The Quilt (37 page)

Why the he
ll did he let Chloe talk him into coming here?

To one side
there was a large board with a note inviting guests to attach their own photographic memories of Sandra Cunningham.  He wandered over and looked at a slightly older Sandy.  Her hair fell like flames over her shoulders and her short bright dresses or tight jeans clung to stocky legs and a tiny waist. The moments frozen in time showed a rebellious teenager, her eyes crazed by drink and rage. 

The exquisite blonde that accompanied her in many of the later photographs was Joanne, although at first Paul did not recognize her. 

It was the same slender tall frame and high cheek bones, the same honey blonde waves that had hung to her waist when Paul had first seen her.  But now the eyes were different, aloof and wary they were filled with bitterness that came from bad experience, not years.  He looked closely at a recent photograph, perhaps taken when she was in her early twenties.  It appeared to show Joanne graduating from University.  She was cloaked in a cape and standing beside her, barely reaching up to her shoulder was Sandy.

He heard the organ music grind to a ha
lt and a monotone voice that not only sounded rehearsed, but also slightly bored, welcomed the congregation.  Paul slipped into the rear pew and looked at the guests around him.  It did not take long to locate Joanne.  She was seated next to a bleached blonde headed man who appeared to be accompanying her.  Occasionally, she would lean over and speak to him in a lowered voice or they would exchange a smile but otherwise he appeared strangely detached.

What the hell am I doing here
?

An old man in the front pew had
been lulled to sleep by the long winded descriptions of a stranger called Sandra Cunningham.  His snores were audible in the brief moments that the monotone voice hesitated.  The service dragged on and Paul looked impatiently from his watch to the exit door. 

This was the last time he would let Chloe influence him
.  What could he hope or even want to gain from being here?

He looked up and met the eyes of
an attractive middle aged brunette woman.  She smiled suggestively.  Paul stared blankly until she turned away.

This was ridiculous. 
He had no place being here.  He glanced anxiously at his watch again.  Only thirty minutes had passed.

There was no reason to stay. 
Actually, he wished he had never walked through the door. He began to edge towards the aisle.   A hush had fallen over the congregation and he settled back self-consciously.

“Is there anyone that would like to share their memories of Sandra?”

The brunette swivelled in her seat to look at Paul expectantly.  He stared through her and focused on the figure of the tall blonde that was walking towards the microphone.

Joanne’s voice penetrated the silence.

“I first met Sandy at boarding school.  Somebody with a sense of humour decided we should be roommates, if they hadn’t, I doubt that I would have had the privilege of becoming this special lady’s friend.”

T
he congregation were held mesmerized as soon as she spoke.

“You see
, we were opposites.  I saw the world in shades of black and white whereas Sandy viewed life in technicolour through the eyes of an artist.” Joanne hesitated, she seemed to consciously steady herself by adjusting the microphone. 

“
It has taken years for me to understand that she was not only my friend but she was also my teacher.”

It was then that a flood of grief threatened.  Why hadn’t
she remained seated like the other anonymous faces in the crowd?  She knew the answer, she wanted to speak about Sandy, not the unfamiliar person described by a priest who had never met her in life.

Joanne
was an articulate speaker.  But the bile seemed to be clawing at her throat and the words she had vaguely formulated seemed to have evaporated. 

She looked at the old man in the front pew.  He jolted awake with an unpleasant grunt.  His body moved as though attached to a puppeteer’s string.
Joanne felt naked, exposed and struggling as the seconds ticked by.  Breathe.  She grappled with the imaginary tools that she could normally rely on to regain composure.

Paul looked at her blonde companion.  Why didn’t he
go to her? The man glanced up; he then looked away and began to wring his hands nervously.  How could he show no empathy when he saw Joanne vulnerable in front of that towering elaborate stained glass window?  Paul shook his head in disgust. 

Joanne watched in disbelief as Paul appeared from the rear of the church and strode towards the pulpit.  He moved with a familiar confidence, holding and reassuring her with his intense eyes.  His smile was reserved, he protectively placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded encouragement.

“You are doing great
.”

Breath
e. 

“Sandy had a passion for life and
everything it had to offer.   She taught me to laugh and to stop long enough to enjoy the things I may not have even noticed before she came into my life.”

Paul gently slid his arm around her
shoulder and she moved naturally into his strength.

“Sandy did not always conform but that is what made her special.  She loved loud mus
ic and she loved loud clothes.”

Paul heard a
muffled laugh from the congregation. 

“The world will be a much
duller place without this wonderful colourful, brave person.  I will miss her so very much in my life.”

Moisture from her tears had penetrated the thin cotton of Paul’s shirt. She looked up and smiled weakly before allowing him to guide her back to her seat. 

“Thank you
.”  She looked drained.

“It was my pleasure
.”

Paul
nodded curtly to acknowledge the feminine blonde man seated beside her and then abruptly turned and walked out of the church.  It was important that he put as much distance as possible between himself and the funeral of Sandra Louise Cunningham.

