by Jan Ruth
Outside, the sky looked too vast for the scrubby land, and all he could really see was his mum and dad back at Chathill, the meandering stone walls and the way the dirty, unwashed clouds draped across the mountains. New Zealand had no real identity, and it came to him that he didn’t belong here. In a way, the sure knowledge of that, was strangely comforting. This place, flooded as it was with uncompromising white light seemed to strip back the very flesh from his bones.
‘How do you want to do this?’ Kate said, breaking into his daydream.
‘I don’t actually want to do it.’
‘Right. I’ll have a look around then, should I?’
He waited outside, turning a cigarette over and over, pathetically grateful to her. Presently, she emerged with a box and some rolled up posters. He took the items from her and placed them in the boot. The remnants of a life. It seemed wrong, to just walk away with a box.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said, kissing her hot, dusty face.
They reached the Coromandel around late afternoon, stopping along the way at a friendly bar decorated with chainsaws, guns and knives. It was all about hunting, fishing, survival. He wondered vaguely what Jo would make of it, when there were no choices. Along the way, billboards advertised the services of the local slaughter-man; Homekill.
The drive along the peninsula of land climbed through acres of inaccessible bushland and forest, dropping eventually towards the coast alongside vineyards and long, deserted beaches. Given it was the tail-end of the Kiwi summer, the place seemed empty, but to Al the whole country felt empty and maybe this added to his feelings of desolation. He stopped the car at Cooks Beach. It was the stuff of tropical postcards, bleached sand, infinite sky and ocean, bordered by palms and kauri trees.
‘Wow. This is where Captain Cook first sailed ashore in 1769. He thought it was part of Australia,’ Kate said, reading from the guidebook, then she wound down the car window. ‘Oh, but this place is just… stunning. Can we stay here awhile?’
‘Whatever you want.’
She dived out of the car, and shoes in hand, trotted across the swathe of warm sand. He went to join her and his spirits soared when she caught hold of his hand and kissed him. It was late afternoon and the light was softer, more diffused. Her lips were salty with sweat, but he loved the taste and scent of her. She was his home, his refuge in this alien place.
‘This is so gorgeous,’ she said, and a whisper of wind lifted the hair from her face. ‘It’s been tough for you, the will, the house and everything, hasn’t it?’
‘Yeah, it’s helped sort out a few things in my head, though. I mean, at least Ruby didn’t have a fucking abortion. She gave me the chance of a better life, didn’t she?’
She frowned at him, then walked on.
‘Kate?’
‘No, no you’re right, she did. I think you’re starting to forgive her, and that’s pretty amazing.’
‘You know I couldn’t have got to this stage without you?’ he said, drawing a line in the sand with his foot. ‘This is where all the depressing, negative stuff ends, right now, on this beach. I want to take you somewhere where there’s a beginning.’
‘I like the sound of that.’
He pulled her across the line, then placed his hands around her face. ‘I love you, Kate Roberts.’
Chapter Eighteen
Kate.
They spent four days on the Coromandel coast, visiting the vineyards and exploring the few places to eat, staying at a basic motel offering bed and breakfast with no breakfast to speak of. It wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, mostly because they hadn’t really forward planned with enough clothes, or shampoo. There was no air-conditioning, no Internet and an unreliable mobile phone signal. The only shop sold mostly fishing tackle and the closest thing to a grocery store was a boat ride away, where there was also a rumoured Wi-Fi hotspot.
None of it mattered. It seemed of more importance to lie on the beach in the velvet blackness, holding hands and gazing at the stars. Kate had never seen a night sky quite like it, the sky seemed encrusted. The tension of the last few days was quickly lost as they relaxed into a rhythm that consisted of nothing much more taxing than making love, sampling wine and lying in the sun. She knew they were lost in a time capsule, a dreamscape of sorts. The very location, that of being on the other side of the world, was in itself, a barrier to all that had gone before or that continued to exist elsewhere.
Al was an easy companion for such a vacation. They had much conversation, mostly about food and wine, literature and people, although they’d managed to avoid discussing family and ex-partners. He noticed what she was wearing and had no interest in sport which felt overwhelmingly liberating. Sex was the best thing since sliced bread, after all. They even managed to make love outside, and afterwards ordered Sex on the Beach cocktails from the wood-clad bar, giggling like schoolchildren. Most of all though, she relished the maleness of him and the fearless way he dealt with errant cicadas in the motel room.
‘Makes a right racket,’ he said and she agreed.
‘Don’t pick it up though, don’t they pierce the skin?’
‘Nah,’ he said, casually snatching it off the wall, before flinging the poor creature over the balcony. ‘Shit, the fucking things bite!’
‘Told you!’
*
They travelled back to the hotel in Auckland, and never had the luxuries of a city seemed quite so attractive. Kate carefully emptied the hire car before it was returned. Al was suspicious about the box she’d claimed in Ruby’s bungalow. She sat on the bed and removed the lid.
‘Don’t you want to know what’s in here?’
He wandered out of the shower, rubbing his damp hair. ‘What?’
‘Detailed journals, dozens of them. This is where you get your writing skills from.’
