Diana
She hadn’t dared to leave the motel room for more than five minutes at a time. The only foray she’d made was to a corner shop for bread and tinned soup, but even that wasn’t without its hazards. The woman behind the counter liked to think of herself as a people person.
‘You from Britain?’
‘Mm.’ Diana handed over a ten-dollar note, keeping an anxious eye on the motel’s front entrance. ‘Just a flying visit.’
‘Long way to come for a flying visit.’
‘Mm.’
‘Visiting family?’
‘My daughter.’
The shopkeeper pressed buttons on her till. ‘Married a Kiwi, did she?’
‘Yes. Yes, she did.’
‘Three—fifty—and that’s your ten.’ The drawer slammed shut. ‘Our Kiwi lads scrub up well. Grandkids?’
‘Three.’
‘Aw! You’ll miss them. Mine’s in Australia at the moment—Brisbane—lovely climate. She’s got a boyfriend. Fingers crossed they don’t get too serious.’
‘Fingers crossed,’ murmured Diana, though she’d lost the thread of the conversation some time ago. Fortunately another customer arrived, and she was able to make her escape.
Back in her room, she lay down on the bed while grey twilight gathered in the corners of the world. The fridge was humming. This is limbo, she thought. A suburban motel room. Beyond its net curtains, people were living their lives. She heard traffic on the road, a radio playing music, and Barry—Your host! Welcome to the Four Seasons Motel—whistling as he messed about with his recycling bins.
Rome Calvin hadn’t come back. He hadn’t phoned, either. He’d promised to do one or the other. Diana was losing hope.
Her eyes ached, so she closed them. She allowed herself the luxury of imagining the most magical thing: someone was knocking on the door. It was a glass sliding door, and it gasped every time it was pulled open or shut. Diana pictured herself hauling it open and seeing Cassy.
A shout jerked her out of her daydream. It was dark outside, though security lighting glowed behind the curtains. Just kids yelling, from the sound of it. Some giggling.
Footsteps. Diana held her breath as two shadows passed. Then they’d gone, leaving nothing but cigarette smoke. A little of it crept in, smelling of disappointment.
And so the evening went on: coming and going, talking and laughing and arguing. Human life.
Then she heard it: the low, steady rattle of an engine outside her door. It idled for a few seconds. Stopped. Silence. Diana lay rigid and alert, her eyes fixed on the net curtains. She didn’t breathe at all.
A vehicle door opened—creak—and shut. A woman’s voice seemed to ask a question. A male voice answered. They moved quietly, whoever they were. Just one or two words, mumbled and inaudible. Shadows loomed at the door.
Five years she’d been waiting for this. The shadows swelled and distorted until they became the distinct shapes of two people. Then came the sound of knuckles, rapping on glass.
Diana was already sprinting across the room. The door gasped as she threw it open.
A woman stood under the security light. She was dressed in shapeless blue and carried nothing except a passport. Her eyes were like pools of oil, staring and empty.
‘Hello, Mum,’ she said.
Cairo
They left Rotorua within minutes. Diana had suggested spending the night in the motel, since it was already late. Rome and Cairo wouldn’t hear of it. Cairo was sure they needed to get as far away as possible, and as fast.
‘I don’t know how they’ll react,’ said Rome. His eyes kept straying towards the road.
Diana didn’t seem to understand their tension. ‘They can’t take Cassy away by force. I’d just call the police.’
Rome and Cairo looked at each other. It felt strange, after so long, to hear an Outsider’s view of Gethsemane. Diana’s sheer naivety was startling. Cairo didn’t know how to explain that this wasn’t about brute force; it was about a far more powerful kind of control.
‘You ought to go immediately,’ Rome insisted. ‘Just believe me.’
They remained in the motel room while Diana packed and checked out. The tide of courage that had carried Cairo along the forestry track was ebbing away. Her Gethsemane mind was back in control and in a screaming panic. She paced up and down, wringing her hands. If she could have clicked her fingers and landed safely back in her cabin, she would have done it; if Aden had turned up at the motel she would have gone home with him.
Suddenly she froze, her heart thumping in her ribcage. There was another woman in the room, silently watching her. It took horrified seconds for her to understand that she was looking at herself in a full-length mirror.
‘Is this who I am?’ she asked Rome. ‘Is this how I look?’
She stepped closer, fascinated by the thin figure with its blue clothes and short hair. Frightened eyes stared at her. Then she turned her back, vowing not to look at herself again. She wasn’t going to add vanity to the list of shameful things she’d done.
‘Right,’ said Diana, at the door. ‘I’ve paid. We can go.’
It felt odd to be sitting in a car. Everything felt so odd. Through the open window, Cairo saw Diana hugging Rome. That seemed odd too.
‘I don’t know if I’m allowed to do this,’ Diana said fervently, as she kissed his cheek, ‘but I’m going to anyway! Rome Calvin, you are my hero. I can’t thank you enough. Thank you. Thank you.’ She kissed him again. ‘What you’ve done for this family can never be repaid. We’re in your debt. If you need anything—if we can help you in any way—please, please ask.’
Rome was blushing. ‘I hope it’s all … your husband …’
‘I hope so too.’
As Diana started the engine, Rome leaned down to Cairo’s window.
‘I’m worried for you, little brother,’ she said. ‘They’ll know you helped me.’
‘I went on a fishing trip and came back after dark. I do it all the time.’
‘But you were meant to be hunting! And my passport? It didn’t just jump out of the safe.’
Rome laughed, giving the car’s roof a jaunty pat. She admired his courage.
‘Relax. I’ve got friends in high places. I’m the son of God incarnate, remember?’