by Kate Genet
‘See?’ she said. ‘His photos are gorgeous.’
Maddie’s face filled the screen, round and pretty, eyes sparkling above an impish smile. She had curly blonde hair and looked like she was going to be even more beautiful than her mum one day.
‘He emailed it to my phone, just as a favour. He said he was only playing about, it was good practise and he doesn’t usually keep the photos, except of Rose, of course. I offered to buy this one from him, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’
Zoe nodded and handed the phone back.
‘If you give me his number, I can call him about it,’ Yvonne said.
‘But you must have it already, or his email, at least.’ The woman was making Zoe grumpy.
‘I didn’t keep it!’ She turned away and rummaged in a handbag on the counter, pulling out a business card and giving it to Zoe who immediately felt foolish. ‘Have him call me, okay? Maddie’s turning five, and my husband Andrew and I want the day to be really special.’
Zoe nodded and tucked the card away in her front pocket. They could always use the business. Danny was in demand for wedding gigs, but a lot of it was seasonal work, and that season was almost over. Photographing children’s parties could be a money-spinner. And he was so good with children. Really seemed to know how to connect with them.
‘I’ll give it to him straight away,’ she said. ‘I know he’ll be happy to come take photos of Maddie.’
Yvonne gave a beatific smile. ‘Wonderful! We’re having it at our beach house, with all the family, so it will be a fantastic day and your Danny really is brilliant when it comes to kids.’
8
‘Your husband takes your daughter to her playdates?’ Trish asked in a whisper as they both watched the immaculate Yvonne swan off in search of Maddie.
‘Yeah,’ Zoe sighed. ‘He’s a stay-at-home dad. It worked out that way with our jobs.
‘Cool. That must be so good for your daughter. What do you do?’
Another sigh, but deeper this time. ‘I'm the exhausted, over-worked one whose job makes me want to shoot either myself or my clients, I’ve never quite been able to decide.’
Trish’s eyes widened. ‘Sounds bad.’
‘Ah well, it is, but I wouldn’t swap it for the world, all the same.’ She gave the woman an apologetic look. ‘I'm a social worker for CYPS.’
‘Child and youth protection services,’ Trish said. ‘Now there’s a job that must tear you apart on a regular basis. How do you stand it? Or is it not near as bad as it sounds?’
Zoe examined the bottom of her glass. It was definitely empty. She rolled her shoulders, looking forward to meeting Claire tomorrow and really being able to relax, even for an hour. Still, this was fun too, meeting someone new, and she liked Robert the Rooster’s mum Trish.
‘It’s pretty much as bad as you think it is,’ she said, stifling another sigh at the thought of work. ‘But the bright side is that when you manage to make a difference, it really is a difference worth making.’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘But for the most part it’s heart-rending. And it never seems to stop.’ She shook her head. ‘Poverty, neglect, lack of education. That’s the bulk of the iceberg, but it’s a very big iceberg.’
Something vibrated in her back pocket and she started before remembering she’d planted her phone there when she left the house.
‘And here we go,’ she said, pulling it out. ‘Work calls.’
‘It’s the office?’ Trish asked.
‘Yeah, sorry. I have to take it.’
Trish waved her away and Zoe ducked out of the kitchen, winding in and out of a herd of squealing, laughing children, Rose’s brilliant orange head amongst them, and searched out a quiet corner.
Three minutes later and she hit end call, then the speed dial for Danny’s number. She guessed it was too much to hope for a weekend without some emergency.
The call went unanswered and she frowned at the phone, checked she had hit the right number. Yep, she’d called Danny all right. Disconnecting before it went to voice mail, she simply rang back and listened to the soft burr burr.
This time she didn’t hang up before it went through to voicemail.
‘Danny? I need you to call me back,’ she said to the machine after the required beep. ‘Had a call from a doctor at the hospital about a child with suspicious injuries.’ She shook her head even though there was no one to see her. ‘I have to go in, so whatever you’re doing, just call me back, okay? I need you to come take over princess-watching duties.’
She pressed end and looked at the phone, perplexed. Perhaps he was in the shower or something. That would be it. She’d certainly take advantage of the opportunity to have a shower lasting longer than five minutes, minus a million impertinent questions about human anatomy, all the while standing on various dollies who needed a shower too before they went out to their next ball.
But still, he had to call her back. Tapping her phone against her palm, she left the quiet of the hallway and went in search of her host, and Rose.
‘Hey,’ Trish said, seeing her emerge. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Nope,’ Zoe said. ‘Have to go talk to a doctor at the hospital. I need to leave, I'm afraid. Well, I need to leave as soon as Danny gets back to me. He’s not answering his phone and I need him to come take my place here.’ She gave a snorting laugh. ‘At least he’ll be able to hear from Yvonne in person what a genius he is with that camera of his.’ She laughed properly, remembering how for a moment back there she’d felt a pang of jealous suspicion. Danny would never cheat on her. She’d never seen him so much as look at another woman.
‘I’ll keep a special eye on Rose for you if you want to get going now,’ Trish said. ‘And I bet she’ll hardly even notice you’re not here.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the yard. ‘They’re about to have an egg and spoon race.’
