Just Come Over

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Just Come Over Page 41

by James, Rosalind


  Not, for example, a man who cheated on his fiancée. Or a man who betrayed both his wife and his brother in one go. Call that a twofer.

  A scrape of a chair, and Hugh stood up. “I’ve got something to say now,” he said.

  “Go ahead,” Rhys said, and braced for it.

  Hugh looked around the room and let it build for a minute. A good skipper, and a family man. Like Finn. Rhys had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth.

  “The answer’s the same, boys,” Hugh said, “no matter what question they ask you. ‘I stand behind the coach.’ And as far as I’m concerned, here in this room? Drago’s got a daughter, and he’s raising her. He’s in love with a woman, and he’s marrying her. That’s it. Full stop. If you haven’t done anything in your life that you regret—congratulations, I guess. I know I have. We’ve all got a story, and the history of it doesn’t matter. What matters is how we’re living the story now. They’ve put this out in Brisbane because this is where it hits Drago hardest, and they’ve done it today to distract us. They know where we are on the table, and that we need a win. That’s no secret. They’re trying to keep us from getting it by getting in our heads. It’s up to us whether they succeed. It’s what Drago says. You’re switched on, or you’re switched higher. We go out there today and switch on, and we go out there tomorrow and switch higher. We play the bloody best game we’ve got in us. We go out there and win, and we shut them up. End of story.”

  It was early when Zora’s phone rang. She picked it up and said, “Hey. Aren’t you on your way to training?”

  “Yeh,” Rhys said. “I have about ten minutes. Put the camera on and sit with the kids a minute, would you?”

  “O . . . OK,” she said, and switched over.

  Something was off. She saw it in his face right away. Something was wrong. He’d been nothing but sweet last night, despite the divorce, or because of it. What could have happened in nine hours?

  He said, “Normally, I’d tell Zora first, and she’d think of some clever way to talk to the two of you about it. She’s good at explaining. We don’t have time for that, though, and you may have questions for me, so I’ll do my own explaining. There’s going to be a story in the newspaper today, and your friends could say something at school.”

  “My friends don’t read the newspaper,” Isaiah said. “Well, my main friend is Ethan. He doesn’t read the newspaper, though.”

  “My main friend is Esme,” Casey said. “I don’t think she can read the newspaper. It has a lot of really big words.”

  Rhys’s face had lost some of its rigidity. “All right. Your friends won’t read it in the newspaper, but they’ll hear about it, because it’ll be online.”

  “Ethan’s mum doesn’t let him go online,” Isaiah said. “Except for a couple of games.”

  “Esme doesn’t—” Casey started, but Zora said, “Wait, guys. Let’s hear what it’s about. It sounds like it could be gossip.”

  “Gossip is where people say mean things,” Isaiah told Casey. “Sometimes they’re true and sometimes they’re not. It doesn’t matter, not really. Mostly, they’re just to be mean.”

  “Right,” Rhys said. “This will be gossip, then. It’s going to say that Casey’s my daughter, and that Zora is my girlfriend, and probably that I’ve had lots of girlfriends.”

  “Oh,” Isaiah said. He and Casey looked at each other. “Except Mum is your girlfriend, because you kiss her all the time, and Casey is your daughter. So I don’t see how that’s mean.”

  “Not everybody knows it now,” Rhys said. “And they could say there’s something wrong with your Mum being my girlfriend, because she was married to your Dad before.”

  “It isn’t bad for your mum to be your uncle’s girlfriend, though,” Isaiah said, “if he’s not your real uncle, like your mum’s brother. Like elephants. You can’t mate if you’re the brother elephant, but if you came from a different elephant family, you can mate.”

  “This isn’t about . . .” Rhys looked absolutely stumped. Zora should care about this—it sounded as if things were hitting the fan—but she had to laugh anyway.

  “Uncle Rhys and I aren’t elephants,” she said, “and people can sometimes say mean things. I think Uncle Rhys is saying that if somebody asks you at school, you can just say, ‘Yes, my mum is Uncle Rhys’s girlfriend.’”

