by Ash Harlow
“Sure. Can I borrow a car? Ginger’s just called me. She’s broken down.”
“She’s probably forgotten to fill her gas tank,” Luther said, scooping out more chutney.
“It involved a loud noise, so I don’t think it’s gas.”
I passed her the keys, but Luther stopped me.
“I’m due to pick up our dinner,” he said. “I’ll pick her up.”
“Are you sure?” Darcy asked, but he was already leaving the kitchen. “She’s on Governor Lane.”
“Anything else you need?” he called from the front door.
“No,” we replied in unison.
Darcy swung around to me. “What the heck?”
“You know Luther. He’s protective.”
“But, that’s Ginger. He even has a special scowl, specifically for her.”
“Deep down, he thinks she’s okay, in a big brother, annoying little sister sort of way.”
“I doubt she’d want to hear that.” She went to her handbag which was sitting on the counter. I watched her pull out the mail, flick through the envelopes and flyers. “Electricity bill, lost cat, store catalogs for Sara.”
“You can probably return any of Sara’s mail.” I slid Darcy’s wine across the counter to her, and tasted my beer.
“Oh, this is exciting. An invitation to an art exhibition.”
“Everyone gets those.”
She held up one finger. “This one’s special. All the paintings are done by dogs. They’re raising funds for an animal shelter.”
“Give them a donation,” I said. “They do it every year and the paintings are what you would expect.”
“Doggy?”
“Yep.”
At the next envelope she paused, frowned, turned it over to check the blank back, then tucked it behind the other envelopes and shoved them all back into her bag.
“Mostly bills,” she said. “I wonder what it was like in the old days when you actually received letters from friends. I had a pen pal when I was seven, but it didn’t last. Life is small when you’re a kid, so I guess we just ran out of things to write about. She lived on the west coast, and she had a pony. I think she despised me for living in the city. Funny how judgmental she was for such a young girl. It’s humid tonight, isn’t it? Feels like we’re going to get rain. I wonder how long Luther and Ginger will be. I hope her car’s okay.”
She was rambling. Darcy didn’t ramble. “What’s happened?”
She gave me an odd smile that I couldn’t quite interpret. “Nothing’s happened. I guess it feels strange that after Saturday, I’m unemployed again. Well, except for the aftermath of the gala, and wrapping up the loose ends.”
As far as I was concerned, she wasn’t going anywhere. “There’s plenty for you to do here, Darcy. You’ll never be unemployed in this town.”
She looked at the envelopes in her bag again, then zipped it closed. “I’m not sure. I haven’t had time to give it much thought, and suddenly the gala’s here and then, it seems, a void.”
I crossed the kitchen and laid my hands on her shoulders, pressing my lips to her forehead. “There’s no rush. You deserve a break. You’ve worked damned hard since you arrived.”
“I’m used to working hard year-round, like most people with full-time employment.”
“You’ve done a year’s work in three months.”
“I have to keep pushing forward, Oliver. There isn’t a limitless supply of good jobs.”
“But there’s me and you, and there are opportunities in Waitapu. Tell me what’s happened to make you insecure, and we’ll fix it together.”
She kissed me quickly, a shut-this-down sort of kiss, and before I could dig any deeper the front door opened.
Ginger appeared in the kitchen with Luther behind her. “Car’s faarked,” she announced.
Darcy snorted. “Five minutes in his company and you sound exactly like Luther.”
“There’s nobody like me. I’m one of a kind,” Luther said, placing enough takeout food on the kitchen island to feed a rugby team.
“Good impersonation, huh?” Ginger started opening each bag and peering inside. “That was his diagnosis. He turned the key, nothing happened, and without any attempt to soften the blow, he said: Ginger, your car’s fucked.”
I passed out plates while Darcy organized drinks. “The good news, Ginge, is that Luther is not a mechanic. Ants know more about car engines than he does. Leave me the key and I’ll get someone to look at it for you.”
