Michelle Vernal Box Set

by Michelle Vernal

  “Do you guys know what you’re after?” the waitress asked with pen and pad in hand.

  “I’ll have a latte in a bowl, thanks. Rebecca?”

  “Oh, right, um, a flat white with trim milk please.” She’d read somewhere that not asking for trim was like shoving a teaspoon of butter into your mouth. “And do you have any caramel slice?”

  Miss Sweden raised an eyebrow. “Sure do.”

  After scooping up the froth of her drink and devouring half of the slice—of which David had declined to try—Rebecca took a moment to admire the sparkling blue water spread out in front of them.

  “Lovely spot, isn’t it?” David asked, as if reading her mind, over the rim of his enormous bowl of milky coffee.

  “It is. I always thought Akaroa was pretty, but for some reason I seem to be seeing it through fresh eyes this time round.”

  “That’s age.”

  Hang on; implying she was old was not part of the expected programme.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Age,” he reiterated with a cheeky grin. “The older you get, the greater your appreciation of the beauty around you becomes.” As his mouth formed the end of his sentence, his eyes held hers and a feeling she couldn’t cope with at nine thirty in the morning ricocheted through her, despite her earlier bravado.

  “You’re right,” she agreed, determined to stay on course. “I know when I was a kid and we’d go on holiday, the only scenic thing I was interested in was a great big ice cream.”

  David redirected the subject with an abruptness that startled her. “Did you pass on my regards to Jennifer?”

  “Yeah, I did.” She shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to word what it was she desperately wanted to know without insulting the man. “Um, to be honest, David, she gave me the impression you two don’t exactly get on.”

  He looked up sharply. “Really? First I’ve heard about it. I thought we got on just fine.” He appeared genuinely puzzled, peering into the depths of his bowl of milky coffee as though it held the answer to this revelation. “Like I told you, your sister showed me a few basic survival recipes when I first moved here. Akaroa’s a small community.” He gave a small shrug. “Everybody knows everybody else’s business. Me moving here on my own with Ben initially created a bit of speculation as to his mother’s whereabouts, and I think Jennifer felt sorry for me. I don’t know Mark quite so well, with him working in the city. If I have offended her in some way... ”

  Rebecca backtracked, her curiosity as to exactly what had transpired between David and his wife freshly aroused. She wanted to hear more about David and his ex-wife, not talk about Jennifer and her ever increasing issues. “Maybe I read the situation wrong. In fact, I’m sure I did. Jen’s just a bit fragile at the moment, so don’t give it another thought.” She held her breath, waiting to see whether he would elaborate on what exactly had transpired between him and his ex-wife. He did.

  It was his wife Maree’s decision to leave, arguing that she should never have gotten married so young. A clichéd excuse when a partner wants out, he told her, sparing no details as he explained how the two lovebirds met through a job David had done for her parents in Christchurch. It was the last job he ever did for them. Completely averse to the idea of their nineteen-year-old daughter dating a thirty-three-year-old, they resented their relationship from the start. Maree got pregnant and one shotgun wedding later, they started their “happily ever after,” only it wasn’t so happy. Their ill-fated marriage couldn’t survive Maree’s relationship claustrophobia. While all her friends were out having a good time, she was stuck at home: a pregnant, married lady at the ripe old age of twenty.

  Maree’s affluent background demanded that the princess get what the princess wanted. She’d gone from being Mummy and Daddy’s little girl to a wife and mother. She had no comprehension of what it was like to have to pay for groceries, household bills, and a mortgage out of one meagre income. David had no choice but to work all the hours under the sun; it was that or starve. As he rehashed the dirty details, his tone was harsh, but he either didn’t notice or decided to ignore it.

  “Her parents paid for Ben’s day care and she went back to university to finish her degree. The day she graduated, she told me it was over between us. She’d been offered a position in some bigwig company up in Auckland that was just too good an opportunity for her to pass up. She had it all figured out; Ben was going to stay with her parents until she’d tested the waters up there. I didn’t get a say in anything and, to be honest, for the first couple of months after she left, I was a wreck. I wasn’t there for Ben emotionally, and that’s something I’ll always hate her for.”

