Stone Castles (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

P
S: Tell Callan it's snowing!
she added to the text she sent Tracey to let her know she was safely home. Snow tickled her nose and stuck to her eyelashes as she dived into a cab for the ride from JFK Airport. And as they headed along the Long Island Expressway towards the Midtown Tunnel, Pip caught her breath at the first view of the skyline of Manhattan, all lit up and shining bright through the dusting of snow.

The view never failed to move her. She remembered arriving that first time, coming over the slight rise and seeing the city all laid out before her, and the sight had brought tears of wonder to her eyes, because she'd known that she'd arrived, this girl from a tiny dot of a town on the other side of the globe.

This day it almost brought tears of relief. But she was done with tears. She'd shed a lifetime of tears back in Australia and there would be no more. So she just smiled and drank in the view before they entered the tunnel under the East River.

The cab battled its way along the congested streets towards her apartment on the Upper East Side and Pip was excited to be back amongst the buildings and buzz and pace of the Big Apple.

Harry, her doorman, welcomed her home and she smiled. She was here, in New York City, and she belonged.

Of course she was happy. Who wouldn't be?

So much for Mr Would-Be-Psychoanalyst.

Wouldn't let herself be happy, what rot.

Don't give up the day job, Luke.

Carmen threw open the door and pulled her into a hug. ‘I have so missed you! Oh my god, you are so tan!' she said, and Pip laughed because her Californian roommate was wearing a beanie and mittens and leg warmers, and the mercury had just reached thirty-six degrees in Adelaide according to the world weather report.

‘You would so love Australia,' she said, and then checked herself because she loved it right here and wasn't about to talk anyone into leaving.

She pulled out her gifts of Haigh's chocolates and a trio pack of Clare Valley wines and Carmen squealed – but not half as much as when she gave her the coaster that Adam had written his number on. She grabbed her phone and texted straight away.

Pip blinked. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Just letting him know that you're home safely.' And then she grinned. ‘Just being neighbourly.' With that, Carmen donned a down coat, heavy boots and a thick scarf and went out for Chinese takeout from the little restaurant across the street while Pip unpacked.

By the time Carmen returned, she was done and they opened a bottle of the riesling and sat on the sofa and ate egg foo yung and grilled shrimp with chopsticks. ‘I swear this is my last takeout,' Pip said. ‘After what I ate this last week, it's a wonder they could fit me on the plane.'

‘You look great,' Carmen said. ‘Every other New Yorker has pasty skin, but you glow. I love the way your hair is flipping out like that.'

‘I don't,' Pip said, on a sigh, putting down her empty container. ‘Rikki's fixing that for me tomorrow.'

‘So, tell me everything.'

Pip pulled out her phone and let her roommate flick through the photos while Carmen bombarded her with questions about the funeral. About the christening. About Adam.

She clucked over the photos of Chloe. ‘Who's this?' she said, holding up her phone.

‘Ah, that's Tracey. She's a friend – and my half-sister too, as it turns out.'

Carmen looked up. ‘I didn't know you had a sister.'

‘Neither did I.' And then Pip told her about the note and the church and a secret that had been hidden for more than three decades.'

‘That's awesome,' Carmen said, swiping through the photos. ‘To find a sister you never knew you had, and she's one of your oldest friends. Wow. you must be so glad you went.'

Pip gave that some thought. There had been some worthwhile moments, sure. Seeing her gran and saying her goodbyes. Catching up with Tracey and Fi and their families and learning that she and Tracey were half-sisters.

Luke.

No. Not Luke. Luke had been a mistake from start to finish.

‘It had its moments.'

‘Ooh, hello handsome Adam,' said Carmen, finding the shot of Adam with Pip and smiling down on it. ‘And you say it was warm over there.'

‘It's summer right now. But they do have winters too, so don't go thinking it's some kind of Shangri-la. It's farming country with small towns and about as far as you can get from this place.'

‘Do they have snow?'

‘No.'

‘Sounding better and better. Hey, who's this?'

