by Holly Ford
‘I’ve got a meeting Friday afternoon.’
‘Cancel it,’ Lizzie ordered. ‘When was the last time you had a day off? Come on, spend the weekend with us. Cally’s here, Ash has got a friend over from Argentina — it’ll be fun. How much business can you do in one afternoon anyway?’
She sensed Luke hesitating.
‘Unless’ — Lizzie tried a reverse tack — ‘you already have plans for the weekend in Christchurch?’
There was another long pause. ‘No,’ Luke said, sounding suddenly lost. ‘I wasn’t planning on doing anything.’
‘Good,’ she said briskly. ‘Then it’s settled. You’ll stay here.’
‘Apparently so.’ The amusement was back in Luke’s voice.
‘We’ll see you when you get here on Thursday. Just text me—’ Lizzie shook her head at herself. ‘Ring me when you’re leaving.’
‘Lizzie?’
‘What?’
‘Carr didn’t really tell you to invite me, did he?’
‘Honest to God,’ Lizzie said. ‘He insisted.’
Well, she thought, feeling rather pleased with herself: that was one job done. Putting down the phone, she headed off to check on Cally and the mutton. A woman’s laughter met her on the landing.
Lizzie stopped and stared. Good God. That was Ash’s ‘friend’? She’d expected something less … What? Trophylike? That did not look at all like a girl men wanted to be friends with.
‘Lizzie,’ Ash smiled, somewhat uncomfortably, Lizzie thought, although that might be due to the number of bags he was draped with. ‘This is Valentina. Valentina, this is Lizzie, Dad’s—’ Looking at Lizzie, he hesitated, raising his eyebrows.
Lizzie shrugged. ‘Friend?’ she suggested, not without irony.
‘Dad’s friend.’ Ash frowned suddenly.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Lizzie.’ The low, breathy voice carried the hint of a lisp and a not-quite-Spanish accent. Briefly, the tips of Valentina’s elegant fingers pressed Lizzie’s.
‘And you.’
‘Oh! You still have that blanket you bought.’ Valentina headed towards Ash’s open bedroom door.
‘Yeah, I do.’ Ash hefted her luggage to the other side of the hall. ‘This is your room over here,’ he said, opening the door next to Cally’s.
Lizzie hid her surprise. Were the separate rooms just for show? Perhaps customs were stricter in Latin America. But from the look she had seen flit across Valentina’s face, Lizzie suspected she might not be the only one who had expected a different sleeping arrangement.
She stared in wonder at Valentina’s mountain of monogrammed leather bags. What was that, some kind of hatbox?
‘What a charming room,’ Valentina said, stepping in and turning around, her poise fully recovered. She turned her lovely eyes up to Ash. ‘It is perfect. Thank you.’
He smiled at her. ‘I’ll bring up the rest of your things.’
In the sitting room that evening, left alone with Valentina, Lizzie surreptitiously studied her face. She really was a remarkably pretty girl — as indeed she ought to be, for all the effort she appeared to be putting into it.
‘So, how did you and Ash meet?’ Lizzie asked, watching Valentina sip her wine.
‘Ash works — he worked, I mean — on my father’s estancia.’ Valentina looked surprised. ‘He did not tell you?’
‘I meant,’ Lizzie covered quickly, ‘how did you come to …’ She hesitated. ‘Be friends.’
Running a manicured hand down her thigh, Valentina recrossed her long legs. She was wearing a caramel satin top with a deep slit neck, matching suede leggings and six-inch heels — an outfit not entirely appropriate for a Saturday night at Glencairn, but one that in no way sold short her considerable assets.
‘Ash helped me with my last horse,’ she said. ‘I ride dressage.’
Lizzie nodded encouragingly.
‘At the Nationals.’ Valentina’s expression suggested Lizzie might be missing the point. ‘I am quite good.’
Lizzie didn’t doubt her.
‘You have seen him ride?’ Valentina’s eyes flashed up at her from beneath their perfectly curled lashes.
She shook her head.
‘You should.’ In the firelight, the girl’s eyes shone. ‘It is beautiful. He is … endowed.’
Lizzie managed, with some difficulty, to finish swallowing her wine. ‘We usually say “gifted”.’
Valentina looked puzzled.