  Rebecca could almost taste his bitterness.

  “Of course, Maree decided she enjoyed her freedom far too much to have her son take it away from her. When I realised she didn’t plan on coming back, I took her to court. She didn’t fight me, but her folks did. It wasn’t pleasant, and it was a tough thing to put a five-year-old through, but I am his dad,” he shrugged his broad shoulders, “and here we are.”

  Rebecca was quiet as she mulled over the sad story she’d just been told. Then, reaching across the table, she laid her hand over his, holding it there briefly as she said, “Thank you for telling me, David.”

  He gave her a weak smile, but it never reached his eyes. “It’s all in the past now. Kids are amazingly resilient. They seem to have their way of working things out, you know?”

  If Jack’s recent behaviour was anything to go by, she wasn’t too sure about that. But not wanting to enter into a debate on child psychology, she nodded. “So does Ben see his mother or his grandparents?”

  “Yeah. It took awhile for Rex and Anne to put the bitterness of losing out on full custody to one side, but then they realised if they didn’t, they’d lose him altogether. It’s strained, but we’re all very civil. He goes to stay with them every second weekend and Maree flies down once a month to spend a weekend with him.”

  Rebecca wondered at the sort of mother who could so blatantly put her needs before that of her child. It was unnatural, surely? It was David’s turn to reach over and clasp her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t judge her too harshly.”

  They both fell silent. David appeared lost in the past. Rebecca wasn’t good at meaningful silences, and she was fighting back the urge to mention swimming with Flipper and his pals. Don’t be ridiculous, she admonished herself; you’ll come across as flippant. She had to bite back a nervous laugh at her unintended and not very funny pun. She began fidgeting in her seat. The silence stretched out, and she clenched and released one buttock at a time, like those exercises she’d seen in Melissa’s magazine under the heading, “Make Every Movement Count.” The picture, alongside a gravity-defying, bikini-clad bottom, had inspired Melissa, and she’d been doing one hundred of them every night since she’d come across the article. Fifty a side—that was dedication for you.

  “Are you alright?” David asked, his eyes suddenly clearing.

  Rebecca stopped, left cheek mid-air, and squeaked, “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Have you got the time on you?”

  She checked her watch and at the same time lowered her cheek back down to its normal resting position. “It’s eleven o’clock.”

  “Bugger!” He jumped to his feet. “I’ve got a client coming over in five minutes. I’d better run.” He pulled his chair back and, standing up, he grabbed her, pinning both arms to her sides as his lips brushed the side of her cheek.

  “I’ll call you.” It had been something and nothing, but it left her flustered nonetheless, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. Scooping her car keys off the table, she followed him out of the café.

  Arriving back at the house, she’d just climbed out of the car when she heard Betty calling her name with a definite note of desperation in her tone. Alarmed, she looked across to the cook school, where she saw the older woman beckoning her over. She hurried down and only had a foot on the bottom step when Betty grab
bed hold of her hand and yanked her inside. Attempting to peer round to see who the new guests were, she was surprised at just how nimble Betty was for a larger woman as she did a neat little side-step, effectively blocking off her view.

  What on earth was going on? Betty was behaving positively antsy.

  “A little moral support would be good, Rebecca dear.”

  “Er, okay.”

  Betty squeezed her hand gratefully before stepping aside to leave her totally unprepared for the sight sitting before her.

  Ten Xena Warrior Princess clones in full battle regalia were seated at the workbenches. All ten grinning at Rebecca’s flummoxed face.

  “Well, howdy, lil lady; ya’ll must be Jennifer. Gee, that’s such a purdy name. Betty here told us you’d be a swingin’ on by to say hi. Ma name’s Mindy-Lou and I’m the president of this here Memphis branch of the Xena Fan Club.” The source of the Southern drawl stood up, revealing herself to be a rather short and dumpy Xena, who bore no resemblance whatsoever to Lucy Lawless.

