Winona’s father, Walter, blocks Will when he tries to go into the kitchen to help with dinner. “Come and have a drink, you look bloody exhausted!”

Walter is shorter, rounder, younger, and jollier than his wife Wilhelmina, and still working for his own government department. Less outdoorsy than most New Zealand men, he’s a Corgi rather than a border collie. He’s content to putter around their Edwardian villa, indulge in golf at the Karori course, and follow “Mina” on her round of brunches, experimental theater, and benefit dinners. His sins are small: chatting rather too long to pretty young assistant analysts, cake with his coffee, domestic laziness. And maybe, in his secret heart, amidst his Amazonian clan, wishing he had a son.

He encourages Will to take his pick from the beer fridge. He fills in Will’s silences with unexpectedly amusing jet lag anectdotes. He says to Will, “Heard you talking about your own place. I respect that. Still, it’s not so easy as Mina…” Walter nods towards the kitchen. “So, stay as long as you like.”

Will grips his beer and clouds up, nodding. Any unmanly awkwardness is circumvented by screams from the kitchen. “Walter! If you’re getting drinks…”

Tags:   beer · blokes · walter · will1 Comment