by Paulette Rae
Gone to town with Craig, back tomorrow.
Beth
So it really was just her, Jamie and Sarah in the house. Inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief. She could relax. Jamie and Sarah were obviously intent on just hanging out together, which left her to enjoy her first day off in peace. She made herself a hot drink then pattered through to the television room. The heavy curtains were drawn, making the room dark. She left them closed, instead turning on a light to see the huge selection of movies against the back wall. She picked an old favourite, put it in the DVD player and switched the lights off again before settling back on the over-stuffed chaise lounger.
Later, when she was sure the others had vacated the pool and were nowhere to be seen or heard, she crept outside. She walked barefoot across the lawn, the soft grass sponging between her toes. Large water marks on the rock tiles, which had been concreted in place around the pool, let off the sweet smell of evaporation in the heat. Kirsten crept into the pool house. It was stifling hot and she opened a window on the north side to let some fresh air in. Guilt crept over her as she lifted the loose boards on
the custom built bench. The diary had been calling her name. She had resisted returning to it all week, but eventually the thoughts of being able to learn more about the people that surrounded Brook, who were now also a part of Kirsten’s life, got the better of her. Maybe she could get some insight into how these people ticked if she read what Brook knew of them.
She plucked the old book from its hiding place and settled back to read. Brook’s tale started of course, in January, when Sarah was just over a year old. She seemed to have a settled life, although she continued regular sessions with a therapist:
January 1st
Margaret thinks I need to continue this diary, so I will write my thoughts still, if even just to keep her happy! Last night was wonderful. We had a huge bonfire down on the beach. My mother is so happy here. She just loves having everyone around, especially Sarah. My darling little girl is now a year old, how fast that has flown by . . .
January 2nd
Jamie and I went riding, down to the Chamberlain cabin, his favourite place. He wants to know what I talk about with Margaret. He thinks it’s still all about my father. Okay, so my father molested me. God, how long does it take to get over that? I still have nightmares sometimes . . .
January 10th
Sigh. Jamie has gone back to work. I hate it when he goes away. I used to go with him, all the time, but with Sarah sometimes it’s just easier to stay here . . .
Kirsten started to form a clear picture of Brook in her head. She had been troubled, obviously, by the past she had endured with her father. It explained why Beth had brought her children half way around the world, to a place that offered nothing but comfort and a sense of security in its obscurity.
Brook’s contentment had a melancholy undertone. Kirsten sighed. Her own shame was nothing compared to what Brook had endured in her past. Certainly Kirsten hadn’t required a councilor when she had left her last job. She had slept with a married man under bizarre circumstances, which was nothing compared to Brook, left scarred by abuse. She felt thankful that Beth, at least, had taken her children away from such an environment. So many women would not admit it of their own husbands, and often stayed, long after the damage had been done.
She put the book back in its dinghy hiding place, replacing the boards carefully so it would go undetected once more, then walked back up to the house. Jamie and Sarah sat in the kitchen, eating sandwiches. The sharp smell of peanut butter filled the air as Kirsten entered. A butter knife covered with a thick later of chunky peanuts on the bread board, its gelatinous remains stuck in thick blobs to the smooth surface, indicated that Sarah had been allowed to make her own sandwich.
“Hi, Kirsty,” Sarah attempted through a mouthful of bread.
“Hi there.” Kirsty smiled as she crossed to the bench and pulled the electric jug from its cradle.
“Sarah, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Jamie scolded.
“Sorry.”
Kirsty filled the jug and put it on to boil. Jamie looked up, seeming almost shy for a moment as their eyes met.
“I thought I’d take Sarah out for a meal tonight.” He looked back at Sarah.
“Oh yay, Dad, where?” Sarah jiggled excitedly in her chair, making it rock noisily on the linoleum.
“Just down to the hotel.” Jamie smiled at his daughter.
“Can Kirsty come?”
“Yes, Kirsten can come if she wants to.” He raised his gaze to hers once more.
“Would you like to join us?”
Kirsten gave him a guarded smile. He never ceased to amaze her. Did he put on this multitude of personalities to confuse her intentionally?
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Jamie said flatly.
“Please come,” Sarah begged.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy having your dad all to yourself,” Kirsten replied.
“Well, I am away tomorrow again, so how bout it kiddo, just you and me?”
“Okay,” Sarah replied with a somber nod of the head. “Next time will you come with us?”
“Next time? Sure, why not.”
* * * *
When they had left Kirsty changed into her swimsuit and ventured down to the pool. The clouds began to thicken overhead, forming low grey thunderheads above her, amplifying the heat. The sea was a deep emerald green and lay eerily still. It was a fantastic time to swim. The disappearing sun cast a red shadow on the underside of the angry sky.
Kirsten looked down at her upper thigh, where a purple bruise had formed from her fall the previous evening. She poked it but it didn’t hurt anymore. They built them tough where she came from. She smiled at the thought of her family back home. What would they be doing right now? If the weather was good they would probably be starting a barbeque. Her father would have donned his apron and would be beer in hand, cooking steak and chicken kebabs.
