Orla woke up early. The couch bed at the end of the bedroom was exactly as it had been the night before. Unslept in and folded up, with Kiri asleep beside it. Clearly Melanie had spent the night somewhere else. For a moment Orla was worried: what if she’d had some kind of accident? Then Orla remembered her own overnight adventure with Eddie and decided it was more likely he’d taken her to a friend’s place or ‘borrowed’ a bach.
Orla went downstairs for a bath. Then she made herself some breakfast. She opened the front door to let Kiri out and looked at the sky. Still blue, even though a southerly change had been predicted. The temperature had certainly dropped. She slathered peanut butter on her toast and took it outside with her coffee.
She was just thinking about going back in to fetch a jersey when she heard voices from the orchard. A moment later, Melanie and Eddie were coming down the steps. Melanie had her heels in her hand, and her messy hair attested to a night under the stars. Actually it attested to having been dragged through a gorse-bush backwards — but Orla was pretty sure that wasn’t what had been going on. When they caught sight of her, Melanie giggled uneasily and Eddie looked sheepish. Now Orla had no doubt at all about what had occurred during the night.
‘Well, I’ll be off now,’ Eddie announced before Orla could think of anything to say.
‘And I’ll just slip into the bathroom,’ Melanie added, disappearing into the cottage as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
‘I’ll see you later then,’ Orla called out, as Eddie vanished down the path. ‘And thanks for the lovely evening.’
God knows what he planned to do. Presumably he’d have to walk or hitch a ride home since his car was still broken down on the Summit Road.
Orla fetched her jersey and went back to her coffee. She drank it slowly and tried to work out what she felt. Poking and probing, trying to discover a bleed or a bruise, she found nothing. Almost. There were still a few shards of humiliation, and they pricked her every time she imagined how she must have looked to Rosa and Jack — and Michael. Especially Michael.
‘Good morning,’ came a nervous little voice from the doorway.
Orla turned to see a freshly washed Melanie.
‘I hope I haven’t upset you …’ she started stammering.
‘I didn’t know, I swear … Eddie only told me this morning.’
‘Don’t worry. It was nothing.’
Melanie sat down with Orla. She looked like a dog that was about to be kicked. Perhaps in sympathy, Kiri padded over and put her nose on Melanie’s lap.
‘Not enough of something even to end it,’ Orla added, this being another of those truths she only comprehended once she uttered it.
‘Oh, I’m so glad,’ Melanie gushed in relief.
Orla was surprised to see that Melanie looked happy, radiant even.
‘Oh, we had such a wonderful night,’ Melanie carried on gushing. ‘We lay under the stars, and then we walked up the hill to see the harbour. It was so lovely in the dark. All the lights in Akaroa and the little settlements were twinkling. And then we slept in Eddie’s car.’
‘So you didn’t spend the night in the orchard?’
‘I know I’m not exactly a sylph, but even I couldn’t lie on that rock-hard ground all night,’ Melanie objected. And then apparently realising that Orla was confused, she said, ‘I was just getting my shoes from the orchard.’
‘You’ve been walking around barefoot all night?’ Now Orla was astonished. She looked down at Melanie’s feet, and saw they were laced with cuts.
Melanie followed Orla’s gaze and said ruefully, ‘It didn’t seem to worry me at the time.’
Of course not, Orla thought. You’d had enough alcohol to anaesthetise a horse.
‘So what’s the plan now?’ Orla asked.
‘Rosa said I could move back to their cottage tonight. So I guess I’ll pack my things.’
‘Actually, I meant with Eddie.’
‘No plan,’ Melanie said. ‘Eddie’s not the planning type.’
‘He certainly isn’t,’ Orla agreed.
Just before lunch, Orla went down to the barn. She forgot to text, as Michael had suggested, so she knocked on the barn door, feeling as silly as usual — nobody could possibly hear a knock from up in the living quarters. She went up the stairs, calling out, ‘Anyone home? It’s only me, Orla.’
Michael, fully dressed, shaved and combed, leaned over the balustrade at the top and called, ‘Come on up. I’m just making some coffee.’
‘Have you got milk?’ Orla asked when she reached the top of the stairs.
