Written in the Stars (11 page)

Joey’s homecoming was an excuse for a party, and as soon as the word went around that he was home, friends and relatives dropped in to say hello from all over. Someone organised a hangi. They broke it open late Saturday afternoon, and descended on it like a swarm of hungry locusts. Some time during the night, Joey pulled Kirsty away from the party and led her into the house next door where one of his relatives lived.

‘It’ll be quieter here; Huey won’t be home until the booze runs out.’

Kirsty slipped out of her clothes and drew Joey down onto the bed. Their excitement tipped them both over the edge within minutes, and it was only as the sun peeped over the horizon that they finally drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Their relationship had waxed and waned over a period of years because Kirsty’s foster parents had disapproved of him and tried to keep them apart, but every now and then Kirsty rebelled, sought him out and renewed their association. She had attended court the day he had been sentenced, and cried bitterly as he was led away.

She knew there had been times in the past when he had considered taking her away somewhere, but she also knew that the longing to be close to his own family always put an end to such plans. Joey knew where his roots lay, and the traditional link to the past was important to him, as with all Maoris. Although she did not expect to see him again, Kirsty had hoped against hope that he would come looking for her when he was released.

They spent Sunday visiting friends, and it seemed as if everyone wanted to have a drink with them. It was late afternoon before they found time to talk about what lay ahead. He watched the tears well up in Kirsty’s eyes as he told her that he intended to mend his ways and make provision for the future.

‘Bobby’s promised me a job driving the van,’ he said, clasping her hand. ‘It’s a start, eh?’

‘That’s great, Joey, really great.’

‘Hey, and maybe you and I could…?’ Joey fumbled for his words.

‘I’d like that,’ Kirsty said quietly. ‘Yes, that would be really great.’

‘But what about your folks, and Steve?’

Kirsty looked at the huge man by her side, and sighed softly. ‘They know I’m having difficulty in accepting their lifestyle, and I know they don’t understand why. Norah and Vince have been wonderful to me, but they can’t give me what I need. And Steve, well, I could never be the wife he wants. He needs someone quite different from me.’

Joey listened patiently. ‘Look, I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, Kirsty, but…’

She looked at him imploringly. ‘What am I going to do, Joey?’

‘Kirsty, I’ll do anything to help. Just ask, eh?’ he said with sincerity.

‘I’d better go home now. I’ll get a cab,’ she muttered. While they waited for the taxi, Joey held her tenderly in his huge arms as though she were a newborn babe. The bond between them had never been stronger. He helped her climb into the vehicle and whispered his promise again. ‘Anything, Kirsty. Just ask.’

Norah opened the door as Kirsty pushed the key into the lock.

‘I said I’d be home Sunday,’ she said, defiantly. ‘And here I am.’ She glanced at the two men sitting in the lounge. ‘Don’t ask where I’ve been, because I won’t tell you.’

‘But Kirsty, we’re only trying to…’ Norah stopped as she pushed past her and headed quickly towards her bedroom.

‘Something’s happened to make her change her mind,’ Norah said, as she returned to the sitting room. ‘What are we going to do, Vince?’

Chapter Thirteen

It was mid-morning before Kirsty struggled out of bed. Her dreams had been full of Joey gently cradling her in his arms; Joey making love to her; Joey promising her anything to make her happy. And now as she padded into the bathroom, Kirsty wondered how she should break the news to Norah and Vince. And most importantly to Steve. She had to tell them that it was time for her to go, time to get on with the rest of her life, regardless of the outcome.

After a shower, Kirsty began to pack her belongings. As she sorted through the accumulation of odds and ends that she had collected over the years, her eyes filled with tears. Unable to continue, she went and made herself a drink, and while she sat there, staring into space, Steve walked into the room. He hesitated as though surprised to see her still in the house, but before he could speak she confronted him.

‘Why are you here?’ she demanded. ‘I thought you’d be at the factory.’

‘I had to pick up my laptop.’

‘Do you want coffee?’

Steve looked at her in amazement, well aware now that their whole future was hanging in the balance and she had just asked him a couple of mundane questions as if everything were perfectly normal. He studied her profile. The dark rings under her eyes were probably due to alcohol and lack of sleep, but they also looked as though she had been crying.

