Michelle Vernal Box Set

by Michelle Vernal

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  THE NEXT MORNING, SHE awoke to find blue skies had swept away the gloom of the previous day, bringing a little sunshine to perk up her mood. For the first five minutes at least. Today, she promised herself, she wasn’t going to think about how utterly defeated Ciaran had looked yesterday.

  Nope, today was David’s day, and she owed it to him to push Ciaran Cahill into the past, where he belonged. As she slid neatly into the last car parking space along the stretch of waterfront by the main jetty, Rebecca allowed herself a congratulatory moment. It had been touch and go, but the boat was still there, and she’d made it and with good hair. No thanks to her niece and nephew, who had been their usual unaccommodating selves as she’d revved them up to get ready earlier that morning.

  Knowing she was brooding over Ciaran, Jennifer must have decided it was safe to let her do the school run again. Rebecca did feel guilty not telling her what she was up to today with David, but then Jennifer had made it more than obvious that where she was concerned, the subject of David was closed.

  In a panic, she’d pushed Jack and Hannah out the front door, feeling like a camp leader as she chanted, “Come on! Come on! Hup two, three, four. Let’s move it on out, kids! Left, right, left, right!” Jack had moaned at her not to push him, to which she replied (and not unreasonably, she thought), “I am not pushing you, Jack. I am steering you in the right direction,” before bellowing, “NOW GET A MOVE ON!”

  That had spurred the pair on, but it was too late for her hair. Their tardiness left her with another terminal case of fringe frizz. Not that it had mattered, because David and Ben were nowhere to be seen outside the school. That’s right, she thought, recalling Jack’s mood at his friend being away yesterday too. She hoped the little boy wasn’t home sick. Surely David would have cancelled if that were the case? Crossing her fingers, she fervently hoped his plan was to meet her down at the wharf. Either way she’d find out soon enough what was up, hopefully.

  Despite the uncertainty as to whether or not David would show, Rebecca was relieved to make the round trip back to the house with a whole five minutes to spare. Her sister, thankfully, was busy down at the cooking school, and she raced inside and up the stairs to begin damage control with her hair straighteners. “I don’t know why I’m bothering, considering I’m going to look like a drowned rat in a couple of hours,” she muttered to herself, though she did know why she was bothering: she wanted to leave him with a good first impression.

  With her hair done in record time, Rebecca stood up, arms outstretched, and did a twirl in front of the mirror. Her faded jeans and black wool polo-neck set off her shoulder-length sheet of dark blonde hair; yes, she had the “casual but smart” look down pat.

  Pulling her bikini bottoms, which she’d worn under her clothes to save time, out from where they were already riding up her left cheek, she took the stairs two at a time. There was a skip in her step as she closed the front door and made her way to her car.

  GRABBING HER DAY PACK off the back seat, she locked the wagon and turned to squint into the morning sun. The sleek white catamaran bobbed gently on the waves, and she could make out a cluster of people milling around on its deck. Two figures stood at the end of the jetty, but with the sun in her eyes, she couldn’t tell if one of them was David. Inhaling the crisp sea air, she assured herself, “He’ll be here and remember that you, Rebecca Loughton, are a cool, calm, and confident woman.” As she began striding purposefully down the jetty, one of the figures she’d spotted raced towards her. As it drew nearer, she was assailed by a vision of sleek muscles rippling under rubbery confines.

  She momentarily forgot that she was a cool, calm, and confident woman as she realised that David had indeed shown up. She was in no way prepared for the sight of him in his wetsuit. Thankfully he didn’t appear to notice her almost menopausal flush.

  “Rebecca, hi! I didn’t think you were coming. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch for a few days, but I’ll explain what’s been happening later.” His eyes flicked down the jetty to where the other figure was waiting. “We’d better get a move on; Steve’s been holding the boat for us.”

  “Sorry. I know I’m cutting it pretty fine, but the kids were a nightmare. I’m sure you know how it is.” She wasn’t sure he did know how it was because she was pretty sure David would never be late for anything at the hands of a bad hair day.

