The Love Apple Read Online Free PDF

deserted.
    Huia came down the alleyway, her only good dress over her arm. After leaving her father at the Harp of Erin she had gone around the shops on foot, ordering the supplies she would collect later in the afternoon. Flour, sugar, syrup, tea, a bit of bacon, mutton flaps, bones, some tobacco for her father.
    There was not much else to do except walk the streets when Alf Bluett was drinking — womanising, too, for all Huia knew. Stan Birtwistle had said her father was probably a regular at Hokitika’s bawdy houses and brothels. Huia had been shocked but not sure if it was true. Certainly when father and daughter came to town together Bluett was keen to be rid of her, sending Huia off to do the errands double quick. And always at the end of the evening there was the interminable hanging about outside one pub or another, waiting for Alf Bluett to head home.
    Huia took a quick look around to make sure she wasn’t observed, then began opening the long line of buttons that ran down her dress from neck to thigh. Once changed into her good dress, she folded the clothes she had been wearing and hid them under a rusted hip-bath upturned on the ground. Then, with a smile at her reflection in a broken window, she set off, biting her lips to redden them as she went.

    ‘Damnation,’ said Geoffrey, putting his shoulder to the back gate, which had swelled yet again in the rain. Suddenly giving way under his weight, it swung open and he lurched into theyard. Champ, who he’d left shut in the kitchen, was barking.
    Geoffrey hadn’t seen the Bluett girl since the previous week, when he’d had tea with her at Hobbs Forks. Now she was sitting cross-legged under his apple tree, stroking the kitten he had recently befriended.
    ‘Good afternoon,’ said Geoffrey, politely removing his hat. ‘You gave me a surprise.’
    ‘Didn’t mean to,’ said Huia, standing up. ‘I like your kitten. What’s he called?’
    ‘That’s Adolph,’ said Geoffrey.
    ‘Reminds me of my Nanny Rina. She was crazy about cats, called them ngeru ; it means silky. She used to say the first cat she had was the softest thing she ever felt.’
    ‘I’m a bit of a cat man myself, though don’t tell my dog that,’ said Geoffrey as he reached into his waistcoat pocket for the back-door key. ‘Have you come with a message from your father about the trip?’
    ‘No,’ said Huia, ‘I wanted to see you. Da doesn’t know I’m here. He’s drinking at the Harp of Erin so he won’t miss me.’
    The girl was much more carefully dressed than when Geoffrey had seen her first. Her hair was caught up in an old-fashioned dark lace snood and she wore a slightly grubby, full-skirted pale blue gown. The dress was obviously intended to be worn with a crinoline, and without a hoop it dragged heavily. It must be at least fifteen or twenty years old, Geoffrey thought, and it was far too big for her. Yet somehow the effect was charming rather than dowdy; the glazed poplin accentuated the glow of the girl’s hair and skin, and the overlong sleeves and loose waist made her seem immensely fragile, like some fey creature masquerading as a human being.
    ‘Hey, do you like my dress? I wear it for best.’
    ‘Very nice,’ said Geoffrey.
    ‘I wore it because I want you to take my photograph.’
    ‘A portrait — of you?’
    ‘Suppose so.’
    ‘I told you I’m not in that line of business any more.’
    ‘But you still have the gear. You could take a photograph of me if you wanted.’
    ‘I could.’
    ‘So you will, then.’
    ‘’Fraid not.’
    ‘You don’t think I can pay?’
    ‘Money’s not the issue, Miss Bluett. I have made a decision not to do any more portraits.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Private reasons, really.’
    ‘I’ll give you this if you’d do it.’ Huia reached into the bodice of her dress and drew out a very fine pounamu pendant.
    ‘As I said, it’s not a question of money, and I certainly wouldn’t want your jewellery.’
    ‘So you won’t do