‘Show me.' She looked. Peered closer. And felt ill. She'd snapped the picture of Tracey holding Chloe in her gorgeous christening gown and hadn't realised she'd captured one half of the barbecue. The half behind which Luke was standing. ‘That's um,' she said, her mouth dry, ‘Tracey again with Chloe at the christening.'

‘No, not them. The guy behind them. The cute one in the grey suit who's looking at you. Is that Chloe's dad?'

And Pip's stomach roiled. He was staring at her. Right at her, his mouth a straight line, his brow knitted and his eyes – his eyes were empty.

Oh, Luke.

‘No. That's Luke. He's . . . Chloe's godfather.'

‘Wow. What do they put in the water over there? How did you manage to make it out alive? I mean, it's not as if he's as good-looking as Adam, but he's not bad.'

Pip blinked. ‘You don't think?'

‘No. I like my men tall, dark and dangerous. And you said Adam was a policeman – with a uniform and everything.'

‘Oh yeah,' said Pip, more than happy to change the subject, ‘and he's probably got a really big truncheon.'

‘Yeah,' Carmen said, on a wistful sigh. ‘Just the way I like them.'

Carmen's phone beeped. Beeped again. And again. ‘Ooh,' she said, swiping it up eagerly, checking the messages, her smile stretching wide across her face, her eyes bright.

‘Who's that?'

‘Adam.'

‘Already?'

‘He texted me on his break while I was getting the takeout. Said he'd get back to me at lunch. I guess it's lunchtime over there.'

‘You are one fast worker!' Pip shook her head, picking up her empty containers and wine glass, not wanting to prick anyone's bubbles, but wondering at the futility of a girl from California via New York City having a relationship by phone with a cop from the Yorke Peninsula, however big the size of his truncheon. ‘Well, it's bedtime here. At least for this little black duck.' She hugged her roommate and thanked her for dinner and said, ‘Have a good night. I am going to sleep like the dead.'

And then she shivered as Luke's words came back to her:
Under that slab.

No, not like the dead. Like the living who just happened to be dog-tired. Because whatever he said, she was very much alive.

Morning in New York City came with a storm that dumped another few inches of snow onto the city. It's pretty, she told herself, as she cracked a bleary eye to look out her window at the streets below, even if the yellow cabs sometimes made more progress going sideways than forwards. Or at any rate, she thought, turning away, it might be pretty if her head didn't feel like someone had been hollowing it out all night with a rusty spoon.

She'd woken far too many times during the night to feel refreshed. Woken from far too many dreams of Luke. Picturing herself in his arms. Naked in the spa. In a shower with his hot mouth making magic between her thighs while her head slammed hard against the shower wall.

Oh god, get over it!

Because her sleeplessness wasn't all down to him. It was the noise of the city. How had she not noticed its unrelenting pulse before? When every siren, every blast of a horn or shout from a drunk out past his bedtime permeated her consciousness? When the flashing light over the diner halfway down the street seemed to be aimed right at her window? How was anyone supposed to sleep through all that?

She made coffee in an empty kitchen – Carmen was out on her morning run through Central Park. Saturday. She'd normally be at the gym by this time. She really should be at the gym now.

But she didn't feel like it.

She caught a glance of herself in the hallway mirror on the way back to bed and wanted to cry. There were bags under her eyes and more kinks in her hair than ever.

She looked like somebody else.

She looked like a stranger.

Thank god she'd managed to book in to see Rikki this afternoon. She might even drag herself to the gym first.

She needed to get this slack body under control.

As well as her wayward hair.

And she needed to get this life of hers under control.

Later.

For now she sank back in bed with her coffee and the sound of sirens careening down the slippery streets below. Yeah, she told herself, it was good to be back.

She was happy.

Her phone buzzed and a name zinged down her spine.

Luke.

Which was such a stupid thing to think, she told herself a moment later as sanity re-established itself and she checked the screen. Oh yeah, that caller made so much more sense.

Welcome back. Get-together tomorrow night?

Not likely.
Get-together was code for sex, and she was in no particular hurry to see Chad. She put the phone down. Closed her eyes.

Besides, it wasn't like she'd gone without before. She smiled to herself.

Oh, no.