‘I had to learn how to write, it’s not inherited.’
‘Do you mind if I read them?’
‘Why should I mind? Kate, I trust you completely.’
‘They look intensely personal.’ He just shrugged, so she continued, ‘It didn’t feel right, leaving them for clearance people to find.’
‘No, I guess not.’
‘Are you really okay about meeting this guy for dinner, Brian Bennet?’
‘It’s just another line-drawing exercise, isn’t it? And then I want to go home,’ he said, resting his arms across her shoulders.
‘I don’t, I don’t want to go home.’
‘Why?’
‘As Tia would say, it’s a no-brainer. I’d rather stay here with you than go home to be embroiled into my sister’s problems and my mother’s dementia.’
‘I’d like to meet Tia.’
‘I know, and you… and you will, but for now, I want you to myself.’
He kissed her with intent, pulling her head back gently by her hair and almost bruising her lips.
‘Wow,’ she whispered.
‘I can’t tell you how much I love being with you.’
‘Show me, then? We’ve got fifteen minutes.’
She hardly recognised herself as she unknotted the bulging towel from around his waist.
They were almost late for their meeting and found themselves dashing hand in hand through the blistered streets looking for The Rialto. Breathless and flushed with the afterglow of fast, intense sex and the undiminished heat of the day, they arrived to find Brian already there, this time in dark, tailored shorts, briefcase under the table. He rose quickly to shake hands with them both before calling a waiter. ‘champagne?’
‘Oh, well that would be nice,’ Kate said, wondering what they might be celebrating and if it was entirely appropriate. At Brian’s instigation they toasted Ruby and although Al made all the right gestures, he did so with distinctly low-key enthusiasm.
‘She was cremated, ashes scattered off Cape Regina,’ Brian said, getting into his stride. ‘That’s off the tip of Northland. Strange place, like some kind of glob
al seam; where the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean meet.’
He made a spectacular rolling motion with his hands, presumably illustrating the coming together of two masses of water. Kate nodded politely and exchanged a quick smile with Al, but his eyes remained on the menu. Once they’d ordered, they talked about selling Ruby’s property, and Kate passed the bunch of keys across the table to Brian.
‘I’ll get onto the agent first thing, and then I’ll get back to you with all the details,’ he said to Al. ‘Are you still at the same address, in the UK?’
‘Er, maybe not for much longer.’
‘Well, you can let me know in due course, these wheels usually move very slowly,’ he drawled, draining his flute and offering the bottle round again, before bringing out an envelope. He shook out four antique dress rings onto the table, three diamonds and one ruby. They looked impressive, even to Kate’s untrained eye, their dark glitter reminiscent of the Coromandel sky.
‘I can include them in the general sale, if you’d rather?’
Al picked them off the checked cloth and held them in his long fingers, where they blinked in the candlelight.
‘They’re beautiful,’ she said to Al. ‘I think you should keep them.’
Brian tore into his garlic bread. ‘Maybe pass them on to a daughter? You have a family, yes?’
‘Tom and Maisie.’
‘And grand-children. Maisie’s expecting, isn’t she, Al?’ Kate said, trying to lighten the atmosphere but he remained mostly monosyllabic and impassive.
The pasta arrived and it was sublime. Conversation trailed to a halt as they concentrated on lasagne and clam linguine for a while, and Al ordered two bottles of Mercury Bay wine. He made short work of a whole bottle of red which was unusual, but she couldn’t really blame him. It was a slightly surreal situation and even she wasn’t quite sure what Brian was going to come out with next. They moved on to desserts and coffee.
‘Is there anything you’d like to know, about Ruby?’ Brian said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.
‘Nope,’ Al said, and got to his feet. ‘I think we’re all done.’
‘Don’t be too hard on her, or yourself. She had a real tough life, used and abused, you know? Bad health at the end too.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Stubborn old woman wouldn’t go into the hospital until the last few weeks. She struggled for years with a heart condition, only got tested a year or so ago.’
‘And then she died. I get it.’
He excused himself and went to the gents, swaying between the tables, apologising to other diners when he fell over their feet or handbags. Kate took a deep breath and began to make apologies, but Brian stopped her.
‘Don’t worry about it, he’s just dealing with it like a regular bloke.’
She stirred the remains of her coffee. ‘I suppose it makes me realise how much I’ve taken my parents for granted, the normality of it. The enduring, unconditional normality of it.’
Brian grunted in agreement and they talked about the visit to the bungalow. ‘Did Al find anything he wanted to take?’
‘No, but I did, on his behalf. The old film posters… and the journals.’
‘I’m glad you’ve got them! I would have removed them myself, don’t want some old hack getting hold of them and blabbing about her private business.’
‘I’m hoping Al might get some answers, in time.’
‘You know, you’re a thoroughly decent woman, Kate,’ he said, then leant back in his chair, where he seemed to quietly consider something before speaking again. ‘I need your help.’
‘Oh?’
‘I think, maybe when you get home and things have settled down this would be better coming from you. I feel… let’s say, bound by a duty of decency to tell you, that Al’s mother had a congenital heart disease.’
