A Friend in Paradise

A Friend in

Paradise

Des Hunt

About A Friend in Paradise

When Robbie Walker’s father dies of cancer, he takes out his anger on anyone near. In the hope of saving what remains of their family, Robbie’s mother sends him off to spend the summer holidays on Uncle Jim’s farm where his father grew up. There, in a hidden valley that his father once called Paradise, Robbie discovers a new friend — a creature thought extinct for more than a hundred years. But others also visit Paradise: wildlife thieves whose only interest is to get rich through this new animal.

Soon Robbie is caught up in a dangerous adventure that takes him to the sulphur-encrusted steam fields of White Island volcano — a place where death is always close at hand. Robbie must use all his knowledge, courage and wit to save his new friend ... and also himself.

About Des Hunt

After more than forty years working in education, Des Hunt is now a full-time writer living on New Zealand's beautiful Coromandel Peninsula. Since the 1970s he has shared his fascination with science and technology through textbooks, electronic devices, and computer programs. More recently he has turned to fiction as a way of interesting youngsters in the world that surrounds them. A Friend in Paradise, was his first book, published in 2002.

Three of his books have been finalists in the New Zealand Post Children’s Book Awards, One in the LIANZA Awards. Seven have been listed as Storylines Notable Books.

For more visit www.deshunt.com

Books by Des Hunt

Fiction

A Friend in Paradise Harper Collins

The Moa Cave Harper Collins

Frog Whistle Mine Harper Collins

Where Cuckoos Call Harper Collins

Shadows in the Ice Harper Collins

The Tooth Harper Collins

Whale Pot Bay Harper Collins

The Secret of Jelly Mountain Scholastic

Cry of the Taniwha Harper Collins

The Crocodile Nest Harper Collins

The Peco Incident Harper Collins

Cody’s Unexpected Catch Harper Collins

Steel Pelicans Harper Collins

Crown Park Oceanbooks

Phantom of Terawhiti Harper Collins

Nonfiction

The Naughty Kid’s Book of Nature

Harper Collins — Illustrated by Scott Tulloch

Physics 2000 Longman Paul

Beyond 2000 Longman Paul

Copyright

Des Hunt asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work under the terms of Section 96 of the Copyright Act of 1994 (New Zealand.) All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be produced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher.

© Des Hunt 2002

This e-book edition, revised and re-edited:

© Des Hunt 2013

978-1-927215-34-0

Cover image Copyright Vibe Images, 2013

Used under license from Shutterstock.com

Chapter 1

Auckland domestic airport was as crowded as any other day of the year, yet the feeling was different. There were still a few lone businessmen and women anxiously checking their watches, but mostly there were small groups dressed in colourful holiday clothes. There was also a holiday mood: loud voices with lots of laughter and people bouncing around happily. Except for a few — the ones who had greeted the New Year with a bit too much enthusiasm. They quietly nursed their heads, not even smiling when the others laughed, moving as little as possible. They seemed to want to be somewhere else.

Robbie Walker could have been mistaken for one of them. He stood beside his mother in the check-in queue, staring at the back of the fat lady in front. Every now and again he’d shuffle forward with the queue, but otherwise there was little sign of life. His mother carried the bag and the ticket.

The check-in man looked at the ticket and then down at Robbie. Off to Whakatane, are we? he said, with the voice of someone who’s paid to be cheerful.

Robbie ignored him.

Wendy — his mother — answered instead. Further than that, almost all the way to East Cape. He’s going to stay on his uncle’s farm. Aren’t you Robbie?

Again Robbie remained silent.

That should be great this time of year, said the man as he put the tag on Robbie’s bag. Boarding through gate twelve in half an hour. Have a nice trip. Already his cheerful smile was for the next passenger.

* * *

They went out onto the observation deck to join Robbie’s two sisters, who were plane spotting. Robbie slumped on a seat facing the terminal. Wendy stood by the girls. Half an hour more, she said to herself. Just another half hour and he’ll be gone.

It had been a tough Christmas for Wendy. She’d been warned it would be. The first Christmas without her husband was always going to be hard. Yet she’d coped with the empty space in the bed beside her at night, despite more than a few tears, and the girls had mostly been helpful and thoughtful. It was her son who had caused all the problems. He rarely spoke and when he did, it would have been better if he hadn’t. His normal quick humour had developed into a vicious, biting, hurtful tongue.

