Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
It wasn’t until Lucy hit the Ngauranga Gorge — dark rock on each side, harbour lights behind — that the sheer insanity of what she was doing hit home.
She was driving Oliver Perry-Warnes back to MacLeod’s Cove.
Back to the people who’d spent the last week calling him everything but his name.
Mum would manage politeness. Kate could do politeness in her sleep. Jen would be kind because Jen was kind to everyone, even men who had broken her sister’s trust. Ellie would be unpredictable. But Dan…
Lucy exhaled slowly through her mouth and fixed her gaze on the road.
Oliver sat beside her with his head tipped back against the seat, face turned towards the window. He looked drained. Not brooding-dramatic drained. Just…used up.
If she’d known how it would feel to win the battle over the hotel, she might not have started it. But even as the thought flitted through her mind, she knew she would have. Because it was the right thing to do for her world.
She cleared her throat. ‘So. Worked out where this magical mystery tour is headed?’
He turned his head and looked at her properly. There was no quick quip, no immediate answer.
‘It doesn’t take a genius, Lucy. You’re taking me back to MacLeod’s Cove.’ His gaze slid away again. ‘Question is, why.’
‘Because…’ There were lots of reasons she could select to answer his question because there was no way she could tell him the truth.
He was hurting and the only place where she knew he would heal would be in the heart of her own home.
She didn’t examine her impulse too closely.
She never liked to see anyone hurting. ‘Because it’s your birthday, and I wanted to celebrate.
I…’ she thought quickly, ‘have a favourite bottle of champagne on ice,’ at least she hoped she had, ‘I’d like to share. ’
He made a sound that might have been a laugh, if he’d had any humour left. ‘You’re not going to let me disappear quietly, are you?’
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. ‘I guess not,’ she said at last. ‘It’s not in my nature to let things take the wrong course.’
‘And you think I am?’ he asked.
‘Put it this way. It’s your birthday and you’re sitting at the end of a pier, looking through the wooden boards into the sea. That doesn’t sound like you’re happy to me.’
‘And so you intend to make me happy by… taking me back to the heart of your community where I’ll be overcome with happiness.’
His words stung. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic.’
‘I’m sorry. I just think you’re fighting a losing battle with me. I am who I am and there’s no changing me. I’ve given you what you wanted. Now it’s time for me to leave stage left.’
‘This isn’t a play with a neat ending,’ Lucy said.
He gave a tired sigh. ‘Don’t I know it.’
She ignored him. ‘This is real life where we can change what we need to change to make things happen.’ She felt his eyes on her, but she kept hers fixed on the road ahead.
‘You’re wrong,’ he said.
She changed gears a fraction too aggressively and the gearbox complained. ‘I’m not wrong,’ she said between gritted teeth.
Oliver’s mouth twitched, but it wasn’t amusement. It was resignation.
‘In this instance you are. There are things in life you can’t change,’ he said quietly.
‘Who we are. You can pretend for a while, but reality catches up sooner or later. Might as well make it sooner. Save everyone the…’ He trailed off as if he’d run out of energy, or else didn’t want to say the word.
Save everyone the… what? Heartache? Trouble? Time?
Lucy kept driving, pulse thudding. ‘And what’s your reality that you’re so afraid of?’
‘I’m not afraid of my reality. It’s what I’m used to. And I’ll be back into it tomorrow morning. Sooner than I imagined.’ He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘But that’s fine.’
His monotone made the ‘fine’ sound positively morbid.
‘Tell me about it.’ She wanted him to talk, to loosen up, to confide in her.
‘What?’
‘What your reality is like. The one you’re going back to.’
‘Sydney. Work. Gym. Bars. Dinner. Meetings. Airports. My apartment for sleep and showers.’ He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. ‘That’s it.’
‘And the…bars?’ she asked, immediately regretting the question as soon as it left her mouth.
He shot her a look. ‘Do you really want the details?’
‘No,’ she said, quickly. ‘Not really.’
His mouth curved, faint and tired, and then the silence returned.
