Chapter Twenty-Eight
CHAPTER
28
Mary Mackenzie Henry. I stood on my toes. He lowered his head. A featherlight kiss. Call, and I’ll come.
For months I’ve known we could never be friends. Not because I don’t like him but because I’d always want more.
I shake my head.
Impossible.
Grandpa is surprised when I turn up at midday. ‘Haven’t you got work to be getting on with?’
‘I finished two bridles this morning.’ When I sit, the lunch tray is between us. ‘This afternoon it’ll be waistcoats for a motorcycle club.’
‘I hope you’re charging a pretty penny now you’ve got a reputation for working with dragon skins.’
I’m smiling as I hand over Grandpa’s serviette. ‘It was through work I’d done for the club that I got the commission for The Dragon Slayers .’
Grandpa picks up a fork, puts it down again. ‘You’re more than a saddler, Mackenzie, you’re an artist. It’s past time you saw that for yourself.’
‘Rory is coming over later. The more I teach him, the more he wants to learn. But just in case he changes his mind about becoming a saddler, I’m encouraging him to finish school.’
‘If you hadn’t left school when you did—’
‘I wouldn’t have a career I enjoy.’ I push his tray closer. ‘Eat, Grandpa.’
He scrapes food to one side of his plate. ‘According to Nurse Frances, I’m on a soft and light diet.’
‘Can’t you let the kitchen know you hate scrambled eggs? And what’s with the pumpkin mash?’
His bushy brows disappear into his hair. ‘Are you here to check out my lunch?’
I sip from my water bottle. ‘Why did you call Kit, Grandpa?’
He adjusts his position in the chair. ‘You didn’t like the snow bloke at first. And much as he didn’t want to talk about that, he was at sixes and sevens whenever your name came up.’
‘You shouldn’t be talking about me.’
‘Mr Thorsen wasn’t.’ Grandpa winks. ‘I might’ve let a few things slip.’
‘You don’t need to worry about me. No one does.’
‘What you say, Mary Mackenzie, and what you feel …’ His smile is gentle. ‘They can be a bit out of kilter.’
‘I wouldn’t lie, not to you.’
‘Sometimes you save me from the truth.’
I tidy his tray. ‘You should’ve told me you’d asked him to come.’
‘You should’ve told me you could only go away one night at a time because of me.’
‘He shouldn’t have told you that.’
‘There I was, giving him advice, telling him a night or two in the bush wasn’t enough and he should lengthen his visits. A week, two weeks, I told him. He did his best to put me off the scent but as you’ll know by now, he’s an honest sort of bloke. Soon as I guessed the truth, he had to admit you wouldn’t leave me.’
‘I’ve made that clear.’
‘Meaning you shouldn’t go getting angry at him for supporting it.’
I plonk the lid on Grandpa’s barely touched meal. ‘I’m not angry, I’m …’
‘A cat on a hot tin roof, just like he is.’ Grandpa pats his mouth with the serviette. ‘There’s something that came out of our meeting you’ll approve of.’
‘What’s that?’
‘After seeing the state I was in, he agreed that you only going away for a night or two at a time is the best way to go.’
‘The documentary team will be here for another five months, till the end of the year. By that time, we’ll have hiked in all the seasons. Rehabilitation work is closer to home, so I won’t need to go away when they film that.’
‘Talking of seasons …’ Grandpa hangs onto the tray as he takes a few breaths. ‘I haven’t got long to go, love. Mr Thorsen saw that. You must see it too.’
I’m too jittery to sit. ‘You wore yourself out by talking to him, that’s all.’
‘He was straight up and down about my prognosis, which I liked.’ Grandpa grimaces as he looks around the room. ‘His familiarity with all this medical paraphernalia didn’t hurt either. It didn’t faze him one little bit.’
I take the wrap from a tub of yoghurt and hand Grandpa a spoon. ‘Kit doesn’t seem to be fazed by much.’