  “And then we tell them he was a very famous All Black,” Isaiah said. “Being an All Black is better than anything else, but being a famous one is the best. Like, if he was in a comic book, he would be strength class 100.”

  “It’s not actually better than anything else,” Rhys said. “It’s more important to be a good person.”

  “But you are a good person,” Casey said. “And so is Auntie Zora. You’re both nice to animals and things. So I think if they say you’re bad, I should punch them very hard.”

  “No punching,” Rhys said. “Absolutely not.”

  “But if they say bad things about you,” Casey argued, “I’ll kind of have to punch them, because I’ll be so mad that my brain will let go of my hand.”

  “No letting go.” Rhys looked stern now, but at least he’d stopped looking tense. “Not an excuse. Tell your brain to keep hold of your hand. Here’s what you do instead. You say that you already knew I was Auntie Zora’s boyfriend, because we’re in love.”

  “Eww,” Isaiah said.

  This time, Rhys was the one who laughed. “All right. You may not want to say that. Just say that you know we’re going out, and it’s OK with you. And then throw in whatever nice thing you want to say about me, if you like.”

  “But mostly the All Black part,” Isaiah said.

  “OK,” Rhys said. “Mostly the All Black part. Whatever works. And Casey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “No punching.”

  It was a truly lovely day.

  Nothing like seeing your photo in the newspaper, reading a character assassination of the man you loved, and knowing every comments section would be full of discussion of his failings, without even having to look. Nothing like having five rugby WAGs, on opening their doors to you, giving you a hug and asking how you were doing. Nothing like having your mum call you, midway through your deliveries, to say, “I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ darling, but—I did tell you so. There’s a chat show on TV right this minute talking about it. Whether you can date your late spouse’s family member, and what effect it has on the kids. It can’t be pleasant to be a conversational topic, especially when the topic is your morals.”

  “Which makes me wonder,” Zora said, keeping her focus on navigating the streets of Mount Eden on a busy Friday afternoon, “why you’re ringing me to tell me about it. What do you want me to do? Go into seclusion? Sorry, can’t. I’m making deliveries. Break it off with Rhys? The damage is done, isn’t it? Besides, I’m not doing it. Which would be because I’m in love with him.” She didn’t add, And I’m marrying him, because they had to tell the kids first, but she wanted to. She wanted the ring on her finger. She wanted to announce to the world that he was hers, and she was his, and to hell with what they thought of it. Casey wasn’t the only fierce girl in the family.

  “I’m just telling you—” her mum said, and then stopped, presumably because she couldn’t work out a good version of what she was just telling her.

  “Yeh,” Zora said. “Exactly.” She relaxed her legs, which were somehow gripping around the thigh area like that would help. “Rhys said weeks ago, when I said people would find out . . . uh . . .” She had to stop. What he’d actually said was, ‘Fuck ’em.’ She decided on, “He said, ‘Bugger ’em.’ That’s more or less my planned approach. Want to help me do it?”

  “Well, of course I’m doing it,” her mum said, sounding cross. “What do you expect? And, really, Zora. That language isn’t appropriate for him to be using with you.”

  “I’d better not tell you what he actually said, then.” She had to laugh, it was all so ridiculous. “What do I care what people say, really? And
I’m almost at my next stop. Listen, Mum. Want to come with Casey and me tomorrow to do some shopping? She needs winter clothes, and she’s growing so fast. I’ve never shopped for a little girl before, and you were always so good at it. I need a few things for Isaiah, too, and you know he won’t try on. He has a play date with his friend Ethan, though, and I don’t have a wedding, so Casey and I are going to have a Girl’s Day. Want to meet us in Newmarket at ten?”

  It was flattery, maybe, but why not? Isaiah needed a relationship with his grandparents, Casey was part of her life now, and so was Rhys. You could stay stuck in the mire, or you could keep moving and get out of it.

  She tried to explain it to Rhys that night, the first chance she’d had to talk to him alone. Of course, the first thing he said was, “You OK?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “It was all over the news there, though,” he said. “Can’t have been pleasant.”

