As You Wave Me Goodbye

Four

(Photo: Aroha and me, 1945)

I thought I was going to hate living in New Zealand with my father. You can't really blame me; I'd just had everything I had ever loved torn away from me, never to be seen again, all in the span of one day.

I cried during the entire car trip to the docks, much to Dad's irritation.

"For goodness's sake, Tracy!" he bellowed. "Stop that ridiculous noise! It's giving me a headache!"

I'd never been snapped at before; it only made me cry harder.

Dad sighed heavily. I wasn't sure if he was still angry or just trying to calm down. A few minutes passed, then I felt a hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. I looked up and saw Dad looking sheepish.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you like that, sweetheart," he said softly. ''I didn't mean to sound so cross."

I whimpered but didn't reply.

Dad let out another heavy sigh then pulled the car over onto the side of the road. He turned off the ignition and turned to look at me. I wasn't brave enough to look back at him.

Dad suddenly lifted his arm. I ducked my head instinctively, terrified that he was going to hit me for making such a silly fuss. Dad's arm froze in midair, as if someone had hit "pause" on him. His own eyes were glazed over with tears.

"Tracy, please don't look so frightened," Dad said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm sorry!" I wept. "Please don't be cross with me."

"I'm not cross, sweetheart. I could never be cross at you for long."

I peered up at him. "Then why did you raise your hand?"

"To give you this."

Dad reached his arm out, pulled me close to him, and gave me big hug. I didn't try to hug him back for a moment, but he smelled so comfortingly of tobacco, warm toast, and peppermints: a nice, familiar dad smell. I buried my face into his jacket and held him tight.

"That's it, darling," Dad said, gently stroking my hair with his humongous right hand. "No more tears. Daddy's here and he's going to take good care of you."

''Can't we go back home, Daddy?" I mumbled into his jacket. ''We could all be a family again: you, me, Mummy, and John."

"Oh, Tracy, you know we can't do that," Dad said, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. "You know Mummy and I aren't happy together. We can't be a family again... but you and I can, darling. We can make a brand new life for ourselves in New Zealand."

"It won't be the same without Mummy and Johnny."

"You're right about that, lovey. It won't be the same." Dad gave the top of my head a big kiss. "But we can make it work.''

I wasn't too convinced, but I kept reminding myself that it could be worse. I had my dad to look after me, and I knew he loved me a lot, although maybe not quite as much as Mum and Johnny loved me. He was still my father, so I had to do as he told me.

* * * *

We had to take a boat all the way to New Zealand. I absolutely hated the long, tedious three-week journey and spent most of it with my head in a bucket. Dad was always there to comfort me, though. He held my hair back while I was being sick, he cleaned me up, and he gave me lots of cuddles afterwards while I sat on his lap and shivered.

"You're a good, brave girl, Tracy," Dad would whisper into my ear. "I'm very proud of you."

That made me feel a little bit better. I often hung around my father on the boat ride, clinging to his trouser leg and listening intently to all the stories he told me about life on (and under) the sea. Sometimes he would pick me up, cuddle me, and spend the whole day with me; other times I wasn't so fortunate.