Written in the Stars

by Xavier, Dilys

Suzi stared at him as she thought about his words, and was about to comment when Mark bustled in. ‘It’s mighty cold out there,’ he muttered, peeling off his coat and rubbing his hands together. He poured a coffee and pulled up a chair. ‘Well, how did we do today?’

  ‘Good,’ Suzi replied. ‘We had a big lunch crowd and more enquiries about Christmas dinner.’

  ‘We’ve got two up so far, and both at a good price,’ Gary said, grinning.

  Suzi looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  ‘What do you mean, two up so far?’

  ‘Two winners,’ Mark replied, grinning broadly.

  ‘Oh? Don’t tell me you’re betting on horses, too?’

  ‘I’m giving him a few tips.’ Gary laughed again. ‘There’s more than one way to skin a cat.’

  ‘But…’ Suzi began, and then stopped.

  ‘Look, if Gary can afford a Porsche and holidays on the Côte de Azure, it’s gotta be worth the gamble,’ Mark hastily added. ‘All I want is to pay off my bank loan, and what I borrowed from my folks.’

  Rather than get involved in a discussion about horse racing, Suzi turned the conversation back to the restaurant, happy that Mark assured her everything was in place for the wedding reception on the following weekend.

  During a lull that afternoon Suzi phoned Charlize and voiced her concern about Mark’s intention to augment his income by betting on horses.

  ‘Don’t worry; Mark’ll lose interest when Gary leaves; it’s a phase some men go through.’

  When Suzi got home that evening she checked the answer-phone and found a message from Charlize.

  ‘Suzi,’ she shrieked. ‘I’ve won that holiday for two in Australia. Call me straight away.’

  Charlize was still bubbling with excitement when she answered the phone.

  ‘Isn’t it fantastic?’ she cried. ‘An official letter from the distributors of Castlemaine Fourex was waiting for me when I got home.’

  ‘You mean that slogan you scribbled on the back of the pub coaster won first prize?’

  ‘It did, so we’re both off pretty soon. I’ll arrange time off, and you’ll be all right, being your own boss, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Two weeks away will be stretching things.’

  Not to be put off, Charlize enumerated the various excursions that were part of the fully paid holiday in Australia. The prizes included a trip to the barrier reef, a visit to a crocodile farm, and a ride on the scenic railway through the rain forest. It sounded wonderful.

  Suzi thought about arrangements once she replaced the phone; Narelle could take over as hostess and Mark could do the books and banking. She leaned back against the sofa and wondered why she felt so stressed. The business with the inheritance still rankled, but Steve Pardoe had every right to make a claim. If only he had missed the solicitor’s advertisement and she had never met him, life would be much simpler right now.

  ‘Blast you, Steve Pardoe,’ she muttered. ‘You should have stayed where you belong.’

  *

  Chapter Twelve

  Steve spent most of his flight north to Auckland thinking about the weekend with Jock. It had been good to see Jock again, but his thoughts were centred on Jenny. She had dropped him off at the airport and kissed his cheek as Jock shook his hand. Then as he began to walk into the terminal she had slipped a note into his hand.

  When the plane became airborne he pulled it from his pocket.

  Dear Steve,

  Words can’t express how much I enjoyed your visit. I feel as if a whole new chapter of my life is about to begin. Were you the catalyst? I think so. Maybe you only see me as a precocious redhead who enjoys male attention, but I long for something more meaningful. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but something has happened to make me reconsider the possibility. Do you believe in déjà vu? Please keep in touch.’

  He recalled their conversation of the previous night, when she spoke of starting a new job in Auckland in the New Year. If she moved to the northern capital it would complicate things, and although the prospect of a sexual dalliance with her was exciting, it would be unwise. After all he had to consider Kirsty. He folded the note and stuffed it back into his pocket.

  Life had become too complex lately. There were times when he wished Vince had never seen that advertisement in the newspaper and urged him to write to the Welsh solicitor. He had never considered he might have relatives in the U.K, and knew little about his natural parents’ background.