‘I have indeed. I’ve already been down to Akaroa this morning. But I thought you had your coffee black?’
‘I do,’ Orla confirmed, and wondered why this small talk felt comforting. Probably because Eddie had never remembered a thing about what she’d liked or didn’t like, and wouldn’t have cared even if he had remembered.
Orla sat down on the couch. She ran her hands over it, enjoying the feel of the soft, worn leather. Michael made the coffee, and brought it over on a tray with a plate of amaretti biscuits.
‘Did you make these yourself?’ she asked, when she realised they were still warm.
‘No. I bought them at a café. Made this morning.’ He took a biscuit and looked at her. ‘So to what do I owe the honour? I don’t think you dropped in to do an inventory of my food supplies.’
Orla smiled. And hesitated.
‘What is it?’ Michael asked.
‘Melanie and Eddie,’ she admitted.
‘Oh.’ He pulled the leather armchair closer, the castors letting out a hideous squeak as he did so. Then he sat back, stretched out his long legs and put his hands behind his head. He looked as though he was ready for the entire saga. No matter how many episodes there were.
‘I’ll be brief,’ Orla assured him. ‘Melanie spent the night with Eddie.’
‘In front of you? On the fold-down?’ He looked thoroughly shocked.
She shook her head. ‘No. Very romantically in his old bomb on the side of the road.’
‘Heartbreak Hotel, huh?’ Michael responded.
Orla couldn’t help but laugh.
‘And what about you?’ he asked, giving her a piercing look.
Orla shrugged. ‘Embarrassed more than anything else. How could I even have preferred him to Henry? What was I thinking?’
‘What indeed,’ Michael echoed. ‘But …’
‘But what?’
He sat forward and struggled with his words. ‘Henry wasn’t exactly right for you either, was he?’
‘What d’you mean?’ Orla dropped her eyes. Why had she so thoughtlessly brought up Eddie’s father? She didn’t want to talk about either of the Millards.
‘Two grown-up sons,’ Michael expanded. ‘And the way Eddie carries on, grandchildren before you know it.’
Orla winced.
‘Besides, even if you’d never looked twice at Eddie, imagine the trouble he’d have caused in your relationship with his father.’
Orla wished Michael would stop. He didn’t.
‘And what about your own life? Your own plans? To travel, say, or —’
‘Henry Millard had — has — plenty of money,’ Orla interrupted.
‘Yes, but he came back to settle down. To do a bit of business in the city, yes, but basically to spend most of his time relaxing in a country cottage. He probably wants to take up a long-deferred passion for fishing.’
Orla couldn’t help but grin at the mental image of Henry Millard in a plaid shirt and waders.
‘And half the time you still call him Henry Millard,’ Michael pointed out. ‘Like he’s your old headmaster, or a friend of your father’s.’
‘Do I?’ Orla asked in surprise. She hadn’t realised. It had just come naturally to be respectful towards him. But now she saw clearly that this respect had been due to his age and the gentrified atmosphere he created around him. When Michael didn’t say anything further, Orla added awkwardly, ‘Anyway, I told you, that ship has well and truly sailed.’
‘Word is he’s started seeing the lovely Connie,’ Michael replied.
‘Why do you say it in that tone of voice?’
‘What red-blooded male wouldn’t be interested?’
Was that a pinprick of jealousy Orla experienced deep inside her? Surely not. It was obvious to everyone that Connie was beautiful. Michael didn’t mean anything by it. Did he?
‘Same problems for her as for you, though,’ Michael went on. ‘A man ready to settle down and with grown-up children. But I don’t get the impression Connie wants to hang around the bay forever, do you?’
‘Oh, that’s good then. If she isn’t interested in Henry Millard, that leaves her free for you.’
‘Aren’t you a red-blooded male?’
‘I am,’ Michael agreed. ‘But to be honest, she’s not my type.’
‘What is your type?’ Orla asked, her curiosity piqued.
Michael looked away. He seemed cagey.
Orla swallowed a mouthful of coffee and studied him. ‘What’s not to like about Connie?’ she pressed.
‘Nothing,’ he said shortly. ‘Nothing at all. And if I didn’t already have feelings for —’
‘Already have feelings?’ Orla interrupted.