Chapter
34

“The way forward”

Joanne knocked on
the door of her parent’s elegant and appropriately situated home.  Randal Kyle answered looking irritated and his mood did lift when he acknowledged his daughter.   The business section of the paper lay discarded on the table.

“
Hello Joanne.  Your mother is in New York, no, sorry, London if you have come to see her?”

He looked at her hopefully
.

“No
, I really wanted to talk to you.” 

Joanne noticed he was
attempting to read the paper while she spoke. 

“How can I help?  I wa
s sorry to hear about Sandra.”

It seemed unnecessary to comm
ent.

“I was wondering if you knew much about the employment market at the
moment.  The universities haven’t finished so I would assume there are less young people looking for positions?”

He seemed to consider the question for a moment and a deep frown ran across his brow.

“We advertised for a legal secretary last week.  From memory, we received around one hundred and twenty applications.  Most were over qualified for what was essentially an office position.  Over half of the applicants were law graduates, some older but many around your age.”

Joanne waited for him to continue.

“You know it was bad judgement at the very least, to leave the position you had in Nelson don’t you?  You were not employed for long and that will put most prospective employers off when they read your resume.”

Joa
nne looked at her hands to avoid meeting his accusing eyes.

“
There were circumstances that made it impossible for me to remain in Nelson.”

“I believe we have had this conversation previously Joanne.  I also believe you declined my assistance.  I thought I had made it quite clear I would not continue to help if you were intent on throwing away your potential
.”

His
eyes glistened dangerously.

“At the time
, my priority was to help Sandy.  No one could expect me to pursue a career when my friend had just been diagnosed with cancer and needed my support.”

“Quite on the contrary
, you should have taken any opportunity that was offered to you!  Sandra’s circumstances were very unfortunate, but realistically a person like her was eventually going to end up as a statistic.”

“You seriously are not implying that she contributed to her disease are you?”

Randal shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

“Who knows how much lifestyle choices affect you physically
.” 

Joanne stared in disbelief.

“You know nothing about her lifestyle and I hardly think you are in a position to judge.”

S
he indicated towards the half empty whisky tumbler on the dresser.

Clearly bored Randal changed the subject.  He had
leaned back in his chair.

“
Your hair looks much better short. I know I have said it before but a sensible cut and colour helps give an impression of credibility.” 

He continued
.

“O
f course it would not be a necessary if, like your mother, you were employed in the cosmetic industry.”

Joanne ran her hand sel
f-consciously over the short layering.  Her hair had only just grown back enough to have it styled.  After a moment of silence she had regained her thoughts enough to speak in a reasonable tone.

“My hair was not cut
, it was shaved to support Sandy after the chemotherapy affected her.”

Randal
suddenly changed the subject.  He was clearly in an argumentative mood and clearly resented Joanne’s intrusion.

“I obviously have a lot of contacts in the industry.  I
might consider enquiring about opportunities if, and I mean if, you can assure me you genuinely intend to seek employment.”

Joanne walked over to the empty whiskey tumbler.  She picked it up and watched a thi
n layer of amber liquid flow into the lowest corner.

“
Is this really you talking? What do you want from me?  Do you want me to beg for your help? Beg for your approval?”

Joanne poure
d a small measure of alcohol into the tumbler and placed it carefully in front of her father.

“I hope this brings you happiness
.”

Randal Kyle did not react.  His hardened eyes studied Joanne’s face unemotionally. 

“I may have been mistaken.  Your mother isn’t in London this time.  She is in Sydney.”

“Right planet
, wrong hemisphere!”  Joanne snapped.

Sean glanced from his son’s angry face to the small screwed up balls of discarded envelopes on the kitchen floor.

“Perhaps this is a bad time.  We could come back later
.”

“No
, now is fine.”

Paul handed Jean a brief official letter
.

“Another requirement if we want
to get the compliance for the open fire.  They will want diners to wear high visibility vests and hard hats soon.”

Jean scanned the form.

“That was one of the things we needed to discuss with you.  I guess it is no longer necessary to ask if you have the documentation through from Health and Safety.”

Sean walked over to the sink and p
oured himself a glass of water.

“
Mari has suggested a degustation menu for the opening night.  I know you originally discounted that idea, but it makes sense to have set food at a set price accompanied by selected Marinella wines.”

Jean walked to the buffet and put a neatly folded cardboard menu down.

“We have put a lot of thought into this.  When you get a moment please go through our suggestions.  They are all dishes that would go on to the standard menu later and all things that Mari has presented numerous times before.  She has also made sure nothing is too time critical and that much of it can be prepared ahead of time.”

Jean checked that Paul was still listening before she continued.

“We all hope it will run smoothly but there will be pressure.  This will be the first time your staff will have worked together and the first time the kitchen will have been used commercially.”

Paul looked at Jean who was nervously pacing the length of the kitchen.

“I saw Chloe was here again yesterday.”