‘Oh… I’m not sure I understand?’
He leant forward across the table. ‘There’s a possibility that the faulty gene could be passed on, it’s hereditary. Now, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but it’s advisable to get his daughter screened, Maisie, is it? You mentioned she was pregnant?’
Kate stared at the rings on the table, her heart hammering.
Daughter. Daughters.
Everything she’d tried to forget for a couple of weeks was about to rise up and be counted. She took a long draft of water and fanned her face with the pudding menu. When she cast around to see where Al was, she spotted him in the queue at the counter, waiting to pay.
‘What is it called, exactly?’
‘Ah, you’ve got me there.’ Brian rummaged about for a slip of paper in his inside pocket, which he passed to her, along with Ruby’s death certificate. She folded both pieces of paper and slipped them into her handbag. As Al walked back towards their table, Brian pushed all four rings onto Kate’s third right finger and folded her hand in his. ‘Good luck.’
Then he rose to shake hands with them both and she was relieved that Al still had the wherewithal to be polite. She’d never seen him drunk before but at least they managed to get out of the building with no major catastrophes, verbal or otherwise.
Back at the hotel, he said, ‘Come here, gorgeous woman. Have you any idea what it feels like to have you in my life?’
‘Shut up, you’re plastered.’
‘I know, but I know what I’m saying.’
She went in the shower room and he appeared in the mirror as she wiped a make-up tissue around her face.
‘I still can’t quite believe I’ve come away with a load of cash and no real sting in the tail.’
She tugged the rings from her fingers, so she didn’t have to look at him eye to eye. ‘You need to put these somewhere safe.’
‘I want you to have one.’
‘I… I couldn’t.’
‘Why the fuck not? Just choose one, will you?’
He disappeared from view and she heard him curse, stumbling over her discarded shoes. She leant her forehead against the cold glass of the mirror. What the hell was she meant to do with this information Brian had entrusted her with? It impacted directly on Tom and Maisie, Jo and Tia. She could of course run both bits of paper through the shredder at home and forget all about it; but she wasn’t made like that.
Not so long ago she’d had no concerns whatsoever with the consequences of sleeping with Alastair Black; but that was before she’d fallen in love. So much for thinking she could have a holiday with sex. It might work for the twenty-somethings but it was a no-go for her. How long had it been since she’d felt like this? In love. Age was no barrier to feeling vulnerable under its spell, caught in the many layers of loyalty, trust and truth.
When she peered round the door, Al looked to be almost asleep, spreadeagled across the bed. She touched his hair. ‘Al, I’m just going to see if I can get online, tell Tia what time the flights are tomorrow.’
He grunted. Down in reception, she logged on to the communal computer. There was an e-mail from George, just to say they were all okay, Fran was improving and the sale was still going through. She dashed off a quick response, then fished through her bag for the correct name and spelling. She hated these medical sites, they were generally alarming and complicated and it was easy to get the wrong end of the stick. Annemarie was a classic case in point, punching in a list of symptoms and coming up with a life-threatening ailment in less than a minute. This was more specific though, it was even mentioned on the death certificate.
She read quickly at first, not quite taking it all in, her spirits sinking with every word.
Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy is a weakness of the heart muscle and symptoms are most often revealed when the heart is put under pressure, such as intense activity or pregnancy. In the majority of cases the condition is inherited, although it can miss a generation too. Sudden death and collapse can occur, although rare.
No matter how many times she read it, the facts brought with them a black cloud of fear and apprehension.
She sent an e-mail to Tia, then dragged herself back to the room on autopilot, where she crawled under the covers and curled herself around his back. He took hold of her hand and held it against his chest.
‘Why are you shaking?’
‘I’m cold, that’s all.’
He turned to face her and pulled her into the wine-soaked warmth of his body, still completely loveable even when he was drunk. She stopped shaking eventually, but her eyes remained wide open.
*
The journey back was punishing. Al woke with a thunderous hangover and as soon as they boarded the flight for Singapore, he fell asleep, even with Morrissey blasting through his iPod. The connection from Singapore to Manchester was late, and by then it was already something of an endurance test, before they boarded another packed flight for some fifteen hours, this time with major turbulence and a head wind.
Kate began to feel ill and even Al waved away the airline food.
‘Why are they bringing bloody Cajun chicken round in the middle of the night?’
‘Can we please not talk about food?’
He put an arm around her shoulders and she rested her head against him, burying her face in the soft leather of his jacket, her fingers threaded through his. Ruby’s diamond ring was jammed on her finger. It was too small but he’d told her to get it altered and cleaned and he’d pay for it. It meant he was coming to terms with the situation and she wondered how on earth she was going to deal with dropping the medical bombshell.
Tia was her other concern. Did she tell Tia the problem and let her work out how to get the information across to Jo, or was that unfair on her daughter? Really, it was Jo who was in the wrong by keeping the pregnancy a secret from Al. He had every right to know about it, and the way she’d broken his heart and continued to do so by letting him think she’d had an abortion, was just despicable. On the other hand, she’d not even had the baby yet, so it could wait… but then wouldn’t that make her an accomplice?
