The Candidate (12 page)

Mac raised an eyebrow and whistled. ‘That’s an impressive age.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t wangle you an invite. He can’t do a thing until Monday morning and I’m drowning in bloody work, which I could have got through this weekend if my bloody computer wasn’t throwing a bloody tizzy.’

‘What about Ange’s?’

‘They’re networked; whatever is wrong with mine is wrong with hers.’

‘What do you need to do?’

‘Write reports, a proposal, get my head around these …’ Ginny flicked a hand toward the pile of CVs.

‘I have an idea.’

‘What?’ she asked ungraciously.

‘Why don’t you stop having a fit, go pack your bag and meet me out front in half an hour.’

‘Bag? What for? How will that help?’

‘Come down to Gibson’s with me. I’ll go and pick up my laptop from Dad’s and meet you back here in thirty minutes.’

She started to protest. Mac held up his hand to silence her.

‘You use templates, right?’

She nodded.

‘And you know what you need to write?’

She nodded again.

‘Easy then,’ he smiled. ‘Use my laptop, whack it onto a USB stick, then dump it into your template when your system is up and running on Monday. And you could do with a break, right?’

And this way she wouldn’t be here by herself over the weekend with that hollow door.

Ginny considered the offer. Contemplated how good it would be to get out of the city, to avoid the heat and have a change of scene. She looked at Mac again. Weekend away with her mate. Nice. She flicked him a grin. ‘Sold. You’re turning out to be a regular hero, Mac.’

‘My pleasure, Ginny. Any time. I’ll see you soon. And don’t forget your togs.’

Chapter 14

Ginny picked up what she needed from her office, gave her computer a final scowl, shut off the lights and locked the door.

Upstairs, she stuffed a few things into an overnight bag. Ginny hesitated as she reached for her swimsuit. Sensible black one-piece or bikini? Frowning, and wondering about the indecision, she grabbed the bikini. She was going to the beach, wasn’t she?

Ready in record time, she was waiting when Mac pulled up. She jumped in, and gave him a big smile.

‘Thanks so much for this, Mac. You’re right — it’s exactly what I need.’

Mac turned to look at her and as he did, wondered if she’d ever realise how much light that smile of hers gave out. He looked away again quickly; what was running through his head would be easy to spot. ‘Not a problem, Ginn. What are friends for?’

They limped down the southern motorway amongst the multitudes leaving the city late on a Friday afternoon. When they finally took the exit for the Coromandel Peninsula, Ginny let go a big sigh.

‘Better?’ Mac asked.

‘Yes.’ She leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘I always forget how good it feels to get out of the city.’

They stopped in Thames for something to eat but moved on quickly. Mac was itching to get to Gibson’s Bay and Ginny could feel a deep tiredness creeping up on her — she couldn’t stop yawning.

‘Here.’ Mac reached into the foot well behind his seat. ‘Have a nap.’ He passed her his sweatshirt, which she gratefully balled against the window. Closing her eyes, breathing in the subtle scent of Mac, she was asleep in minutes.

It was barely dark when they reached the bach an hour later and beautifully quiet. Mac stopped the car and looked across at Ginny. She was out to it. Not even stopping the car had woken her. He got out, stretched and seeing the water, smiled. It was good to be home.

He carried the bags up to the house, hesitating before putting Ginny’s in the spare room. He was happy to bunk down here, let her enjoy his room upstairs with the views and comfort of the en suite but it felt … well, a little odd.

Out at the car, Ginny was still fast asleep, snoring slightly. He grinned — he must remember to tell her. Uncertain, he leant over and unsnapped her seat belt. When she didn’t stir, he reached in, gathered her featherweight form and carried her inside. Slightly embarrassed, hoping she’d wake up, praying she wouldn’t, he backed into the guest room, and laid her down. Tempting though it was to pull those jeans off her, it was not the way forward. He slipped off her shoes, and drew what he could of the duvet over her. Looking at her once more, he turned off the light and gently closed the door.

He woke, sweating, a shout in his throat, sometime around four a.m. The dream thundered, then grew fainter. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he waited for the sound of guns and the image of Nick to fade completely.

Knowing he wouldn’t go back to sleep, he gathered the duvet around himself and tiptoed downstairs. Telling himself he just wanted to check he hadn’t disturbed her, he hesitated at Ginny’s door, then slowly turned the handle and looked in. He could just make her out in the pre-dawn light. She must have stirred at some stage as her jeans and T-shirt were beside the bed. She was asleep in a plain tank top, one long leg hooked around the duvet. Convinced Ginny would be a sprawler, he was surprised to see her curled to one side of the bed, a pillow between her arms.