Paul nodded.

“She has been rehearsing here instead of at the studio.   She is planning to mainly perform Jazz at the opening.”

He watched as Jean continued to pace.

“Is there something else that you wanted to discuss?”

They exchanged a glance before Sean started to speak.

“Jean is still having some trouble with that arm.  But her surgeon seems to think the worst is over.  We were planning to return to the King Country after her treatment or possibly after the restaurant opening.”

Paul raised his eyebrows
.

“Possibly?”

“We do not want to intrude, any of us and that includes Mari and Sid.  We have come to consider them our closest friends and all of us have enjoyed being involved in the arrangements to open the restaurant.”

“And now you are considering making the move to Waiheke permanent?”

“Are we that transparent?”

Paul smiled.

“Of course you are not intruding.  The restaurant had always been planned, but it wouldn’t have actually happened this quickly without your help.  I would be grateful for your continued involvement.  Have you seen any properties?”

Paul looked up at his father.

“The King Country unit went unconditional yesterday and we signed on a renovated bach in Enclosure Bay this morning.” 

“It’s been fifteen years since I have travelled.  That means it’s been fifteen years since Ray died and I came home to purchase the café.” 

Joanne watched the familiar transition fr
om morose to highly animated. 

“
Have you looked at the brochures?”

Simon
continued without waiting.

“I have spoken to Kate and she i
s happy to come back to work which will allow you a break over the weekends.  I will be away three weeks and after what you have been through, I don’t want you to be under too much pressure.”

“I will be fine
.”

Joanne
answered without looking up from the computer screen.

“
You have all my contact numbers?”

“Yes and yes I can take you to t
he airport.  I have already put it in my diary that you will be here at five o’clock Monday morning and thank you for the use of your car while you are away.” 

S
he looked up thoughtfully.

“
I need to do something over the weekend but the mobile will be on if you need me.”

Simon looked intrigued. 

“No, it’s not exciting or romantic, but it is something I need to do.”

“Disappointing
.” 

His eyes wandered to the three large cardboard boxes, sealed and waiting for
the courier to pick up.  Joanne spoke as if understanding his thoughts.

“
At least this way she doesn’t have to pack up her daughter’s personal possessions.  She can open the boxes whenever she feels ready.”

“The café won’t be the same when you leave
.”

Jo
anne looked up from her laptop guiltily.

“You have seen
that I am updating my CV?”

She closed the computers lid.

“I really want you to go away and enjoy yourself.  Not go away and worry about something that is unlikely to happen in the near future.  I won’t even start looking for another position until you get back.”

Simon did not look convinced.

“Getting my career back on track is very important to me.  But you and the café take priority. Now go and finish packing.”

As soon as Simon had left Joanne reached for the telephone and dialled the solicitors office in Nelson.  An unfamiliar voice answered, she was put straight through to the senior partner, Patrick O’Donnell.

“Hello Joanne.  I was wondering when we would hear from you!  I was just thinking about y
ou the other day.  How is your mother?”

Joanne waited hoping he would clarify
. 

“You left us because you
mother had a sudden stroke I believe?”

“Yes
, of course, sorry.  She is fine thank you.”

“What a shame.  Kelvin was quite upset that you had
to leave so suddenly.  But it was understandable under the circumstances.  You know Kelvin retired soon after you resigned don’t you?”

Joanne smiled.  The possibility of a sexual harassment suit had obviously unsettled him. 

“Now, how can I help you?”

“Thank you for recommending me to Logan N
eil.  Unfortunately, I was not able to accept his offer.   I am now looking for a new position and updating my resume.  I would appreciate a reference from you if that was possible.”

“I’
m disappointed.   I had hoped you were calling to ask us to reinstate your position here.  You know we would take you back in a heartbeat if you would consider it?”

“Thank
you, I appreciate your offer.  Unfortunately, personal circumstances make it necessary for me to remain in Auckland.”

Patrick sound
ed a little disappointed.

“
Your mother, of course.  Do you remember that silly old Mrs Dean?”

As a junior solicitor she had been assigned Mrs Dean’s numerous time consuming and irrational cases.  They were mainly trivial disagreements between her, neighbours and family.

“She actually contacted the Law Society to complain that you were no longer available.”

Joanne laughed. 

“Are you sure you would not reconsider Joanne?  There is a position available here and we would be happy to pay for you to relocate and also to regularly visit your family in Auckland.”

“Thank you for being so generous.  But
…..”

Patrick interrupted
, “You can’t blame me for trying to convince you.  I’ll have that reference in the mail in the next few days.”

It was Saturday evening and a warm, moist subtropical breeze kissed the swaying vines.  Paul turned away and walked slowly towards the tasting room. The door was slightly ajar and the breeze pushed it back and forth making a light, knocking noise as it blew against the wall.  Paul looked inside the darkened room before securing the latch.  In the dim light he saw Sean sitting rigid and brooding.  The long expanse of the tasting table stretched out between them.