‘You take care,’ Keith said, reaching a hand to squeeze her shoulder. She swung herself onto the bike. ‘See you Wednesday,’ he added.
She didn’t think so. Not any Wednesday. There didn’t seem any point in going back to the club. Except … except for Angus.
Geneva rolled away from the sunlight that crept through the skin of her lids, pulling her into consciousness. She must have forgotten to close the curtains. As she moved she felt the twinges that yesterday had left: tightness in her calves, grittiness in her eyes and throat.
She curled in on herself, remembering. Would Angus still be angry? It was her fault if he was. If someone had freaked like that with her, stuffed the trip, put them all in danger … She dug her nails into her balled palms. If only she’d told him.
Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her knees. She wished she’d never heard of climbing; that she lived a million miles away; that Kaitiaki didn’t exist. Most of all, she wished that. The sound of the phone ringing snapped her attention away from wishing. Angus! What would she say? Should she apologise, or try to explain, or —
Her father’s voice at the door interrupted her panic. ‘Genna? Are you awake? Phone for you.’
‘Coming,’ she called, her emotions a volatile mix of excitement and dread as she tumbled across the room.
‘Hi Geneva. I just wanted to check how you are,’ a voice announced when she lifted the receiver from the kitchen bench. She couldn’t place who it was.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’m fine. It’s nearly nine,’ she added stupidly.
‘It is.’ There was a hesitation. ‘Is that too early for you?’
Keith! It was Keith. ‘No, I’m usually up way before this. I must have slept in.’ She curled her toes against the tiles.
‘You probably needed it. Look, I think we should talk about yesterday. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I think it would help.’
Geneva didn’t respond.
‘I’ve lost some good mates to the mountains,’ Keith said after a pause. ‘I do know how it feels.’
Geneva nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her, her fingers tight around the receiver. Across the kitchen Inez jumped from a chair and stretched, her back arching into an improbable curve.
‘Come in and see me some time this week, eh? Whenever you like.’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Maybe.’ Adding belatedly, ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem. Look after yourself, all right? Oh, and it’s none of my business, but maybe you should talk to Angus.’
She made a non-committal sound.
‘Over to you.’
Geneva’s hand was shaking slightly as she returned the phone to its cradle. Keith was right: it was none of his business. She felt cornered, her emotions simmering not far from the boil.
‘Everything okay?’ her father asked, strolling into the kitchen.
Geneva nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘Sounded like a Scottish accent,’ her father continued.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ she snapped.
‘Oh.’ He paused. ‘Sorry.’
Grabbing a battered looking banana from the fruit bowl Geneva marched from the room, leaving both her father and Inez staring after her in surprise.
Geneva had no intention of talking to Keith, or going to the club practice. At lunchtime on Monday she met Dayna in the foyer of the library.
‘Hi, Geneva. Hey, did you pick up a programme for the festival?’ Dayna asked.
Geneva shook her head. ‘I’ve been a bit busy.’ She hesitated. ‘When did you say it starts?’
‘Last weekend. I’ve seen a couple of films already. There’s one on Wednesday that —’
‘I’ll come.’ As soon as the words were out, Geneva wondered whether she’d sounded a bit desperate in her haste, but Dayna didn’t seem to notice.
‘Great! Have you ever seen any of Deepa Mehta’s films?’
Geneva shook her head, contributing little while Dayna rambled on about movies. When the bell rang she was surprised to find the time had gone — and that she felt the better for it. Once or twice Dayna’s acerbic observations had even made her laugh.
‘We can go round to my place first, if you want, so we can change and get something to eat before we head into town.’ She sounded hesitant, the animation she’d shown while she was talking about movies beginning to give way to her more familiar shyness.
‘That sounds good,’ Geneva said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. ‘Anyway, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow in maths.’
‘I’m on library duty at lunchtime.’
‘I’ll come by and say hello.’
Dayna’s face relaxed into a smile. Geneva wasn’t quite convinced about the movie — sub-titles had always seemed too much like hard work — but she was grateful for the distraction, and she admired Dayna’s enthusiasm. Besides which, it was bound to be less stressful than the climbing club.