  That outfit does nothing for her and as for that wig, it’s worse than Donald Trump’s, Rebecca thought. She fought back the urge to giggle at the absurdness of her thoughts that, in fact, were no more absurd than the situation she currently found herself in. At last she managed to choke out that she was in fact Jennifer’s sister, Rebecca. She told them she was over from Ireland on holiday. This news was met by a mass scraping of stools as short, tall, fat, skinny, and even ginger Xenas came bounding forward to shake her hand.

  By the end of the introductions, Rebecca’s hand felt bruised. Xena would have been proud of her fan club’s warrior-like grips. As the Xenas slowly filtered back to their seats, she risked a glance at Betty.

  The poor woman looked dazed as she whispered, “Don’t blame me. I had no idea your sister took the booking. Thank God Jennifer opted to leave the meet and greet to me. This would have surely pushed her over the edge.”

  Rebecca had to agree; however, once the initial shock began to subside, it made way for curiosity. And when the Xenas were all sitting back down on their stools, she just had to ask, “So how long have you all been Xena fans?”

  Mindy-Lou didn’t give anybody else a chance to answer as she stood up, hand on heart. “I remember it like it was yesterday.” Pausing, her piggy eyes surveyed the room to make sure she had a captive audience. “Season One, 1995. From the moment Xena changed her evil ways and rescued sweet lil Gabrielle, I was hooked.” A collective sigh of remembrance went around the room. Rebecca and Betty must have looked a bit baffled because Mindy-Lou explained, “Gabrielle was just the cutest lil blonde thing you ever did see. She went on to be Xena’s bard, and you know what? It has been implied that the two of them were more than just friends, if you catch my drift.”

  The Xenas tut-tutted, but Mindy-Lou held her hand up for silence. “So that you know, we don’t buy into that whole scenario.”

  “You tell ’em, sister!” Ginger Xena bawled across the room.

  And Mindy-Lou did. “No siree, we at the Memphis branch of the Xena Fan Club believe that to be no more than an ugly rumour started by a small man. Small in every aspect, if ya catch my drift.” Her ribald wink left no room to miss it. “Who could not believe that a woman could be strong, beautiful, and prefer the company of other women without any shenanigans going on? Don’t we, girls?”

  “Sure do, Mindy-Lou!” Foot-stamping and whistling followed.

  Rebecca glanced round the room, looking for Jerry Springer.

  Once the furore died down, Mindy-Lou carried on. “Ma marriage broke down on account of me bein’ a strong, independent woman and him being a no-good sum-of-a-bitch. I felt an instant kinship with Xena the first time I saw her on TV, and I thought to myself, now what would she do in my shoes? And the answer came to me clear as day. She’d kick his cheatin’ ass all the way to Kentucky and go looking for Gabrielle lickety-split, that’s what. So that’s what I did.” Mindy-Lou puffed out with pride at this point, looking to be in danger of spilling out of her chest plate as she spread her flabby arms wide to encompass her fellow Xenas. “And here they all are, ma Gabrielles, ma warrior sisters!”

  Rebecca waited for her to add that they could make a cash donation by telephoning the following 0800 number, but instead she heard mutterings of dissent amongst the ranks.

  “Mindy-Lou knows full well we’re all Xenas, so how comes she’s always trying to make out we’re all her lil Gabrielles?” That came from Bonnie-May, whose wig had unfortunately slipped to one side to reveal a zebra-like do of bleached blonde and black roots.

  “If she’s not careful, we’ll have one of them there coups and get us a new president,” came from Candy-Sue.

  “Well, that’s just great, Mindy-Lou,” Betty jumped in. “Thank you for sharing your story with us all, but now it’s high time we got on with the business at hand, isn’t it, ladies?” The Xenas looked towards Betty expectantly. “Cooking, of course!” This elicited a fresh round of yee-haws and wahoos, as well as a few whistles. Rebecca couldn’t help but admire Betty’s style, especially when she managed to silence them all by producing, a moment later, the biggest fish anyone in the room had ever seen.

