Kevin and I have owned our house as long as the Judge has. It seems so sad, somehow, that we spend half our time racing up here to get things ready for the children and their kiddies, who visit us all the time, while his house just sits there. It's empty a good lot of the time, once in a while there's a long-term tenant, but mostly there's no one around at all except the man who comes by and mows the grass and keeps the shrubs trimmed back.
Judge Westland and his first wife - her name was Kate - bought their bach when we did, when everybody's kids were preschool or primary. We didn't see that much of them, even from the beginning - tall fences make good neighbours, I always say - though the children played together a lot. Their twin boys were in and out of here all the time, and our lot were over there, only not as much. Judge Westland always was a one for peace and quiet while he worked.
He wasn't a judge then; that was early days yet. He was in some seriously important office on the Terrace, though, doing all sorts of intellectual things. He spent all his time at the bach out on the deck or in the house reading, except when they entertained. I don't myself see it: he spent all his time reading, just reading. (Not that I am planning on being a judge! Horses for courses, I guess.) He never did anything around the house. Even though once in a while he cut the grass, he just sort of did it in one rush and put the mower away, leaving sticky edges pointing up all around the section. I will say, though, he kept in good shape physically: he went for a swim most weekends, at least once, and he used to go for long walks down the beach, stretching his legs and thinking serious thoughts.
Anyway, there he was with all his books, the bach was like a library - I can't imagine what their home looked like - and Kate just seemed to fuss around, not really doing things if you take my meaning. They were quiet, that family, I'll hand them that, even with twin boys. You'd see her pottering around, hanging up the laundry or working in the kitchen, but that was about it. She never took the children anywhere, and never did anything with the section, even though it was more than large enough to get some decent veges and some flowers going as well as plenty of room for natives. To give her credit, though, she did do a fair bit when they had guests, mainly visitors from overseas or from Auckland, business contacts. She had some sense of his importance, I'll give her that, even though she wasn't very obvious about it sometimes.
Most of the time, though, she just read. We couldn't understand it, Kevin and me. It's not like she worked or anything, and she didn't need to spend all her time with her nose stuck in a book. I mean, he needed to keep up with things, surely; reading was part of his job. It certainly wasn't part of hers, though. She should be making things right for him and the children, keeping them happy. It probably had a lot to do with why things broke up, I would guess, that sort of selfishness on her part and her drinking.
Her drinking: now that was something else again. It was a really long time - years, maybe? Before we caught on. She never wobbled around or passed out, not that I ever saw, and that wasn't for lack of watching, believe me. I worried about those children quite a bit, and always kept an eye out in case I was needed. But once she got up and going, you could smell her halfway across the garden. I remember one morning I came up to her when she was hanging out clothes, and whoo-ee, you couldn't miss it! What a pong! She acted as though nothing was wrong, and maybe for her, there wasn't.
Drink and read, read and drink, that's all she seemed to do. Not a well woman for sure. He didn't seem to complain, though. That man was a saint: with his responsibilities and all the rest he had to do, to come home to that kind of woman, who put salads on the table and expected that to be tea - well, I just don't know.
You never would have known about his worries to look at him: lightly greying hair, good physique (not like Kevin's little beer belly, though he keeps blaming that on my cooking!), a very very intelligent man who kept in good shape, which is more than you could say for his wife.
And that wasn't all he had to worry about it, either. I'll never forget the day - just around Christmas, it was, and every house in the street was full of people out on their holidays, tents in the gardens, the works - when the doctor's car came shrieking up the street, followed by an ambulance.
The Westland twins were huddled outside by the clothesline, weeping hysterically and holding on to each other. They told our kids that their mother had taken an overdose of sleeping pills and the men were busy pumping her stomach out.
I mean, really! And at Christmas, too! I just don't understand how a woman can do that to two nice kids like that and a husband who really should be busy with more important things, especially in his position. At least they were able to save her. I don't know what would have happened to that family otherwise.
Well, we had - thank goodness - no more scenes like that, which came as a great relief to me, what with all the children being so young. I let them play with the twins, but I made sure they did not go over there any more, that's for sure. She may have been quiet, but with a woman like that, you never know.
Things seemed to get back to normal for a while after that. Judge Westland had become a judge by then, and they didn't entertain quite so much. I guess it's difficult when you're that high up to relax and be with other people. You have to keep thinking of your position.