‘So,’ Lizzie smiled, ‘the two of you have horses in common.’
‘We have many things in common,’ Valentina said firmly. ‘Land. This …’ She cast a proprietorial hand around the sitting room, the gold cuff on her wrist gleaming. ‘Our histories … Our families … Our fathers’ fathers, they were estancieros. Our blood, it is the same.’ She nodded at Lizzie. ‘I was raised to believe that this is what is important.’
Jesus. Was that how Carr felt? ‘My father,’ said Lizzie, evenly, ‘was a haematologist. I was raised to believe that everybody’s blood is pretty much the same.’
‘But one stands a greater chance of happiness, do you not think’ — Valentina looked interested — ‘when one remains with one’s own kind. It is easier to understand one another.’
‘I think,’ Lizzie said, as mildly as she could, ‘that people come to understand each other in lots of different ways.’
‘Lizzie, could you—’ Cally appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Seeing Valentina, her gaze fled to the rug. ‘Could you just come and help me with something for a second?’ she continued, in a small voice.
‘Of course I can.’ Lizzie hurried to her feet. She nodded to Valentina. ‘Excuse me.’
‘Sorry,’ Cally said, in the kitchen.
‘Don’t be. Really.’ Lizzie shuddered briefly. ‘What can I do?’
‘The mutton’s ready.’ Cally prodded at the hunk of meat in the roasting dish. ‘Do you think I should reduce the juices a bit?’
Lizzie peered into the pan. ‘Good idea.’
‘So, lift the meat and the vegetables?’
‘Yes, I would. Let the meat rest and just give the pan a good boil on top of the stove.’ She looked around. ‘What else can I do?’
Cally shook her head. ‘Go back and sit down. It’s all pretty much done.’
‘Good,’ Lizzie said. ‘You can come through and have a glass of wine.’
‘I’d better not,’ Cally hedged. ‘I need to get everything ready to serve.’
Lizzie wavered, torn. Half of her wanted to drag Cally into the sitting room where she would normally be. The other half wouldn’t mind hiding out in the kitchen herself. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Just yell out if you need anything.’
Walking back into the sitting room, she found Valentina still sitting alone. Lizzie bit back a sigh. Where the hell had Carr got to? Or bloody Ash, for that matter?
‘Sorry about that,’ she managed, picking up her wineglass and settling back in her chair.
‘My mother has problems with our girl, too,’ Valentina said conspiratorially. ‘She can never seem to think for herself at all.’
Before Lizzie could even begin to formulate a reply, Ash walked in. Curious, Lizzie scanned him for signs of extra sartorial effort, but he was wearing his usual Saturday night ensemble of bashed-up jeans and a rugby shirt. Turning her head, she caught Valentina looking Ash up and down in much the same way, appearing less pleased with what she saw.
‘Hi.’ Ignoring the empty seat beside Valentina on the sofa, Ash sank into his usual chair beside the fire.
At last, Carr appeared in the doorway, a bottle of wine in his hand. ‘Anyone need another drink?’
Lizzie held up her glass. ‘Yes, please.’
A few minutes later, Cally cleared her throat in the doorway. ‘Dinner’s ready, if you want to go in and sit down.’
‘Can I help you carry anything through?’ Lizzie got to her feet.
Carr hurried up, too. ‘I’ll give you a hand as well.’
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nbsp; In the dining room, Lizzie handed around the warm plates while Cally set the platter of mutton down on the table. Seeing Valentina had taken the place beside Ash where she normally sat, Cally hesitated.
‘Here.’ Quickly, Carr pulled out the chair next to his.
Lizzie sat down on Cally’s other side. ‘This looks lovely,’ she smiled.
‘What is it?’ Valentina enquired.
‘Mutton,’ Lizzie supplied, since no one else seemed inclined to reply. ‘Slow-cooked in the oven.’
‘Remember’ — Valentina placed her hand on Ash’s wrist — ‘the roast goat at the bodegón?’
‘Yeah,’ said Ash shortly. Valentina removed her hand as he picked up his fork.
‘It is horrible,’ she explained to Lizzie and Carr, her eyes sliding over Cally between them, ‘but it is the only restaurant in the only village for fifty kilometres from my father’s house, and to get there is a very beautiful ride.’ She turned to Ash.