Ten minutes later they turned off the highway and the dark ribbon of road unwound towards home. Lucy felt her shoulders relax for the first time all night.
They passed her apartment.
Oliver glanced at the building. ‘Aren’t we going to your place?’
‘No.’
He didn’t push. He just sat back again.
At the end of the road Lucy turned into the street that led to MacLeod’s Cottage and pulled up.
She turned the engine off and they both looked across to the old house.
All the lights were on and she could hear voices and laughter coming from the rear of the house where the verandah faced the beach.
Again, she wondered if she’d gone mad. What would her family say?
But it was the only place she could think of to make Oliver see what he was walking away from.
The only place she could think of where he might be forced to reflect and look inward, and acknowledge that his heart was well and truly alive and trying to tell him something.
She suspected his heart was practically screaming at him, but that Oliver was resisting with all the dedication of the tone deaf.
‘Ready?’ she asked.
He turned to her with a wry look. ‘Would it matter if I said no?’
‘No,’ she said, returning the smile before opening the car door and stepping out into the night. She had butterflies dancing in her stomach. Would this all backfire on her? What did she expect to happen? She didn’t know. She was running purely on instinct now. She hoped it wouldn’t let her down.
She felt a huge wave of relief when she saw Augi walking up the road towards them. Someone cool, calm and collected — everything she wasn’t. She waved.
‘Augi!’ Lucy called, hurrying forward. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Kate invited me,’ Augi said. ‘I couldn’t make supper, but I said I’d come for a short while.’
Lucy forgot that Augi wasn’t a hugger and threw her arms around her. Lucy had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Augi’s presence would definitely have a tempering effect on Dan. Then Augi looked over Lucy’s shoulder and her smile faded.
‘Oliver,’ Augi greeted him with a cool nod.
‘Augi,’ smiled Oliver pleasantly. ‘Good to see you again.’
‘Hm, yes,’ said Augi, glancing at Lucy as if she’d find an explanation for Oliver’s presence written on her forehead. Lucy just shrugged and opened the garden gate for Augi and Oliver. She followed up the rear.
‘Let’s go round the back,’ said Lucy, indicating they should walk around the verandah to where she could hear voices.
‘Hey there,’ she greeted. Everyone stopped talking and looked up. You could have heard a pin drop.
Kate and Ellie were seated at the head of the table, Jen was curled up next to Sam on the side bench amongst the cushions, and Dan sat on Sam’s other side. Dan straightened, jaw set, until his eyes landed on Augi and he stood up as if his body had moved before his brain had caught up.
‘Augi,’ murmured a few voices.
Kate beckoned her over and indicated a seat between herself and Dan. Augi sat, composed, as if she hadn’t just walked into a situation loaded with tension.
Lucy’s stomach turned.
‘And you all remember Oliver, I take it,’ said Lucy, feeling acutely uncomfortable.
Nobody moved.
She glared at Sam who cleared his throat and jumped up and extended his hand to him. ‘Hey, Oliver, good to see you again.’
‘You, too.’ Oliver looked around and directed his comment at Kate. ‘Sorry to arrive unannounced but Lucy, er, took pity on me.’
‘It’s Oliver’s birthday,’ said Lucy.
Kate blinked, then pushed her chair back. ‘Oh! Happy birthday, Oliver. Please — come and take a seat. Lucy will get you something to drink. Have you eaten?’
Oliver held up his hand and shook his head. ‘Yes, thanks. Don’t worry about me. I ate earlier.’ Kate sat back down again.
‘Glass of wine?’ Lucy asked Oliver.
‘Great, thanks,’ he said.
She moved to the kitchen and ignored the open bottles lined up on the bench. She found the champagne she’d stashed in the second fridge in the garage and returned with it and two of her favourite old crystal glasses.
Lucy poured, set one glass in front of Oliver and the other in front of herself, and then — before her nerves could get the better of her — took the empty chair beside him.
Kate wasted no time. It was clear that her mother had somehow steered the conversation to his family in just a few minutes. Her mother was a genius.
