Epilogue
Virgil was sitting at the white baby grand piano. The tune he was playing was Mozart's requiem. He had hoped that the task would keep his mind off dark thoughts, but the music developed a mechanical quality as his mind wondered. The rest of the family sat, listening and not listening, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.
At one end of the room was situated a new piece of furniture, simple in its design but filled with meaning. It was a pedestal topped with a locked glass cabinet. In it, resting on a piece of black cloth, was Neil's Pounamu pendant. Wrapped up within the folds of the cloth, so as it's real significance was hidden to those who did not know, was Neil's black sash.
Alan was the first to break the silence. "I still can't believe that he's gone!"
Someone grunted an assent but the rest kept their funeral silence.
Alan persisted, "Still there's one good thing..."
Seven pairs of eyes turned towards him, willing him not to go on. Virgil kept his eyes glued to the piano keyboard.
"...that we should be grateful for..."
"Don't say it!" Scott warned him.
"At least it wasn't a member of the family."
Virgil quietly rose from the keyboard and walked out of the room.
Scott looked darkly at his youngest brother. "I can't believe you just said that."
Alan tried to defend himself. "Well, you can't tell me that the thought hasn't crossed your mind." He drew back slightly as Scott rose out of his chair. But Scott moved to follow Virgil out of the door.
"Why don't you grow up?" Scott growled as he walked past into the bright sunlight.
He followed the bleached steps down to the patio beside the pool and looked around. A figure was sitting on the beach and he made his way over towards it.
Virgil didn't look up as Scott approached; he sat staring out over the ocean.
Scott sat down beside him. "That Alan," he tried to sound light-hearted and didn't quite succeed, "has all the subtlety of a charging bull."
"He's right though isn't he?" Virgil's voice had a far off quality to it. "We are glad it wasn't one of us. And we both know that it should have been me, not him, buried under that pile of rubble. If I hadn't got some far fetched notion..."
"Now come on!" Scott admonished him. "We've been at this game long enough to know that there are risks. In fact we've been jolly lucky that something serious hasn't happened before this. And part of the reason WHY we've been so lucky is that we've trusted our instincts as well as our intellects."
Virgil angrily threw a stone down the beach and stood up. "If I hadn't chickened out..." he started walking along the beach. Scott started to follow him.
"You didn't chicken out. If you remember it was my decision to send Neil in instead of you. I decided that your 'hunch' had some merit, and I decided that you would be of more use operating from outside the building. Do you think I haven't already beaten myself up over that decision? I sent Neil on that death sentence. I could have just as easily sent Alan or Gordon, or insisted that you go. It was my decision and I made it because I trusted your instincts. In one sense I was right."
"I should have gone anyway. Neil didn't have the experience necessary. Perhaps if I had have gone I would have been able to react differently and escape."
"I doubt it. He didn't have much of a chance, not when he was trying to save that other man. You would have done the same, I know it, and so would I if I had have been in the right place. Every rescue we undertake is a gamble, and this time Neil lost."
Virgil was quiet for a time as he mulled over what had been said. When he spoke next he sounded more relaxed, more like his normal self. "It was weird Scott. Something inside me was saying 'don't go.' I would have, if I had to, but I just felt... no, I KNEW, that to go would be a mistake." He gave a quiet chuckle. "Maybe my guardian angel was watching over me. Or Mother."
Scott smiled. "I often think that there's something keeping an eye on us, or else how else would we manage to achieve such miracles." They had reached the end of the beach and sat down on some rocks, worn smooth by centuries of tidal action. "How many times have we leapt out of the way of falling rubble or ducked flames because our instincts told us it was the right thing to do?"
"It doesn't always work that way. You know the first time I met Neil? On that job in Wellington? It was because of instinct that I crushed my hand, and spent several weeks in plaster afterwards."
"I think Alan's instincts need fine tuning. His instinct is to speak first and then think."
Virgil smiled at this comment. "Except when on a job. He seems to instinctively mature when it's necessary. As soon as the jobs over..."
"He's a kid again." Scott finished the sentence.
There was a moment of silence. A gull wheeled above them.
"Do you think Father will hire anyone else?" Virgil asked.
"I don't know. If he does it won't be for a while, I'd say he's a bit gun shy at the moment."
They sat reflectively for a few moments longer, then Scott spoke.
"You know your report."
"Mmm."
"Dad hasn't read it yet. Only the first line. I told him that you were blaming yourself for not letting him know we had trouble."