To her surprise, Geneva enjoyed the movie. Dayna was a genuine film-buff but she didn’t come on too strong and they had more opinions in common than Geneva had expected. Cycling home afterwards she felt replete, as if she’d regained something she hadn’t realised she’d lost. As she drifted to sleep later that night it occurred to her that, since Kitty’s defection last summer, she’d been lonely.
‘Hi, Angus, it’s Geneva.’
‘Hello.’ He sounded cautious. It was nearly a week since the abortive trip to Kaitiaki, and he hadn’t made any effort to get in touch.
‘I was just wondering how you are. And, I guess I wanted to say sorry.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I wondered if we could talk.’
‘Might have been good if we’d done that before now,’ he said, his tone neutral. ‘What happened to you on Wednesday?’
‘Something came up.’
‘You could have let someone know.’
‘Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry. Angus?’ She took a breath. ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you about … about Stephen. I just couldn’t. It’s different now. I’d like to try.’
There was a silence. Geneva didn’t break it. The ball was in his court.
‘I could come over tomorrow,’ he said eventually.
‘That’d be great!’ She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Angus? I’ve missed you.’
A silence stretched between them.
‘I’ll come after lunch,’ Angus said at last.
She spent the morning on edge. When the phone rang at eleven she pounced on it. It was Dayna, full of enthusiasm about another movie. Geneva let her rave for a while before agreeing to meet outside the movie theatre the following afternoon. An hour later, Sonya rang.
‘I saw your father in town a couple of days ago,’ she said. ‘We were talking about you and he said you’d wondered whether Kitty might like a kitten. I think it’s a lovely idea.’
Geneva had forgotten it. ‘Oh, right. Good.’ She hesitated. ‘How’s Kitty?’ Geneva had seen her at school a couple of times but by now they were adept at avoiding one another.
‘Making progress. She’ll be off crutches and onto a walking stick in a few weeks, they think.’ Sonya sounded almost too hearty. ‘She finds the physio quite tiring.’ That explained Kitty’s periodic absences from class. ‘Anyway, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to thank you for your support. I know Kitty hasn’t made it easy.’
Understatement. Geneva brushed Sonya’s thanks away, relieved when the call ended. Right at the moment, Kitty was the last thing she wanted to be thinking about.
Inez rubbed up against her legs and Geneva stooped to pick her up, receiving a grateful purr. ‘Why are people so difficult?’ she asked.
Inez mewled in reply then, with a quick twist, leapt from Geneva’s arms and strode determinedly towards her bowl.
‘Cupboard love,’ Geneva said, reaching into the pantry for cat biscuits.
The mundane action settled her nerves. She made herself a sandwich and went to see if her mother wanted anything. She was asleep, her face
lined and tense, a crumpled tissue wadded in the hand that lay beside her face on the pillow.
Geneva retreated, closing the door quietly behind her.
Soon after, Miriam’s car swung in a broad arc around the gravel parking bay and for a single, horrible moment, Geneva worried that Miriam had come too, ready to muscle her way in with a medley of brisk platitudes. She could scarcely mask her relief when Angus appeared at the door alone, her jangled emotions making their greeting more formal than she’d planned.
‘I’ll make coffee,’ she said. ‘Or tea, if you’d rather?’
‘Whatever.’
She was relieved to keep her back turned and her hands busy. She should have planned this better. Handing him a mug she led the way to the den.
Angus came swiftly to the point. ‘So, what did you want to talk about?’ he asked, dropping into a small, floral armchair: her mother’s.
Geneva folded her legs onto the couch. She could see the tension in his shoulders, his unsmiling face, the leg that jigged as he stared at the room’s pale grey walls, mismatched paintings, memorabilia — at anything but her.
‘It’s not easy, talking about it,’ she said.