Shelley had probably been to the beach with Stephen, like she did most weekends in the summer, probably tired from playing volleyball. She was the middle child, fussy and independent, the one who got the good looks and mum’s blond hair. She was never happy with her lot though. She still lived at home, despite the fact that she had been in the same job for three years now and probably earned more than her father had at that age, while he was married with a child on the way.
Alicia would be studying hard no doubt. She had exams coming up for her last year of High School, and at eighteen she knew exactly what she wanted in life. Getting a full time job out of school was not on her agenda, she wanted to go to University to study veterinary science. Like Kirsten, she had inherited their father’s ruby complexion, the red hair which got them in so much trouble and an ambition to do and say exactly what was on her mind. Kirsten constantly had to bite her tongue to stop her brain going into gear. Alicia unfortunately, had not learned that restraint yet. The three girls had their differences when it came to interests. It must have driven her parents crazy when they all wanted to do different things. Early on Kirsty had a passion
for ballet, but when she realised her hips were not designed to look good in a tutu she soon turned to swimming, then netball and hockey.
Shelley was the musical one in the family. She started with the recorder in primary school, driving everyone crazy with her shrill practices. Then she had learned the guitar and the drums. Finally when Kirsten’s parents had refused to buy the drum kit she dreamed of, Shelley had turned to kayaking and volley ball. Alicia’s passion had always been horse riding, and although they had neither the room, nor the money to buy her a horse, she always found ways to do it. Clubs, friends and a part time job when she was fourteen at the stables, had ensured she could always keep that contact. She loved animals, hence the reason for wanting to become a vet.
After swimming several lengths of the short pool Kirsten dried off and returned to the house. She plucked a b
ook from the shelf on the landing, something easy to read by Marian Keyes and retired to her bedroom for the evening. She lay on the bed, wearing just a thin pair of boxer shorts and a camisole. It had been a relaxing day and the stress from the previous week had melted away entirely. She soon drifted off on top of the bed, book in hand, windows open to the soft westerly breeze. It was the thunder and lightning that woke her about three hours later. First the lightning strike, which cut clear across the dark sky, making Kirsten blink and wonder what had happened. As she stretched and yawned, the thunder clapped its hand across the sky, with an echoing boom so close to the house it made Kirsten jump. The sound reverberated as she sat up and her heart skipped in her chest. She pulled on her robe and snuck out into the hall. She no longer wanted to be on the third floor. She climbed down to the second floor, wondering briefly what time it was. She had no idea how long she had been asleep and she hadn’t heard the others come home. She opened Sarah’s door. It was dark, but she could hear the soft sound of her breathing coming from the bed.
“You okay, Sarah?” she asked in a whisper.
There was no answer, but the steady rhythmic breathing continued. Kirsty pulled the door shut then carried on to the ground floor. Another strike of lightning illuminated the hallway as she wound her way down to the lounge. The thunder followed closely behind, this time a little more muted from her position in the bowels of the house. The thunder rolled away to silence, and as she neared the lounge another sound took its place. It was a steady ivory melody, rolling with passion from tender, talented hands. The darkness seemed to amplify the sound, a slow mournful tune which built to a classical crescendo, then dropped away to a sweet, soulful tease of music. Kirsten remembered Beth’s words and realised it must be Jamie at the piano. Silently she crept barefoot to the lounge entrance and leaned against the doorframe to watch him. His head was bowed over the keys and his body swayed in time to his playing. He seemed so engrossed in his music that he didn’t see her; his eyes closed intermittently as he was swept away by his own song.
A bolt of lightning that lit up the sky in increments of silver before it died away, made Kirsten jump again.
Jamie looked up and saw her, but continued to play. He seemed completely unfazed by the electrical storm, even when a great clap of thunder shook the walls.
“It won’t hurt you,” he said softly over the music.
Kirsten puzzled over the statement. Was he talking about the weather, or himself?
“How do you know?”
Jamie stopped playing, placed both hands on his thighs and regarded her with sympathy. Then he shifted his gaze to the windows. The only light in the room was the glow that came from two candles burning atop the old grand piano.
“Because it’s sheet lightning. It’s in the clouds. It’s not coming to earth.”
“Oh,” Kirsten blushed, once again showing her ignorance. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your playing.” She turned to leave.
“It’s okay, stay.” He stood up and took his glass from the side table. Kirsten could see a small amount of brown liquid in the bottom, which he quickly emptied. “Would you like a drink?”
Kirsten stepped further into the room. “I’m not much of a drinker. What are you having?”
Jamie moved forward and swirled his now empty glass under her nose. A strong liquor smell filled her nostrils and she screwed up her nose. Jamie’s laughter rose above the sound of the thunder. “Brandy.”
“I don’t think so.” Kirsten smiled.
