Written in the Stars

by Xavier, Dilys

  ‘Let’s get Christmas out of the way,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe things will sort themselves out.’

  Chapter Ten

  Steve had not seen much of his friend, Jock MacTavish, since their last year at Dunedin University. The strong bond they had formed whilst attending college had strengthened over the following years, and Jock had gone into the family engineering. He surprised Steve by phoning one evening to ask for advice.

  ‘We had a piece of pumping equipment imported from America some years ago; it’s been okay until now, but it’s no longer working properly.’ He sounded frustrated over the phone. ‘On top of that, the company has gone into liquidation and their spare parts division no longer exists.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘Any chance you can help?’ The two friends had a lengthy conversation about the problem and then Jock rang off. Three days later he called again. The detailed sketches that Steve had sent to help him sort out the problem had not relieved the situation.

  ‘Surely you can fix a pump,’ Steve protested. ‘You don’t need me to tell you how?’

  ‘I thought so, but maybe it’s just that I can’t read your handwriting.’

  ‘Thanks a bunch.’

  ‘Would you come down and sort it out for us? We haven’t spent much time together over the past few years, so it’ll be a good excuse to meet up, have a few beers and catch up on the news and all that.’ There was a pause. ‘We’ll pay your airfare and you could make a little holiday out of it. How about it, eh?’

  Steve agreed. It would be a welcome break away from the awkward situation with Kirsty, he knew he needed time to himself. And now as the plane began its descent he looked down on the small town that nestled at the bottom of South Island, and smiled. He was looking forward to the reunion with a great deal of pleasure; it would be good to see his old friend again.

  Jock was waiting in the reception area.

  ‘Well, Stevie,’ he said, clasping his friend’s hand tightly. ‘It’s so good to see you again. Come on, the car’s outside. I’ve done my license in by too much drink, so Jenny had to drive me here.’

  ‘Jenny?’

  ‘My kid sister.’

  ‘Ah, I vaguely remember a youngster, skinny, obnoxious and under your feet all the time.’ Steve laughed. ‘I suppose she’s changed by now?’

  ‘You’ll soon see for yourself.’

  Jenny acknowledged Steve’s hello and then shoved the Mitsubishi into gear and accelerated fiercely out of the airport parking lot. She glanced at him from time to time as she drove towards the MacTavish home, but made no effort to join in the conversation. When she jammed on the brake outside the house, she turned to her brother.

  ‘Will you be monopolizing Steve the whole weekend?’

  ‘Go away with you,’ Jock growled, softly. ‘Leave the man be. You’ve got boyfriends aplenty.’

  After she got out of the car Jock handed Steve the car keys. ‘You can drive us to the factory.’

  Jock’s father looked up as they entered the office, and seemed pleased to see Steve again.

  ‘I wondered why my son couldn’t sort out our mechanical problem himself,’ he said, grumpily. ‘It’s a bit silly to drag you all this way.’

  ‘Well, come on, let’s have a look at that pump,’ Steve said, shrugging himself into a pair of overalls. It took longer than he had anticipated to isolate the problem, and he had to fabricate a piece to replace a damaged part, that meant it was nearly five o’clock before he finished.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said, wiping his hands clean on cotton waste. ‘You’ll just have to insert the O rings when they arrive. I’ll put them in the post first thing Monday morning.’

  ‘Thanks, Steve. I suppose I could have fixed it myself and kept the old man happy, but you’ve always been more of a hands-on man than myself.’ Jock slapped him on the back. ‘Anyway, it was a good excuse to catch up with you. Now, I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Let’s find a pub.’

  After they had dined, the two friends retired to the study with a bottle of malt whiskey.

  They were nearly half way through the bottle when Jenny poked her head around the door after saying goodnight to her date.

  ‘Are you going to invite me in for a drink?’ she asked, tossing her head provocatively, ‘or are you keeping it all to yourself?’

