My Game of two Halves Ch. 03

She actually thought it was still me until she pushed up the balaclava. That is the only thing she really remembered before the bang. Following the bang, she had begun to perceive there was still someone between her legs penetrating her but it just seemed to have switched off. She did not hear the shot due to her deafness following the stun grenade. Her overriding memory was being in my arms. Georgia said she felt utterly protected. That is what she thought explained her lack of trauma.

Maybe she was also hardened by her previous experience, I don't know. It did make her very clingy with me for some time, not that I minded. I seemed to be more rattled about the experience than she.

There was another outcome to the experience. Our relationship had entered a new phase with our lovemaking. I was still technically married to Mary but the enormous events seemed to make Mary a remote vestige of our past; if it weren't for the children, almost forgotten. During the period of the attempted coupe she completely disappeared. People just seemed to think her body would turn up in the rubble somewhere. Even Helen and Jeff who had earlier been confident that Helen was on some kind of mission now seemed to accepted that wonder woman had fallen from grace. Mary's parents just would not mention her name. I felt for them but we could never speak about it.

It was now clear that Georgia and I were now living as husband and wife but my divorce was a long way off to being finalized. Even the children seemed to accept that Georgia was no longer Auntie but was their new mother. This created a dilemma for us that I had not planned for. Georgia brought up the possibility that if Mary did a no show whether I would consider remarrying and her and adopting the kids. But while there was no sign of Mary and it was clear that there were other stakeholders including both Mary and Robert's parents.

This eventually solved itself some six weeks later. Our practice team were back in the office getting our practice up and running. There had been plenty of building damage, especially in the Capital and we were well placed to pick up work through existing clients including the Government.

Jeff turned up unannounced one day and asked if he could talk with Mary's father and me privately. Despite all, Frank had continued to come in and work with us. Odd days had turned into a full week as of late as he had become our in house building inspector.

Jeff had with him a small package and two envelopes. He took out one envelope and gave it to Frank. It was death certificate for Mary stating that she was deceased. The cause of death appeared to have been an overdose of barbiturates, self-administered. She was discovered alone by a maid in a hotel room about three weeks after the coup had ended. Frank began to quietly cry. There was a silence for some time. Jeff handed me the second envelope which was addressed to me.

Before I opened it Jeff spoke quietly to both of us. He said "I have not read what is in the envelope and I have no idea what Mary was really doing. I cannot believe she was the traitor that she has been presented as. I don't know what drove her to do what she did to you, Vaughan, but I do know she was incredibly mission focussed; always was.

No matter what she was to suffer she would see it though. Unfortunately there has been collateral damage here. I don't know who she was working for. It could have been Whitmore, It could have been the PM or it could have been herself. I like to think it was not for Whitmore but I can't give you absolute assurance of that. I am hoping that whatever is in the envelope will put this to rest."

I opened the envelope. Her copper plate handwriting was unmistakable. I read it. Frank and Jeff looked at me expectantly. I finally said, " there are really no answers here but I am calling this closure. She addresses me as 'My Darling Vaughan' and how that despite all she has always loved me and the family implicitly. She says, and I read,

"I unfortunately have chosen a career that meant I would eventually be called upon to undertake a task that I was in the unique position to see through successfully and correct the path the country heading in.

It was never planned that I would be caught in the position I was, as you found me with Whitmore. I am completely devastated by the consequences of that but I take full responsibility for my action.

I feel that I can no longer go through life without you and the family now that the mission is completed. I do not want to fight you or anyone else for right to my family and I am opting to make a clean break to allow everyone to get on with their lives unencumbered by my supposed reputation.

I do know you have redeveloped your connection with Georgia and I give you my blessing. I guess, I do not believe in God but I like to think we could reconnect somehow in different future circumstance. I am sorry I cannot say anything more about the circumstances of my mission, which is going to have to wait 50 years before it becomes declassified. In the meantime love Georgia, love our children and try to believe in me.

For ever, my Love

Mary"

A long silence and Frank finally utters, "It did not say much but implied volumes."

I looked down." I agree. I don't care what the public thinks, all the apparent evidence we read about goes unverified, I will reserve judgement. It really hurts that the military have remained silent about her. Even some reassurance would be helpful but they act as though she never existed. Publically they seemed to find it convenient that she was a traitor; once a hero now fallen from grace."

"Maybe If I am still alive in 50 years and we will get the real story but until then I will try to believe in her goodness but what I saw and felt will always be profoundly hurtful to me."

Jeff held up the package. "This is her ashes for you Frank..." I don't know what Jeff was expecting to say but both Frank and I broke down at that point.

`

Our lives continued; Georgia, Little Robert, Annie, Elsie and I settled into a life of domestic bliss. We became a normal family. Georgia was accepted as the children's mother by their grandparents as much as the children themselves. It seemed that when Mary had welcomed Georgia to our family, that even then, she had some grand design in mind encouraging them to accept Georgia as a favourite aunt.

And Georgia remained the different person from the Georgia I first married. I guess you could say that of me. We both matured through a series of cataclysms that featured in our lives and we somehow were able separate ourselves from those painful memories and focus on the joys that come with children. It never seemed to cease to amaze me how maternal Georgia had become. I guess, in the whirl of our early marriage she never got to express it.