Because suddenly those pictures of Luke were front and centre of her mind again. And not just pictures: movies, in glorious high-definition Sensurround. Of them in the spa, the shower, on the old leather sofa in the shed . . .

Her thighs clenched.

She picked up her phone, read the message again. Maybe it wasn't just her hair and her gym that she needed to get under control. Maybe it was her wayward thoughts. Maybe a night with Chad might be the best way to banish dreams of Luke? To put them into perspective.

Perspective would be good.

She texted him back.

Meet me here at eight.

Chapter Thirty-two

‘H
ey, babe,' Chad said, with a hug and a kiss to the cheek when she opened the door for him.

‘Hey, Chad,' she said, forcing a smile, trying to convince herself she was happy to see him as she watched him brush the snow from his shoulders before peeling off his coat.

Give it time.

Her hair was now perfectly straight, the kinks banished and the colour refreshed thanks to Rikki's expertise. Her body was shattered from two body pump classes in a row, and she was hungry because she'd discovered – when she'd finally worked up enough enthusiasm to go to the gym – that she'd put on four entire pounds while away. And she hadn't eaten dinner; she wanted to look her absolute best in her I-mean-business suit for her interview tomorrow.

But just like her muscles might take a bit of convincing to work out who was boss, so would her mind. After all, Chad was one good-looking guy. With his dark eyes, high cheekbones and full lips, if he hadn't been a wiz playing the markets, he could have modelled for Barneys New York.

It was no hardship looking at him. It had never been any hardship going to bed with him. It wouldn't be again, she told herself, and she'd soon put paid to any more dreams of Luke.

‘Where's Carmen tonight?'

‘In her room.' Skyping Adam. Now there was a cyber relationship that was progressing at a rate of knots.

‘So it's just the two of us?'

‘More or less. Can you I get you a drink?' she said, heading for the kitchen before he answered. Because she sure needed something to settle this suddenly fluttery stomach of hers.

He snagged her hand. ‘Why don't we go straight to bed?'

She swallowed down hard as her stomach damned near flipped right out of her mouth. ‘Already?'

‘I've got an early start in the morning.'

Yeah. So did she, not to mention another run through the notes she'd prepared for the interview. But still . . .

‘Besides,' he said, running the fingers of one hand down the side of her face, ‘I've missed you.' She closed her eyes and felt . . . not a thing. Not a tingle. Not a buzz. Not the merest sigh from her heart.

Damn.

‘That's sweet,' she said, when she opened her eyes, and she tried to remember missing Chad, but all she could remember was cursing him about the car. That, and what Luke had called him.

Don't go there.

Don't think about Luke and his accusations. Don't give them oxygen.

‘So . . . bed?'

‘Um.' She licked her lips, feeling trapped all of a sudden. ‘I might just grab a cup of joe.'

‘You don't need coffee.'

‘No?'

‘Come on,' he said, already peeling off his sweater. ‘I made a killing on the market last week and I feel like celebrating.'

‘Hey, congratulations! I know, maybe we should go out somewhere and celebrate in style?'

‘Are you kidding? It's snowing.' He said it like she was crazy.

‘I know. Do you have any idea how much I've missed it? How about we go for a walk?'

The hand undoing his shirt buttons stopped. ‘Pip, it's freezing out there. Are you serious?'

She turned on the puppy eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Chad. We don't have to go far. I just need some fresh air. To wake me up a bit. It's the jet lag catching up with me. You don't want me falling asleep on you, do you?'

He sighed, redid his buttons and pulled on his sweater. ‘Believe me, once you get outside, you'll want to come right back in.' He swiped up his coat and she gathered up her coat, scarf, gloves and ear muffs and pulled on her rubber soled boots before he could change his mind.

‘I know.'

But she didn't know. The only thing she knew was that she'd made a huge mistake inviting Chad over tonight. She could no more go to bed with him than fly to the moon. Still she managed a smile for him in the elevator. ‘It'll be fun, you'll see,' although he just grumbled and turned his eyes to the ceiling and muttered something under his breath about a waste of time.

