The Luminaries

sale, I bought it first thing, thinking that—well, I don’t know. It was stupid. Settling there, with—I don’t know. Of course, Anna comes home from gaol in a different dress, the very next day—and then, after she quits the place, I find out the other dresses have been stripped. It was the leaden makeweights that I was feeling. The whole plan’s gone to custard. I’ve got a piece of land I don’t want, and no money to call my own, and Anna—well. You know about her.’
    Tauwhare was frowning. ‘The Arahura is a very sacred place,’ he began.
    ‘Yes, well,’ said Clinch, waving a hand to silence him, ‘the law’s the law. If you want to buy the cottage back again, you’re more than welcome; but it’s not me you should be talking to. It’s her.’
    They gazed across the room at Mrs. Wells.
    ‘The problem with beautiful women,’ Clinch said presently, ‘is that they always know it, and the knowing turns them proud. I like a woman who doesn’t know her own beauty.’
    ‘A stupid woman,’ Tauwhare said.
    ‘Not stupid,’ Clinch said. ‘Modest. Unassuming.’
    ‘I do not know those words.’
    Clinch waved a hand. ‘Doesn’t say too much. Doesn’t speak about herself. Knows when to keep quiet, and knows when to speak.’
    ‘Cunning?’ said Tauwhare.
    ‘Not cunning.’ Clinch shook his head. ‘Not cunning, and not stupid either. Just—careful, and quiet. And innocent.’
    ‘Who is this woman?’ said Tauwhare slyly.
    ‘No: this isn’t a real woman,’ said Clinch. He scowled. ‘Never mind.’
    ‘Hi—Edgar. Do you have a moment?’
    Löwenthal had come up behind them.
    ‘By all means,’ said Clinch. ‘Excuse me, Mr. Tauwhare.’
    Löwenthal blinked, seeing Tauwhare for the first time. ‘You must have gone down to the wreck,’ he said. ‘Find anything?’
    Tauwhare did not like to be addressed with condescension, as though he belonged to a servile class; nor could he forgive Löwenthal for having shamed him earlier that day.
    ‘No,’ he replied, scornfully. ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Pity,’ said Löwenthal, already turning away.
    ‘What’s on your mind, Ben?’ said Clinch, when they were alone.
    ‘It’s an indelicate question, I’m afraid,’ said Löwenthal. ‘About the child of Anna’s—the baby that never came to term.’
    ‘All right,’ said Clinch, cautiously.
    ‘You recall the night I found her—after the dust-up with Carver.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘That was the night she confessed that Carver was the child’s father.’
    ‘Yes—I remember.’
    ‘I would like to know whether you knew that fact already, or whether, like me, you heard that confession for the first time that evening,’ Löwenthal said. ‘You will please forgive my indelicacy—and the impertinence of the subject in question.’
    Clinch was silent for a long time. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘That was the first time she spoke of it. She kept mum on the subject until that night.’
    ‘But did you have an inkling?’ Löwenthal pressed. ‘Some idea?Were you of the opinion, perhaps, that Carver might have been the—ah—the sire?’
    Clinch looked uncomfortable. ‘It was some fellow from Dunedin days,’ he said. ‘That’s all I knew. It wasn’t a Hokitika chap: the months didn’t match up.’
    ‘And Carver knew Anna in Dunedin.’
    ‘She came over on
Godspeed
,’ Clinch said shortly. ‘Beyond that, I couldn’t tell you. What’s this in aid of?’
    Löwenthal explained what had happened in the office of the
West Coast Times
that afternoon. ‘Anna might not have been telling the truth, you see. She might have been spinning us a line. Of course we never had reason to doubt her word—until now.’
    Clinch scowled. ‘But who else could it be—if not Carver?’
    Löwenthal pursed his lips. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Any number of men, I suppose. Perhaps it’s no one we know.’
    ‘This is just Carver’s word against Anna’s,’ Clinch said hotly. ‘You aren’t taking Carver’s part—on the strength of a single declaration? Any man can deny a thing, you know; it doesn’t cost a man a penny, to deny a thing!’
    ‘I’m not taking either part—yet,’ Löwenthal said. ‘But I do think that the timing of Anna’s confession could be significant. Perhaps.’
    Frowning, Clinch reached up to stroke the side of his face. As he did so Löwenthal caught the spice of his cologne and realised that Clinch must have paid for a scented shave at the barbershop, rather than the