Chapter Five
Elora
As I walk out of the hotel lobby, I pull up Fraser’s number and press dial. He answers in a couple of rings.
“I texted you that I was free tonight,” he says.
“I know. I just wanted to ask if you mind if I’m a bit late back so I can get the dinner on the go.”
“Elora, you didn’t take a single day’s vacation last year. You work harder than anyone.”
“Except for you. Have you actually moved into the museum now?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I had two months off last year, remember?”
“That was to be with Mum, so it doesn’t count. Take the afternoon off, please.”
I sigh. He’s so bossy. “All right, thanks, I will. I’m going to the supermarket, then I’ll go home and get started.”
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I look both ways, then cross the Terrace and head toward the steps down to Lambton Quay. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s not every day you meet a ghost from your past.”
I walk fast, head down, not saying anything.
“Hello?” he says eventually.
“I’m still here. I’m a little cross with you and Joel for not telling me he was coming.”
He sighs.
“Does Dad know he’s here?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“I thought it must have been his idea not to tell me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t act innocent. Linc told me.”
“Told you what?”
“That Dad was the one who forced him to leave, and he made Linc promise not to contact me again.”
Fraser goes silent. Then, eventually, he says, “What?”
I stop at the top of the steps for a moment. “You didn’t know?”
He gives a short, humorless laugh. “No, I didn’t know.”
Resentment and frustration burst through me. “Jesus. All this time, he’s had us all believing Linc walked away because he didn’t care about us.”
“Ah, man,” he says, “I swear I didn’t know.”
“Does Joel?”
“I don’t know. He’s never said anything to me.”
I inhale deeply, blow out a breath, then start down the stairs. “I can’t believe Dad did that to Linc. He abandoned the boy who’d been beaten by his father to within an inch of his life, in front of his mother, who did nothing to stop him. Both of his parents had deserted him. He felt safe at Greenfield. He was like a member of our family.”
“That’s why Dad was so mad at him. He felt betrayed. But him sending Linc away puts a whole new angle on it.”
“You think? Oh, and Linc just told me that his mother admitted at the funeral that Don Green wasn’t his father.”
Fraser’s silent for a moment, and I picture him standing there, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline, jaw dropping. “What?” he says eventually.
“Yeah, apparently she had an affair early in their marriage. Don beat the guy up, and she never saw him again.”
“Ah, shit. So that’s why his dad hated him so much?”
“We always wondered why, didn’t we? And now we know.”
“How does Linc feel about it?”
“I don’t think it’s sunk in yet.” I get to the bottom of the steps and turn toward the supermarket. “I don’t know whether he’s going to want to look for his real father. I said that the guy might be pleased to find out he has a son, especially one who’s doing well like Linc is.”
“On the other hand, if he isn’t pleased to see him, the rejection might hit Linc doubly hard.”
“God, what is with you men? Why do you always have to see the negative in everything?”
“We’re naturally cautious. Thinking positive doesn’t make good things happen.”
“No, but I’d rather spend my time assuming the best, even if the result is bad, than assuming the worst when the outcome turns out to be good.”
“You don’t think that leads to you being disappointed more often?”
I know it does, and that makes me exasperated. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“That wasn’t my aim,” he admits. “I’m just being realistic.”
“I’ve got to go. I’m at the supermarket. I’ll see you tonight.”
“All right. Love you.”
“Love you,” I reply. He’s the smartest guy I know, and he does have an annoying tendency to be right all the time, but I know he’ll always be there for me.
I end the call and pocket my phone. Then I think about what I’m going to cook tonight. It’s two p.m., so I have a few hours, but I don’t want to do anything too fancy that I can screw up. Equally, I want to impress Linc.
Why?
Because he said he got his angel wings for me.
I know he didn’t. Or at least, they weren’t just for me, in a romantic sense. He said he got them for ‘Joel and Fraser, and all the other kids at the school’, and because he missed the home he’d had for four years with us. He’d become part of my family, and that’s why he got the tattoo.
But even so, it was a nice thing for him to say.
He must have been gutted when Dad sent him away. I still can’t believe Dad did that. I’m going to have words with him later about it. For now, though, I want to have a nice evening with my friends, and a good time always begins with good food.
I already have canned tomatoes, tomato puree, and spices at home. I buy ground mince, onions, kidney beans, cheddar cheese, a couple of avocados, sour cream, fresh chilis, and tortilla chips. What does Linc drink? Unsure, I add a bottle of white wine, a bottle of red, and a pack of Steinlager to the basket, throw in a few tubs of Ben it’s true that I didn’t take any vacation days last year, apart from looking after Mum, and I know he’s worried about me.