The cold air hit her face like an icy slap, so sharp it hurt to breathe it in, while flurries of snow swirled and danced around them before joining their colleagues on the pavement. ‘It's bracing,' she lied, and wound the scarf around her nose and mouth. Chad just rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

‘So how was it over there?' he asked, and Pip wondered whether, if they'd gone straight to bed, he would ever have asked, or whether he'd just been intent on getting his rocks off. Not that she could judge him. She'd never been interested in his wider world either.

‘It was good,' she said, her voice muffled by the scarf. ‘I'm glad I got to say goodbye to my gran.' She didn't bother telling him about discovering Tracey was also her sister.

Emotionless shadow-land.

She swallowed.

‘So how was the car?'

‘It was great,' she lied.

‘Pip,' he said, jiggling his shoulders as they waited on a corner for the lights to change. ‘It's freezing out here. You awake yet?'

‘Not quite. A little longer?'

‘Fine,' he said on a sigh. ‘Just so long as you're happy.'

Happy. Now there was a concept.

Was she happy? Not right now, with a man she didn't want and she didn't know what to do with, she wasn't.

Unsettled was what she was.

Discombobulated.

Like the foundations of her world were shuddering and creaking, the walls threatening to topple down.

She'd always thought she was happy.

But now . . .

The first waft of roasted meat from the food truck parked on the side of the street hit her then. It smelled like lamb. Spiced lamb. And it reminded her of Tracey's roast lamb, the meat stuck with slivers of garlic and rosemary. Her stomach rumbled more the closer they got. And went on rumbling.

The two guys manning the truck in lumpy jackets and trapper hats rubbed their hands together and looked at them hopefully. Clearly they were doing it tough out on the streets tonight.

‘Are you hungry?' she asked him.

‘Are you nuts?' he said, when he saw where she was looking. ‘You don't eat that shit.'

Well, so maybe she didn't normally, and especially not when she'd just discovered she'd put on four pounds, but still she turned her head and sniffed the aromatic air.

‘Like, how many calories do you reckon are in that?' he asked.

‘I don't know, but it smells like it might be worth it.' She looked at him hopefully. ‘Should we give it a try?'

He shook his head. ‘I'm not touching it.'

‘Okay,' she said, and stepped up to the window. ‘Give me your best.' Five bucks later she had a steaming container of lamb gyros and chicken on spicy rice with garlic and chilli sauce. ‘Oh my god,' she said, swooshing away the fallen snow to sit herself down on a nearby bench. ‘This smells amazing.'

‘What in god's name are you doing?' he said, standing there, the snow falling around his hunched shoulders, his hands deep in his pockets.

‘Eating dinner.' She tasted the rice. Amazing. She tasted a piece of lamb. Out of this world. The chicken. Awesome. And all together, heaven on a plate. She didn't even mind that even through her thick coat, the seat under her bottom might as well have been made of ice.

‘Oh, this is so good,' she said, giving a thumbs up to the pair in the truck who were watching them, as if they were more interesting than what was on the telly. She held up the tray to him. ‘Here, try some before it gets cold.'

‘I don't want any.'

‘Oh goodie. All the more for me,' she said, and pulled it back. She might need to rethink her wardrobe selection for tomorrow's interview. She might need to choose a slightly less slim-fitting pair of trousers, but god, it was worth it as the combination of garlic and spiced meat and cool yoghurt filled her senses.

‘What I want,' Chad stressed, ‘is to go to bed. The sooner the better, before I turn into Frosty the Snowman and my dick shrivels into a peanut.'

Pip blinked. The guys in the truck guffawed. And Chad turned around and saw them watching and looked like he wanted to disappear down a steaming manhole into the subway.

‘I need to talk to you about that,' she said, folding her tray up and dropping it in the trash, because she'd eaten enough and because it was her fault Chad was standing out here freezing his nuts off.

‘About what?'

‘Walk with me.' She took his elbow and walked back towards her building, wondering at a touch that was familiar, but at the same time cold. And not physically cold. Just . . . bereft of any real warmth. Empty. Meaningless.

Exactly how their sex had been, she realised. Meaningless.

Not like with Luke . . .

She shook her head, trying to shake those thoughts away. Because, for god's sake, this wasn't about Luke.

This was about Chad.