  He didn’t agree with her theory, though, replying, “Yeah, tell me about it.” He took her elbow and steered her briskly past the changing sheds that were stacked in a neat multi-coloured row beside the check-in building. “You’re not going to have time to get changed now. Okay to do it on the boat?”

  So long as there was a bathroom of some description, she thought, nodding. David bounded up the metal gangway, hauling her onboard behind him to where a stocky man decked out in a thick grey polo fleece and black knee-length shorts was waiting to rope it off. “Here she is,” David announced. “Rebecca, meet my mate Steve.”

  She held out her hand in greeting, blathering out an apology for being late and instantly liking the way Steve’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her. “Steve handles the show.” Was it her imagination or had David’s voice just dropped an octave?

  “No worries. Welcome aboard. Your Jennifer’s sister, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “Top lady she is.” Before she had a chance to puzzle over the brief look that passed between him and David at the mention of her sister’s name, Steve rushed on. “Ever been swimming with the dolphins before?”

  “No, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  Steve was too busy gazing up at the clear sky to notice her putting her hand up to her nose and having a surreptitious feel to make sure it hadn’t grown.

  “It’s a beaut day for it and we’ve only got eight of you swimming today, so that means more time in the water.” Seeing her perplexed frown, he explained, “Only ten in the water at a time.”

  “Oh,” Rebecca said and his grin broadened.

  “You’ll love it, Rebecca. It’s better than sex, aye, mate?” He winked at David.

  “Speak for yourself, mate.” They had guffawed blokishly before Steve slapped him on the back.

  “Spot you later, mate; it’s time I got this baby humming.”

  Rebecca found herself wondering what it was about men and outdoor pursuits that unleashed some primeval urge to drop the word “mate” into every single sentence.

  “Come on, I’ll introduce you to a couple I met earlier.” David led her into the little group she’d spotted from the car park milling about on the boat’s deck. “Rebecca, this is Giovanni and his wife Monica; they’re over from Switzerland.”

  “Hi.” Blinking as she was very nearly blinded by the contrasting whiteness of their teeth against their deeply tanned skins, she managed to bare her off-white pearlers in return.

  How come Europeans always looked so bloody fit and healthy, she grouched silently before asking the obvious for the sake of politeness, “So are you touring around New Zealand?”

  “Yes,” Giovanni answered in clipped English. “We have visited the North Island for one month, and it is very nice, but we love the South Island, don’t we, Monica?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Especially the Luge in Queenstown but, swimming with the dolphins is our dream. We are very excited.”

  The fibs began tripping off Rebecca’s tongue once more: “Yes, it’s going to be a pretty special experience. Better than sex, so I’m told.” Where had that come from? David reddened as Monica’s eyes flitted down towards his nether regions, and then back over to hers with an expression of sympathy. Well done, Rebecca, she admonished herself. You’re off to great start.

  As the boat spun its way out to sea, the enthusiastic patter of Tina, their friendly guide for the day, filled the cabin as she explained the procedures they were all to follow. David leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “Ben and I have been away for a few days
staying in Christchurch with Maree and her parents.”

  “Oh,” was all Rebecca could come up with in reply to this revelation; she hadn’t expected that.

  “The family counsellor said that it was pointless, just me and Ben coming in to see her.” He shrugged by way of explanation. “We all needed to be there.”

  “How was it?” she probed.

  “Oh, I don’t know; who knows what goes on in a kid’s mind? The way they interpret things is usually completely different than the way we do. He’s been told that Maree and I splitting up had nothing to do with him time and time again. I still think that deep down he’ll always feel he played a part just by being born.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The only new thing to come out of the session was that Maree is going to consider relocating back to Christchurch. She’s a few years older now so who knows, maybe she feels she can cope with shared parenting at long last.” His face twisted. “Of course, she’s always got her parents there to pick up the pieces if she can’t, and it’ll be me who will have to deal with Ben’s fallout if that happens.”