“Thank you, Oliver. I’m actually hoping it will be stolen tonight and wrecked. Then I can claim it on insurance. Could you arrange that for me?”
“That’s more Luther’s line of business,” Darcy teased.
“I’ve got a guy at Tradewind whose son is obsessed with car engines. I’m sure he’d love to look it over.”
Ginger dished herself a serving of prawns. “Thanks, Oli, but I think I’ll have to phone the wreckers and see what they’ll give me for it. I can’t afford repairs. I’ve still got my bike—”
“We’ll fix it, Virginia, I’ve already told you that,” Luther growled.
“Virginia?” Darcy, asked with feigned innocence. “Virginia?”
“What? That’s her name.”
“Fine, Luther. Virginia, would you like to come out to the patio with me? It’s such a lovely evening,” Darcy said in a ridiculous fake-posh voice.
The girls left the kitchen, laughing, and Luther turned to me. “See what happens when I try to be nice.”
“Calling her Virginia was probably a step too far. It sounded like you were trying to get into her pants.”
“Fuck off, Sackville, I was trying to keep things formal. You’ve had nothing but sex on the brain since Darcy showed up.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Yes, jealous, that’s exactly what I am. The only thing missing in my life is a woman to complicate it. You’re right. Desperate for that sort of shit. Jealous as hell,” he scoffed, and picked up his plate. “Come on, let’s join them. They’ll be plotting out there. As you said, Oli, know your enemy.”
“Ginger is not the enemy,” I said, following him.
“You know what I mean.”
“One day, she’ll find out, Luther. You can’t micromanage this shit.”
He swung so fast the noodles on his plate rushed to the edge, and it was only his quick reflexes that kept them from sliding to the floor. “Her mother is nuts, and I made a promise to a dying person. I’ll micromanage the fuck out of this thing for the rest of my life.”
“Yes, you will. But just in case you’ve forgotten, you’re human and there’s a big universe out there that likes to mess with us. I think the past three months have shown us just how quirky that universe can be. I just hope to god there’s a Plan B in your strategy.”
“Oliver, who are you talking to? There’s a plan assigned to every letter in the alphabet. I trust you haven’t talked about this with Darcy.”
“Yes, trust me on that. I want Darcy to like you.”
He laughed. “Trust me. Darcy loves me.”
“I wouldn’t push it that far.”
Dinner entertainment was provided by a pair of comical fledgling oystercatchers at the bottom of the garden, poking about in the mud at the river edge. They were covered in gray fluff, yet to grow the handsome sleek black feathers of adulthood. Their parents ushered them along when they delayed and squawked to be fed, rather than foraging for their own food.
The birds were a welcome distraction. Luther provided a hilarious commentary to their antics, and all the while Ginger watched Luther like an adoring puppy.
36 ~ DARCY
“You’re making me nervous, staring at me like that, Oliver.” I smoothed down my dress for the umpteenth time. It didn’t need smoothing down, the fine silky material hung perfectly. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time. Two hours until the gala started. We’d have to leave in twelve minutes.
“Every man is going to be staring at you tonight.
You look stunning. I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it? Will the rain stay away? I feel as though I’m going to throw up.”
Oliver pulled me into his arms. “Please don’t throw up, it’ll ruin your makeup. Listen to me. Tonight is going to be fantastic. I want you to enjoy yourself. Everything is perfectly planned right down to the last napkin placement. You are not to go around checking everything again. You’ve already done that, okay?”
“What if—”
He pressed a finger to my lips to stop me imagining a new disaster. Then he used his voice to turn me into putty. “What if it went brilliantly, and we raised lots of money for the Trust? What if only good things happened? You know what they say about self-fulfilling prophecies? Let’s make this amazing.”
I nodded my head. His finger was still on my lips and I stuck my tongue out and licked it. He didn’t move, he just smiled and kept talking.
“What if I told you I loved you? Yes, you can answer,” he said, taking his finger away.