  “On the other hand,” she said, “I’m not the one with a rugby game against fired-up opposition tomorrow, and it was probably good for business. I’m notorious, eh. I’ll have to remember to thank my Mum for giving me such an unusual name. And thank myself for using my unusual name for the business.”

  “That can’t really be how you feel.” He sounded strong, as always, but tired, too. Rhys could stand up to anything. That didn’t mean it was easy to do it. “Victoria said I was ‘unavailable.’ That’s how you’re sounding.”

  “Funny,” she said, “Hayden said the same thing. You’re not unavailable. You’re the last thing from it. Look at you last night, and today. Look at you right now, for that matter.”

  “But you may be,” he said. “I don’t want to hear that you’re fine, or that it’s good for business. I want to hear the truth.”

  “Oh.” That was a new thought. That she was unavailable? So intent on keeping up a good front that even he felt shut out? She blew out a breath, sat back against the pillows, and looked out at her glassy black reflection in the floor-to-ceiling glass of Rhys’s bedroom. No help available there. It was going to have to come from inside.

  “Right,” she said. “It’s this thing I thought today, then. That you and I have had this muddy spot in the road to get past on our way to the other side. We’ve stood there for a wee while now, staring at it, and now we’re in it waist-deep, because there was no way around. If I have to be here, though, you’re the man I want with me for it. If I lose my footing, you’ll hold me up, and if I can’t go any farther, you’ll carry me. I know you’ll haul me to safe ground if it takes your last breath to do it. Do you know how lucky I feel to know that?”

  She’d thought that holding on today, getting through, was strength, and it was. But surely, it was also strength to admit that it hurt, to say that you could use some help. She said, “I want to keep on wading until we get to the other side, because it’s beautiful over there. And I want to be with you. Even if it’s muddy. Even if it’s hard. I want to be with you.”

  It took him a few seconds, and when he finally answered, his voice wasn’t much steadier than hers. “It is going to be beautiful. And you’re right. That’s what I’d do. I’m here to hold you, and I’m here to stay.”

  “It’s not anybody else’s life,” she told him. “It’s ours. I’d rather be with the right man and have people tell me he’s the wrong one, than be with the wrong man and have everyone think he’s the right one. I’ve done that. It was rubbish. You’re the right man. It doesn’t matter if nobody else knows it. I know it. I found out for sure that I don’t need the flash house or the flash life to be happy. I don’t need anybody to envy me, either. They can feel sorry for me if they like, or think I’m a tramp, or whatever the latest thought is. They don’t know me, and they don’t know you. I don’t need them, but I do need Isaiah, and Casey, too. And I need you.”

  A long, long moment, and then he said, “I want to marry you.”

  “Well," she said, “ditto.”

  At ten o’clock Saturday morning, Zora arrived at Kid Republic in Newmarket with Casey to find her mum already inside, flipping through hangers on racks with the air of a woman on a mission. Which she probably was.

  “Morning, darling,” she said when she saw Zora, giving her a kiss like the confrontation in the toilets hadn’t happened, or the news the day before, either. “And you must be Casey. Aren’t you cute. I’m Zora’s mum.”

  She held out her hand, and Casey shook it. She did look cute, Zora thought, in her black-and-white-striped top, the gray leggings with pink butterflies, and her sparkly silver trainers. Zora had pulled her hair back into twin French plaits fastened with pink bows, too. Leaving no stone unturned, she hoped. Her mum could criticize Zora’s looks. Casey didn’t need to hear it.

  Casey, planted solidly as usual, said, “I like your pretty shoes and your shirt. You look very nice and very fancy.” Zora’s mum was, in fact, wearing black patent-leather ballerina flats studded around the edges with gold, a side-wrapped top in a purple print, and dark skinny jeans. Her patent-leather purse matched her shoes. Naturally. It also had a deep-purple scarf tied around the strap that coordinated with her top. Evidently, that was a thing.

  Well, Zora was wearing jeans, too. It was a jeans occasion. You didn’t dress up to buy kids’ clothes. At least, she didn’t.

  “Thank you, darling,” Zora’s mum said. She glanced pointedly at Zora.

  What? Oh. Introductions. Zora said, “My mum’s name is Mrs. Allen, Casey.”