  Vince and Norah were his parents—he knew no others. They had urged him to claim the inheritance, even suggesting he should present his case in person. He probably would have ignored their advice if his Dutch friend, Pieter Boersma, hadn’t written again to ask when he was going to visit them in Holland; it had helped him make up his mind.

  He thought about his visits to places of interest in London, and how he had become embroiled in the break-in at Caxton Manor. He wondered what would have happened if things had happened differently; if he had never gone to the manor house and encountered the burglars or Suzi Lysle Spencer.

  All the if onlys and what ifs ran wild through his head. If he had not become sexually involved with Kirsty and promised to marry her, he would have been free to pursue another path. He might even have considered sharing the manor with Suzi and having the chance to make a new life for himself in Britain, but he had to consider Vince, who had come to rely on him so much lately. Besides, he loved New Zealand, and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The cabin steward’s call to fasten seat belts for landing interrupted his thoughts.

  He collected his car from the car park, and threw his bag onto the back seat. As he headed out of the airport complex, he felt reluctant to go straight home, and found himself driving towards the local club. As he walked into the main bar, he saw Vince drinking with a couple of his friends.

  ‘Steve,’ he called, ‘come and join us.’

  The other men drifted away one by one until only Steve and his father remained. Now that they were alone Vince asked about Jock and his family, and then voiced his concern about Kirsty.

  ‘Norah found her note when she came home on Friday,’ he said, quietly. ‘All it said was, ‘I’ll be home Sunday’.’ That evening a man rang up and asked to speak to her.’ Vince looked worried.

  ‘Do you have any idea who it was?’

  ‘No, but I wondered if it was that this Joey that Kirsty was so involved with had been released from prison. Your mother and I did everything we could to dissuade her from seeing him, but you know what she’s like.’

  ‘Do you think she’s with him?’

  ‘I’m inclined to fear the worst,’ Vince said as he downed the last of his beer. ‘Come on, we’d better go home before I drink myself over the limit.’

  *

  A surge of joy swept through Kirsty as she looked into Joey’s face. The words: ‘I want to be with you’, had completely transformed him.

  ‘That’s the best coming-out present anybody could ever want,’ he said, holding her in his massive arms. Kirsty’s tears slid unchecked down her cheeks as their lips met. His response to her declaration of love brought forth a tenderness that caught her by surprise. She did not know he was capable of such emotion.

  When they arrived at his parents’ house she was greeted like a long lost daughter.

  ‘Kirsty, hey, where’ve you been?’ Joey’s mother, Kathy, folded the young woman into her voluminous bosom. ‘You know you was always welcome here girl. No need to stay away because our Joey was doing time.’ She stepped back and smiled. ‘Now you come say hello to all the folks here.’

  Joey’s homecoming was an excuse for a party, and as soon as the word went around that he was home, friends and relatives dropped in to say hello from all over. Someone organised a hangi. They broke it open late Saturday afternoon, and descended on it like a swarm of hungry locusts. Some time during the night, Joey pulled Kirsty away from the party and led her into the house next door where one of his relatives lived.
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  ‘It’ll be quieter here; Huey won’t be home until the booze runs out.’

  Kirsty slipped out of her clothes and drew Joey down onto the bed. Their excitement tipped them both over the edge within minutes, and it was only as the sun peeped over the horizon that they finally drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Their relationship had waxed and waned over a period of years because Kirsty’s foster parents had disapproved of him and tried to keep them apart, but every now and then Kirsty rebelled, sought him out and renewed their association. She had attended court the day he had been sentenced, and cried bitterly as he was led away.

  She knew there had been times in the past when he had considered taking her away somewhere, but she also knew that the longing to be close to his own family always put an end to such plans. Joey knew where his roots lay, and the traditional link to the past was important to him, as with all Maoris. Although she did not expect to see him again, Kirsty had hoped against hope that he would come looking for her when he was released.

