MY BROTHER SENT ME a text at 3.16 on a Monday afternoon in the middle of February. Pick me up from Auck airport sis. Have just landed. Don’t tell ma.
The rat! He hadn’t ditched his sim card at all. And not telling Mum would get me in so much trouble. Too bad.
I sent Dad a text: Going to airport to pick up Hadleigh.
Iris texted back: Both of you come to dinner.
Yes! And it being a Monday, I wouldn’t have to leave a message for Mum.
My brother was sitting in the sun waiting for me. He swept me up in a massive hug, then whirled me in a complete circle twice.
‘Good to see you, kiddo. Open the boot, will you?’ We loaded his luggage, but he waved the keys away when I tried to hand them over. ‘You drive, Bess. I’m bushed. Been a long day.’ He settled himself in the passenger seat — and immediately went to sleep. He didn’t wake up till Dad hauled the car door open.
‘Hadleigh! Good to see you, son. Good to see you.’
It was better than good. The missing piece of my world was back where it should be — one of the missing pieces anyway. He gave us presents, including a lapis lazuli pendant and a Peruvian-style hat for me.
‘To keep your ears warm in winter. Made from alpaca wool, fur, hair — whatever.’
‘Hey, I hope you got Mum one too.’
‘Yep. Sure did!’ He scrabbled round in his pack and pulled out the hat. It was a mix of brick red, mud brown, sickly green and bilious yellow.
Iris and I stared at it. ‘It’s perfectly, sublimely hideous,’ I said.
‘Took me a week to find that,’ he said. ‘Not bad, if I do say it myself.’
‘Will she wear it?’ Iris asked.
‘Yes!’ Hadleigh and I chorused.
‘I hope I see her in it,’ Dad said.
That was the only time my mother intruded into the conversation all evening. In typical bloke fashion too, neither Dad nor Hadleigh mentioned the factory.
Tired as he was, Hadleigh drove me back to Mum’s, where I had to say farewell to the use of his car. We talked about his travels through South America, and not about airport meltdowns or abandonment. I didn’t mind. He was back and he was Hadleigh — loving, kind and imperfect.
‘You’ll have to come in or she’ll kill me,’ I said.
‘She mightn’t be home,’ he said — and she wasn’t.
‘You’re such a tin arse,’ I told him, but I made him write her a note. Hi Mum. Just got home. Sorry to miss you. Love Hadleigh.
‘Liar,’ I said.
‘The love bit, or the sorry bit?’
‘Both.’
He tweaked my hair, jumped in the car and was off. Mum must have passed him on the road, because half a minute later I heard her coming into the house. I raced to my room and spread homework all over the desk.
It took her all of ten seconds to arrive in my doorway. ‘You’ve seen Hadleigh?’
I swivelled around to look at her, one finger placed artistically on a random line in a history book. ‘He was pretty jetlagged so he didn’t stay long. He said he was sorry you weren’t here.’
She nodded majestically and departed. I thanked gods of all varieties that my brother had the nous to arrive home on her night out.
I sat at my desk, not attempting to do any of the looming assignments, just staring at nothing. I was thinking about Hadleigh, about the evening we’d all spent together — about nothing in particular — until I found myself looking at the olive grove lovers again. I knew them instantly.
They were frightened. The girl was pale and she clutched her lover’s arm as if to anchor him. The pair of them stood on a hilltop, the olive grove at their backs, gazing at the town below. In my twenty-first century life I understood that a sickness, some sort of fatal contagion, was rife in the town. The boy disengaged his arm so that he could put it around her to hold her close.
The girl pointed to the town, then swung round to look to the east. She and the boy studied the terrain, then simultaneously they shook their heads. For some reason, they couldn’t escape by that route. There seemed to be no way they could leave — or, if there was, they chose not to go for reasons unclear to me as I was now.
Older people appeared behind them. A clutch of young children too, and I understood that family was the reason they would not leave. They turned, holding hands now, and walked towards the elders, who embraced them and took them into the house.
I saw a wedding. The girl wore flowers in her hair. The boy stood tall and had eyes only for her. There was laughter and music and food, but there was also fear. The contagion was spreading.
Mum knocked on my door and the scene vanished. I ignored the knock, dazed by what I’d seen.
She came in. ‘You’re not asleep. Have the courtesy to answer when I knock.’
Have the courtesy not to come in if I don’t answer. ‘What do you want?’
‘My tablet. And please do not take it again without asking.’
I handed it back. She didn’t say thank you and I didn’t say goodnight. How like her to turn up at exactly the wrong moment. Now, perhaps, I’d never know what became of Nick and me in that long-ago life. There was no doubting that we were the couple. It wasn’t just wishful thinking, because I didn’t wish for it. My life would be much less complicated if that boy wasn’t Nick — but he was, just as surely as I was the girl.
AFTER SCHOOL the next day, I went into town and, using some of the stash of cash accumulating in my account, I bought my own tablet and gave it a name. ‘I christen you Irony.’
By way of distraction from past lives, I checked on the factory’s website for postings of recent work. There were none.
I rang Hadleigh and had a moan to him, just because I could. He laughed. ‘Give it up, Bess. Dad’s a dinosaur and you’re not going to change his spots — or his scales, or whatever.’
‘No, I guess not. But Eddy should be keeping his eye on things. He’s the one with most to lose if the place goes down the tubes.’