  “Oh, that sounds so formal,” her mum said. “I think you should call me Nana Tania, don’t you? That’s more comfortable, surely.”

  “OK,” Casey said.

  “I’ll tell you a secret.” Her mum was still talking to Casey, probably because Zora was insufficiently nice and fancy. “I look nice because I make an effort with my appearance.” Zora did not roll her eyes. “Spending twenty minutes on your face and a few minutes to get your hair right in the morning makes all the difference.”

  “Oh.” Casey considered that. “What are you supposed to do to your face? I just wash it.”

  “You don’t have to do it yet,” her not-Nana said. “Not until you’re in high school. For now, keeping your hair and clothes pretty and neat is enough. Zora’s done a good job with that, anyway.”

  “My dad does my hair, usually,” Casey said. “When he’s home he does. He used to be very bad at it, and he made lumps when he did braids, except they’re called plaits here. But now he doesn’t. He says you just have to practice and be disciplined, and you get better. He thinks it’s most important to practice and be disciplined at rugby, though, not hair. And maybe school, because he does reading with me, and he’s helping me do the big words. He had to practice being a dad, too, because he didn’t know how, but he did practice, and now he’s good at being a dad. I never had a dad before. I only had a mommy, but she died, so now I have him instead.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Zora’s mum said, falling straight into Casey’s big eyes and charm like the granddaughter-less sucker she was. “You’re just precious, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Casey said, “because precious is like jewels, and I’m not a jewel. My dad bought me a pink suitcase that’s like a diamond, though. It’s a princess suitcase. It’s kind of precious.”

  Zora had never heard Casey call Rhys “Dad.” She hadn’t thought the girl was there yet. Casey was like Rhys, though. She rose to the occasion.

  “Well, he’s right about one thing,” her mum said. “About practice and discipline. That’s what I tell Zora about her exercise regimen. Now, let’s get shopping, shall we? Here.” She held up navy track pants with a funky, faded sea-star print, and a pair of jeans embroidered with roses. “I found these before you came. What do you think? So fresh and comfy. Let’s find you some more long-sleeved tops to go with them. An oversized hoodie, maybe. That’s a cute look, and so practical. Look at this one, the baby fawn lying in the midst of the red mushrooms. It’s perfect, wouldn’t you say?”

  Zora considered aski
ng if she should just go for a coffee, since she was so clearly surplus to requirements. Oh, well. She needed to shop for Isaiah anyway.

  “Oh,” Casey breathed, “he’s so, so aborable. He looks so happy and sleepy. I love him.” In fact, she had hold of the sleeve and was hugging the hoodie to her. “I think you must be a very good shopper.”

  “I am,” Tania said. “It’s my gift.” She waved to a clerk. “Could you put these in a fitting room, please? We’ll be here a while.”

  They were. Eventually, though, they had lunch in a café, and Casey told Nana Tania about her bunnies and her school and the jungle trees at Rhys’s house, and then they shopped some more, for an anorak and a fleece jacket and gumboots with flowers on.

  They’d finished up and were headed to the carpark when Zora’s mum said, “It’s lovely to be able to buy really nice things, isn’t it? You don’t do this for yourself or Isaiah nearly enough.”

  Casey had dashed ahead of them, fortunately, and was looking in the window of a toy store, so Zora said, “That’s because I haven’t been able to afford it. I’m using Rhys’s credit card for this, though, and he can afford it. Just like he can afford gorgeous pearls from Mikimoto. Do you still think he’s a big mistake?”

  “I never said he was a mistake,” her mother said serenely, which just about made Zora drop her shopping bags. “Said it would be a challenge, didn’t I.”

  Well, no, Zora thought, I’m pretty sure you said he was a mistake. She didn’t say it, though. She said, “Actually, he’s not even that. He’s pretty wonderful, Mum.”

  “Well, he’s doing a good job with that little girl,” her mother said. “You can tell from the child, I always say.” She caught up to Casey, who was checking out the baby doll display in the shop window, and asked, “Do you like dolls, then, love? I always liked them best. Dolls never go out of fashion, do they?”

 

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