  Rebecca winced at the bitterness that crept into his voice. It was so sad that two people who had created such a lovely little boy like Ben could have so much animosity between them. She squeezed her eyes shut; she desperately hoped that that wouldn’t be the outcome for Jennifer and Mark. Jack and Hannah didn’t deserve to grow up with that kind of chasm between their parents. Even though she knew the answer, she found herself asking, “So how do you feel about that?”

  He looked at her directly. “That’s just it, Rebecca; it’s not about me or how I feel. I have to think about Ben and what he needs, and I think he needs his mum.”

  She knew it sounded trite, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. So in a small voice, she said, “Maybe Maree has grown up.”

  “I hope you’re right, I do.”

  She was grateful for the distraction when Tina, multi-tasking in her dive gear with the tea trolley, stopped in front of them. She was holding up a jug of boiling water and pointing to the little packets scattered in a container. “Tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee,” Rebecca said and David asked for the same. As she trundled off, Rebecca took a cautious sip through the take-out lid, mulling over what David had just told her when she noticed two hardy passengers still on deck. On closer inspection, she saw that it was Monica and Giovanni. They looked like a pair of playful seals in their wetsuits as, seemingly oblivious of the cold, they jostled with each other for the best view.

  “Did you want to head out too?” David asked, tracking her gaze outside.

  Turning her head back to face him, her answer was emphatic. “Oh, no thanks! I’m getting cold just watching them.”

  He smiled at her. “Yeah, we’ll be out there soon enough.”

  The warmth in her smile faded as the realisation of missed opportunity hit her, and she cursed her stupidity for not having been brave enough to face the elements. It would have been the perfect chance to feign hypothermia and snuggle into that big, broad chest of his.

  Catching a flurry of peripheral movement, she swung her head back and watched in alarm as outside Giovanni began gesticulating wildly. His arms were forming great semaphore circles as he battled desperately to stay on board; Monica, beside him, stood like a statue. Oh, crumbs! Rebecca gasped audibly, her hand automatically reaching out for David’s as she waited for him to fall in. Suddenly Monica snapped to and leapt into action with an impressive lunge forward, managing to clutch hold of his arm, steadying him to his feet. A collective sigh of relief went through the cabin as the two passengers staggered around in a happy frenzy of black rubber.

  The drama wasn’t over just yet, though. The sound of Darth Vader-like breathing caused the microphone into which Tina had been happily explaining about the breeding habits of the Hector a moment earlier to crackle. Stomping through the cabin, she let in a blast of freezing air as she flung open the door. “What did you think you were—?” Her voice was cut off as the door hissed shut behind her. The body language—lots of expressive motioning towards the rails and inflatable life rafts combined with a ferocious scowl—gave the rest of them the general gist of things. This was great, Rebecca thought, smugly enjoying the show. She was pleased that for once it wasn’t her in the starring role. Then she realised her hand was still in David’s.

  It was abruptly released as Giovanni and Monica re-entered the cabin. Despite their heads being bowed, Rebecca could see they were both pale beneath their tans. Behind them, Tina brought up the rear, locking the cabin door behind her, lest they try to make a bid for freedom. David got to his feet as the trio made their way back to their seats, and she was surprised to see that his face was frowning with genuine consternation. He was a nice guy.

  “Are you guys okay? You gave us all a real fright,” he asked.

  “Yes, yes.” Giovanni waved his hand dismissively, embarrassed now by the scene he’d caused. “I’m sorry for all the fuss, but it is her fault.” As he pointed at Monica, she swung around and poked him in the chest. She said something in her native tongue that, despite the language barrier, Rebecca hazarded to be something along the lines of “get stuffed, you stupid man.”

  “She told me she saw a shark,” he further explained to David, and the rest of the cabin, who were all earwigging, gasped.

  Neighbour turned to neighbour, asking, “Shark? Did you know anything about sharks?” Rebecca’s ears were burning. Not once had David dropped the word shark into the same sentence as a dolphin. Bloody great, she seethed. So much for throw a leg over; she’d be lucky if she had any at all at the end of the day! Tina quelled the building mutiny by assuring them all that no sharks had ever been spotted in the fifteen years that the dolphin tours had been operating.

