stops me.
“You don’t have to continue.”
I’m out of breath and lean forward, supporting myself with my hands on my knees.
“I might as well get it over and done with. It continued when Horace and Helen moved to Waitakere Flats and started a sister commune of Gateways there. Like in Mosvale, in Waitakere Flats, a lot of young so-called difficult children, boys and