‘Well, yes.’ He looked down at his expensive shoes.
Orla waited for him to carry on.
The silence lengthened.
They finished their coffee.
Slowly it became apparent to Orla that there was a strange atmosphere between them, an odd kind of tension. Or was she imagining it? The trouble with having been with someone like Eddie was that you started to second-guess your every impression.
Orla stood up, not knowing how else to break the awkward mood. Michael stood up, too.
‘So what are we doing this afternoon? Want me to come sailing?’ she joked.
‘You don’t like sailing,’ he responded and began putting the coffee cups on the tray.
‘I could pretend to.’
‘No thanks,’ he answered quietly.
Back in the cottage Melanie was stretched out on the couch with a magazine, with Kiri asleep beside her.
‘I thought you were going down to Rosa’s?’ Orla asked.
‘Just waiting for Jack to pick me up.’ Melanie put her magazine down and sat up. Then she looked meaningfully at Orla. ‘So when you went out with Eddie … how long did it take him to … you know, call back or drop around again or something?’
Orla grinned. ‘I don’t believe he ever did.’
‘What?’ Melanie looked horrified.
‘I had to just wait to run into him again,’ Orla explained, recalling how unpleasant that had been. ‘Then hope that he’d suggest something. I never got the feeling that he wanted things to be more organised. It’s how he tells himself he isn’t like his father.’
‘But he isn’t like his father, is he?’
‘No. He’s quite different. But just in case everyone else doesn’t realise it, he has to keep waving a placard.’
‘You don’t sound as if you like him much,’ Melanie pouted.
Orla was embarrassed. Melanie was clearly smitten. Poor girl.
‘Oh, I’m way too uptight for the likes of him,’ Orla said airily. ‘It just took me a while to realise it. Eddie needs to be with a free spirit.’
Melanie’s eyes brightened. Of course she saw herself as the appropriate free spirit — that was perfectly obvious. She opened her mouth to say something, but whatever it was got interrupted by her cell phone.
‘Jack’s been held up,’ Melanie announced when she’d taken the call.
‘I’ll take you down to Rosa’s if you like,’ Orla volunteered. ‘Grab your bags.’
Melanie jumped up, and soon they were in the car and driving down to the bay. Kiri stuck her head out of the backseat window and barked at sheep, cows, wood pigeons — in fact, at everything that moved.
When they pulled up, Rosa was in the garden performing some necessary rite on the splendidly espaliered grapevines. She waved them over, and Melanie gave some garbled explanation about Jack’s holdup.
‘Oh well, go inside and make yourself at home,’ Rosa said, and Melanie went off with her capacious luggage. Orla hovered, trying to think how she could begin what she had to say.
‘What’s the matter?’ Rosa asked, peering at her from under her sunhat. ‘Melanie and Eddie?’
Orla spilled the beans.
‘In the car, too!’ she concluded. ‘Can you believe it? Michael called it Heartbreak Hotel.’
‘Michael can talk,’ Rosa retorted. ‘I don’t think he ever drew the line at the back seats of cars.’ Then she added, ‘Poor Melanie. Ben was a good guy. A really good guy. Now she’s gone and thrown herself on the Millard pyre.’
‘Eddie’s not that bad,’ Orla protested, almost immediately wondering why she’d bothered to stick up for him. ‘And Melanie is —’
‘My best friend,’ Rosa said, cutting Orla off before she could say anything unduly negative. ‘I know you’ve seen her at her worst, but she’s a good person. She hasn’t got an unkind bone in her body. She always sees the best in people.’
Except Michael, Orla thought.
‘Let’s go in and I’ll show you the baby’s room,’ Rosa suggested, taking off her gardening gloves.
What did it mean that Melanie thought badly of Michael? Even after finding out about Orla, and from the horse’s mouth, too, Melanie was still perfectly happy to go out with Eddie. What did that say about Michael? Anything? Something Orla ought to be attending to?
‘Orla?’ Rosa prompted.
They’d now reached the spare bedroom which sported its new French doors and newly sanded floor. But Orla had been so deep in her whirl of thoughts that she hadn’t quite taken anything in, much less made any appreciative noises.
