LUCY #2
Lucy breathed in the smell of wet earth and swatted away the insects that buzzed close to her ears.
They were a fifteen-minute jeep ride inland from Tiahura beach, on their way to see a marae, a set of ancient stone structures, now mostly ruined, but that had been a sacred site for the island’s original people.
Their guide Teva, a dark-haired man in surfing shorts, was leading them along a narrow uphill path, beneath a canopy of thick branches and drooping vines.
Every few moments, the trees parted to show flashes of turquoise sea through the foliage.
The heat was intense, and she could feel her energy starting to fade twenty minutes into the walk, as the humid air settled in rivulets of sweat running down her back and the sides of her forehead.
The atmosphere was thick with the scent of damp earth and something sweet: blooms she didn’t know the name of, bursting in pink clusters between the gnarled roots of the surrounding trees.
Teva came to an abrupt stop a few metres ahead, as the path widened into a small clearing, surrounded by broad, waxy leaves, so dense they appeared to be swallowing the area whole.
He pointed to the moss-covered stones at their feet.
Lucy stared down for a moment, seeing only rocks – but then they came into sudden focus, like one of those Magic Eye pictures she’d used to love as a girl.
These weren’t random rocks, but blocks, stacked to form the outline of a structure – something that was once a building, but now lay in ruins.
‘This is the marae,’ Teva explained. ‘A sacred place where the Maohi prayed to their gods. Come and take a closer look,’ he said, gesturing to the group with his hands, urging them to examine the ground.
Lucy crouched and brushed a hand over one of the stones; the moss was cool and soft beneath her fingertips.
‘These temples were often built as symbols of power. Chiefs used to rule from exactly where you are standing now.’ Teva smiled at Lucy as he said it. ‘Some say they made sacrifices here – to the war god, Oro.’
Sacrifices. The word raised the hairs on Lucy’s arms. She knew about those – more than most. She’d spent her whole life making them. She’d given up so much for those she loved – and though it had always been her choice, that didn’t mean it was easy. No. It’s never been easy.
After the tour, Teva led the group out of the trees.
Rory and Talia followed behind their guide, with the other two couples at the rear.
To Lucy’s relief, Mark seemed to have softened during the trip; he was content, at least, to walk close to her.
Nick and Eleni fell into step alongside them as the track widened.
‘I can’t believe this heat,’ said Eleni, through heavy breaths.
‘Yeah, and it’s so humid,’ said Mark.
Lucy murmured in agreement. Absently, she stripped off her lightweight shirt down to her vest underneath, enjoying the air on her bare arms.
‘What’s that?’ Eleni’s tone was suddenly abrupt; Lucy stopped walking and turned to face her.
Eleni was pointing at Lucy’s right arm, peering at the fading purplish-grey bruise that sat close to her shoulder.
Next to Eleni, Nick frowned, and tried to gently pull his wife away.
‘Leave it,’ he whispered. But his wife was standing her ground.
‘Oh God. That,’ said Lucy, pulling her shirt back on. Damn. How much did she see? ‘It’s the stupidest story …’
She fumbled for words, but Mark interjected before she could finish.
‘Lucy got into a fight with the edge of a wardrobe before we left,’ he said.
‘And when I say a fight, I mean she walked into it in the middle of the night on her way back from the loo.’ He caught Lucy’s eye.
‘I’ve never met anyone so clumsy in my life. ’
Eleni eyed Mark for a beat, then looked back at Lucy. ‘It’s true.’ Lucy shrugged, giving her best impression of nonchalance. ‘I trip over thin air on a daily basis.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Eleni said. She nodded, but there was something meaningful in her expression – an intensity that made Lucy’s skin crawl.
I should reassure her. She gave Eleni the widest smile she could: everything’s fine.
After a long moment, Eleni offered her a tight smile back.
‘Well, I know that feeling. I’m always doing stupid stuff and getting myself in a scrape.
’ They started walking again, picking up the pace to catch up with the others.
‘The other week, I got my heel stuck in the Tube escalator on the way to work – had to take my foot out of my shoe then yank it out from between the steps. In bloody rush hour! You’ve never heard anyone scream so loud on an escalator at King’s Cross, I swear to God. ’
‘Not that story again,’ said Nick. ‘She was on about that for days – you’ve not even put those shoes back on since then, have you?’ Eleni shook her head, laughing. ‘How many times have I told you not to wear five-inch heels to the office!’
Lucy was flooded with relief – Eleni’s focus had shifted, and they were distracted now by Nick poking fun at her. It was a close call, though – too close. I should be more careful.
She tried to clear her mind, focus on her surroundings. But it was too late: the memory was back. It played on a reel behind her eyes: the day she got that bruise; what had really happened …
And then, in a violent rush, the rage and pain pummelled her, a storm of fury and sadness, snatching her breath, winding her. She gasped for air.
Come on, Luce. Just breathe. Try to stay in the present moment. Don’t let it take you over. She forced herself to think about what her therapist would say: You don’t have to deal with all your feelings at once. Just take it a day at a time; an hour at a time; a minute at a time.
She should make it shorter, while she was here: she should make it a second at a time. She could do one second at a time without losing the plot, couldn’t she? Without bursting with rage, without unleashing her hurt and grief in an explosion of fury?
She’d have to – she couldn’t risk losing control.
As much as she might want to, she couldn’t risk leaving this trip as a murderer.