I know he had a lot of extra work to do, the more important he got. There were occasional weekday afternoons when he and one of his typists had to come all the way up from town to take care of the office overflow work without interruption. They would come in about lunch time, unload boxes and attaché cases and take them in the house, and then there wouldn't be a sign of them until the end of the day. They'd put everything back in the boot and head back towards town, smiling and obviously pleased about the work they'd been able to put in.
It's a quiet place, the beach, when you have to get some serious work done, and I can see why so many intellectuals buy houses up here: not just judges, but writers, professors, solicitors, accountants. They all need to keep their batteries charged, and this is really the place for it.
Anyway, the years went on and time passed, as it does. Kate Westland seemed to disappear entirely from the scene, and I wasn't able to find out if she was still in Wellington or not. I never did find out, because I really couldn't ask the judge. He was out there on his own for a fair while, reading a lot and taking long walks, and then a very pretty young woman moved in with him. My new wife, Bella, he introduced her. Golly, she was pretty. Just lovely.
And she just loved that man to pieces. It was a real treat seeing them together. She was always hovering around him, asking his advice on things, cocking her head so prettily as he answered. They used to sit out on the deck together, looking like a model couple from some advertisement or other, him with his books and her with hers. When I asked her what she did, she told me she was a law student from down at the university, and you could tell she worshipped the ground he stood on, just hanging on his every word.
Judge and Bella Westland didn't socialise much. They were too much wrapped up in each other, you could tell. She finished her law studies, I know that much, and she stayed at home with the judge after that. I remember telling Kevin at the time how pleased the judge would be with a wife who understood what he needed. Kevin just said, 'Nice work if you can get it', but he doesn't always realise what sort of commitment marriage takes, particularly if you're a woman.
Kevin also said he was surprised Bella didn't go out and work, after all, that's what going to law school is supposed to be all about. I told him not to be silly. This was one woman who was devoted to her husband. She wouldn't be about to waste her time working. I mean, look how devoted she had always been to him, from the very beginning of their marriage. It was really touching.
They had a lively marriage, though, you could certainly tell that. On warm summer evenings, when the wind was still and people's windows were open, you could hear them going at it, hammer and tongs. Of course, we couldn't hear exactly what they were saying - the judge always spoke very quietly - but you could tell she had a talent for nagging. Judge Westland, I am glad to say, gave as good as he got. Some men are just too much the gentleman to speak up when they should.
After one of her barnies, you could see him in the main room, sitting by the fireplace with a book, oblivious to his wife and her goings-on. She would walk up and down the length of the room (it ran the whole length of the house), weeping and shouting at him, but he always managed to rise above that and continue his study. And this would sometimes go on for hours! An amazing man, truly, to put up with all that. Our legal system is lucky to have him, let me tell you.
One weekend, just before Easter weekend it was, Kevin and I came up midweek, to get the house ready for the children and grandchildren. It was the year Dennis turned three and Trisha was pregnant with Greg and Kevin finally sold the Honda. It is as clear in my memory as if it were yesterday.
Bill Jones, from Burkes Estate Agents, drove up the Westlands' driveway and got out of his car, carrying a 'To Let' sign. Kevin and I looked at each other, and as one - which of course we are - we went over to Bill.
'What on earth's going on?' we asked him. Neither of the Westlands had said a word to us about going away, and we'd even had their spare key for years. It surprised us a great deal, this development.
'She's dead,' said Bill. Kevin and I stood still, shocked and nearly speechless.
'Whatever from?' I asked. 'She couldn't have been more than thirty,' I added, 'and she always looked absolutely perfect.
'Overdose.' said Bill. 'Her husband was out walking on the beach. and he didn't find her until it was too late.
'The ambulance came,' he added, 'but they couldn't revive her. Heartbreaking. isn't it? A young woman that age ... you wonder why.'
'And married to a man like that," I said. 'She had everything to live for.' We all shook our heads, wondering and bewildered. realising that we probably would never know.
'Oh, well.' said Bill. 'I'd better get on with this lot. The Judge wants to let the house as soon as possible.'
'I wonder why he isn't selling it?' said Kevin, as the three of us walked down the driveway.
'Oh, he specifically doesn't want to sell,' Bill said. 'I asked him that. He said no way. The place suits him too well for him to want to get rid of it.
'He'll move back as soon as he feels up to it. After all, he's been so happy here.'