‘Lovely,’ she enthused. And it was. The light pouring in through the new doors lit up the now-gleaming wood of the old floors and the stripped window frames.
‘Isn’t it?’ Melanie said. She had her bags open on the bed, and clothing was spilling out everywhere. Orla wasn’t sure what she was doing exactly — she looked as if she were sorting her entire lifetime’s wardrobe in readiness for a trip to the designer thrift shop, but every so often she’d pick up her phone and stare at it anxiously.
Thank God that’s not me, Orla thought. At the same time she recalled Mamabear’s admonition not to be desperate. Well, she’d escaped being desperate by a hair’s breadth, maybe by an even finer measurement, and she was never, ever, ever, ever going to be caught again.
‘Look, Orla’s blanked out on us for the second time,’ Melanie observed, and Rosa laughed.
Orla pulled herself together. ‘Well, I’ll be off now. I’ve got to finish the work for Connie in the next day or so. Then we’re going to Magnet Bay to take photographs.’
‘That’s where the proper surfies go,’ Melanie announced with a wistful expression. ‘Of course Ben never went there …’ She broke off and the wistfulness turned to a look of pain.
‘He wasn’t actually a surfie,’ Rosa explained to Orla. ‘Just looked like one. Sort of.’
Melanie nodded agreement and smiled sadly. Then, looking as if she were making a special effort to bounce back, she squared her shoulders and picked up her phone. She grimaced but didn’t crumple.
Orla murmured several more goodbyes and left before anybody could suggest an outing. She was looking forward to completing her work. Yes, it was a lovely day, warm enough for a walk, even a picnic, but the cottage and its delicious solitude beckoned.
Orla hadn’t been working long when there was a tentative knock on the cottage door.
She sighed. ‘Come in,’ she called.
Michael poked his nose around the door. ‘Not too busy for a visit, are you? I’ve got some great news.’
Orla shut her laptop. She could see that he had a bottle in his hand. It looked like champagne. God, didn’t anybody here do anything but drink? She experienced a prick of irritation and then a pang of regret: only a short time ago she’d have welcomed Michael and his celebratory bottle with open arms. But after the morning’s awkwardness in the barn —
Before she had time to analyse the pang any further, Michael had walked into the middle of the room and was popping the cork. The bottle must have been as excited as he was, because the contents started to foam and gush out all over the floor.
‘Quick, glasses!’ he cried. ‘This stuff’s expensive.’
Of course it was. She grabbed two champagne flutes off the shelf and ineptly tried to position one of them under the foaming bottle. Michael grabbed the glass from her hand and soon had the liquid under his manly control.
When they both had a glass of champagne in their hands, he held his up and said, ‘To Kukupa House.’
‘Kukupa?’ Orla repeated blankly.
‘That’s what I’ve decided to call my new acquisition — after the wood pigeons.’
‘So they’ve accepted your offer?’
He nodded and said with great pleasure, ‘And I didn’t even have to go as high as I was prepared to go.’
Orla turned away and sat down on a chair at the dining table.
‘What’s the matter?’ Michael asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘Cheer up, then. I realise you’re probably still upset with Melanie, but —’
‘I’m not upset with Melanie. Or Eddie. Just so you know.’
Her tone of voice obviously warned him that some kind of trouble was afoot, but the expression on his face was one of confusion. ‘Something’s wrong,’ he insisted.
Orla said nothing. She could hardly blurt out: What exactly are you up to? You said that Melanie accused you of being a butterfly, of going from flower to flower. Well, I’ve just finished with one asshole and I don’t want to —
‘Orla?’ Michael enquired.
She pulled herself together and picked up her glass. Mustering as much enthusiasm as she was capable of, she said, ‘To Kukupa House.’
Michael raised his glass in response. ‘And the best thing is, I can have it in two weeks. The current owners have already moved on.’
‘Wow — and they left all that beautiful furniture behind just for you.’
It took Michael a moment or two to realise she was joking. Then he said happily, ‘I’m negotiating to buy a few of the best pieces from the vendors. They collected things from all over the world.’
‘So what do you think Rosa will say?’ Orla asked, and immediately could have kicked herself. Why couldn’t she just let him enjoy his moment?