Angus let out an explosive breath. ‘Neither is having someone you thought you knew lose it halfway up a mountain because there’s this whole agenda you know nothing about.’ Abandoning his coffee he surged upright and began to pace the room, pausing in front of the low bookshelf where a handful of framed photos sat in a thin film of dust.
‘I didn’t know I’d react like that,’ Geneva said, watching his stiff back.
Angus turned to look at her. ‘You could have put all our lives at risk, you know that?’
It was true. She stared at her hands, curled tightly in her lap.
‘So why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. Her face felt wooden. ‘I didn’t think it through. I just thought it would help me, if I climbed the mountain.’
Angus nodded. ‘And I guess I was pretty useful for that.’
Geneva glared, stung by his tone. ‘What do you mean “useful”?’
‘You couldn’t climb Kaitiaki on your own. I hope it wasn’t too onerous for you, getting me onside.’
Geneva felt blood rush to her face. ‘You’ve got a nerve! You think —’
‘I’ve got a nerve!’ Angus exploded. ‘You’re the one who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me why we’re climbing the bloody mountain. Keith, yeah, but not me.’
‘I didn’t tell Keith, he —
‘I can’t compete with a ghost, Geneva.’
‘You don’t have to! It’s not about competing! It’s —’
Angus moved abruptly. ‘Well that’s the way it bloody feels!’
A thread of anger laced itself into Geneva’s blood. ‘You know, it’s not actually about you! Stephen was —’
‘Right. Exactly right! It was never about me. It was about Stephen.’
Colour seethed into Geneva’s face. ‘So what if it was?’ she demanded.
The door suddenly opened to reveal Geneva’s mother, one hand clutching the doorknob as if it was all that was keeping her upright. Her forehead was pulled into a ladder of lines and the shirt she was wearing was inside out. With an effort Geneva controlled her temper.
‘Mum.’
‘Geneva? I heard someone shouting…’
‘It’s nothing, Mum. You don’t need to worry.’
Angus stepped forward. ‘I’m sorry if we disturbed you, Mrs Knowles. It won’t happen again — I’ m just going.’
Geneva turned to glare at him.
‘It was nice to meet you,’ her mother said vaguely.
Geneva swallowed. She hated the battered look her mother habitually wore. She hated the lurch she’d felt when her mother appeared; the feeling that she was being slowly disembowelled. She dug her fingers into the soft upholstery of a chair that stood nearby. ‘Angus —’
Ignoring her, Angus stalked past her mother and along the hall. A moment later she heard the front door close and an engine start. Tears prickled in her eyes. She’d meant to explain, to apologise — she wasn’t sure how it had gone so wrong. From the window she could see the line of dust that the car left lingering above the driveway.
‘That boy,’ her mother’s voice came from behind her. ‘He was here before. At the time I thought — I saw you with him, by the pool, and I thought —’
All of a sudden Geneva understood. ‘Oh, Mum!’ She turned and wrapped her arms around her mother, feeling how frail she’d grown, her bones poking sharp beneath her skin. She knew, at last, why her mother had fainted — it had been her fault, for not thinking things through. She never seemed to think things through; not the things that mattered.
When Geneva stepped back, tears were leaking slowly, aimlessly, from her mother’s eyes.
‘His name’s Angus,’ she said. ‘He’s a friend — or at least, he was. We had an argument.’
Her mother nodded. ‘He doesn’t look at all like Stephen really,’ she said. ‘It’s just I …’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Mum —’
Her mother waved a hand. ‘I know it’s not … I’m not …’ She turned abruptly and walked out of the room.
Geneva stared after her. Couldn’t her mother see that there was a present as well as a past? That Geneva needed her support, right now? Isn’t that what mothers were for?
It was too much. Turning on her heel she slammed out of the house. Her trainers crunched across the gravel then she was at the gate, her mind a whirl of emotion — anger, mostly, at everything and everyone. Turning right she began to run. Her feet carried her up the familiar track past the sheds, alongside the pine plantation, out over the paddocks. She ran till her side ached, till her knees hurt, till she couldn’t suck any more air into her lungs. Finally she stopped, bent double, wheezing for breath.