‘Kit looks the same as he does on the telly, doesn’t he? Even without the winter clothes.’
‘I warned you he was a Viking.’
‘You hit the nail on the head.’ Grandpa’s eyes twinkle. ‘He’s quite a lad, our snow bloke.’
‘Do you want to see him again?’
Grandpa takes his time over a tiny spoonful of yoghurt. ‘I reckon he’s keen to be seeing you again.’
‘I’m going on a two-day hike with the team next month.’
‘Do you know about his mum?’
‘He told you about her?’
‘Wanted to set me at ease, I reckon.’ He glances at the stand next to his chair. ‘I’d had a few problems with the catheter and whatnot through the day and as soon as he turned up, it happened again.’
‘Oh, Grandpa …’
He closes his eyes. ‘What a terrible mess.’
I tap the tray until he looks at me again. ‘That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.’
‘I pressed the buzzer and young Emma came in. She’s a lovely girl, but she hasn’t got her certificate yet, so she runs off to fetch the nurse. And what do you think happens while that’s going on? Kit Thorsen and I had barely spoken a word, but he scrubs up in the bathroom, finds himself gloves and holds back the tide. Cool as a cucumber, he’s got fresh underwear and pyjamas out of the cupboard and is setting me to rights when Nurse Frances walks in.’
‘He’s capable.’
‘Frances was sour at first—she’s a bit territorial.’
I hold back a smile. ‘She kicks Keith Urban out. Is that what she did to Kit?’
‘Not once she saw he’d done a good job.’ He winks. ‘Recognising him didn’t hurt either. She asked a whole host of questions when she was checking me out and he told her what’d happened in his family.’ This time, it’s Grandpa who taps on the tray. ‘I don’t want to talk out of turn.’
‘Kit’s mother is an advocate for accessibility, including those with paraplegia. I don’t think what happened to her is a secret.’
He smiles in relief. ‘Mr Thorsen didn’t share anything too personal, but it was clear that an old man getting tangled up in his catheter was neither here nor there. His mum was in a coma for weeks, and then on a respirator.’
‘Did you like talking to him?’
‘It was easier than I thought it would be, him having no idea what I was like before. None of them pitying looks I get, even on the phone.’
‘He said you’d talked about Dad, Antarctica and your plans.’
‘It’s a sorry business that you won’t have your dad to keep an eye out after I’m gone. When Mr Thorsen said he wouldn’t let you do anything where you’d get hurt, I believed him.’
‘I don’t need to be looked after, Grandpa.’
‘All the same …’ His brow creases. ‘I needed confirmation that he had your best interests at heart to set my mind at ease.’
‘He told me he didn’t talk about me.’
‘Like I’ve already said, it was me who did the talking.’
‘He’s risk-averse, which is why he has a problem with me.’
When Grandpa coughs, I hand him a tissue. ‘He doesn’t want you to come to any harm.’
‘He’s too cautious.’
‘The more time you spend with him, and I’m not saying you have to do that, but if you do, he’ll get to know you better. He’ll get to appreciate your strengths.’
‘You liked him.’
‘I’m not at my best right now but my bullshit monitor …’ He pushes the yoghurt away. ‘It’s as strong as ever it was. Thorsen calls a spade a spade. I liked that.’
‘Did he want you to be involved in the documentary?’
‘I won’t be here for much longer; we all know that.’
‘Grandpa …’
‘The Summerfield project is bigger than me, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘At first Kit said it wouldn’t go ahead without your involvement.’
‘From what you told me, he didn’t think you were the right person to put a human face to it all. Now he knows it’s possible. The others, the producer and director, they pushed him to see that.’
‘I’ll do what I have to.’
‘Doing your best is the most you can do. It’s the town’s story, and planet Earth’s story. Kit Thorsen understands that.’
‘Will you see him again?’
‘We have plans.’ Grandpa chuckles. ‘But maybe not in this lifetime.’