‘Oh,’ he said airily, ‘she’ll say I’m being ridiculous. As usual. I know she doesn’t want me around, but —’
‘But what?’ Orla watched his face carefully.
He shrugged and said evasively, ‘I like it here. I know people.’
‘You know Rosa and Jack,’ Orla corrected him. ‘Melanie will be going back to Auckland soon, and Eddie most likely won’t darken this door again.’
‘I know you.’
Orla laughed a little scornfully. ‘And I’m probably booking my airfare home tomorrow. I’ll be gone even before Melanie.’
‘Are you going home?’ He gazed at her without blinking.
‘No. But you know what I mean.’
‘Good,’ he said, pouring himself another glass as Orla waved away the bottle. ‘So where are we eating tonight?’
‘I’m eating here.’
‘Oh come on, don’t be a spoilsport.’
‘You can eat here, too, if you like. I have old cheese and some sliced white bread.’
‘Really? You don’t want to come out with me and kick up your heels?’
‘Nope.’
‘But you have to!’ he objected in amazement.
‘What I have to do is deliver this article to Connie before morning.’ It was an outright lie, but Orla was now desperate to get him out of the cottage so she could put her feelings in order. The last thing she wanted to do was to go out eating and drinking with him.
Looking baffled, Michael picked up his half-full bottle and walked towards the door.
‘Have a nice evening then,’ he threw over his shoulder as he left.
Orla was glad she didn’t have to finish her article because her whole ‘writing mood’ was ruined. How could she write when so many distracting thoughts were churning relentlessly in her head?
She sat down at the table and toyed with her champagne flute. It still contained a mouthful or two of the expensive champagne, so she threw it back and tried to work out why she was now so annoyed with Michael. After all, not so long ago she’d been defending him to Rosa, assuring her that his contrition was sincere, calling Rosa’s negative attitude ‘baggage’. And only a short while after that, she’d been highly doubtful about Rosa’s suspicion that Michael still held a candle for her, and aghast at her suggestion that Orla should play up to him. Where had all those sane and measured responses gone?
Orla finally worked her way back to the scene in the barn. Somehow it seemed to be the source of the growing confusion in her feelings for Michael. What had he said? Oh yes, that Eddie would soon prefer women who weren’t stupid enough to fall for him.
The memory still rankled. Of course women like Rosa weren’t fooled by the likes of Eddie. Oh no. Right from the start Rosa had viewed Eddie with a jaundiced eye and warned Orla off. Rosa wasn’t stupid.
Orla stood up and washed her glass. She grabbed a slice of white bread from the packet — stale as it turned out — and slapped on some cheese. There was a smidgen of Rosa’s peach chutney left in a bottle, which she scraped out with a spoon. It was sugary and sticky, and probably should have been rinsed down the sink. She didn’t care. She was completely taken up with resentment at Michael’s summation of her.
‘It’s stupid of you to think I’m stupid,’ she fumed out loud between huge bites of her unpleasant sandwich. ‘You don’t know me. I’ve never had anything to do with an “Eddie” before. I’ve had all sorts of handsome egomaniacs prancing around me for years and never submitted —’
Really, Orla — submitted?
Orla couldn’t help a lopsided grin as one of Mamabear’s outdated words crept into her thought processes. Some of her annoyance dissipated. After all, Michael had been the only one who’d noticed that she was upset, the only one who’d thought to come after her.
And then she remembered holding Michael’s kind hand as he’d led her back up the path, and the way his face had lit up when she turned to him.
On Melanie’s final evening, Orla was invited to Rosa’s for dinner. It was going to be a girls’ night in: Jack was away overnight at Fisherman’s Bay, and Michael wasn’t invited. Orla was looking forward to a relaxing, casual evening, but when Rosa opened the door she looked angry.
‘That bloody Melanie,’ she began as soon as Orla was inside and the dogs had calmed down. ‘She’s ditched us.’
Orla hardly needed to be told who Melanie had ditched them for, but it seemed Rosa wanted to vent.
‘Eddie turned up just as I pulled the cake out of the oven. I swear that bloodhound can smell food a mile away.’
