The comment brought her sister scurrying back into the room, hissing. “Keep your voice down, for goodness’ sake, Rebecca! And no, he’s not. Mucky Mark, who is still my husband, thank you very much, opted to work this morning.”
Rebecca snorted. “He’s probably scared of what I’d do to him if I got my hands on him, as he bloody well should be.” Tying her dressing gown and glancing round for her slippers she added, “I still can’t get my head round it.” Jennifer wouldn’t meet her gaze, so she ploughed on, determined to get a reaction. “I mean, the guy’s got it all. Why jeopardise everything like that and for what? A fling with his bloody secretary?” Shuddering, she slid her feet into her slippers. “Ugh. It’s just too much of a midlife crisis for words.”
At that, her sister’s eyes went flinty. “I don’t want to burst that little bubble you seem to live in, Rebecca, but life isn’t always as black and white as you paint it. In the real world, grown-up people make mistakes—you’d do well to remember that from time to time.” Turning on her heel, Jennifer stalked out of the room.
“You keep on defending him, and he doesn’t bloody well deserve it,” Rebecca threw back, stung by her sister’s comments, but Jennifer didn’t reply.
Chapter Nine
“MUM’S JUST TOLD ME your shadow Melissa tagged along for the ride.”
“Yeah. I didn’t exactly invite her but she’s here now, so is it okay if she stays to give me a hand looking after the kids?”
Jennifer raised an eyebrow at this. “Sure, she can stay but good luck with getting her to pitch in.” There wasn’t much Rebecca could say to this because she knew her sister was right. Jennifer knew she wasn’t going to get a bite, so she changed tack. “I thought you could drive yourself and the kids over in my car whenever you’re ready.” She pushed her empty plate away from her. “And that was great. Thanks, Mum.”
“You’re welcome. I’m enjoying having both my girls under the same roof for once.” She beamed at her daughters. She was sporting her new shamrock apron that, in Rebecca’s opinion, was a vast improvement over the hot lips one her father had chosen. Pamela rose from the table and began scraping and stacking the plates. Outside, the three women could hear the delighted shrieks of Jack and Hannah as they chased a soccer ball around the frost-covered garden with their granddad.
“Mark said goodbye to the children this morning,” Jennifer explained, obviously for Rebecca’s benefit. The two sisters exchanged a look behind their mother’s back as she carried the empty plates over to the sink. “He’s meeting me back here at lunchtime and Dad’s going to drop us off at the airport.”
So in other words, bog off before lunchtime, Rebecca thought as she helped herself to another coffee.
Jennifer carried on brusquely, “I’ve left a detailed list of the children’s routines for you at the house. Though, I think you’ll find they are pretty good at telling you what’s what these days.”
Her half-hearted smile promptly vanished as Rebecca, unable to stop herself, remarked, “I see you’re still Superwoman in the organisation stakes, then.”
“And I see you’re still pretty quick off-the-mark with the snide remarks. I think a fortnight of having to think about two little people instead of just yourself for a change will do you the world of good.”
Rebecca couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Um, excuse me...who exactly is doing who the favour here?”
Jennifer was unrepentant, though. “Oh, I’m sorry I forgot what a big ask it was to expect you to take some time out of your jet-set lifestyle and be part of this family for a couple of weeks.”
Scowling at her older sister, who suddenly looked every bit her age, Rebecca fumbled for a suitable rejoinder when a loud bang coming from the sink snapped her attention away from the dispute.
“Enough!” Pamela emphasised her scolding with another thump of the breadboard against the counter. “Honestly, you haven’t seen each other for two years and you’re at it already! Will you two ever get along?” Leaving the breadboard to recover, she began frantically scrubbing at the frying pan, sending a quiver of shame throughout the room.
Their mum was right—it had been forever since they’d seen each other, and it wasn’t as if they were going to be seeing a great deal of each other on this visit home either. Surely they could make the effort for the sake of an hour or two? Eyeing Jennifer, whose own eyes were downcast as her fingers toyed with her placemat, Rebecca realised that once again she would have to be the first to surrender.