Well, I’ll be busy this evening, so it makes sense to do some studying now instead.
Fraser and Joel went to Otago University in Dunedin to study archaeology, although they both ended up working in the capital. I should have gone to Dunedin as well, really, or Auckland, as they both offer excellent archaeology courses. But after what happened when I was eighteen, I was in no position to live on my own so far from my family. Dad tried to talk me into staying at home and learning online, but eventually Fraser convinced him to let me go to Victoria University of Wellington, saying he and Joel could keep an eye on me there, and my parents finally agreed. Unfortunately, Vic doesn’t offer archaeology, but I ended up taking a degree in Anthropology, which I adored. Now, though, I’m taking my Master’s through Otago, so I can specialize in heritage management, especially the indigenous archaeology and heritage of New Zealand and the Pacific Islands. As I’ve always been interested in bones, I’m focusing on osteology, specifically the bones of the sixty species of extinct birds, including the famous flightless moa, which used to be endemic to New Zealand.
Museums show only a small proportion of the artifacts in their collections, and the National Museum is no exception. In the storage rooms are boxes and boxes of bones from various sites across the country that haven’t yet been sorted or cataloged. Fraser let me sort through the remains taken from a Māori midden site found in a dune near the Wairau Bar in Marlborough, and I’ve been cleaning them and identifying them, laying them out on a table so I can see how many individual skeletons I can identify.
I sit at the table and open the box. Soon the real world fades away, and I’m up to my elbows in cervical and thoracic vertebrae, having the time of my life.
Sometime later, a text pings up on my phone from Zoe, and it’s with some surprise that I read it: On my way up! I check the time. Oh my, it’s nearly six! I go over to the sink and wash my hands, then run to the front door and peer through the peephole just as she walks up. I undo the chain and unlock the door, and open it for her.
“Hey you!” she says, coming in. “Ooh, something smells nice.”
“I can’t believe it’s nearly six.” I lock the door behind her and slide the chain across.
“We’ve still got an hour.” She goes over to the slow cooker and lifts the lid. “Oh my God, Elora, you know how much I love your chili.” She picks up a wooden spoon and gives it a stir. “There’s enough here to feed an army.”
“We’ve got three guys coming. They won’t leave any, believe me.” I walk back to the door and check it again. She doesn’t comment; she’s used to my weird behaviors.
“Are you going in the shower?” she asks.
“Um, yeah, I think so.”
“Go on, you first, then I’ll nip in.”
The two of us shower, then parade around in our undies while we swap outfits and discuss what to wear and how to do our hair.
“I’ve never known you to take so much time over your appearance,” she comments as we stand next to each other in the bathroom to do our makeup.
“I want to look nice.” I run my fingers through my hair. I’ve washed and dried it, and now it hangs like a sheet of beaten gold, without a single wave. I’ve never needed a straightener.
I twist it into a chignon, but Zoe comes over, tugs it out of my hand, and spreads it across my shoulders.
“Down,” she says. “Definitely. His tongue will be unrolling like a carpet.”
“I don’t know… I’m not trying to send his bells ringing or anything.”
“Why not?”
“Zoe! I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.”
“And I say again… why not?”
“Because he’s only in New Zealand for a few days, and whatever he says, I think he’s a bit of a scoundrel, and I have to be careful because he could easily break my heart again. I just want him to see that I’ve grown up, you know?”
“In that case, I hope you’re wearing something that shows off that magnificent cleavage of yours.”
“I was going to wear a roll-neck sweater.”
She meets my eyes in the mirror, and we both laugh. “You are not,” she scolds. “You should wear your blue dress.”
“It’s too smart for a casual event like this.”
“It’s a dinner party, isn’t it? The boys will wear shirts, I expect. Fraser will, anyway. The Scruffpot will probably roll out of bed in a creased tee with stubble and his hair on end as usual.” She always teases Joel for his scruffy appearance.
“Fraser will probably turn up in a morning coat and top hat.”
She giggles as she applies black eyeliner, sweeping it out in Cleopatra-style wings. “He doesn’t care what people think of him, does he?”
“No man I know does. I envy them for that. I can’t imagine having the number of tattoos that Linc does and not worry what people think.”
“He has tattoos?”