He hadn’t bought any presents and had to be forced to open the ones he received. There had been no thanks. She knew he must be hurting inside, but that didn’t make it any easier to take. He was slowly killing what was left of the family. She could only hope four weeks of absence would change things for the better.

Oh please, God, she whispered, make something happen. Bring me back my son.

Just before boarding she took him into the bookstore to buy something to read on the plane. Robbie hardly looked at the shelves before saying there was nothing he wanted. In the end, she chose two magazines that looked like the sort of thing he might read. Then, on an impulse, she bought him a small digital camera. It was a cheap one, but good enough to have a zoom lens. In the past, he was always saying he wanted one.

It’ll be great for taking birds, Robbie, she said.

Robbie’s only response was to put it in his bag.

When the plane finally took off Wendy felt a wave of relief, which was quickly followed by guilt. She turned and walked away, wondering what sort of holiday he would have. No doubt she’d hear if anything went wrong. When it came to Robbie, these days it seemed as if that was all she did.

Chapter 2

The flight over the Bay of Plenty should have fascinated Robbie. He had a double seat to himself and a great view of the huge sweeping bay and its many small volcanic islands. Six months before he would have enjoyed it. Instead, he looked out the window without really seeing anything.

It was only when the hostess pointed to the smoking cone of White Island that he showed any life at all. At the beginning of last year he’d done a project on New Zealand’s only constantly active volcano. He wondered what it would be like to see it in real life. His interest grew enough to unpack the camera. It was easy enough to use and he soon had it focussed on the island through the porthole. The view was nowhere near as clear as he’d hoped. He took a photo anyway, wishing the plane would go closer so he could get a better shot.

Soon after, a voice asked passengers to prepare for landing at Whakatane airport. Robbie was disappointed — they’d been as close to the volcano as they were going to get.

The approach path ran parallel to the beach He could see straight down to the surf and watched as two tiny black figures on boards caught a wave that seemed to stretch across the bay. An orange windsock showed the start of the runway and grass rushed by the window. Robbie caught a glimpse of some black and white birds taking flight. They seemed far too close to be safe — they’d be hit if they didn’t move out of the way. Suddenly the engines roared and the nose of the plane jerked upwards. People gasped. The cabin lights dimmed, and warning lights flashed. A child at the back, started screaming. Robbie tightened his grip on the armrests until his knuckles were white.

It was all over before it really started. Soon the plane was climbing gently away from the airport. A calm, pleasant voice came over the speaker.

Sorry about that. A flock of birds moved across the runway. It’ll be clear soon. We’ll circle round and make a new approach shortly. In the meantime you can admire a much closer view of White Island than we normally give our passengers.

The plane looped back almost directly over the island. Robbie had a clear view of steam rising from a huge crater. For a moment he imagined he was looking into hell. What a great place to visit, he thought as he took another photo, this one much clearer than the first.

* * *

Ten minutes later they were walking down the gangway Anxious families were waiting nearby, held back by a flimsy wire fence. Robbie followed the others to the gate. He had no idea who to look for, as he’d never met his uncle. He scanned the crowd, not knowing what to expect, suddenly worried he’d be left there without anyone. Then one face stood out from all the others. For a moment he thought it was his father, and was about to call out, recovering just in time. There was no way it could be his father, but it could be his father’s brother. He was looking at his uncle.

Welcome to the Bay of Plenty Robbie, said an uncomfortably familiar voice. I’m Jim. I have to say that was one hell of an entry.

The likeness to his father was both striking and alarming — the thinness, the long, kindly face and the baldness. But when he bent over, offering his hand in a formal greeting, the differences showed. This man was taller and older; his face far more weather-beaten than Robbie’s father’s had ever been. His hand was hard and lumpy, not soft and smooth like his dad’s. Yet the eyes were the same — friendly and caring.

Yeah. It was almost a bird strike.

So I heard. It’s been a big issue around here. They’ve been arguing about it for months. Civil aviation want to shoot them, but the local greenies keep stopping them.

What sort of birds are they?

His uncle blinked. It didn’t matter to him what sort of bird it was. I don’t know. I think somebody said they were plovers or something like that. They make a hell of a lot of noise, I know that much.

Robbie recalled the flash of black and white. Probably Australian spur-winged plovers, he said. They’re very common here now.

The man laughed, a deep, rumbly sound.