“Sorry, Mum,” she apologised before asking sulkily, “So what’s happening in the cooking school while you’re away, Jennifer?”
Recognising a white flag when she saw one, Jennifer looked up and attempted a smile. “Betty’s got that side of things under control, so you don’t need to worry about it.”
A picture of Jennifer’s trusty sidekick sprang to mind. A warm and bustling woman, Rebecca liked her immensely. Betty’s inherently good nature made her the ideal candidate to take over the tuition side of Cuisine with Carlton’s. The idea of this had been that Jennifer would have more time for the marketing side of the business and, of course, more quality time with her family. Didn’t work too well where Mark was concerned, Rebecca sniped silently.
Jennifer’s voice began to defrost as she warmed to her theme. “There’s a group coming up from Timaru to learn Thai—”
At the muffled sound of ringing, Rebecca pushed her chair back and stood up, looking around her. “That’s my phone. Where’s my bag, Mum?” she asked, cutting her sister short. Jennifer frowned and then got up and went outside as Pamela pointed at the sideboard where she’d slung her bag down in her rush to get at the chocolate cake the previous afternoon. “Right where you left it.”
“Oh right, ta.” Rebecca rummaged around until, holding her phone aloft, she squinted at the display panel, unable to make out the name. Oh, please don’t tell me I’m old enough to need bifocals, she muttered to herself.
“Hello?” she addressed the receiver.
“Hi-ya, babes!” Melissa sang back at her. “Did you have a good flight?”
“No, I didn’t since you’re asking.” Rebecca opted to leave it at that. There was no point ruining the day by reliving the embarrassment for Melissa’s entertainment.
“Oh, that’s a shame. First class was brill. I was born to it,” Melissa raved.
“Good for you.”
“You sound a bit snarky; everything okay?”
“Fine, fine.” Rebecca stifled a yawn. “It’s just the jet lag setting in.”
“Oh, you don’t get jet lag flying first class,” her best friend dropped in airily before whispering, “Now listen, sweetie.”
Rebecca pressed the earpiece closer.
“I stayed at Mum and Dad’s last night and, to be honest, I can’t wait to get away. Mum’s doing my head in already, but I have managed to talk her into loaning me her car. You know, the red Alfa Romeo? So the plan is I am going to do the rounds of all the old gang, and I’ll see you over at Jennifer’s later tonight.”
“Oh right,” Rebecca replied flatly. She certainly had her day planned out, and it didn’t include helping her settle in with the kids.
“Now, don’t worry about doing dinner for me, sweets, because I don’t know what time I’ll get there but if there happens to be a spare plate—”
She was infuriating, Rebecca thought, cutting her short. “Yes, yes. Look, I’ve got to go.”
“Melissa, I take it?” Pamela asked, turning away from the sink to look at her daughter as she shoved her phone back in her bag.
“Uh-huh.” A thought struck her. “What time are Auntie Sue and Uncle Bob getting here?” Her mother’s brother was bearable—but only just. As for his wife Sue, though, she was a nightmare, and Rebecca planned on being long gone before they arrived to house-sit.
“Sue said they were leaving around ten-ish, and it’s about a three-hour drive from Waimate, so they should be here around one thirty, or two at the latest. Are you g
oing to wait and say hello before you head off? They’d love to see you.”
“Er, no. I think I should make tracks soon, Mum, and get the children settled in.” Rebecca didn’t meet her mother’s eye, but she heard her sigh.
“It’s such a shame, the bad timing. I don’t know—you finally come home... You’re only here for two weeks, and your father and I have to head away just as you arrive...”
“Listen, Mum—you and Dad always said you were going to do a cruise around the islands when he retired. You have been planning this holiday for years. Besides, we’ve got two whole days together when you get back before I have to fly out. Go—you deserve it, okay? I will be fine, the children will be fine, and you probably won’t give us a second thought once you board that boat.”
“Cruise liner, darling. You couldn’t call the Pacific Princess a ‘boat.’ As for not giving you girls a second thought, you’ll realise one day when you’re a mother what a ridiculous thing that is to say.” She gave a pained sigh. “I still don’t know why your sister feels the need to take a holiday without the children, right now of all times.”