  They spent Sunday visiting friends, and it seemed as if everyone wanted to have a drink with them. It was late afternoon before they found time to talk about what lay ahead. He watched the tears well up in Kirsty’s eyes as he told her that he intended to mend his ways and make provision for the future.

  ‘Bobby’s promised me a job driving the van,’ he said, clasping her hand. ‘It’s a start, eh?’

  ‘That’s great, Joey, really great.’

  ‘Hey, and maybe you and I could…?’ Joey fumbled for his words.

  ‘I’d like that,’ Kirsty said quietly. ‘Yes, that would be really great.’

  ‘But what about your folks, and Steve?’

  Kirsty looked at the huge man by her side, and sighed softly. ‘They know I’m having difficulty in accepting their lifestyle, and I know they don’t understand why. Norah and Vince have been wonderful to me, but they can’t give me what I need. And Steve, well, I could never be the wife he wants. He needs someone quite different from me.’

  Joey listened patiently. ‘Look, I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, Kirsty, but…’

  She looked at him imploringly. ‘What am I going to do, Joey?’

  ‘Kirsty, I’ll do anything to help. Just ask, eh?’ he said with sincerity.

  ‘I’d better go home now. I’ll get a cab,’ she muttered. While they waited for the taxi, Joey held her tenderly in his huge arms as though she were a newborn babe. The bond between them had never been stronger. He helped her climb into the vehicle and whispered his promise again. ‘Anything, Kirsty. Just ask.’

  Norah opened the door as Kirsty pushed the key into the lock.

  ‘I said I’d be home Sunday,’ she said, defiantly. ‘And here I am.’ She glanced at the two men sitting in the lounge. ‘Don’t ask where I’ve been, because I won’t tell you.’

  ‘But Kirsty, we’re only trying to…’ Norah stopped as she pushed past her and headed quickly towards her bedroom.

  ‘Something’s happened to make her change her mind,’ Norah said, as she returned to the sitting room. ‘What are we going to do, Vince?’

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was mid-morning before Kirsty struggled out of bed. Her dreams had been full of Joey gently cradling her in his arms; Joey making love to her; Joey promising her anything to make her happy. And now as she padded into the bathroom, Kirsty wondered how she should break the news to Norah and Vince. And most importantly to Steve. She had to tell them that it was time for her to go, time to get on with the rest of her life, regardless of the outcome.

  After a shower, Kirsty began to pack her belongings. As she sorted through the accumulation of odds and ends that she had collected over the years, her eyes filled with tears. Unable to continue, she went and made herself a drink, and while she sat there, staring into space, Steve walked into the room. He hesitated as though surprised to see her still in the house, but before he could speak she confronted him.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she demanded. ‘I thought you’d be at the factory.’

  ‘I had to pick up my laptop.’

  ‘Do you want coffee?’

  Steve looked at her in amazement, well aware now that their whole future was hanging in the balance and she had just asked him a couple of mundane questions as if everything were perfectly normal. He studied her profile. The dark rings under her eyes were probably due to alcohol and lack of sleep, but they also looked as though she had been crying.

  ‘Yes please,’ he said after some hesitation

  Without a word Kirsty made the coffee and pushed it across to Steve. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tears welled up in her eyes, and slowly rolled down her cheeks.

  Steve moved quickly to her side, but she turned her head away. The tableau seemed frozen in time as they both wrestled with their own thoughts. Kirsty wept softly as she left the room, but unwilling for her to push him out of her life without an explanation, Steve raced after her, and gently turned her around to face him as she was about to enter her bedroom. ‘Talk to me, Kirsty,’ he insisted. ‘At least say something, even if it’s just get lost.’

  As she looked at him in silence, Steve sensed she was fighting a despair that seemed to overwhelm her. Silently, she reached out and touched his face with her fingertips, then nodded her head as if agreeing with herself about something. Finally, she spoke.

  ‘Would you run me over to pick up my car?’