“Oh God, I forgot to tell you. He has loads of them.” I proceed to tell her about them while she puts on gold eyeshadow to complete her Cleopatra look.
“How do you know about them in so much detail?” she asks, amused.
“He… uh… got changed and came to show me before he put his tee on.”
“Seriously?”
“We were like siblings, Zo. It wasn’t romantic.”
She slicks on some lipstick, presses her lips together, then meets my gaze in the mirror. “I saw the way he stared at you when he walked in. That wasn’t filial affection he was feeling.”
I put my makeup back in my bag and stare at my reflection. Her words make me nervous. I want him to think I look nice, and to prove that I’ve grown up and I’m not the little girl he knew back then, but equally I can’t help but think that this was all a big mistake. I don’t dress to attract men, and I don’t like it when they do show me attention.
“Hey.” She sidles up to me and puts her arm around my shoulders. “I shouldn’t tease. It’s just dinner, okay? We’ll all be there, and he’s an old friend, catching up. That’s all. You did a really nice thing inviting him here tonight, and I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing Fraser and Joel.”
I nod. “They spent a lot of time together as kids.”
“It’s going to be fun. Come on, get into your dress and then we’ll make sure everything’s right in the kitchen.”
We’ve just started putting the tortilla chips into the dishes when there’s a knock at the door. It’s only 6:45, and my two brothers are never early. Smoothing my dress with my hands, I go over and look through the peephole. “Oh, it’s Hallie. And she’s alone.” I undo the chain and open it, and I can immediately see there’s something wrong. “Hallie?”
She comes in and stands there, clutching her purse with both hands. “Ian and I broke up,” she says, and bursts into tears.
“Oh no!” I shut the door, lock it, put the chain back on, then slide my arm around her and bring her over to the sofa. Zoe joins us, sinking into the chair opposite her.
“What happened?” Zoe asks in alarm.
Hallie wipes beneath her eyes, taking deep, shaky breaths. “I saw him go past in his car, and there was another girl with him. When he got home, I asked him if he gave anyone a lift home from work tonight, and he said no, that he was alone. If he’d admitted having someone with him, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but denying it told me there was something suspicious about it. So I told him I’d seen him, and he got flustered and angry, and then said it was all my fault, and…” She starts crying again.
“How can it have been your fault?” Zoe asks, aghast.
“He said if I was less boring in bed, he wouldn’t have cheated.” She presses her fingers to her lips. “Oh God, that hurt.”
“Fucking arsehole,” Zoe snaps. “What does he expect you to do? Pin tassels on your tits and put on a show every night?”
“Probably.”
“I’m not saying it’s the guy’s job to do everything,” Zoe continues, “but most of us need the males to lead. It’s the way of things.”
“According to David Attenborough,” I add. “Unless you’re a spotted hyena.”
Hallie and Zoe stare at me, and they start laughing.
“Sorry,” I say. “Not helpful?”
“Very helpful,” Zoe says.
“It’s just that there are around 5,400 mammal species,” I reply, “and females outrank males during dominance contests in only a couple of dozen.”
“See?” Zoe says. “We expect them to lead. It’s fucking lazy for the guy to just lie there and wait for the girl to give him a lap dance.”
Hallie blows her nose. “You’re being very kind,” she mumbles. “But it made me feel an inch high. I mean, I know I’m not exactly Mata Hari, but I do try…”
“Of course you do.”
“Oh God.” Hallie puts her face in her hands. “The guys will be here soon. I was determined not to cry.”
“Fraser’s too polite to comment, and Joel won’t even notice,” I tell her.
“Yes, but Linc’s coming too. I’d better repair my makeup.”
“Come with me,” Zoe says. “You can use my powder and mascara.”
I watch the two of them go off to the bathroom. I shouldn’t have made that stupid comment about the spotted hyenas. Okay, so it cheered Hallie up, and that was good, but the truth was I wasn’t trying to be funny. I just don’t have anything else to contribute to a conversation about sex.
There’s a knock at the door, and I go over and look through the peephole. Oh God, it’s Linc. He’s still wearing his faded jeans, but he’s donned a dark-purple shirt, and turned back the cuffs to reveal his gorgeous tattoos. He’s carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a box of something—chocolates?—in the other. He’s looking at the ground, but when he lifts his gaze, it’s like he’s looking straight at me, and my heart skips a beat.
Oh, why did I suggest this? I’d much rather sit alone looking at bird bones.
Sighing, I slide the chain off, unlock the door, and open it.