“What do you mean by ‘right now of all times’? That’s the whole point of my being here—so she and Mark can go on holiday.”
“I know that, but Jack’s been acting up lately and with your, ahem, dare I say it?”
“Go on, Mum, be a devil.”
“Don’t be sarcastic; it doesn’t suit you. What I was going to say was that you’ve hardly had a lot of experience on the parenting front. It’s not what I’d consider the best timing for your sister and Mark to head away.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mum.”
Walking away to prevent her mother from seeing the big eye-roll that followed, she made her way out to the driveway. Pamela followed behind her to where Dick was loading Jennifer’s bags into the boot of her shiny four-wheel drive beast. Of course, Rebecca couldn’t resist voicing her opinion as to the reasoning behind anyone needing a five-seater vehicle to cart two children around in being beyond her. Pamela leapt to her eldest daughter’s defence, saying that everybody got round in big Land Cruisers these days. Everybody except her mum and dad, Rebecca thought ruefully, glancing over at their reliable little Honda. As a cool wind blew in, the bystanders watched in amusement while it wrestled with the strands of hair her father had obviously combed over his bald spot.
“What’s with Dad’s hairdo, Mum?”
“You know full well he’s sensitive about his hair loss.”
Indeed she did, Rebecca thought, smirking. The subject was taboo. All it took was a glance in the direction of his dome and he’d go all red in the face and start spluttering, “What? What are you looking at?” Speaking of which, Dad was starting to go red now as he tried repeatedly to slam the boot shut.
“Maybe the timing isn’t the best, Mum, but Jen and Mark do need a break. It can’t be easy for them,” she said through gritted teeth. “They’re both so busy with their careers and the children that it will do them good to spend some quality time together, just the two of them.”
Her mother raised a sceptical eyebrow. “I suppose I should be grateful that despite all your squabbling, you girls at least stick up for each other.” She managed a small smile. “Do you remember that rake of a lad your sister used to date? The one who spent more time doing his hair than she did? What was his name?”
“Peter and it was the 1980s, Mum. Men had big hair back then, even Dad.”
“Don’t compare your father to Peter the Poofter!”
“Mum! That is so un-PC!”
Pamela giggled girlishly. “It was your father’s pet name for him. Oh and by the way, I know your sister used to sneak out to meet him.”
Rebecca was gob-smacked. Sneaking out to meet her boyfriend was the only truly rebellious thing Jennifer had ever done throughout her teenage years, and their mother had known about it all along. She recalled how she had tiptoed into her big sister’s room and found her with one leg hanging over the windowsill and the other one on its way out behind it. “I’m in love,” Jennifer had declared passionately in explanation before handing her five dollars hush money.
“So how did you find out?”
“That’s ancient history now, but my point is that you covered for her then, and I know you’re covering for her now.”
Chapter Ten
“HANNAH JANE CARLTON, get to bed now!” Hauling herself up off the couch for the umpteenth time that evening, Rebecca frogmarched her niece back up the stairs.
“But I don’t want to go to bed, Auntie Becca,” the little girl stated matter-of-factly, as if this in itself should be reason enough for her to be allowed to stay up.
Rebecca’s patience had just about frayed right through, and she found herself snapping, “Now you listen to me, miss—” Breaking off mid-sentence, she realised with horror that she sounded just like her mother.
Oh, crumbs! Does that mean it’s true what they say about daughters eventually turning into their mothers? Mightily disturbed, she tipped her niece back into bed and pulled the bed covers up around her. “It’s nearly ten o’clock, Hannah, and you are only three and a half years old, so that means it is time for sleep.”
“But I wanna milk.”
“No, you’ve already had a drink.”
“Just a little milk in my cup.”
Seeing her small face beginning to crumple and scared that she’d wake Jack—who was in his room next door—if she began howling, Rebecca backed down. “Just this once, okay, and then it is bedtime.”