My heart jumped to my throat. I was still haunted by a letter that I’d been too scared to open. I’d shifted it from my handbag and tucked it into a drawer under a T-shirt, but it was like the damned thing had a life of its own, the power it had over me. I had a good idea what it said, but right now, the gala was the only area where I could devote my energy. I could learn about my next battle when the event was over.
Would Oliver still love me once the contents of the letter were known?
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, pushing my fears back to a place they could hide for another couple of days. Oliver had backed me up over Rob. This new challenge would raise new doubts, but I was confident he’d at least be willing to listen. I let his love wrap around my heart like a protective shield.
“If you told me …” I stopped. My voice trembled when I wanted it to be strong. “If you told me you loved me, I’d have to be completely unoriginal and tell you that I loved you, too.”
“Happy to take every cliché you want to throw my way, Miss Darcy.” He stroked my cheek. “I want to kiss the lipstick off your mouth, but that would make us late. Come on. It’s going to be spectacular and I want you to experience this evening in the same way all the other guests will.”
The Lodge parking lot was already full with people being directed to additional parking spaces on the lawn. It was part of the reason I was worried about the weather. If it rained, we’d need a fleet of tractors to tow the vehicles out.
I asked about the weather again and Oliver shot me a bemused look.
“I know, I know, concentrate on the things I can control.”
“Wrong,” he said. “Concentrate on enjoying yourself.”
Guests were ushered to the area on the north side of the Lodge where the marquee and stage were set up. We passed through the foyer, bustling with volunteers and catering staff, and into the small reception room where our guest artists waited. I hurried first to meet our emcee, Nick Netherton, a well-known broadcaster who was brilliant at these events. He kissed me on each cheek and told me how wonderful it was to have me back in New Zealand.
“I hope you’re staying, Darcy,” he said.
Oliver took my hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
Nick went over the format for the evening again with me. I doubt it was because he needed to, it was more likely because he could see I needed to hear that everything from his side was under control.
Pearl was standing to one side talking with Maraea. I had met her the previous day at rehearsals. What an amazing young woman. So confident, yet self-effacing, and genuinely happy to be able to help us out.
“Darcy, I’m so excited,” she said, taking my hands in hers. She lowered her voice. “I’ve talked Reuben into a duet with me. It’s going to be rough and raw and unpractised. I can’t believe it. Total career highlight.”
Behind me, Reuben laughed. “I doubt that,” he said, then bent in to kiss me. “You look beautiful, Darcy.”
“I’m the blimp,” Stella said, giving me as much of a hug as she could over her belly, which seemed to have doubled in size since I last saw her. She pointed to it. “We should have sold advertising space on here. As a blank canvas, it’s enormous. But Reuben said it would be deflated soon enough so unlikely to get bids.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t mention the idea when we had lunch. Even a week would have fetched a fortune.”
Stella laughed. “Reuben Creed’s wife walking around with your advertising message on her pregnant tummy. What we wouldn’t tell them is that the week would be spent on a remote island. Nobody would see it.”
Reuben bent and kissed Stella. “I’ll see you a bit later, Stell, I have to go. Can you look after her for me, Darcy?”
“Because I’m totally incapable of looking after myself,” Stella teased.
“Behave,” Reuben said, and disappeared with Oliver, Mike, Pearl, and the other musicians.
“How is he?” I asked.
“For someone who hasn’t performed onstage for a couple of years, he’s pretty awesome. Really excited. I’m so pleased you asked him.”
“And we’re so pleased he agreed.”
Maraea came over to us. “Right, you two, I’m ordering you to take your seats. I’m not going to ask you twice, just go and do it.” She glanced around at the people still in the room. “Getting this bunch to move is impossible. It’s like they’re cemented to the floor.”
“Let me help you,” I suggested.
Maraea held up her hand. “No way. Tonight, you’re a guest. Go, go,” she said, shooing us away with her hands.
We found our table in front of the stage where Ginger was already seated.