  Steve studied her in the subdued lighting, noticing that every aspect of her face seemed a little out of proportion. Her blue eyes were too large, her freckled, upturned nose too small, and her mouth too wide. Even her limbs look awkward, her long shapely legs ending in a tucked-up, seductive little bottom. However, as a whole, she was incredibly attractive, and quite unusual. She caught his eye and smiled.

  ‘So, Steve, what are you going to do with yourself for the rest of weekend?’ she asked, in her soft Scottish brogue. ‘Are you going to stagger from pub to pub with my dear brother, reminiscing about the good old days?’

  ‘Have you any better suggestions?’

  ‘Aye, but you’ll need to ask,’ Jenny said, quietly, peering at him over the top of her glass. ‘Na tim’rous beastie a gud enow, m’loon.’

  Jock laughed uproariously, but refused to comment about her choice of words, except to say that he had misgivings about her morals. ‘Many years ago, she decided to live up to a redhead’s reputation rather than live it down,’ he said, and laughed again. ‘But don’t get me wrong, she’s a bonnie lass and I love her dearly.’

  The two men spent the next morning fishing off the jetty, and then lunched at a nearby pub. Mindful of Jenny’s admonition, Steve steered his friend away from the bar afterwards, and went for a drive in the country. By the time they returned to the MacTavish house, it was late afternoon, and Jenny met them at the door.

  ‘Maureen said she’d love to meet your old flat mate,’ she announced, looking meaningfully at Jock. ‘And she’s looking forward to having dinner with you both this evening.’

  Jock took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

  ‘Women! Bah, they’ll take over your life given half a chance.’ He turned to Steve. ‘Maureen and I have an agreement of sorts.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jenny agreed, a trifle sarcastically. ‘She has to chase after you. If she didn’t take the initiative, she’d never get her hands on you.’

  ‘So you decided to give her a helping hand?’

  ‘Aye.’ She grinned mischievously and then turned to Steve. ‘I’ve lined up the most sought after woman in Invercargill for you.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, Jenny.’ Steve said, trying to keep a straight face. ‘I hope you’ve found a date for yourself as well.’

  Jenny laughed softly. ‘Touché.’

  They managed to get a table at one of the better restaurants in town. The food was good, but the service was better, and the wine waiter kept their glasses full. Jock and Maureen seem to complement each other perfectly, and Jenny hinted that they would probably tie the knot next year.

  Like all restaurants in provincial cities, it closed the doors at ten o’clock, and as they made their way outside Jenny slipped her hand into Steve’s. ‘It’s too early to go home. Let’s go for a drink somewhere.’

  He looked into her upturned face and smiled. ‘Yes, the night’s young.’ Steve was about to say, ‘have you any ideas, Jock’ , when Maureen spoke up,

  ‘Jock’s taking me home while he’s still sober.’ As she pulled Jock towards the car, Maureen waved them a farewell with her free hand. ‘We’ll catch up tomorrow.’

  They watched them drive away, and Jenny gave a lilting laugh.

  ‘Poor old Jock, he irons himself out and then he’s good for nothing, so Maureen ends up even more frustrated.’

  ‘Why does she put up with him then?’

  ‘Why does any woman put up with any particular man? Usually because she loves him.’ She paused and then added. ‘Too much.’

  ‘And you? What about you?’

  ‘I haven’t found the man I want to spend the rest of my life with; not yet,’ she repli
ed, seriously. Then on a lighter note she added. ‘Come on, we’re wasting time. There’s whiskey to be drunk.’

  The first pub they chose was too dismal and almost deserted; the second was full of roistering drunks, and rather than risk another disappointment, Jenny suggested they should go home. As she drove back to the MacTavish house, Steve studied her profile again, and with her vital personality, it was easy to see why she was so attractive to men. She led the way into the house and headed for the study.

  ‘Let’s hope there’s some whiskey left,’ she said, switching on the light. She held up the bottle. ‘Aye, there’s enough for one, or maybe two each.’

  Steve raised his glass. ‘What do the Scots say? Here’s looking up your kilts?’