  Monica, however, wasn’t convinced, spending the rest of the ride entertaining everyone with her impersonation of a shark while Giovanni hummed the tune from Jaws. Who would have guessed they were a couple of comedians? Of course, if Monica were to drop the writhing on the floor from her act, she might find that audience interest would soon dwindle.

  Rebecca felt sorry for Tina. Poor thing was doing her best to provide them with a lively commentary of their surroundings from her vantage point hunched over a microphone at the front of the cabin, but no one was paying the slightest attention. Rebecca tuned in briefly, but it was a no-brainer—dolphins or David?

  Peering out from under her eyelashes in what she hoped was a covert manner, she put Ciaran firmly to the back of her mind as she began a study of his thighs. Hmm, very taut. She licked her lips and allowed her eyes to begin their languorous journey upwards.

  “Hi, it’s Rebecca, isn’t it?” Tina’s voice startled her. Sure the other girl would have noticed where her grubby little mind had been headed, Rebecca blushed, managing to stutter out a “y-yes.” Tina’s smile gave nothing away as she heaved the wetsuit she’d dragged through the cabin onto Rebecca’s lap.

  “This is for you. We’ll be stopping in about five minutes so you might want to slip into it now.”

  “Er, right, thanks; wouldn’t want to miss a moment with those Hectors!” She bared her teeth at Tina, and her enthusiasm was rewarded by an approving smile from David.

  Buggery-balls and bollocks, how was she supposed to change into an enormous piece of rubber discreetly? She was not prepared for this scenario. A hot panic swept through her as she cast her eyes frantically around the constricted cabin. Her eyes settled on the haloed toilet sign, and she felt the panic abate as her pulse rate slowed to an acceptable rate of beats per minute.

  “I’ll just duck in there; won’t be a mo.” Gesturing towards the toilets, she got to her feet, trying not to stagger under the weight of the wetsuit. Bloody Monica’s probably only weighed a quarter of what hers did, she thought while stalking past the Swiss woman’s skinny body as it convulsed from yet another shark attack. Perhaps it would be fatal this time, she hoped, locking the toilet door behind her.

  The toilet was
not of generous proportions and Rebecca prayed that the boat wouldn’t strike any mini-tsunamis, or things could get ugly as she stripped down to her togs. As her elbow connected with the solid timber wall, she let rip with a loud expletive, rubbing the tender spot for a moment before attempting to jiggle into the wetsuit. The sharp knock on the door saw her bang her elbow again in fright. “Ow! Shit, shit, shit!”

  “Everything alright in there, Rebecca?” It was Tina; obviously soundproofing wasn’t a feature on catamarans.

  “Fine, thanks, Tina.”

  As her footsteps moved away, the corners of Rebecca’s mouth twitched. She was reminded of that awful inevitability on a long-haul flight and found herself mentally typing an entry onto her and Ciaran’s flatulence travel blog:

  Long Haul Loo Etiquette

  On any long-haul flight, you can guarantee that at some point you will find yourself waiting for the little red occupancy sign on the toilet door to turn green. After what always seems an age of hopping from one foot to the other, the door is at last wrestled open to reveal the person who has been holed up in there for the last ten minutes. He/she steps out giving you an apologetic smile and your eyes meet in a silent exchange of: “Sorry, but I just had to go.” “Hey, don’t sweat it; these long-haul flights wreak havoc on your system.” “I know, but thanks for being so understanding.” “No problem.” “Oh, before you go in there, a word of advice.” “Yes?” “Hold your breath.” “Will do. Thanks.” “I’m off then; we’ll never see one another again once we land.” “Too right. Bye then.” You take a last gasp of the regurgitated air being pumped through the cabin and disappear into the cubicle to begin your balancing act.

  Yes, Ciaran would find that hilarious, she thought, grinning; he loved toilet humour. Stop thinking about him; it’s over. You are here with David! she admonished herself. Long, lean, and lovely David, for whom you’d better get a wriggle on, my girl. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she jumped up and down one more time. It did the trick and at last she was in, all zipped up and ready for action.