‘Is it not?’
‘It is.’
‘People always say,’ Lizzie offered into the silence that followed, ‘how spectacular the pampas are.’
‘Yes.’ Valentina sounded grateful. ‘We do not have your mountains, of course. But to see the sun set there, it is something. And the moon. To ride as it rises …’ Her voice softened. ‘Do you remember?’ she asked Ash.
For the first time, Lizzie saw Ash look Valentina in the face. ‘I remember,’ he said, his own voice soft. ‘It was something.’
‘More kale, anyone?’ said Lizzie brightly, proffering the dish.
Carr held out his hand. ‘I’ll have some.’
Sliding his knife and fork together at the end of the meal, Ash stole a quick glance across the table at Cally. ‘That was great,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’
Cally nodded without looking up.
‘Really good,’ said Carr.
It was actually true: Cally’s cooking was really coming along. Lizzie might just about have to revise her opinion of mutton.
‘Very nice,’ Valentina smiled, her hand sliding over Ash’s forearm.
Rising quickly, Cally began to clear the plates.
‘I’ll get the rest.’ Seeing Carr start to get up, Lizzie swooped, making good her escape from the dining room before he could beat her to it.
On Sunday morning, Lizzie opened her eyes as Carr drew back the curtains on a blue sky feathered with sunlit mist, the snow-clad slopes of the hills peeping through the low cloud. Sitting up, Lizzie reached for the cup of coffee she knew would be waiting on the bedside table beside her.
‘So, what do you have to do today?’ she asked, as Carr studied the hills.
‘Nothing’ — he turned back to her with a smile — ‘that can’t wait.’
Lizzie stretched happily. ‘What about Ash and Valentina?’
‘Not here. They’ve taken the horses out.’
Some hours later, having made it down to the kitchen at last, Lizzie leaned over the back of Carr’s chair, reading Saturday’s paper over his shoulder while she waited for the jug to boil. Outside, the sun was already lowering and the hills were starting to grey. Hearing the chug of Ash’s ute in the drive, she undraped herself reluctantly.
‘I guess they’re back.’
‘Yeah.’ Carr turned the page.
Lizzie watched Ash get out of the ute and open the passenger door. Valentina, svelte — if six inches shorter — in jodhpurs and riding boots, climbed out and slipped her arm through Ash’s, leaning into him as they crossed the gravel. Well, they certainly looked like they’d had a good time. Whatever they’d been doing out there all day had taken some of the polish off Valentina: her cheeks were flushed, her jodhpurs were muddy, and her hair was escaping its chignon.
The kitchen door opened. Valentina, eyes sparkling, appeared below Ash’s arm, dangling her mud-spattered riding boots in one hand. ‘Where is the girl?’ she beamed.
There was a second’s silence.
‘We clean our own boots around here,’ Carr said. ‘Ash’ — the edge in his voice sharpened — ‘show your friend where the tap is.’
‘Come on.’ Ash’s voice was gentle. Laying his other hand on Valentina’s arm, he shut the door.
Carr pushed back his chair. ‘What,’ he scowled, ‘is that girl doing here?’
‘Well, it’s only a guess, you understand,’ Lizzie told him lightly, ‘but I’m pretty sure she’s planning to marry your son.’
Chapter TWELVE
That night, back at last from what had turned into something of a South American tour, Ella climbed out of Damian’s Jeep and retrieved her bag from the back. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘Thanks for the lift.’ Shivering in the icy Queenstown night, she hesitated, looking up at the Hallidays’ apartment. There didn’t seem to be any lights on.
Damian wound down the window beside her. ‘Want me to walk you up?’
‘No, it’s okay.’ She paused again. ‘Luke’s here.’ At least, she hoped he was. The shoot had overrun and they’d missed the direct flight back from Sydney. Luke hadn’t responded when she’d texted him to say she would be four hours late.
Wheeling her bag to the door, she typed in the entry code. Silence greeted her inside. With more confidence than she felt, she waved Damian off and walked upstairs, bumping her bag behind her.
At the sight of the gas fire’s flicker, a lump rose in her throat. Oh, thank God.
‘Hey.’ In the armchair beside the fire, Luke stretched sleepily. ‘You made it.’
