The Luminaries

Wishes was to host a party that evening in honour of naval officers and ‘gentlemen with marine connexions’, and there was much to be done in preparation for this grand event. Mrs. Wells had hired a fiddler, and put in an order at the store for lemons, spruce liquor, rum, and several hundred yardsof rope, which she planned to cut into lengths and plait, so as to adorn each table with a knotted wreath as a centrepiece.
    ‘I shall make the first wreath, as a template,’ she said to Anna, ‘and you can do the rest this afternoon: I will guide you through the steps, and show you how to tuck the ends away.’
    ‘Waste of a good Manila line,’ said Wells.
    Mrs. Wells continued as if he had not spoken. ‘The wreaths look quite arresting, I think; one can never over-decorate at a themed event. If there is any rope left over, we can it pin up behind the bar.’
    They were eating breakfast together—an infrequent occasion, for it was rare that Wells rose before noon, and Mrs. Wells had usually quit the place by the time Anna woke. Mrs. Wells seemed nervous; perhaps she was fearful for the success of the party.
    ‘They will look marvellous,’ Anna said.
    ‘What’s next?’ said Wells, who was out of humour. ‘A party for diggers—with a riffle-box on each table, and a tailrace from the bar? “In honour of the common man”, you could say. “A party for the unremarkable man. Gentlemen with no connexions whatsoever .” There’s a theme.’
    ‘Have you had enough toast, Anna?’ said Mrs. Wells.
    ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Anna.
    ‘One of tonight’s guests is a decorated man,’ Mrs. Wells went on, changing the subject. ‘How about that? I think it will be the first time that I have played hostess to a naval hero. We shall have to ask him all about it—shan’t we, Anna?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Anna.
    ‘Captain Raxworthy is his name. He has a Victoria Cross; I do hope he wears it. Pass the butter, please.’
    Wells passed the butter. After a moment he said, ‘Have you today’s
Witness
?’
    ‘Yes, I read it already; there was nothing of consequence to report,’ said Mrs. Wells. ‘Friday papers are always light on the news.’
    ‘Where is it?’ said Wells. ‘The paper.’
    ‘Oh—I burned it,’ said Mrs. Wells.
    Wells stared at her. ‘It’s still morning,’ he said.
    ‘I am quite aware that it is still the morning, Crosbie!’ she said, giving a little laugh. ‘I used it to light the fire in my bedroom, that’s all.’
    ‘It’s nine o’clock,’ Wells complained. ‘You don’t burn today’s paper at nine o’clock. Not when I haven’t even seen it yet. I’ll have to go out and buy another.’
    ‘Save your sixpence,’ said Mrs. Wells. ‘It was nothing but gossip. Nothing to report—I’ve told you.’ She glanced at the carriage clock—the second time she had done so in as many minutes, Anna observed.
    ‘I like a bit of gossip,’ said Wells. ‘Anyway, you know that I’m looking at making an investment. How am I supposed to keep up with the stocks, without the paper?’
    ‘Yes, well, it’s done now, and it won’t hurt you to wait until tomorrow . Have you had enough toast, Anna?’
    Anna frowned slightly: Mrs. Wells had asked her this already. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
    ‘Good,’ said Mrs. Wells. She was tapping her foot. ‘What fun we shall have, tonight! I love to look forward to a party. And naval men are so high-spirited. And terribly good storytellers. Their stories are never dull.’
    Wells was sulking. ‘You know I spend my mornings with the paper. I do it every day.’
    ‘You can catch up on the
Leader
,’ said Mrs. Wells. ‘Or last week’s
Lyttelton Times
; it’s on my writing desk.’
    ‘Why didn’t you burn that, then?’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know, Crosbie!’ snapped Mrs. Wells. ‘I’m sure it won’t do you any harm to occupy yourself in some other way. Read a settler’s pamphlet. I have a store of them on the bureau downstairs .’
    Wells drained his coffee and set his cup down with a clatter. ‘I need the key to the safe,’ he announced.
    It seemed to Anna that Mrs. Wells stiffened slightly. She did not look at her husband, but concentrated on buttering her toast; after a moment, she said, ‘Why is that?’
    ‘What do you mean, why? I want to look at my dust.’
    ‘We had agreed to wait until a more prudent time to sell,’ said Mrs. Wells.
    ‘I’m not selling anything. I just want to take stock of my affairs, that’s all. Go through my