‘You’ll sort it, whizz-kid that you’ve turned into.’ He so clearly wasn’t interested. Was still terrified he’d get dragged back in, probably.
I changed the subject. ‘When are you off to uni?’
‘End of the week. Can’t wait. See ya.’
Ah well, at least he’d answered my call.
It looked like if anyone was going to sort things on the digital front it would have to be me. It wasn’t ideal, though. The guys needed to be doing it themselves, and I wouldn’t be around next year anyway. We needed a more lasting solution.
And that was when an image floated into my head of the perfect person. Jason. Jason? Yes.
I was still laughing when I rang Dad. But he got in first. ‘The orders are rolling in, Bess. I have to say it’s exciting. And you’ll never believe it, but we’ve had an inquiry from somebody wanting miniature furniture for a doll’s house!’
‘Cool! You’ve said yes?’ He’d better have, or I’d do him serious damage.
‘Well now,’ he said, ‘I wasn’t going to, but then I thought I’d better talk it over with the men.’
‘And did you? Did Alton grab the job?’
‘He did indeed. Thrilled to the back teeth, he is.’
So was my father, by the sound of it. ‘Dad, those pieces have to go on the website. Any items that are different from what’s there already have to go on it too.’
He got soothing. ‘Don’t fuss, girl. I know what I’m doing.’
I got mad. ‘I’ll bloody tell Beverly on you. You’ve got to keep current. She’ll tell you that. Listen, Dad, ask Jason to be in charge of posting photos. He’ll be good. Knows what he’s doing round a computer.’
The dinosaur humphed and hawed, but in the end decided that could just be a grand notion and he’d put it to Jason tomorrow.
I rested my head on my desk and screamed a very small scream. He’d better do it, or I really would tell Beverly on him. Then I sat up and called Eddy to give him a rocket about the lack of current photos.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I know it needs doing, but you know … I don’t feel good about telling Charlie what to do.’
‘Get over it. The place will go backwards if you don’t. Dad’s going to ask Jason to post them, but he probably hasn’t thought about captions.’
‘Good idea. Jason’ll be stoked too. Don’t worry. I hear you. Thanks … boss.’
The next day, after Mum and I had dined at the late hour of 6.30 because I’d volunteered to cook, I decided to phone Clint to find out whether Dad had put Jason in charge of keeping the photos current. It was sneaky, but I really didn’t want to badger Dad to his face again.
My call was answered on the second ring. ‘The Castello Southey. To whom is it your earnest wish to converse?’
Nick? The blood rushed from my head. ‘What are you selling?’ the voice asked. ‘Or do you wish to inform me that my computer has a virus and that you—’
‘George! You idiot! I need to speak to your dad.’
It wasn’t Nick after all. I wanted to cry.
‘Not so fast, lady. I don’t let my honoured pater speak to just any stray female.’
Heaven grant me patience. I told him my name.
‘Ah, little Bess Grey. For you, signorita, anything.’
At last! Clint came on the line. ‘Sorry about that, Bess. What’s up? Something wrong?’
‘I hope not, but I want to check with you first, just in case there’s no need to put a bomb under Dad.’
That got me a laugh. ‘The website? Young Jason’s as proud as a peacock. He’s posted photos already.’
‘That’s awesome. Hey, can you tell him from me that he’s a dude?’
‘Sure, word for word. Good to know you’re keeping an eye on your dad,’ he said.
I checked the website. The photos were clear, crisp and showed the work to advantage. Somebody had written brief captions for each of them.
It wasn’t till I was in bed that I let myself think about hearing Nick’s brother’s voice. What an idiot I’d nearly made of myself. Iris was right: I had to keep going forwards, I had to let go of the whole belief that Nick was my one and only.
I was nearly asleep when it occurred to me to wonder why I hadn’t just checked the website myself. It was the obvious thing to have done. I came to the sorry conclusion that subconsciously I’d been hoping for news of Nick.
Bloody subconscious.
I THREW MYSELF into school, immersing myself in work and any activities going: Stage Challenge, tennis, swimming, peer support.
‘Are you always like this?’ Harriet asked.
‘Pretty much,’ I said. ‘My brother reckons I’m hyperactive.’
Harriet lay back on the grass. ‘Give me the quiet life.’
‘Yeah right!’ She was up there in the workaholic category.
School was okay. I was making friends with boys as well as girls. None of the boys made my heart race, and I wondered if I’d ever fall in love again.
About the middle of March, Iris sat me down for another of her motherly type conversations. ‘How’s school going? The truth, please.’
‘Fine. I like the teachers. I’ve got friends. It’s all good.’
‘And the boys?’ she asked, skewering me with her witch eyes.
‘They’re nice. I really like Anaru and Peter. Sol I can tolerate except on Tuesdays. He’s always really obnoxious on a Tuesday for some reason.’
She wasn’t deflected. ‘And I’m willing to bet you wonder every day if you’ll ever fall in love again.’ One look at my face was all it took for her to grab my shoulders to make me look into her eyes while she said, ‘You are eighteen. Enjoy it. Have fun. If you hadn’t seen those images, Nick would be just another nice guy. Like those boys at school.’
The trouble was, I had seen the images and I’d felt the connection when we’d been together on the day of the ice cream. He was my olive grove boy.