‘Oh, fuck it, Stephen!’ she gasped. ‘Why did you have to be so stupid? Why?’
Geneva sank to her knees and howled, tears pouring from her in raging gusts, just as they had when he’d died. Her weeping was wild and uncontrollable. She hadn’t cried that way for months.
By the time she’d drained herself of tears, of emotion, the light was beginning to fade and dull streaks of pink were laced through the clouds. Geneva lifted her head from her knees and looked about. Three startled pairs of eyes stared back at her across the brow of the nearest hill.
She gave a bark of laughter, a raw cracked sound. The sheep scattered. ‘It’s Stephen’s fault,’ she told their retreating backs. ‘If only he hadn’t been so damned stubborn, none of this would have happened.’
Wiping her face on the edge of her shirt, she stood up. Her head was pounding and she was shivering with cold. What had he been trying to prove? Slowly Geneva walked to the top of the rise and turned to face Kaitiaki. The dusk had settled now so that its slopes had been smoothed into simple planes, hiding the dips and folds. It looked like a child’s drawing of a mountain.
‘Stephen,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t give up on you, not yet.’ Turning towards home, she forced her legs into a jog.
23.
Geneva jumped the two steps from the library, nearly dropping the book that Dayna had pushed into her hands.
‘You mean you haven’t read this?’ she’d said. ‘You’ve just got to! It is so good, even though it was written more than sixty years ago — which just shows how little changes when you get right down to it.’
Geneva glanced down at the cover. A girl’s eyes gazed back at her. It had been made into a movie, Dayna said. Her and movies! But she said the book was better.
Rounding the corner of the building Geneva came face to face with Kitty. They stood awkwardly, Kitty on crutches, her leg still heavily bandaged.
‘Hi,’ Geneva said at last.
Kitty nodded.
‘How’s the leg? It must be good to have the plaster off.’
Kitty lifted a shoulder. ‘They’re talking about doing another operation
.’ She spoke as if it was of no great interest; as if it was someone else’s leg they were discussing.
Geneva nodded. ‘They know what they’re doing, I guess. What does your mum think?’
‘Oh, she’s happy. Got me right where she wants me.’ Geneva flinched at the bitterness in Kitty’s voice. ‘Got rid of Jax too. Haven’t heard a peep. That’s the bright side as far as she’s concerned.’
Geneva frowned. ‘I’m sure —’
‘Just forget it,’ Kitty snapped, her bag slipping from her shoulder and tangling with one of the crutches as she turned.
‘Here, let me —’ Geneva was already reaching forward.
‘No!’ It was almost a shout. Geneva drew back, startled. ‘I can manage,’ Kitty added, manoeuvring the bag back onto her shoulder.
A bell rang and the paths around them began to fill. Geneva saw Leonie come out of the tech block and start towards them. She was glad Kitty’s back was turned so she didn’t see Leonie notice them and veer away.
‘Are you going to Bio?’ she asked.
‘Student services. Toddler’s rest time.’
Geneva tried a smile. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘take care.’
There was no reply. As Geneva hurried towards her biology class she considered Kitty’s shell-shocked face, her flash of anger. Both emotions were familiar — too familiar, though in the past the situation had been reversed, with her, rather than Kitty, flailing about at the mercy of her emotions.
After school Geneva cycled to the SPCA. The ginger kittens she’d seen with her father were gone, but from another litter she picked out a small tan creature with dark chocolate stripes on its face and one paw. Its green eyes sparked as she lifted it from the cage.
‘I’d like this one,’ she said.
‘There’s a charge for vaccinations and desexing,’ the woman said, ‘and you’ll need to fill out the paperwork. We like to be sure they’re going to a good home.’
Geneva nodded, fingers judiciously crossed. It was hard to predict how Kitty would react to anything these days.
Two days later, with the kitten tucked inside her schoolbag, she cycled across town. Sonya answered the door, her face blossoming into a smile. ‘Genna! How lovely to see you. Kitty’s lying down but —’
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