Popping Hannah’s special Beatrix Potter cup in the microwave for thirty seconds and watching it twirl around, she felt like she’d just filmed a segment for one of those awful parenting shows. She was one of those parents who cripple under their toddler’s tyranny, and the viewers sit at home, shaking their heads. The microwave beeped and, retrieving the cup, Rebecca traipsed back upstairs. As she passed Jack’s bedroom, a tousled head appeared round the door.
“What do you want, Jack? I thought you were asleep,” she asked irritably.
“I want to go to the toilet. Auntie Becca?”
“Yes?” she answered wearily.
“You look funny when you’re mad, sorta like that.”
Following the direction his finger was pointing in, she was treated to a view of Pinky, the family cat’s, posterior as she sauntered towards the stairs, tail held high. Giggling, Jack raced into the bathroom, banging the door shut behind him. That was the second time this month she’d been told her face was reminiscent of a cat’s bum, she brooded. Should she be worried?
By ten thirty, the house was quiet at last. Rebecca stretched out on her sister’s taupe-coloured, Italian leather five-seater. What was it with Jennifer and five-seaters? Perhaps she had a subconscious yearning for a third child, she mused. She reached over to pour herself a healthy glass of the Sauvignon Blanc she’d found chilling in the fridge earlier. A welcome note had been attached to it.
Enjoying the wine and soothed by the warm, earthy tones Jennifer had picked out for the living room, Rebecca felt herself relax for the first time since she’d left her parents’ house that afternoon. After sobbing her heart out and having to be physically dragged from her mother, Hannah had gone to sleep in the back of the wagon. Her brother, meanwhile, hadn’t given Jennifer so much as a backwards glance. He was eager, Rebecca had assumed, to get on with the adventure of having his auntie with them.
Now she was beginning to think her assessment was wrong—little Jack seemed more interested in pushing her buttons than spending quality time with her.
Jack had been unusually quiet on the drive over earlier that afternoon, allowing Rebecca to soak in the scenery. Once they’d passed by the smattering of new subdivisions on the city’s periphery, they found themselves sandwiched between craggy hills to the left and flat marshland that stretched out to the sea on the distant right. In her rear-view mirror, she could make out the ragged outline of the Southern Alps decked out in their winter
snowsuits despite the mild weather for this time of year. She had forgotten how breathtaking her homeland was.
Little River’s blink-and-you’d-miss-it stretch of cafés and galleries heralded the end of the flat road, and they had begun a spiralling ascent.
“Bloody cyclists!” Rebecca had spluttered at a pair of lovebirds who were not only insisting on wearing head-to-toe matching spandex but on riding double breast, too. Her little outburst prompted Jack to speech, even if was only to state the obvious: “You swore, Auntie Becca.”
“Yes, I know, Jack. I’m sorry but honestly, if a truck was heading the other way, well...”
“Our blood and guts would be splattered all over the road?” Her nephew filled in the blanks nicely for her as a sign caught her eye.
“Look—we’re nearly at the Hilltop! Shall we stop and have a look?” Ignoring his indifferent shrug, she indicated left as they approached the old pub.
Pulling into a park next to a tour bus that had also just pulled in with a cargo of sleepy-looking Japanese tourists, she glanced back over her shoulder. Hannah’s head was still lolling over to one side, and her mouth was slack. Satisfied that her niece was out for the count, she turned back and asked, “Coming then?” Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and clambered out of the car. She took that as a yes, and a moment later she was standing with her arms resting on his shoulders, breathing in the volcanic vista spread out before them.
I’ve stood here looking at this same view in summer, spring, autumn, and now winter, she reflected. Each season served up its distinct flavour. In spring, the hills framing the basin were lush and green with leaves beginning to sprout from the grapevines that snaked their way over the countryside. Summertime made the vines heavy and ripe for the picking while the hills were bleached the colour of wheat. The water filling the basin from which they rose out of would reflect plump white clouds resting in the blue South Island sky. Come autumn, the tones intensified with the vines turning port red and the earth a sharply contrasting green. The water would lose its aquamarine sparkle to become deep and mysterious like a Scottish loch. Today, the branches of the grapevines were knotty and tired, and the hills muddy, but there was a wildness to it all that took her breath away.
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