‘After talking to you before about your family, I got to thinking about your grandmother. I think I might have heard of her,’ Kate said, as if they were discussing the weather. ‘Patience Perry-Warnes? There can’t be that many Perry-Warnes’s in Wellington.’
Oliver’s head lifted. Something in his expression shifted — surprise, then something softer. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘You knew her?’
‘I knew of her,’ Kate replied. ‘My mother, Hope, worked with the City Mission in Wellington. Patience volunteered there, I believe. My mother spoke very highly of her.’
For the first time all evening, Oliver looked unguarded. Almost grateful.
‘She was the best of my family,’ he said simply.
Lucy drew a soft sigh of relief. She knew he needed to connect with someone; she couldn’t bear to think of him adrift.
Kate’s voice gentled. ‘She died a long time ago, I think?’
‘Yes.’ His fingers tightened around the stem of the glass.
‘Just after I was sent to boarding school.’ A pause, rougher.
‘I discovered she was responsible for sending me away, so I barely spoke to her when I left. Never said goodbye.’ His throat worked.
‘And no one told me she’d died. Apparently she’d been ill for years but I never knew, and I never saw her again. ’
The table had gone silent again, but this time it wasn’t hostile. It was listening.
‘Oh, Oliver,’ said Kate, sitting back as if she’d learnt something more than what Oliver had told them. ‘I’m sorry. I guess you feel awful about that.’
Oliver nodded.
‘Don’t. She’ll have understood.’
‘It’s why…’ Oliver began, then stopped.
Lucy heard herself speak before she’d decided to. ‘The Wellington development,’ she said quietly. ‘It was about her. A memorial of sorts.’
His gaze snapped to hers and he nodded once. ‘Partly. She used to watch me sail on the old marina that used to be there. And it was also for my grandfather. And partly…’ His mouth twisted. ‘To erase my father.’
Lucy swallowed and nodded. She’d got it all wrong.
‘I remember seeing your grandmother’s photo in the newspaper,’ said Kate. ‘You have a look of her.’
Oliver huffed and looked down as he placed his glass on the table. ‘If I did, I think life has worn it away.’
Kate cocked her head to one side. ‘What a strange thing to say. And sad. Maybe you’ve been on the wrong track.’
‘How do you mean?’ Oliver asked, wariness creeping in again.
It seemed the family held a collective breath as, with only a few words, Kate had dived in and found the nub of things. Lucy too wondered if Kate had taken a step too far.
‘Because that’s what happens when you run a tyre through a track that doesn’t fit. It loses its shape.’
‘Perhaps it becomes its essential shape?’ Oliver suggested. ‘Its core. That’s got to be good, hasn’t it?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Kate gently disagreed. ‘I think its essence is covered by a hardened shell which it had to produce in order to survive.’
All eyes were on Oliver. Even Jen and Augi’s conversation had come to a halt. Watching Kate was like watching a zen master in practice. Somehow Lucy knew that it had nothing to do with age. If Lucy lived to be a hundred she’d never be as wise as her mum.
Oliver gave a smile, as if wanting to agree but not finding the words. He looked choked up as he glanced around. But he couldn’t avoid Kate. She reached out and touched his arm. He looked at her, startled.
‘But I’m talking nonsense, of course,’ said Kate. ‘Tracks and tyres are nothing to do with people.’
He visibly relaxed. And then Kate leaned in to Oliver and spoke so only Lucy could hear.
‘Because people can change. They can grow and re-form, re-find themselves, if they give themselves a chance.’
Oliver nodded and this time gave Kate a genuine smile. ‘I can see why my grandmother became friends with your mother. If she was anything like you, I think she would have thought she’d met a kindred spirit.’
Kate withdrew her hand and sat back again. ‘Yes, maybe. Although anyone looking at our two families wouldn’t have considered us alike. My family was full of single mothers and mysteries and yours was very proper.’
There was a pause and all eyes were on Oliver who was frowning thoughtfully. ‘But “proper” is very superficial,’ he said at last. ‘Doesn’t get to the heart of things.’
Lucy felt her breath catch — then release.