I smooth a sheet over Grandpa’s leg. ‘I wish you’d quit talking about dying.’
‘It was you who asked the question.’
‘What plans do you have? What are you up to?’
‘To preserve your sensitivity …’ He taps the side of his nose. ‘I won’t say any more.’
***
Gusts of wind blow leaves onto the verandah outside as I emboss a four-panelled coat of arms on a piece of leather. Rory and Shelley watch on. A sheaf of wheat. An eastern wasp orchid. A windmill.
‘Who’s that for?’ Rory asks.
‘An embroidery club wants a design they can use for their website and merchandise—tea towels, totes, things like that. They also want a shield for their clubhouse.’
‘I love that,’ Shelley says.
‘When I’m a saddler,’ Rory says, ‘I’m gonna make saddles and that’s all.’
‘A specialist? That’s good to hear.’
‘Your drawings are okay, but that’s not for me.’
‘You like my Dragon Slayers waistcoats. Saddlers have other skills too.’
‘I guess.’
‘On Saturday night, there’s a wrap party for the film crew. We’re all staying over at Denman.’
‘Awesome. Will James Partridge be there?’
‘He’s my date.’
‘What?’ Shelley, mouth wide, kicks the door closed with her foot. ‘You’ve got to be joking?’
‘He’s picking me up on Saturday and bringing me home on Sunday.’
‘Rory.’ Shelley points to her car. ‘Can you get my phone?’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Why?’
‘If you want me to drive to Denman to get your learner’s licence, best not to argue.’
As Rory runs to the car, Shelley crosses her arms. ‘James Partridge? The whole freaking night?’
‘I intended to impress Rory, not you. He’s just a friend.’
‘With benefits?’ she asks hopefully.
‘If he didn’t promise to keep me company all night, I would never have agreed to go. But Grandpa is over his infection and if you wouldn’t mind having Keith Urban—’
‘Mac!’ She puts a hand on my arm. ‘I’m happy you’re going. And I want to know everything that happens with James.’
I laugh. ‘He not only lives in London, but he’s twenty-four going on seventeen. Nothing will happen.’
‘Kit Thorsen’s not too young. What about him?’
I’ve thought about him a lot, but even after my chat with Grandpa I didn’t call. Because I wanted to hear his voice too much? I push the thought aside. ‘I don’t know if he’ll be there.’
‘Is he back with Chloe? How is that woman so beautiful?’
I force a smile. ‘I’m thinking she was born that way.’
She looks around me to Rory, scrolling through her phone as he walks. ‘I wouldn’t give up my son for anything, you know that, right?’
‘He’s a great kid.’
‘But sometimes I wonder …’ Eyes glistening, she shakes her head. ‘What I’m saying is take your chances when they come up. Sometimes I worry Summerfield isn’t big enough for someone like you.’
‘It’s plenty big enough for a saddler.’
Shelley traces around the sepals of the orchid I’ve engraved. ‘Wouldn’t you like more time for other work?’
‘I have to make a living.’ I turn away to tidy tools on the workbench. ‘Anyway, this is my home.’
After skidding to a stop at the bench, Rory pulls on a prototype waistcoat. Straps and buckles line up on his shoulders, four on the sides and six at the front. He’s pulled all the straps to the last hole, but the waistcoat is still too large. He finds a reproduction sword and jabs and parries.
‘I’m a Truth Seeker!’
Rory is wielding the same sword I used to corner Joseph Rossi. I don’t worry about the break-ins during the day, but I’m unsettled at night. What film would he have been after? What could have been on it to make it so valuable? Who would have been willing to pay Joseph ‘a substantial amount’ to get it? Or did Joseph have the wrong end of the stick and there was nothing to find? I haven’t opened the laptop and searched the folders since Kit was here and I burst into tears. There are so many images I haven’t seen yet. I should look at them. I will, but …
Not yet.