I work in tertiary admin' which brings me into contact with international students from around the globe. Their sense of the world as a community is a note that really appeals to me. Their powerful inclusiveness has never been more evident than this week in the wake of the great storm on the American continent. The devastation wrought leaves no one untouched, but in the midst of the it all we have an opportunity here to demonstrate at state, national and international level that All are One. In this little country - no bigger than the footprint of that storm- we hold all weather beaten ones in our hearts. Know that you are not alone and we will give whatever help we can.



Chapter 7 begins:

Rhona breezed in to work on Thursday a picture of positivity. Not all of it was forced. A certain amount of tension had left her when she walked away from Bill’s place. They were so volatile together.

She called out a cheery hello to her employer as she came into the studio. Her first job of each day was to pack up any orders that were filled and organize their delivery. Paul usually had everything sitting waiting for her attention but today he was slumped at the packing bench in a confusion of paperwork and product, staring vaguely at the lap top screen.

Rhona laughed “Oh good, things to sort out- very therapeutic.”  She came around to join him behind the counter and stood leaning lightly on the bench. She noticed he was checking his mail.

She told him how she had the Salvation Army truck at her place the day before. Paul glanced up at her looking concerned “Charlie told me about…” The comment tailed off as Rhona smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Bill? Oh that’s only part of it. I still had all Sarah’s junk and John’s stuff. Then there were all the things I had hung on to for years, just sitting in cupboards and drawers. I had a good purge.”

She started moving briskly about, finding her packing supplies and lining up paperwork. “I tell you it feels terrific to get rid of it all.” She paused “Are you all right?”

 Paul made a pouting face as he scrabbled about amongst the papers on the bench. “Oh it’s nothing- well domestic issues, but nothing really. I want you to take my van and do a sales call for me.”

She looked pointedly down at her jeans and knit top. Paul caught the unspoken query.

“You’ll be fine. I want you to visit a Mr Petersen at Devonport. Apparently he has seen my work on line and is interested in retailing it.”

“You mean Claus Petersen?”

“Good. You’ve met him then have you?” Paul was blinking at her as if he was trying hard to concentrate. He aimlessly lifted and replaced packing slips on the bench as Rhona described her visit to Devonport. At last he found what he was looking for and passed her a sheet of paper.

Rhona scanned the email quickly. “I guess a selection of different price brackets would be best. He’s not very specific is he? Still at least I’ve seen the gallery.”

Paul was wandering off to the kitchen, but stopped and came back. “By the way you have driven a car lately haven’t you?”

Rhona nodded. “I had the use of a friend’s car to collect her children from tennis lessons on Monday afternoons. I’ve been doing it for three weeks so far.”

Some friend, he thought. Out loud he said “You’d better not tell Charlie that. He already calls you Queen Charity as it is.”

Charlie happened to ring just about the time Rhona drove off. It was fortunate timing because his latest scheme involved her. He had heard from an old friend Justin Clarke, a couturier working in Japan. He briefly explained the circumstances to Paul. Justin was looking for a petite mature model, a fresh face for his final collection which he wanted to shoot in New Zealand. Charlie had sent some photos of Rhona and they had liked the look of her. Charlie was enthusing about her future.

Paul didn’t say much, though he had some misgivings about the propriety of putting her forward for the job without telling her. That, and the prospect of one of Charlie’s former intimates turning up in Auckland made his response to the project rather lukewarm. Charlie didn’t seem to notice. He was giving Paul his instructions.

“Just don’t say anything to Rhona yet. Leave it to Justin to get in touch with her. See if she bites at the offer or not.”

Charlie rang off in that abrupt way he had and Paul went back to his email. He sat reading the message from Philip over and over, chewing the nail of his ring finger. Philip was reassuring him that the agreement they had come to with the Museum Shop was secure. He explained that the shop was separate from the Museum itself and therefore not affected by the recent drastic changes there.

“But I knew all that” Paul muttered under his breath. Philip mentioned Charlie had called in and discussed that, along with some other follow-up from the opening. That was the sticky bit. It read like Philip knew that Charlie hadn’t let Paul know he had gone to the gallery.

“Why meddle and keep it secret? Why go in the first place – God what am I going to say to him?” Paul gestured at the screen as he talked to himself. “What is glass art anyway- another product like a new line in shampoo?”

 Philip also asked for Rhona’s contact number.

“There’s no way I’m giving you private numbers buddy. Ask your mate Bill Egan if you really want to know.”

Now he had to think of a reply. What he wanted to say was “That’s nice but glass is my baby not Charlie’s” but what he typed was

“That’s good news re museum orders. Will give Rhona the message.”

Rhona delivered a few parcels on her way and arrived in Devonport humming a Verdi aria. Claus was busy with an elderly American couple when she entered the gallery. Leaving her plastic crates of samples tucked away beside the counter, with Paul’s card on top, she took the opportunity to explore the premises once again. There were several fresh displays since her last visit.

As she browsed she listened with admiration as Claus closed the sale on a turned kauri bowl. He was carefully explaining the technical challenges involved in working with swamp kauri, a speciality of the Coromandel based artist.

 When the satisfied couple left at last Claus called to her from the counter.

“Ah that was prompt. You are from Mr Witherspoon then?” Rhona turned from the far corner and came towards him smiling. He looked crestfallen for a minute.

“Wait”, he said rubbing the crown of his head. “I have met you before.” He blinked into the middle distance as she came closer. “Oh, of course. The lady artist, Rhona isn’t it?” He beamed and looked delighted with himself. “You didn’t mention your job did you?”

Rhona laughed and shook his hand. “I didn’t have a job last time I met you.”

He gestured to her to come behind the counter as he gallantly collected the crates from the floor. “Let’s take these out the back where you will have some room.”

The next hour sped past. She acquired a good profile of his customer base and benefited greatly from watching a man of Claus’ experience as he assessed the pieces she had brought to show him. She left with a creditable order sheet to take back to the studio.