  ‘Sure, we’ll go now if you like.’ He clasped her fingers and pressed them to his lips. ‘While he waited for her to put on some make-up and tidy her hair, Steve went to his room and picked up the jacket soiled with coffee on the trip to Invercargill. He stopped outside the dry cleaner’s, and grabbed the jacket off the back seat and slung it over his arm. As he ran to the shop, the note from Jenny McTavish fell out of the jacket pocket and onto the ground.

  Kirsty jumped out of the car and picked it up. Without thinking, she unfolded the piece of paper and read it. Within minutes, Steve was back in the vehicle, and she the thrust it at him with an angry look in her eyes.

  ‘Who’s Jenny?’ she demanded. ‘And what’s this déjà vu business?’

  *

  Suzi received a phone call from the police to notify her that the four-poster stolen from Caxton Manor could now be reclaimed. When she identified the furniture, the officer told her that she would have to make her own arrangements to have it returned to the house.

  ‘It’s out of our hands now,’ he said.

  After she had completed the necessary forms, Suzi rang a removal firm and arranged for it to be collected. She picked up the phone to ask Mr Duncan if it was all right to enter the house, and then dropped it back on the cradle. Why should she wait for him to ponder over the legalities of her action, and then make a special trip to his chambers to pick up a key? She knew where Uncle Bart had hidden a spare in the garden, so she would have no trouble in letting herself in. And the solicitor would be none the wiser.

  However she felt strangely apprehensive about entering the building alone. The removal firm had promised to be there on the hour, but there was no sign of them yet, and it was nearly ten past. Unwilling to wait any longer, Suzi turned the key in the lock and swung open the door. An overpowering feeling of neglect impressed itself on her mind as she walked from the vestibule into the hall.

  Suzi pushed open the door that led to the sitting room with a feeling of trepidation. In her mind’s eye she could picture Steve Pardoe lurching towards her before he collapsed on the floor at her feet. There were no visible signs of the break-in. In fact, it looked as if the house had been undisturbed since it was closed after Uncle Bart’s funeral. Her eyes pricked with tears at the memory of the eccentric old man she had loved so dearly.

  The sound of a heavy vehicle backing up to the house cut into her reverie. The slightly overweight driver slid out of the cabin and then reached back in for the paperwork. However, as soon as he saw Suzi he made a conscious effort to straighten
up.

  ‘Right,’ he said, in an authoritative tone. ‘I’ll need you to sign for this.’ He peered at the delivery slip as if to check it was the right address.

  Suzi quickly scribbled a signature in the space provided, then gestured at the open door. ‘I’d like you to put in the second room on your right upstairs.

  After the lorry had gone, Suzi walked through the house again. Memories flooded her mind as she went from room to room, recapturing the emotions she had experienced as a young girl eagerly exploring the wonderful old manor. Uncle Bart had proudly explained everything to her in detail, pointing out the original old cottage that predated the rest of the house. The enormously thick internal, buttressed walls contained just two tiny windows that opened onto the corridor leading to the breakfast room.

  Then he had taken her down into the cellar. The flagstone floor had not impressed her at that age, but she had become very excited when she saw the shining fragments of crystal in the huge solid boulders that made up the wall. Her uncle had chuckled when she asked if they were diamonds. She had since learned that they were a clear indication that the foundations were bone dry, and no doubt, it had helped preserve the old house over the years. She walked over to the section of wall that seemed to have been bricked up and ran her hand over it. Knowing there was a huge mound in the garden outside that could well have been a Bronze Age burial mound, she felt convinced that this had been an entrance into a chamber inside the mound. She made up her mind to find out for sure one day.

  One of the highlights of her early visits had been to race up the spiral stone steps, run across the cottage area and then clatter down the great sweeping Victorian staircase to the main hall. And now as she climbed the steps, she wondered what would become of this magnificent building. She had taken stock of the place since the funeral, mentally calculating the cost of replacing the old Victorian drapes and incorporating some form of secondary glazing. The figures had been daunting. She could never afford it under the present circumstances.