Ella looked down at him as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, flexing his shoulders.
‘I wasn’t sure you were here,’ she said.
Outside, a full moon was hitting the snow on the mountains, and the room was bright enough to see Luke frown. ‘Where else would I be?’
‘I thought …’ Ella shook her head. ‘There weren’t any lights on. I thought you might have got tired of waiting for me and … gone.’
Rising out of his chair, he put both hands on her shoulders and kissed her slowly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Luke rested his forehead on hers. ‘You’re the one who keeps leaving.’
She buried her face in his rumpled shirt. God, he felt good.
He stroked her hair. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Not really.’
‘You want to get something?’
‘I think it’s too late,’ Ella sighed. ‘Unless you know somewhere?’
‘Well, I did have a late reservation …’ Luke checked the time on his phone. ‘But I think that’s probably gone. There’s food in the fridge — I could make us some pasta.’
‘You went to the supermarket?’
‘I thought somebody should.’
‘Thank you.’ She kissed him. ‘For everything.’
‘Go put your bag away. I’ll pour us a drink.’
Luke headed into the kitchen, flicking the lights on as he passed. His phone beeped. Ella glanced from the bedroom doorway in time to see him pull a face as he checked the screen.
‘Who is it?’
‘Oh, nobody.’
‘Nobody?’
‘Suzy. Suzy Liddell. You met her at that cocktail thing a few months back.’
Ella cast her mind back. Oh, yes: blonde, five-foot-nine, looked like she’d just fallen off the cover of Vogue. ‘What’s she texting you for?’
Luke looked at the screen again. ‘To ask me if I’m okay, apparently.’
At eleven-thirty at night? She watched him scroll down. ‘What else did she say?’
He looked up, meeting her gaze. ‘That she’d heard you were out of town.’
Jesus, she’d only been gone ten days. ‘Is there something’ — Ella strove to keep her tone light — ‘you need to tell me?’
‘About Suzy? God, no.’ Luke shook his head dismissively. ‘That’s ancient history.’
‘And what about current affairs? Any developments I should know?’
‘No,’ he said flatly, still holding her eyes.
Ella watched
his face carefully.
Luke’s gaze hardened. ‘Here.’ He threw her his phone. ‘Go through it, if you want.’
Steeling herself not to look at it, she shook her head. He was too smart to keep anything incriminating anyway. Ella threw the phone back. ‘I believe you.’
‘Clearly you don’t.’ His voice was icy.
God. The stupid thing was, she did believe him. For some reason Ella couldn’t quite fathom, she trusted Luke. Or at least, ninety-five per cent of her did. If only the other five per cent would stop telling her what a bad plan that was.
‘Look, I’m not the relationship police,’ she told him, equally coldly. ‘What you do is up to you. If you’re bored with this—’
‘Christ, Ella—’
She held up her hand. ‘If you want out, just say.’
‘I don’t,’ Luke snapped, ‘want out.’ He glared at her. ‘Do you?’
Ella hesitated. Well, there was something to be said for jumping before you were pushed. ‘No,’ she had to admit. ‘I don’t.’
Letting out a long breath, Luke rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Then for God’s sake take your coat off, put that bloody suitcase away and let’s have something to eat. I’m starving.’
Having fallen asleep, at last, in the double luxury of her own bed and Luke’s arms, Ella found herself wide awake again a couple of hours later. Trying not to wake Luke, she stretched. It must be — what? midday? — in Chile. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the bedroom, she watched a yellow moon sink behind the mountains, turning the snow and the crests of the waves in the lake to gold. God, it was beautiful. She was rapidly reaching the conclusion that this was the best view in the world. In this light, it was like an Ansell Adams photograph. Slipping quietly out of bed, she got up and padded over to the window.
When she turned a few minutes later, Luke was sitting up looking at her, his arms behind his head.
‘Did I wake you?’
‘You did.’
‘Sorry,’ she smiled.
‘I’m not complaining.’
Smile broadening, she started towards the bed.
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘Stay there. Just as you were.’
Ella turned back, with less concentration this time, to the window. She heard the duvet slide. Arriving behind her, Luke lifted her hair over her shoulder, his lips brushing her nape and earlobe. Automatically, she arched her back towards him.