"Well that's partially true."
"Is it still partially true?"
Virgil thought for a moment. "No. I guess not. You're right. It could have happened to any of us."
"Good! I've hidden it, so if you want to say that you grabbed it to make a few alterations..."
Virgil smiled. "Thanks. I might just do that."
They continued to sit, talking, enjoying the sun on their backs, being glad to be alive, until a shout from down the beach disturbed them.
"Hey, you guys," it was Gordon. "Your dinners getting cold."
"Dinner!" Scott and Virgil looked at each other.
"I'm starving." Scott said.
"You always are."
"Race you!"
"Last one there helps with the dishes."
"Hey!" Scott was suddenly handicapped by Virgil pushing him onto the sand. "Why, you..." he was quickly back onto his feet and racing along the beach. His slightly longer stride meant that he was gaining on his brother, until the soft sand gave way under his feet and he went flying heels over head. His shout of surprise, brought Virgil to a stop.
"My instincts tell me that you need some help." Virgil had a big grin on his face. He extended his hand to help Scott up. "You okay?"
"Yep, and twice as hungry."
"Tell you what, we'll call it a draw and both help clear the dishes."
"Tell YOU what," Scott had a better idea, "we'll call it a draw and make Alan clear the dishes."
"Deal."
They were almost at the house when Virgil turned to his brother.
"Scott."
"Yeah, Virg."
"You know I'm behind you 100% for every decision you make on a rescue."
Scott clapped him on the back. "Yeah, I know."
"And thanks for talking to me just then. I needed it."
"No problem. It helped me too. I guess I had some unresolved issues I needed to sort out myself. Guess I needed to talk as well, so I should thank you too."
They wandered back into the house, following a trail of inviting smells. Roast pork, apple sauce, carrots, potatoes, minted peas, and for desert, apple pie.
A lazy breeze danced around the palm trees. A pair of gulls squabbled over a morsel of fish and then flapped away lazily over the ocean. The waves lapped the white sands. Overhead the blue sky was devoid of clouds.
The pool was still. There was no one diving in, practising their swimming strokes or lazing by its turquoise edge.
The steps leading up into the house were almost blinding white as the midday sun reflected off them, but there was no one about to be dazzled by them.
All was calm.
The end
Virgil was sitting at the white baby grand piano. The tune he was playing was Mozart's requiem. He had hoped that the task would keep his mind off dark thoughts, but the music developed a mechanical quality as his mind wondered. The rest of the family sat, listening and not listening, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.
At one end of the room was situated a new piece of furniture, simple in its design but filled with meaning. It was a pedestal topped with a locked glass cabinet. In it, resting on a piece of black cloth, was Neil's Pounamu pendant. Wrapped up within the folds of the cloth, so as it's real significance was hidden to those who did not know, was Neil's black sash.
Alan was the first to break the silence. "I still can't believe that he's gone!"
Someone grunted an assent but the rest kept their funeral silence.
Alan persisted, "Still there's one good thing..."
Seven pairs of eyes turned towards him, willing him not to go on. Virgil kept his eyes glued to the piano keyboard.
"...that we should be grateful for..."
"Don't say it!" Scott warned him.
"At least it wasn't a member of the family."
Virgil quietly rose from the keyboard and walked out of the room.
Scott looked darkly at his youngest brother. "I can't believe you just said that."
Alan tried to defend himself. "Well, you can't tell me that the thought hasn't crossed your mind." He drew back slightly as Scott rose out of his chair. But Scott moved to follow Virgil out of the door.
"Why don't you grow up?" Scott growled as he walked past into the bright sunlight.
He followed the bleached steps down to the patio beside the pool and looked around. A figure was sitting on the beach and he made his way over towards it.
Virgil didn't look up as Scott approached; he sat staring out over the ocean.
Scott sat down beside him. "That Alan," he tried to sound light-hearted and didn't quite succeed, "has all the subtlety of a charging bull."
"He's right though isn't he?" Virgil's voice had a far off quality to it. "We are glad it wasn't one of us. And we both know that it should have been me, not him, buried under that pile of rubble. If I hadn't got some far fetched notion..."
"Now come on!" Scott admonished him. "We've been at this game long enough to know that there are risks. In fact we've been jolly lucky that something serious hasn't happened before this. And part of the reason WHY we've been so lucky is that we've trusted our instincts as well as our intellects."
Virgil angrily threw a stone down the beach and stood up. "If I hadn't chickened out..." he started walking along the beach. Scott started to follow him.