“How ‘bout something a little softer for the lady?” Without waiting for an answer he turned to the bar and poured her a double nip of Baileys over ice. He swaggered back to where she stood by the window, watching for the next bolt of lightning. It was the most relaxed Kirsten had seen him yet; his shoulders had dropped their defensive pose for a more subdued demeanor. He too, was obviously completely happy being here without Beth or Tyler.
“Thank you,” she accepted the crystal tumbler he handed her and sipped on the brown liquid, feeling its warmth slide down her throat.
Jamie returned to the piano and sat down. “Do you play?”
Kirsten shook her curls as the sky behind her lit up the room once more. Jamie’s face became clear for a split second. He was very handsome when he dropped the selfindulgent scowl; his skin was clear and his eyes bright. Small dimples formed at the edges of his mouth when he smiled.
“My sister is the musical one in the family,” Kirsten projected above the thunder.
“You have sisters?” He seemed genuinely surprised, like she must have come from under a rock, not from a normal family with siblings and human parents.
“Two younger sisters,” Kirsty confirmed.
“Are they like you?” Jamie looked down at the piano keys so Kirsten could not tell if he was being facetious or genuinely interested. The timbre of his voice gave nothing away.
“Are they like me?” she questioned, hoping he would clarify what he meant. He looked up and smiled. “You have this habit of repeating questions.”
Her defenses kicked into low gear. “Why don’t you like me?”
“Who said I don’t like you?”
Kirsten shuffled to the edge of the piano and leaned over it. “You certainly don’t act as though you do.”
Jamie met her with a leveling stare. “How do you know what I act like? You’ve only known me, what, a week? Besides, why is it so important that I like you?”
“It’s not I guess. I just thought for Sarah’s sake we could at least be friendly to one another.” She turned to walk away. She could feel her anger boiling up inside her, and the last thing she wanted was another confrontation like she’d had with Tyler.
“Wait, Kirsty.”
She turned and eyed him with speculation, waited for him to continue.
“I’m a prick, you’ll get used to it. I just don’t know whose side you’re on yet. I have no idea what goes on in Beth and Tyler’s mind. For all I know you’re here to use for ammunition against me.”
“Whose side I’m on?” Kirsten frowned. “Ammunition? Jesus, you people are just one big happy family aren’t you? For what it’s worth, whether you want to believe me or not, I don’t want anything to do with whatever games you play between yourselves. I’m here to do a job, and that job is to look after your daughter. So if you want to talk sides, then I’m on hers.” She groaned. There she was, doing it again. Her mouth had just gone into full gear before her brain could put the brakes on. Jamie smiled; a smarmy little grin which made Kirsten wonder if he was laughing at her or in appreciation for her.
“Look, I can’t expect you to understand half of what goes on here, but maybe if you stick around long enough you’ll find out why I don’t trust certain people.”
“Well, I intend on sticking around for Sarah’s sake.” Kirsten crossed her arms and stood her ground. As if to back her up a flash of lightning illuminated the floor. The storm was moving away now, drifting down the bay further. Jamie watched it go, as if it were a friend leaving for the last time. Kirsten felt sorry for him then. The look in his eyes seemed so pained. If he was so unhappy here then why didn’t he take Sarah and go? Beth had already intimated he had parents in Nelson who would surely help him out with Sarah. “Why do you stay here Jamie?”
His eyes cleared and he looked back at her. “For reasons you wouldn’t understand.”
She shrugged. “Maybe one day you’ll understand I’m not the enemy. Until then I guess I’m guilty until proven otherwise.” She left him then, sitting in the dark watching her go. She was so over it. Jamie’s wall was not coming down any time soon. The armour was on and the stage for battle set. At least now she knew where she stood with him.
Chapter 7
“Sarah, I love your story.” Kirsten held the page up in the light of the window and smiled. It was the best work Sarah had done all week. She looked down to see the little girl grinning up at her.
“Do you like it?” She blinked her big eyes in surprise.
“You know what? I like it so much I think this one should be seen by everyone. Come on.” Kirsten headed to the door.
Sarah almost knocked her chair backward as she stood up. She had been itching to go downstairs since she had heard Tyler arrive home from town, but now her interest lay in what Kirsten intended on doing with her carefully crafted tale.
“Where are you going to put it?”
“I think we’ll put this one on the fridge.”
“No, Kirsty, please don’t.”
Kirsten was surprised by the protest. She knelt beside Sarah and took her by the arm.
“Why not, Sarah? This is good work. Don’t you want everyone to read it?”
“Gran might get mad.” Her forehead creased into thin lines. Kirsty smiled. “No she won’t, honey. I promise.”
They wandered downstairs and Kirsten looked at the lined refill page once more. Sarah had decorated the edges with a thick brown frame, and at the bottom had drawn a colourful picture of children riding horses under a sun filled sky. The story crafted above was a tale of Sarah’s friend Misty, whom she had met at the school. Misty lived on a farm with her own horses and had subsequently told Sarah she must come to ride with her sometime. Sarah’s imagination had gone into overdrive and the story had tumbled out.