This was about the half-life she was living.

Strange, how it had taken until now for his words to make sense. But he'd been right. Because she'd stood there at the grave and known she didn't want to be under there with her family. She wanted to live. She owed it to her parents to live. Really live, not merely exist.

And damn Luke to hell and back, he'd been right about more than that. Because she owed it to them to be happy for all the days that they would never see. All the sunrises. All the sunsets. All the stars.

She turned her face to the heavy grey sky and smiled as snowflakes settled on her face, winter's frozen kiss.

And all the snow.

She smiled. She was alive, for whatever reason. Did it matter what she had done that had made it so? Would her parents rather her be dead too?

God, no.

She'd been a fool.

‘Uh, earth calling Pip. Anybody home? About what?' he prompted, and they stopped and she blinked at him, feeling as if the filters were coming off her eyes.

The snow floated and danced around them. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, looking into his face. ‘I should never have asked you to come over tonight. Chad, I'm sorry, but I don't want to go to bed with you.'

‘What?'

‘There's no point coming back up. You might as well go home.'

‘Because you're jet-lagged?'

And she smiled sadly and slowly shook her head. Claiming jet lag would be the easy way out. But then there would be other nights and other excuses needed. It was pointless pretending. ‘No. I just don't want to have sex with you anymore. I don't feel anything for you. I like you. But not like that.'

His eyes looked half confused, half angry. ‘But that's what we agreed, didn't we? It's just sex. It's got nothing to do with feelings. You knew that all along.'

And his words cut deep, because they were true. Because that had been their arrangement and she'd been the one, tonight, to find fault with it.

‘I did,' she said. ‘But I've changed my mind. I can't do that any more.'

The snow continued to fall about them, snowflakes landing on Chad's hair and even on his eyelashes, and she knew how funny that felt, but he didn't look amused, because the confusion in his eyes had fallen away, leaving behind a simmering anger that should have melted the snow right there.

‘What's wrong with you? You go away just fine and you come back weird. What happened to you over there anyway?'

So much.

Burying her gran.

Finding her father.

Discovering a sister.

Luke . . .

So much had happened and yet nothing had really changed. Because she was still here in New York City, wasn't she?

‘I saw stars in the sky. How long is it since you've seen stars?'

He snorted. ‘I don't believe this. I'm freezing my ass off here and you're talking about stars?'

She smiled. ‘You're a good-looking man, Chad. Go find yourself a nice woman. Someone who deserves you. Someone who will love you.'

He shook his head, scattering snowflakes, ‘I don't have time for –'

‘Make time,' she said and squeezed his arm. ‘Now go home. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's freezing out here.'

Harry the doorman nodded, rubbing his hands together as she entered her building, shedding snow in her wake. ‘Cold one out tonight, miss.'

‘It sure is,' she said, and smiled, because she didn't feel cold anymore. She felt warm inside. She felt good. Maybe even halfway to happy.

And Harry's crinkled face lit up like the sun had just come out. He put his hand to his cap, ‘You have a nice evening, Miss Martin.'

She was still smiling as she let herself back into the apartment. Carmen was sitting on the sofa with her duvet wrapped around her and her laptop on her crossed legs. She took one look at Pip and said, ‘Wow, what happened to you?'

‘I ate middle east lamb and rice from that truck near the corner.'

‘You ate carbs?'

‘Yup' And Pip laughed as she peeled off her coat and pulled off her boots, thinking about all the carbs she'd eaten in the last few days and how the world hadn't ended. ‘And I broke up with Chad.'

‘Whoa. Why?'

She shrugged as she hung the coat back in the closet. ‘Because it was pointless.'

‘You don't look too cut up about it.'

‘I'm not,' she said, flopping down on the sofa next to Carmen and hugging a cushion to her chest. ‘That was part one of Operation Happiness. Ridding myself of excess baggage. Part two is winning this promotion tomorrow. I'm going to be so happy, you won't know what's hit you.'

‘Awesome! So what's brought this on all of a sudden?'

‘Oh, just something someone said to me back on the Peninsula about finding out about my father and stuff. Something about finally being able to move on and sort the rest of my life out.'