  ‘Slainte mhaith.’ Jenny laughed and clinked her tumbler against his. ‘Slainte mhaith means good health.

  When he stood up and placed the empty glass on the table, she moved to his side. For a brief moment she looked up into his face and then wrapped both arms around his neck.

  ‘Kiss me, Steve,’ she breathed, huskily. ‘Kiss me like you really mean it.’ Then she drew his head down until their lips met.

  Her tiny tongue sought his and the sensation sent shivers down his spine. He placed both hands on her buttocks, and pulled her closer to himself as she pressed her slender body against his. When they finally pulled apart he drew in a deep breath as the feelings generated deep within him threatened to explode. Totally surprised at her boldness, he gazed at her in silence.

  ‘That’s only for special guys, m’loon,’ she said, softly. ‘And you’re very special.’

  ‘But, you don’t…’ Steve began.

  ‘You may not think so,’ Jenny said, quietly. ‘But from the moment I saw you, it was as if I were propelled towards you.’

  As Steve tried to think of a reply, Jenny turned off the light. ‘Let’s call it a night.’ She laughed softly. ‘I’ll not be responsible for what happens if you let me kiss you like that again.’

  ‘But, I…’

  ‘I’ll not come between you and Kirsty, but that relationship is not going to last forever, is it?’

  As he climbed into bed later, Steve reviewed the evening. Jenny had dominated his thoughts and desires all evening, and it was only now that she was out of his sight that he was able to think about the other woman in his life. Almost at once he recalled a similar situation with Suzi Lysle Spencer. When they had been together in Wales, all thoughts of Kirsty had disappeared from his mind. What am I trying to tell myself? How can I just push the memory of Kirsty into the background as easily as that? He wondered.

  He was just dropping off to sleep when the memory of Jenny’s kiss flooded back. When he finally fell asleep the night was filled with dreams of the women in his life. As he watched the scenes his mind was playing, he noted how the dark, almost sultry comeliness of Kirsty contrasted with the fresh natural beauty of auburn haired Suzi. Both of them were a world apart from Jenny’s brazen attractiveness. Steve broke out in a cold sweat when in his dream he had to choose between them, and was still agonizing whom to pick when someone called his name.

  A gentle tap on the door was followed by Mrs MacTavish’s repeated question. ‘Would you no’ like a cup of tea, Steve?’ When he answered, the woman said. ‘I’ll leave it by the door, then.’

  Jock didn’t return until mid-morning. He looked slightly embarrassed, and tried to make a joke of his nocturnal habits, but they fell flat. Jenny was nowhere to be seen. Steve felt both relieved and a little disappointed, and suggested that he and Jock should take a drive before Sunday lunch. When they returned for the meal an hour later, Jenny was waiting for them. ‘You’re just in time. Come on, it doesn’t do to keep Mother waiting.’

  Once lunch was over, the three of them settled in a comfortable spot in the garden, but a few minutes later Jock went inside to make coffee. Jenny took advantage of his absence and slid over to sit beside Steve, putting her face close to his. ‘So when am I going to see you again?’

  Steve was searching his mind for a suitable answer when Jock returned, bearing a tray of coffee. He wagged his finger at Steve. ‘We’d better be going soon, so drink up, or you’ll find it’s a long walk to Auckland if you miss that flight.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Kirsty watched Steve drive away from the house with mixed feelings. She had done everything possible to please him and her foster-parents during the past two weeks. Whenever Hepora or Iritana phoned, she limited the conversation to a few minutes.

  However, the battle within raged on. She greatly appreciated all that Vince and Norah had done for her, and in her own way she loved them both, but she was always conscious that they would never fulfil that inner need. And Steve? Well, he was a wonderful guy, and she loved him too, but not in the way she loved Joey. Steve did not understand how she felt, nor did he realise what was really important to her. It was only when she was with her Maori friends that she felt truly happy.