‘Yes please,’ he said after some hesitation

Without a word Kirsty made the coffee and pushed it across to Steve. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tears welled up in her eyes, and slowly rolled down her cheeks.

Steve moved quickly to her side, but she turned her head away. The tableau seemed frozen in time as they both wrestled with their own thoughts. Kirsty wept softly as she left the room, but unwilling for her to push him out of her life without an explanation, Steve raced after her, and gently turned her around to face him as she was about to enter her bedroom. ‘Talk to me, Kirsty,’ he insisted. ‘At least say something, even if it’s just get lost.’

As she looked at him in silence, Steve sensed she was fighting a despair that seemed to overwhelm her. Silently, she reached out and touched his face with her fingertips, then nodded her head as if agreeing with herself about something. Finally, she spoke.

‘Would you run me over to pick up my car?’

‘Sure, we’ll go now if you like.’ He clasped her fingers and pressed them to his lips. ‘While he waited for her to put on some make-up and tidy her hair, Steve went to his room and picked up the jacket soiled with coffee on the trip to Invercargill. He stopped outside the dry cleaner’s, and grabbed the jacket off the back seat and slung it over his arm. As he ran to the shop, the note from Jenny McTavish fell out of the jacket pocket and onto the ground.

Kirsty jumped out of the car and picked it up. Without thinking, she unfolded the piece of paper and read it. Within minutes, Steve was back in the vehicle, and she the thrust it at him with an angry look in her eyes.

‘Who’s Jenny?’ she demanded. ‘And what’s this déjà vu business?’

*

Suzi received a phone call from the police to notify her that the four-poster stolen from Caxton Manor could now be reclaimed. When she identified the furniture, the officer told her that she would have to make her own arrangements to have it returned to the house.

‘It’s out of our hands now,’ he said.

After she had completed the necessary forms, Suzi rang a removal firm and arranged for it to be collected. She picked up the phone to ask Mr Duncan if it was all right to enter the house, and then dropped it back on the cradle. Why should she wait for him to ponder over the legalities of her action, and then make a special trip to his chambers to pick up a key? She knew where Uncle Bart had hidden a spare in the garden, so she would have no trouble in letting herself in. And the solicitor would be none the wiser.

However she felt strangely apprehensive about entering the building alone. The removal firm had promised to be there on the hour, but there was no sign of them yet, and it was nearly ten past. Unwilling to wait any longer, Suzi turned the key in the lock and swung open the door. An overpowering feeling of neglect impressed itself on her mind as she walked from the vestibule into the hall.

Suzi pushed open the door that led to the sitting room with a feeling of trepidation. In her mind’s eye she could picture Steve Pardoe lurching towards her before he collapsed on the floor at her feet. There were no visible signs of the break-in. In fact, it looked as if the house had been undisturbed since it was closed after Uncle Bart’s funeral. Her eyes pricked with tears at the memory of the eccentric old man she had loved so dearly.

The sound of a heavy vehicle backing up to the house cut into her reverie. The slightly overweight driver slid out of the cabin and then reached back in for the paperwork. However, as soon as he saw Suzi he made a conscious effort to straighten up.

‘Right,’ he said, in an authoritative tone. ‘I’ll need you to sign for this.’ He peered at the delivery slip as if to check it was the right address.

Suzi quickly scribbled a signature in the space provided, then gestured at the open door. ‘I’d like you to put in the second room on your right upstairs.

After the lorry had gone, Suzi walked through the house again. Memories flooded her mind as she went from room to room, recapturing the emotions she had experienced as a young girl eagerly exploring the wonderful old manor. Uncle Bart had proudly explained everything to her in detail, pointing out the original old cottage that predated the rest of the house. The enormously thick internal, buttressed walls contained just two tiny windows that opened onto the corridor leading to the breakfast room.

Then he had taken her down into the cellar. The flagstone floor had not impressed her at that age, but she had become very excited when she saw the shining fragments of crystal in the huge solid boulders that made up the wall. Her uncle had chuckled when she asked if they were diamonds. She had since learned that they were a clear indication that the foundations were bone dry, and no doubt, it had helped preserve the old house over the years. She walked over to the section of wall that seemed to have been bricked up and ran her hand over it. Knowing there was a huge mound in the garden outside that could well have been a Bronze Age burial mound, she felt convinced that this had been an entrance into a chamber inside the mound. She made up her mind to find out for sure one day.