He smiled and closed the door quietly. He took a glass of water to an armchair looking over the water. Covering himself with his duvet, trying to get warm despite the balmy night, Mac waited for the sun.

Ginny drifted slowly up from a deep sleep. She stretched, luxuriating in the feeling of being truly relaxed and rested. She listened for the familiar Saturday morning sounds of her flat, and then remembered where she was. The stillness and peace were absolute. It was a while since she had woken to the gentle sounds of waves and birdsong, and it made her smile.

Pulling on yesterday’s clothes, she walked out into a large room. She remembered the basic layout from the couple of times she had come with a group while they were at uni, but it was much bigger now; the walls of the old kitchen had been knocked through, and the sunroom had been removed to create this one big space. The floors were beautifully restored and she guessed where the leftover varnish had come from.

Mid-renovation, the place was fairly empty. A threadbare couch and a couple of chairs were grouped in the far corner around a large television and Sky decoder that balanced precariously on a rickety coffee table. A beautiful old sideboard stood against one wall, its shelves and surfaces chock-a-block with books, jars of nails and screws, a few pieces of dusty porcelain and, tucked into a corner, a photo of a much younger Mac and his mother. Ginny smiled up at it. It would have been taken a couple of years before she met him and it made her realise what an awfully long time they’d known one another.

The kitchen was under construction at the back of the room, and Ginny noted the staircase leading to another level. The front of the house was almost completely glass, like at his dad’s place in Auckland, and sliding doors opened onto a new deck. The whole set-up was enviable, designed as it was to take advantage of the stunning views across the bay.

‘Mac?’

Looking for the bathroom, she saw a note slipped under a coffee plunger, on what would be the breakfast bar:
Gone for a run. Make yourself at home. I found this but no coffee. Sorry. M.

She smiled and headed into the bathroom for a shower.

An hour later, Ginny was happily ensconced on the deck. It was hot already and she’d pulled on her bikini straight from the shower. Fishing around inside, she’d found a battered old hat, a beach towel, and a docking station. Enjoying the sun before it got unbearable, she had the pile of RK CVs on her knee and was tapping a foot in time with Adele’s big, soulful voice.

She looked up when she heard footsteps on the stairs, and smiled as Mac came into view. My, my, she found herself thinking. Haven’t you grown up nice.

Straight from the sea, he carried running shoes in one hand, T-shirt and towel in the other. His hair was wet and beads of water sat on his shoulders, drying quickly in the sun. Outrageously well built, she thought, taking in the strong arms and chest, the lean torso that tapered down to his hips. A thin trail of black hair led south from his belly button … Ginny snapped her eyes up to meet his.

‘Morning,’ she said brightly.

‘Morning,’ he grinned back. ‘How did you sleep?’

‘Brilliantly. How did I get to bed?’

Mac hesitated. ‘Don’t you remember? I woke you up. You walked in.’

‘Right.’ She was struggling to recall anything.

He reached over, tipped her hat. ‘I like this — it suits you.’

She looked up, confused. ‘It’s not mine, I found it inside.’

‘I know. It was Mum’s.’

‘Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.’ She pulled it off.

Mac laughed. ‘Please, wear it. It’s fine, really.’ He dropped his shoes and walked past her, pulling on his T-shirt. Ginny saw the muscles bunch and slide. She found it curious, slightly unsettling, that she was checking him out.

‘Mac …’ Something on his side made her stomach shift. ‘What’s that?’

He glanced down at the scar, still pink-edged and tender. He yanked the T-shirt down. ‘Mozzie bite.’

She eyeballed him, and he looked away.

‘I’m heading into town to grab some things — do you want a coffee?’

‘Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.’ She watched him walk inside before turning back to her work.

The day passed quickly. After the solid sleep and fuelled by the coffee, Ginny powered through her work. By midmorning she was set up inside at a table Mac had cleared of a wide selection of tools, newspapers, and empty coffee cups. She worked on while he — seemingly content — fiddled around in the kitchen. The hammering and banging became background noise and by the time she stopped for a break, morning had ticked into afternoon, and she was delighted by how much she had achieved.

‘Going well?’ Mac asked, noting her satisfied look.

‘Yes, fabulous, thanks.’ She stood up, stretched out the kinks in her back and neck and crossed to the kitchen. ‘How about you? What are you doing anyway?’

‘Cabinets. And it’s going well, thanks. I’m hoping to get the appliances in later this afternoon. But I’m afraid I’m still a hopeless cook so is a meal in town alright with you?’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Ginny looked out at the water. ‘I’m going for a dip before starting on my shortlist. Want to join me?’

He shook his head. Staying well away from that bikini seemed a wise idea.

‘Your loss,’ she smiled, and walked out.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, Mac went back to work.