  She had wondered if he was going on the trip to get away from everything, but he had assured her it was to help out an old friend. Norah had suggested that they visit her sister, but she didn’t fancy sitting around all weekend, so she bundled some clothes into an overnight bag and left a note on the kitchen table, saying: ‘I’ll be back Sunday.’

  Then she let herself out of the house and drove across town to the predominantly Maori area of the city where her friends lived, determined not to get drunk or take any dope. If she kept to that plan she would be all right.

  Hepora greeted her with a kiss as she opened the door of the communal house. ‘Well, hi, Kirsty, come on in.’

  Iritana and her boyfriend turned up soon after and they all went down the pub for a drink. After they had each bought a round, Hepora’s boyfriend picked up a case of beer to take back to the house, and they soon piled into it, sharing it with a few other friends who had dropped in to say hello. Kirsty had enjoyed some beer, but when marijuana was produced she pleaded a headache and went to the bedroom.

  The next morning the house was quiet when she awoke, so after swallowing a quick coffee, she grabbed a plastic bag and was collecting the empties that littered the rooms, when she heard the sound of an approaching car. Through the front window she saw a battered Chrysler Valiant cruising slowly down the street. It came to a halt outside the house and as she watched, a heavily built young man climbed out. Joey. Joey Ruawhane,’ she cried, opening the door and flinging herself into his arms. ‘Oh, Joey.’ All the emotions she had tried to suppress shot to the surface as the big man held her close. After a few moments, he raised Kirsty’s head and looked into her tear stained face.

  ‘I was afraid you might have forgotten me,’ he said.

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Can we talk?’

  Kirsty pulled him into the house gazing lovingly at him as he perched on a kitchen stool.

  ‘It’s so wonderful to see you again, Joey. When did you get out?’

  ‘Yesterday. I rang your folks, and your mum just said you’d gone away for the weekend, but they didn’t know where. I guessed you might be at Hepora’s, so here I am.’ He drew her to him and gently cupped her bottom in one large hand. ‘It’s been a long time, Kirsty. Too long.’

  Over the next fifteen minutes Joey explained that his sentence had been reduced for good behaviour, but before she could question him further about life in prison, Joey grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, let’s go say hello to my folks.’

  ‘What are you going to do now, Joey?’ Kirsty ventured to ask.

  Once again he turned her question back on her. ‘What about you, what have you been up to?’

  ‘It’s a long story, but I’ll try to keep it simple.’

  When she had finished, he sighed,

  ‘It must have been hard trying to please everyone. Like you say, it’s a pity you weren’t born into a full Maori family.’

  ‘I know, but they’ve been so good to me and that’s why I feel guilty about it all.’ She grabbed his hand. ‘I don’t know
what to do, Joey. I tried to explain to them, but they don’t understand my need to be with my own people.’

  ‘So what will you do? Is there anyone you can go to?’

  Kirsty looked at him coyly then touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

  ‘You. I want to be with you.’

  ‘Do you really mean that?’ Joey asked, stamping on the brakes.

  The incredulous look on his face brought tears to Kirsty’s eyes. Barely able to speak she merely nodded her head,

  ‘That changes everything,’ he said firmly, shoving the car into gear and letting out the clutch. ‘Yes, that really does change everything.’

  *

  Suzi placed her coffee on the table by the window, her favourite spot, where she had a view of approaching guests, as well as allowing her to watch the changing pageant of pedestrians who thronged the crowded shopping area. It had been a particularly busy week, and she was pleased that Gary was there to help out. People were still enquiring about Christmas dinner, and it looked as if they would have to arrange two sittings.

  Gary joined her after he had called his bookie again. ‘Don’t know why I bother with this treadmill of an existence,’ he said, as he sat next to Suzi. Noticing her sudden look of concern, he laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t quit before Christmas.’

  ‘Can you support yourself by gambling?’

  ‘I don’t call it gambling,’ Gary replied, testily, ‘it’s a form of investment, like the stock market.’

  ‘But surely it’s more risky?’

  ‘Only if you don’t know what you’re doing.’