“Darcy, this is so glamorous,” she said as we sat.
“You look pretty glamorous yourself.”
“I’ve been studying the seating plan. Luther’s at this table. Don’t let me drink too much in case I lose control of my hands. Or my mouth. I’m going to stick to water.”
“You’re drinking champagne already, Ginge.” I said.
“Well, after this. It’s water.”
Luther arrived and told us all how beautiful we looked which turned Ginger scarlet. There were empty seats for Reuben and Oliver. Reuben’s presence here was still a secret and we were hoping there weren’t too many guests who might recognize Stella before he came on. At the table next to us were the people who’d forked out a small fortune to have dinner with Pearl. I sneaked a quick glance at them and discovered a diverse mix of ages.
As for the guests? I couldn’t believe the people who’d bought tickets. I’d been to high-profile events in Auckland that hadn’t pulled this sort of crowd. A-listers, athletes, politicians. Oliver had told me it would be like this, but I hadn’t been that confident. It seems a lot of them have holiday homes in Waitapu and, for some reason, feel connected to the cause. I wasn’t complaining. Ticket sales would give us a healthy profit, but what we really wanted was for them to go crazy bidding on the auction items.
Nick stepped onto the stage and adjusted the microphone, and the crowd fell silent. He welcomed everyone and introduced Oliver. I watched the man who just an hour ago had told me he loved me take over the mic.
Oliver looked magnificent in his tuxedo, and as he spoke, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He explained about the Trust, and what they intended to do with the money raised. Then he told the story of Rocco in brief brutal details, and dedicated the evening to every person present whose life had been affected by addiction of their own, or a family member or friend.
He finished to a great round of applause.
Nick took the mic again and explained how the silent auction would work, running through items that included everything from world cruises, extraordinary experiences, boats, cars, insanely expensive jewelry, to sporting memorabilia. “I know you’ve all got smartphones so if you haven’t managed to download the app, raise your hand and one of the assistants will be at
your side to walk you through it. Same goes for mobiles that need recharging. No excuses for not bidding.”
The stage went dark and Nick vanished into the wings. Silhouettes moved across the stage as Pearl’s backup band took their places. A figure moved to the front, accompanied by a murmur rippling through the audience. But from the left of the stage came a haunting melody, moving with a small range of notes, sliding in pitch at the end. It was a traditional waiata tangi, a lament that sent a chill down my spine. One spotlight appeared on the stage, following Maraea as she walked with solemn, determined steps toward the center.
Once there, her lament shifted to waiata aroha, a song of love, and from the right side of the stage, another voice joined her. Spotlit, Pearl walked the same solemn, respectful steps until she met with Maraea, and they finished the song. The crowd erupted and I don’t think there was a person in the audience unmoved.
Stella wiped her eyes. “I could blame it on hormones, but that song gets me every time.”
“I don’t even have hormones to blame,” I said, dabbing at my eyes with my napkin. “And, I had no idea Maraea was going to do that. It was beautiful.”
Oliver slipped into his seat beside me. “Did you like that little surprise?”
“I loved it. So appropriate and such a beautiful way to begin the evening.”
Pearl was fantastic and performed way beyond her promised thirty minutes. Halfway through a song Oliver nudged me.
“Look, over to the right.”
Reuben stood in the shadows at the edge of the stage. Pearl was singing a cover of one of his songs and when she got to the chorus, he walked across the stage, casually playing an acoustic guitar, and joined in. You could feel the two seconds of disbelief in the audience before they erupted with applause and cheers.
I leaned over to Stella. “There are actually women who should know better screaming for your husband.”
She shook her head. “He’ll pretend he hates it, but look at him, he’s lapping it up.
At the finish of the song, Pearl bid the audience farewell, and Reuben continued playing.
Five songs and a lot of banter later, Stella turned to me. “You’ve unleashed a monster,” she said. “We’ll have to get security to get him off the stage. Dinner will be ruined.”