Zoe looked at her phone again. It was a good idea, and Rose knew everyone here; she’d be fine for fifteen minutes until Danny arrived.
‘That’d be awesome,’ she said. ‘I’ll let Macy know too. Thanks.’
Trish shook her head. ‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘We haven’t lived in Christchurch long – it’s hard to meet people.’
‘I’ve lived here all my life, but I believe you.’ Zoe bent to her phone again. ‘Listen, give me your number and let’s get together sometime. I’d like that. It’ll be fun.’
9
Danny’s phone rang as he cut back across from the river to his car.
‘Shit.’ The distant squeals got louder. They weren’t frantically looking for the birthday girl yet, but it wouldn’t take long. Minutes, he guessed. He needed to leave. Unseen.
He juggled the phone without slowing his pace, even though his sides were burning now, more from stress than exertion, he thought. He couldn’t possibly be that unfit. Could he? Maybe it was time to hit the gym. Didn’t they have a crèche there?
His thumb touched the button that sent the call through to voicemail and he shoved the phone back in his pocket, struggled over the fence to the carpark and reached for his keys. He’d worry about whatever Zoe wanted in just a minute.
The noise from the park had changed timbre. Now it was suddenly full of hooting calls and he didn’t have to hush his heavy breathing to hear them yelling Sahara’s name.
Any moment now, someone would come this way to take a quick gander around the carpark, in case she was hiding somewhere here.
Danny jabbed his key into the lock and wrenched the car door open. Now he was pissed off. How stupid could he have been? All these years since Rachel and he’d kept hold of his self-control, not been reckless.
Until now.
His phone rang again, making him jump, but he ignored it, got the car started and into reverse. A moment later and he was shooting out of his spot wondering if there were any video surveillance cameras about. No – that was only on TV, or in places like London. Not here in Christchurch. Not yet, anyway.
The car shuddered and there was a grinding screech of metal ag
ainst metal that had sweat popping out on Danny’s forehead.
‘Fuck!’
He’d turned the wheel too soon, hit the car beside him.
Easing forward, he got them separated and tried again, got away without a repeat performance, and seconds later was turning out onto the road, a wild grimace stretching his lips thin across his teeth. No way was he stopping to leave his insurance information tucked behind the other car’s windscreen wiper. Not today.
Nope. Not today.
Two more turns and he was safely blending in with the stream of Sunday drivers. His course was aimless for a minute, then he sat up straighter.
‘Think, man,’ he told himself. ‘You need to be somewhere else.’ Yes, that was right. ‘Need to be somewhere else right now. Somewhere where there are a lot of people who will see you. Just in case.’
He checked what road he was on, slid a grin onto his face, and changed lanes. The big Riccerton mall was down this way. That’d be perfect. He’d browse around some shops, stop for a bite to eat. If it ever came to it, someone would remember seeing him there at the right-ish time and he’d have himself an alibi.
Not that he was going to need one; he was convinced of that. But a man couldn’t be too careful, could he? He was going to be a very careful man from now on.
Because he’d realised something.
He’d liked the way Sahara Woolsley had felt wriggling her hot flesh against his. Liked it very much.
And he wanted more of it.
10
Zoe ran stiff fingers through her hair and felt grubby, like she needed a shower. The birthday party was over hours ago and Rose would be back at home, probably even have eaten her dinner by now. With Danny, who had taken ages to call her back. She’d actually been at the hospital by the time he bothered to return her frantic calls. Thank goodness for Macy saying Rose would be fine, that she would look after her even if the party ended before Danny turned up.
When he finally did call, it was from the mall, of all places. Doing a bit of window shopping, so he said. Zoe tried to remember if there was a camera or computer shop at the mall and was willing to bet there was. She hoped he’d kept to window shopping, not unnecessary-things-buying.
She was trying to keep herself from thinking about the poor kid at the hospital. A wee mite, he’d been, only a few months old, his head wrapped in bandages until it was the size of a football. The doctor had spoken to both her and the police, and now Zoe’s Monday was going to be taken up with trying to find a foster placement for the baby’s two-year-old sister.
Sometimes Zoe hated her job.
Correction. She hated the bastards who made her job a necessity.
But right now the girl was in the group home for the night, not happy, but safe at least, and Zoe was heading home, exhausted. The baby would be staying in the hospital, and then it would be a new home for him as well.
It was time to count her blessings. She had Rose, who despite Zoe’s good-natured jesting, was about the best kid in the world, and she had Danny, who had his quirks, but didn’t all husbands? And while she had to cancel her catch-up with Claire tomorrow, at least her best friend was back in town, and they would have a ball together until Claire sailed off on her next big adventure. Zoe loved hearing about Claire’s exploits, even when they made her shake her head and call her friend crazy. It took a special sort of person to do the things Claire did, sail solo around the world and everything, but Zoe was incredibly proud of her friend.
And they’d been friends, sisters really, for such a long time too, since high school. She rolled her head around on her neck, trying to ease some of the tension. God but she’d been looking forward to tomorrow’s lunch.
There was something happening at the park.
Zoe put her foot to the brake without thinking about it, the hair standing up on the back of her neck. This was where Danny brought Rose. Every day.