  Its mammoth, scaly body had been laid to rest on a silver platter, and Betty’s knees looked to be in danger of buckling as she staggered under the weight of it. “This morning, ladies...” It was Betty’s turn to make sure she had a captive audience. Gee, she was getting into the swing of things now, Rebecca thought, looking on with admiration. “I have the pleasure of introducing you to the gourmet delights of Akaroa salmon!”

  As the room exploded, Rebecca could have sworn the salmon turned one glassy eye on the ringleader, Mindy-Lou. However, she also saw an opportunity to escape, and no one heard her polite goodbye over the cacophonous din.

  Rebecca’s breath was coming in ragged bursts as she cleared the path and leapt up onto the front porch. Pulling the bundle of keys from her pocket, she cursed as they slipped from her grasp and dropped in a jangling pile to the ground. Snatching them back up, it took her a moment to sift through them for the right key, and it was a blessed relief when, on her second try, the key turned. Pushing the front door open, she risked a nervous glance over her shoulder, half expecting to see a tribe of Amazons charging towards her. The coast was clear. Stepping into the hall, she shut the door behind her with a slightly hysterical giggle.

  I don’t know about Amazons; more like fried chicken-munching maniacs, she thought, collapsing onto the couch. What a morning! Unzipping her boots and kicking them off, she decided to check her phone. There was a text from Derbhilla, asking what had happened with Ciaran. That’s right, she mused; Derbhilla was the one who had urged him to get on a plane and come here. Rebecca sighed; she wanted to muster up annoyance at her friend for interfering, but she knew she’d done it with the best of intentions.

  Closing her eyes, she wondered what Ciaran was doing right at that moment. He was probably sipping on a latte at one of the waterfront cafés. Oh yes, he would be reading the paper and enjoying the view, she mused. No way would she give in to the overwhelming urge that suddenly assailed her to hotfoot it down to the B&B. Instead, she quickly tapped out a one-word reply to Derbhilla’s question: Nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “BECS, I AM SORRY ABOUT all that stuff I said about you yesterday. It wasn’t fair, and I don’t want to fall out with you.” Jennifer came out of the office, and Rebecca noticed she was looking a lot more put together than she had first thing that morning. She also noticed the apology didn’t extend to what she had said about David or Ciaran, but she didn’t want a fight on her hands either.

  Jennifer looked hard at her sister. Her face was red and blotchy, and she had little bits of hair glued to her forehead. “Have you been running?”

  “Only from the cooking school.”

  “Part of your new keep fit routine, is it?”

  “Ha-ha. You haven’t met the new guests yet. If you had, you’d understand.”

&
nbsp; “They’re American, aren’t they?”

  “More like alien,” Rebecca muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Yes, they are American but they are also travelling under the umbrella of the Xena Warrior Princess Fan Club and have to be seen to be believed.”

  “Seriously? I’ll have to head down and take a peek.” Jennifer frowned. “The booking was made under the name of Mindy-Lou from Memphis; she didn’t say anything about being part of a fan club.”

  “Well, like I said, seeing is believing and don’t say I didn’t warn you because that group of gals you’ve got staying down there make Trekkies look normal. Oh and Jen?”

  “Mm?”

  “Can I have a hug?” Her encounter with David that morning was making her feel magnanimous. “Because if you do go down there, it might be the last time I see you alive.”

  Jennifer laughed and held out her arms. “They can’t be that bad.”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” Rebecca said, hugging her sister back and inhaling her familiar essence. She smelt of expensive salon shampoo and Chanel No. 5. It suited her because just like the write-up on her favourite perfume, Jen was complex. Despite her sometimes cool and always impeccable exterior, when you got beneath that, Rebecca realised, she was beginning to discover there was a likeable warmth.

  For her part, Jennifer breathed in a light, refreshing scent that reminded her of the sea. It was frothy and fun but with a hidden depth and it was Rebecca, she thought, smiling and getting a mouthful of hair in return. They were opposites in so many ways but at the core of their differences was the knowledge that when push came to shove, the other would always be there. Friends might come and go—scratch that thought because Melissa was a bloody limpet—but she and Rebecca were sisters and right now she was glad hers was here.