One of the highlights of her early visits had been to race up the spiral stone steps, run across the cottage area and then clatter down the great sweeping Victorian staircase to the main hall. And now as she climbed the steps, she wondered what would become of this magnificent building. She had taken stock of the place since the funeral, mentally calculating the cost of replacing the old Victorian drapes and incorporating some form of secondary glazing. The figures had been daunting. She could never afford it under the present circumstances.

Suzi made her way to the ground floor and paused by the front door. Once again she recalled the excitement that had swept over her when she had thought about using the lovely Victorian house for receptions. That feeling had been replaced by one of frustration when she learned that she was not the only claimant to the property. If only Steve Pardoe had not contacted Duncan, the inheritance would have been all hers.

The idea of including him in some form of partnership seemed not only remote, but rather foolish. Mark would not agree to such a proposition, and certainly he would not want Steve hovering in the background. Anyway she did not really want a third party involved in the enterprise.

As she walked back to her car she glanced at the grass-covered mound that rose fifteen feet above the rest of the garden. A local historian had suggested that it could be a Bronze Age barrow, but of course the council had ridiculed that idea when they had needed to build an access road through that side of the garden. The ancient monuments department had given her a disappointing answer, but she felt quite certain she was right in her guess that there was access from the cellar to a chamber inside it. She thought about it the response the department had given her again.

‘That’s not important. It’s just a pile of Victorian building rubble,’ the clerk had stated, in a know-it-all manner. ‘Instead of carting it away they merely turfed it over.’ He had laughed sardonically. ‘Don’t expect to find any treasure or artefacts under that lot, madam. It’s only rubbish.’

But Uncle Bart had thought differently. He claimed that the Victorians would never have tolerated a great pile of building rubble directly outside their beautiful dining room window, and if only to justify his views and prove him right, she would arrange an archaeological dig on it one day.

She threaded the new chain through the wrought iron gates and snapped the padlock shut. Climbing back into the Honda she drove away, deep in thought.

Mark looked up as she walked into the kitchen.

‘Everything okay? He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘I expected you back long ago.’

‘Is there a problem?’

‘No, just that there’s a lot to do,’ Mark replied, testily. ‘We’ve got the Women’s Institute luncheon and the party tonight and the…’ He stopped as she pulled a face. ‘I’d appreciate a hand, that’s all.’

‘Hey… have you forgotten I never agreed to work in the kitchen? It’s your domain,’ Suzi said, with emphasis. ‘That was never part of the deal. If it’s too much for you we’ll cut back on bookings, but don’t expect me to don an apron. Not now, not ever.’ She turned on her heel and walked back to the restaurant.

She had barely reached the front desk, when Mark caught up with her. He laid a hand on her arm and sighed. ‘Sorry, Suzi, I didn’t mean it that way.’ When she nodded, Mark kissed her cheek lightly. ‘Could you find time to go to the Co-op for me?’ He laid a list on the desk. ‘It’s urgent.’

By the time she had returned with the oddments he needed, the first few members of the local Women’s Institute group had arrived. Pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind, Suzi greeted them one by one, and conducted them to the area set aside for their luncheon. The next few hours were frantic as an unexpected rush of casual diners stretched their resources to the limit. When they finally closed the door that afternoon, she heaved a big sigh of relief.

As the waitresses said their goodbyes, Suzi called to Narelle.

‘I’d like you to handle the lunchtime guests for the next few days. I need to give Mark a hand setting up the village hall for the next booking, amongst other things.’

‘Oh, thank you.’ The woman’s face lit up as she spoke. ‘I’ve been hoping you’d give me another opportunity to prove I’m up to the job.’

‘Good.’ Suzi smiled warmly. ‘I may need to take some time off in the New Year, so it’ll be good to know I can rely on you.’

‘Will you be employing another hostess when you move into bigger premises next year?’ Narelle watched her closely as she waited for a reply.

‘We’re undecided as yet. Rest assured you’ll be told if we do.’

Suzi watched the woman close the door behind her, and grimaced. Why had Narelle asked such a leading question? Had Mark been discussing his ideas with Gary, who might have passed them onto Narelle? She had specifically asked him not to divulge any details of their plans or business arrangements to any of the employees, but it seemed he had done just that.

‘I’ll have a word with him later,’ she muttered.