"You didn't chicken out. If you remember it was my decision to send Neil in instead of you. I decided that your 'hunch' had some merit, and I decided that you would be of more use operating from outside the building. Do you think I haven't already beaten myself up over that decision? I sent Neil on that death sentence. I could have just as easily sent Alan or Gordon, or insisted that you go. It was my decision and I made it because I trusted your instincts. In one sense I was right."
"I should have gone anyway. Neil didn't have the experience necessary. Perhaps if I had have gone I would have been able to react differently and escape."
"I doubt it. He didn't have much of a chance, not when he was trying to save that other man. You would have done the same, I know it, and so would I if I had have been in the right place. Every rescue we undertake is a gamble, and this time Neil lost."
Virgil was quiet for a time as he mulled over what had been said. When he spoke next he sounded more relaxed, more like his normal self. "It was weird Scott. Something inside me was saying 'don't go.' I would have, if I had to, but I just felt... no, I KNEW, that to go would be a mistake." He gave a quiet chuckle. "Maybe my guardian angel was watching over me. Or Mother."
Scott smiled. "I often think that there's something keeping an eye on us, or else how else would we manage to achieve such miracles." They had reached the end of the beach and sat down on some rocks, worn smooth by centuries of tidal action. "How many times have we leapt out of the way of falling rubble or ducked flames because our instincts told us it was the right thing to do?"
"It doesn't always work that way. You know the first time I met Neil? On that job in Wellington? It was because of instinct that I crushed my hand, and spent several weeks in plaster afterwards."
"I think Alan's instincts need fine tuning. His instinct is to speak first and then think."
Virgil smiled at this comment. "Except when on a job. He seems to instinctively mature when it's necessary. As soon as the jobs over..."
"He's a kid again." Scott finished the sentence.
There was a moment of silence. A gull wheeled above them.
"Do you think Father will hire anyone else?" Virgil asked.
"I don't know. If he does it won't be for a while, I'd say he's a bit gun shy at the moment."
They sat reflectively for a few moments longer, then Scott spoke.
"You know your report."
"Mmm."
"Dad hasn't read it yet. Only the first line. I told him that you were blaming yourself for not letting him know we had trouble."
"Well that's partially true."
"Is it still partially true?"
Virgil thought for a moment. "No. I guess not. You're right. It could have happened to any of us."
"Good! I've hidden it, so if you want to say that you grabbed it to make a few alterations..."
Virgil smiled. "Thanks. I might just do that."
They continued to sit, talking, enjoying the sun on their backs, being glad to be alive, until a shout from down the beach disturbed them.
"Hey, you guys," it was Gordon. "Your dinners getting cold."
"Dinner!" Scott and Virgil looked at each other.
"I'm starving." Scott said.
"You always are."
"Race you!"
"Last one there helps with the dishes."
"Hey!" Scott was suddenly handicapped by Virgil pushing him onto the sand. "Why, you..." he was quickly back onto his feet and racing along the beach. His slightly longer stride meant that he was gaining on his brother, until the soft sand gave way under his feet and he went flying heels over head. His shout of surprise, brought Virgil to a stop.
"My instincts tell me that you need some help." Virgil had a big grin on his face. He extended his hand to help Scott up. "You okay?"
"Yep, and twice as hungry."
"Tell you what, we'll call it a draw and both help clear the dishes."
"Tell YOU what," Scott had a better idea, "we'll call it a draw and make Alan clear the dishes."
"Deal."
They were almost at the house when Virgil turned to his brother.
"Scott."
"Yeah, Virg."
"You know I'm behind you 100% for every decision you make on a rescue."
Scott clapped him on the back. "Yeah, I know."
"And thanks for talking to me just then. I needed it."
"No problem. It helped me too. I guess I had some unresolved issues I needed to sort out myself. Guess I needed to talk as well, so I should thank you too."
They wandered back into the house, following a trail of inviting smells. Roast pork, apple sauce, carrots, potatoes, minted peas, and for desert, apple pie.
A lazy breeze danced around the palm trees. A pair of gulls squabbled over a morsel of fish and then flapped away lazily over the ocean. The waves lapped the white sands. Overhead the blue sky was devoid of clouds.
The pool was still. There was no one diving in, practising their swimming strokes or lazing by its turquoise edge.
The steps leading up into the house were almost blinding white as the midday sun reflected off them, but there was no one about to be dazzled by them.
All was calm.
The end