Ginny called it quits just before six. But it was finished. The shortlist, the proposal; she felt on top of and across everything she needed for her meeting with Robert and Jackson on Monday.

Out on the deck Mac was leaning on the rail, having a beer and a laugh with his builder and the sparky who had dropped over to help unload and install the kitchen appliances. He looked happy and relaxed. These two were evidently his friends, which brought home to her how little she knew of his life these days, and the people who were part of it.

Feeling suddenly shy, she knocked on the open door before stepping onto the deck.

Mac smiled. ‘All done?’

‘Yep. I just thought I’d grab a quick shower, if that’s okay?’

‘Of course. You don’t need to ask. Head upstairs, if you like. The water pressure is a hell of a lot better.’

‘Okay, thanks.’ Still feeling shy, she left them to it.

Upstairs, Ginny sighed in appreciation. Although like downstairs it was somewhat empty, the pieces he’d chosen up here were new. Her eyes skimmed the huge sleigh bed, taking in the rumpled duvet and the pillows carelessly flung across it. It was flanked by matching bedside tables, each with a small lamp. A haphazard pile of books on one made her smile; Mac was never able to read one book at a time and always had a few on the go. The wall facing the staircase was given over to a built-in bookshelf and closet, and a small desk was tucked into one corner. Ginny scrunched her toes over the wool carpet, enjoying the softness. Despite its emptiness, the room would be cosy in winter, as much as it was light and airy now in the height of summer.

As downstairs, the front of the room was glass — it must be a MacNamara thing, this obsession with big windows. The view across the water took in the sweep of bush on the headland at the far end of the bay. Ginny ran a hand down the surprisingly lush curtains. They set off the soft blue-grey he’d painted the walls, and she wondered whether Jen had helped him choose the fabric.

Entering the en suite, she smiled. He certainly hadn’t skimped here. More floor-to-ceiling windows and, slightly elevated, a tub. She all but purred. How would that be, lying in the bath, looking out over the water and up at the moon? The opposite wall was given over to twin showers behind smoky glass.

The vanity unit was also made for two, although there was only one loo. Taking in the whole floor, the twinning of amenity and comfort, she realised he’d built this with someone else in mind, someone to share it with. She stepped into the shower. He was right — the water pressure was fabulous.

Mac took her to a small restaurant in Coromandel Township that doubled as the local café, ice cream bar and occasional takeaway shop.

‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her with a smile as she cast an eye around the place, ‘the food is great.’

‘No, no,’ Ginny replied hastily, ‘it’s lovely.’ She was charmed by their outside table. After her day: the sun, the swim in the sea, getting so much work done — she was insanely relaxed.

Mac looked at her, and could see that the stress had lifted from her. Not even pretending to know more than she did, he handed her the wine list. ‘Knock yourself out.’

She took it, laughing.

Once the wine arrived, Mac took a sip of her choice. ‘Did your vintner put you onto this one?’

‘No, the bloke at my local bottle shop did.’ Ginny twisted her wine glass. ‘He wasn’t really “my vintner”, Mac. We just dated for a bit, and, well … you know.’

‘Like Stephen, the actuary?’

She gave him a wicked look. ‘No, there was definitely no “you know” with Stephen.’

‘Gotcha.’ He waited a beat. ‘Seeing anyone now?’

Ginny’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Don’t you think you would have bumped into him by now? I like to think I’d introduce my best friend to my boyfriend.’

‘Yeah, well, you used to be a bit cagey with the men in your life. I’m just trying to work out if I need to give anyone a once-over. You know — big brother-like?’ He took another sip, watching her over his glass.

‘Nooo …’ She watched him back. ‘I don’t think I need you to do that for me anymore, Mac.’

He nodded.

‘How about you?’ Ginny asked.

‘How about me what?’

‘Ha ha — seeing anyone?’

‘No. Not right now.’

Stepping carefully, Ginny took another slow drink. ‘How does it work? Dating, and “you know”, with your job?’

Transfixed, he thought. That’s what I am with her. Bloody hilarious to think I would be anything but. ‘Well, same as anyone I guess. You meet, get on … “you know”.’

‘But isn’t it hard, keeping a relationship going when you’re away for so long?’

‘I don’t know, I never tried it.’

‘But Mac,’ she exclaimed. ‘You joined up, what — five, nearly six years ago? That’s a long time.’

‘I never said I lived as a monk, Ginn.’

She looked away, suddenly embarrassed.

‘I just prefer to keep things casual. No strings.’

Looking back at him, Ginny thought of that big bed and wondered if that was where he brought the women he met. ‘Anyone here?’ she asked, meaning Coromandel.

‘Once or twice.’

‘Right.’ She swirled the wine in her glass, watched it skate up the sides, back down again. Looked up. Saw him watching her intently.