Had he brought her here this evening too, for some reason?
Had something gone wrong?
She pressed a hand to her breast and took a deep, calming breath. Of course not. Rose would be at home, eating her dinner, watching one of her Disney movies, or even more likely, passed out on the couch, the sugar rush having long since forsaken her. Whatever was going on at the park had nothing to do with Danny and Rose.
But she tried to pull into the carpark beside it anyway. A police officer waved her to a halt and she wound down her window.
‘Can’t stop here, I'm afraid,’ the officer said, his young face pale in the sodium lights.
Zoe shook her head. ‘I'm with CYPS,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’
The young man looked momentarily baffled, his Adam’s apple bouncing up and down as he swallowed.
‘Ah, there’s been an accident,’ he said.
‘A child?’ she demanded. It was a children’s playground, after all.
‘Er, yes. A little girl.’
Shit. It couldn’t be Rose. She needed to check. A second later and she was holding up her identification, telling him who she was, that she worked with the police, his boss would know her, and asking him where she could park.
‘Ah, we’re currently keeping the carpark clear of all new vehicles, so you’ll have to find a place on the road.’ Irritatingly, he cleared his throat again and gestured down the slope of the park. ‘The body was found in the river. The family was here for a birthday picnic,’ he said.
It was the day for birthdays, apparently.
‘She wandered off?’
‘Seems like it, ma’am. The kids were playing hide and seek. The family is down there. The child was only found half an hour ago. We were all searching before that.’
Zoe shook her head. What a meaningless tragedy. Heaving a sigh from deep in her chest, she debated whether to go down and see if she could be of any use or not.
‘Ma’am?’ the officer said, and she glanced back at him, taking in his pale skin and discomfort. Dead children were hard on everyone. Didn’t matter how long you’d been on the job. She rubbed at her temples, thinking of all the terrible things she’d seen and feeling suddenly bone-tired.
‘Thanks, Michael,’ she said, looking at his name tag. ‘I'm guessing there’s not much I can do. I was just passing.’ She stared out the windscreen. ‘This is where we bring my daughter.’
The officer turned and scanned the park. Spotlights were being set up by the river bank.
‘Nowhere is safe, really, is it?’ he asked, voice young and vulnerable. ‘My wife’s pregnant with our first.’ He blinked, and Zoe thought he looked not much more than a kid himself. ‘It’s all a big gamble, right?’
He turned to her as though asking her a serious question. She found herself reaching out the window and patting him on the arm.
‘You just go home tonight and hold your wife tight. And when that baby’s born, love him or her just as well as you can. It’s all we can do. It’s all we need to do.’
She tucked her hand back in the car and settled it on the steering wheel. There was no need to go insert herself in whatever was happening down there. If her professional services were needed, she’d find out soon enough. And she was beat. Fatigue was suddenly a physical thing, pulling at her limbs, dragging her down.
‘It was an accident, right?’ she asked, putting the car in gear.
‘I haven’t heard otherwise,’ young Constable Michael said. ‘But then, I'm just on traffic duty.’
On a nod, Zoe started the car again. ‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry,’ she said, and winked. ‘If it wasn’t accidental, I’ve heard killers like to return to the scenes of their crimes.’
He laughed. ‘I better see your identification again, then.’
‘I saw you write it down, and my rego number.’
A small salute. ‘Just doing my job.’
‘Keep up the good work, Michael.’ She indicated, and drew out onto the road again, watching the park recede in the rear vision mirror.
The family must be devastated, she thoug
ht to herself. A happy occasion taking a drastic turn for the worse. Zoe focused on the road in front of her again. A nice hot bath. That’s what she needed. A nice hot bath and a relaxing soak. Get rid of the stink of hospital from her skin.
Home was only a couple blocks away.
Turning into the driveway, she wished she’d asked Michael how old the little girl was.
There was a decent fence between the park and the river.
She sighed. Such a tragedy.
There were too many of those in the world.
11
Claire glanced around the restaurant, squinting at the sudden dimness after the brightness of the day outside. Zoe wasn’t there.
Not to worry. She found a seat outside on the patio, settled herself in and checked the drinks menu, picking one of the local craft beers and sitting back to people-watch for a few minutes, satisfied.
It was always a little strange coming back to Christchurch. The city changed at snail’s pace and yet it seemed more and more unfamiliar every time she saw it. She sipped at the beer when it arrived and guessed the thing that kept changing was more likely to be her than the city of her birth.
Technically, she lived in Auckland, City of Sails, although it had been a couple months since she’d seen her apartment there. She’d left Christchurch – Garden City – as soon as she’d finished school, eager to get out on the water in a much bigger way than she’d ever been able to down this end of New Zealand.
A smile crept over her face at the exhilaration of her first races. The mad rush of sail changes and sea spray. Then bigger boats, longer races, always setting herself increasingly difficult challenges, driven by something inside her that she couldn’t properly explain.
But there was freedom to be found on the ocean. The eternal horizon, simultaneously so close and so unreachable, the encompassing sky, and always the living heave and swell of the ocean. It was a different world, and it was where she was alive in ways she’d never quite managed on land.