Orla laughed, but Rosa started working herself up to ever greater indignation. ‘When Melanie said she and Eddie were going out, of course I invited him to stay. Even though he’d be completely out of place and ruin our whole evening. But they became quite coy and awkward, and then the penny dropped. They wanted to go off somewhere and sleep together! No way did Melanie plan to spend her last night with Eddie eating cake and holding hands.’
‘At least it’s better than Melanie staring at her cell phone all evening and becoming maudlin,’ Orla replied, trying to placate her.
‘You think?’ Rosa retorted, refusing to be placated. ‘I’ve got no idea where they’ve gone, and her plane leaves first thing in the morning. If she’s not back in time for her ride to the airport—’
‘I’m sure she will be,’ Orla interjected quickly, although, given her own experience with Eddie, she wasn’t sure at all. He’d probably swept Melanie off to the most inaccessible shack on the Peninsula, and they’d be stumbling through the moonlight for hours when his unreliable car broke down.
Gradually, as they worked their way through the excellent meal, Rosa became more phlegmatic. She even began expressing concern for Melanie, and wondering whether she should text her.
‘She’ll be fine,’ Orla said. And probably out of range.
They’d just finished their coffee and were lazily watching the fire burn down when Melanie and Eddie burst through the door. Archie and Kiri got such a fright they set up a frantic racket.
‘Oh darling, it’s me, Mummy,’ Melanie cried to the circling Kiri. Kiri stopped dead in her tracks, but Archie had decided that the moment was too good to let go and continued to bark loudly. Eddie rose to the occasion by barking back.
‘Oh, stop it!’ Rosa bellowed above the noise.
Eddie laughed and threw himself on the couch.
Melanie sat down beside him, and Eddie put his arm around her shoulders in a languid, hang-loose kind of way. The gesture wasn’t proprietorial, much less protective; in fact, Orla thought somewhat maliciously, it looked as if he just wanted somewhere to hang his arm.
‘Where have you two been?’ Rosa asked.
‘There’s an empty house on the road to Little Pigeon Bay,’ Eddie replied. ‘We went there.’
Uh-oh, Orla thought, an empty house. That doesn’t sound good.
‘You mean abandoned or just unoccupied?’ Rosa asked with narrowed eyes.
Eddie sidestepped the question. ‘There was an old barbecue outside so we lit a bonfire and had a beaut meal.’
‘The bonfire was huge,’ Melanie giggled. ‘Sparks as high as—’
‘You do know there’s still a total fire ban?’ Rosa interrupted tersely.
‘Stupid fire bans,’ Eddie remarked. ‘They start them when it’s hot and dry and then forget to end them.’
Orla and Rosa met each other’s eyes.
‘Then we couldn’t be bothered finding more wood so we went indoors for a while,’ Eddie carried on.
‘Indoors?’ Rosa repeated. ‘The house was unlocked?’
‘It had beds,’ Melanie remarked, snuggling closer to Eddie.
‘Beds!’ Rosa exclaimed. ‘That means it’s someone’s house—’
‘Oh, take a chill pill,’ Eddie retorted. ‘We made the bed before we left.’
The expression on Rosa’s face matched Orla’s own. Astonishment.
‘Well, I better get going now, babe,’ Eddie said, jumping up.
‘Really?’ Melanie looked up at him with imploring eyes.
‘You know how it is,’ he said, patting her on the head. ‘Places to go, things to do.’
Sighing with reluctance, Melanie followed Eddie out the door. She was gone for only a few minutes before she returned, looking glum.
‘Melanie!’ Rosa rounded on her the second she was back. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t go around breaking into people’s houses and cavorting in their beds. Who d’you think you are? Goldilocks?’
‘What was I supposed to do?’ Melanie wailed. ‘Eddie isn’t the type who … takes no for an answer.’
Amen to that, Orla thought.
‘You could at least try,’ Rosa scolded.
Yes, Orla thought, and see where that gets you. On the fast track to nowhere. If you fall for Eddie, you have to do everything he wants.
‘And this barbecue you had — where did Eddie get the food?’
‘From their freezer,’ Melanie responded in a small voice.
‘Right, set your alarm clock for five,’ Rosa replied angrily. ‘We’ll have to go up there before I take you to the airport.’
‘What for?’ Melanie asked timidly.
‘What for? To replace the meat and tidy up.’