We cemented our relationship. Not by marriage but by a baby, another girl and there are no prizes for guessing the name, 'Mary'. All grandparents were delighted. We had all come to terms with the firm belief that Mary was not a traitor and felt that she would be vindicated someday. Little Mary was a late baby for Georgia and would be the last in our blended family of four.

Despite this, there were in times of depression, a lingering doubt would surface in me about Mary's role. Was she a good guy or a bad guy? I even fantasized that she could be and not Whitmore the ultimate force, hidden from view, the power behind the throne driving the coup.

But a look in little Mary's eyes would remind me of new life and despite all that eventually happened it was actually Mary who brought our whole blended family together. She did this to free herself to execute some mysterious critical mission and throughout she somehow arranged for us to be protected.

In this period Georgia became an integral part of our architectural practice. The principals now included Pania, James, Georgia, the Elderly Frank and me. Much of our work was now mundane and utilitarian in a country under repair. However, we did get the opportunity to spread our wings. There were two high profile international architectural competitions, one for the redevelopment of the parliament buildings and the other for the rebuilding of the war memorial.

We had a couple of brilliant young up and coming architects to assist us who had only recently joined our practice. As it turned out we were never really in the parliament competition. That said we won the war memorial.

For a start Georgia came up with a brilliant concept that it would not solely be a war memorial. It would primarily be a Pavilion of Peace. It would memorialize all who suffer in conflict but would also be a place where people could light a candle for future of peace and the end of all conflict.

It caught the Zeitgeist of the time. In the design of the building I returned to where I had started; "my sculptures for living in"- though I daren't resurrect the old trite rhetoric. I left it for people to interpret in their own minds. To the heart of the project Pania brought the wisdom and symbolism of her heritage.

Essentially there was a tower which contained the reinstated bells of an old giant carillon that had stood on the site and beneath was the hall of memory and dreams.

The tower stepped down into a kind of amphitheatre with encircling arms that surrounded a ceremonial parade ground. Between this and the entrance was a large pond which contained an island. On the island sat the tomb of the Unknown Soldier with a large giant stately Totara tree behind it.

To get to the parade ground one had to pass through a giant gateway known to the Maori as a waharoa. The waharoa symbolized rebirth and the as a result of obvious connotations of its form it was nicknamed the giant vag.

That I guess was the gist of the scheme. We had our own private idiosyncratic inputs as privately architects can do. The giant vag in form was taken from Georgia's very own; following an excellent session of course. I wilfully took and image one day and blew it up to discover her vag's proportions conformed to the golden ratio. I mean, in discovering that how could I not include it in the design.

On a more poignant note we arranged for Mary's ashes to be placed under the Totara tree.

Moving forward 50 years or so.

We were all there; our children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. I, 94 and Georgia was still with me. Pania was with us although James died some years before.

We were gathered outside the Waharoa for the ceremony to begin. There came the wail of the Karakia from a Maori woman welcoming us as we entered the waharoa into the formal ceremony on the parade ground.

As fate would have it, most what I never understood leading to the coup was brought to light in the declassification of historical documents. They led to the exoneration of Mary. In fact the ceremony was the presentation of a supreme posthumous award for Mary's role in the outcome of the failed coup. A military historian researching the declassified documents uncovered an entire saga. Suddenly the curtain was lifted on the events at that time. It was all laid in a biography of Mary by the historian..

Of course we made it known that Mary's ashes were under the Totara and this lead to this ceremony in fitting memorial to Mary. We all filed across the small bridge to lay our hands on that mighty Totara acknowledging Mary's ashes in nourishing the tree.

With her redemption, Mary's purpose and heroism as become a part of the history of Aotearoa. Well. I guess you will all want to know just what did happen. I would say that the whole tale is astounding; however you are just going to have to read the book to find out.

Epilogue

Despite all, I am proud that I was part of Mary's life. Yes I was in the eye of her hurricane and I am lucky to have lived long enough to find out why; fitting closure I guess.

The giant vag , not withstanding, Mary had constantly been in my thoughts as I worked on the design for the tower. Was she guiding me or was I designing for her. I don't know

Although the entire edifice was a team design there was much that I worked into it expressing the emotional turmoil of my life with Mary. To me the tower itself is a memorial to her. It could not be a utilitarian structure and I had to return to my roots, the architecture I had used to impress the young Georgia, so long ago. No matter how trite I regarded it in its day; I had to admit that ultimately it had substance and truly reflected my soul in this context.

There are some lingering doubts in Mary's tale in her relationship with Whitmore. Was she pulling the strings or was he. From the historical evidence, in the larger game he was just a player. Just like Jonah Lomu in that famous world cup rugby match he was used by others to steamroller the opposition; in the end he was not enough. It seemed that Mary could play him like those others.

I end back with my monograph and as I finish perusing it I look at those last few pages. It's my extra time. I thought my career had been over as a sad play of yin and yang but the Pavilion of Peace brought me closure. It was my drop kick.

I regarded it as my best work possibly because it was not mine alone. There was Pania, Georgia and James and even Mary's father. We were a team; which brings me back to that other old rugby Cliché. Yes the best team won. No I am not bragging at winning over the others in the competition; I'm talking about the best team of my life and I can't help but think there was another silent member of that team, Mary.