by Diana Fraser
Despite the open window the heat refused to shift in the small cubby-hole of an office. The weather had become hotter in the weeks since she’d first arrived, and the guests at the Backpackers more plentiful, but the bottom line was still far from healthy. And Maddy had had no repeat invitation from Gabe. She should be happy—it made life more straightforward, except it didn’t. Maddy sighed and tried to focus once more on Flo’s business.
She could usually focus on anything, whatever the conditions. She’d been used to it, after all; whether it be a dig in Africa with her uncle, or much later, surveying the snowy wastes of the Russian Steppes, she’d always found it easy to switch off her physical responses and become absorbed in the mental. But not now, for some reason.
Instead, she drew abstract shapes with her middle finger on the mouse trackpad on the laptop, watching the cursor move around the neat cells of the spreadsheet, with their figures impeccably formatted, and sighed once more.
If only life were as simple as slotting things into boxes and having them all add up at the bottom. She slid her finger down, revealing the total at the bottom. Idly, she entered a few commands and created a graph with the figures.
Flo looked over her shoulder and gave an even heavier sigh. “That”—she pointed at the figure which didn’t even need a comma to separate out the hundreds—“is not good.” Then she looked at the graph where the line of her expenditure was barely discernible from her income.
Maddy raised her eyebrows in agreement but kept quiet. Flo was right. Maddy had no idea how Flo kept body and soul together on such a small sum.
Flo walked away, and looked out to her cherished garden, as if for consolation. “What am I going to do?” she asked quietly.
Maddy licked her lips. She’d given it a lot of thought since she’d come here but hadn’t liked to make any suggestions unless asked. “I think you’re catering to the wrong market.”
Flo turned around, with a frown. “And what kind of market, other than kids, are going to want to stay here?” She indicated the places where she’d painted over wood which desperately needed replacing. “Not anyone with a choice, that’s for sure.”
Maddy followed Flo into the main sitting room, still with its original features and lofty proportions. “You’re wrong. This is a wonderful place, full of character.”
“Full of badly patched walls, and wood.”
“But look beyond that, and you see exactly what people come to Akaroa for—history, charm and peace. And apart from any of that, your house is located on the beach, for heaven’s sake. You don’t get better than that.”
Flo glowered. “I’m not taking investors on to turn this place into some yuppy boutique hotel. There will be no cocktails on my watch.”
Maddy laughed. “It’s not one thing or the other. There’s a middle ground of people who appreciate the real Akaroa, and the comforts of home that you offer.”
The glower faded. “What kind of people?”
“People like me. People who have traveled and appreciate something real and authentic, something comfortable and elegant, something that resonates with stories and character.”
Flo grunted. “People like you don’t come along every day, you know. And besides, even people like you will want a bath that doesn’t sound like someone’s dying when the water drains out.”
Maddy grinned. “True. But if you have a plan, then you can attract money to put these things in order.”
“Right.” But Flo didn’t sound convinced. “What you haven’t taken into account, is that I’m not the business-planning type. I don’t know why I ever thought I could use my grandparents’ home like this. They didn’t even live in it for the latter part of their life. They refused to.”
“But they also refused to sell it. They knew it was valuable and they had faith that you’d be able to make a living from it, to make it your home, too.” Maddy flipped open a website and turned the laptop around to show Flo. “This is the kind of business you could create here. I’ll help you if you like.”
“And then what? What’s the point, Maddy? I’ll simply end up with a brilliant plan, and nothing to take it forward.”
“What you’ll end up with is a plan to sell to the bank, or someone with money. You need money, Flo, to make this work for you. Face it, you need a loan or preferably a business partner.”
“Even if I did want one—which I most definitely don’t—why would anyone be interested?”
“Because it’s a potential gold mine. Besides the setting, the house, the garden—there’s you.”
“Me,” said Flo, disbelief plastered across her face. “You think I’m the drawcard?”
“Absolutely.” Maddy indicated the well-used books in the bookcases, which flanked the grandly carved fireplace, and the second-hand tables on which retro lamps cast an inviting light in the evenings. “Things, you can re-create, but people, you can’t. The backpackers love coming here because of you. You make sure they have the kind of food even their mothers probably aren’t skilled enough to give them, and you make sure they’re comfortable. You call the doctor if needed. You give them a respite from the rough world of backpacking.”
“And they pay a pittance in return.”
“Exactly. You can’t go on like that. You need to nurture people who will pay you a fortune for your efforts.” Maddy realized she was getting a little carried away, which wasn’t like her. “Well, at least a reasonable going rate.”
Flo grinned. “A reasonable going rate. I like the sound of that.”
“It’s Saturday. I haven’t any work at Gabe’s so why don’t we start working on this business plan?”
“And then what?”
“We’ll worry about that later.”
* * *
It wasn’t until late afternoon that Maddy had finished work on a basic business plan. Flo had long since left her to it to get on with her never-ending list of things to do.
It was a good plan, even if Maddy said so herself. It wouldn’t attract the wrong kind of investor; it would attract someone who wanted to enhance the community in keeping with Flo’s vision, while making some money at the same time. She looked around the place. The trouble was, it wouldn’t be small change that was needed.
Maddy stood and stretched, and wandered through the house and onto a veranda which overlooked the beach. It was where all the residents hung out. There were a number there now, one strumming a guitar, another lazing in a hammock. An English couple played Monopoly from a box which had seen better days and another group played cards compiled from different decks.
She greeted people and sat on an inviting beanbag next to a pile of books. She quickly found one of interest and was soon absorbed in the history of Akaroa. After reading several chapters she looked around with fresh eyes, interpreting the landscape with her new knowledge. There were round indentations the size of huts on the shoreline at one end of the beach which, she now realized, were most likely all that was left of a Maori village. And higher on the slopes of the hills, the terraces on the sunny northern slopes must have been where kumara had been planted. She felt a fizz of excitement in her gut and knew it was back—that fascination she had with the past.
After having found the few implements she needed from the garden shed, she returned to the beach and began to dig, all the while trying to figure out how her passion had snuck back into her life. She hadn’t felt it since she’d met Jonny. At first, her infatuation for him had consumed her love for her work, and at the end, there had been no room in her life for anything but grief. No, she reflected, it wasn’t that the sorrow had diminished; she was simply doing what she always did when challenged emotionally—returning to the comfort of the past. The past was played out, gone, and therefore able to be ordered, unlike the present.
Her focus was so complete that she wasn’t aware she wasn’t alone anymore. Then a shadow passed over the jumble of finds she was examining, and she turned to see the sun obscured by someone standing beside her.
�
�Hello,” said Gabe. “You look busy.”
She looked down at the pile of things around her and stood up, wiping her wet, sandy hands on her shorts. “Yeah,” she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I guess I got carried away.”
“What is it you have there?” He narrowed his eyes at the object she was holding.
“Oh, this?” She screwed up her forehead. “I haven’t cleaned it up yet, but it looks like the remains of an old clay smoking pipe.” She held it out to him. “What do you reckon?”
He took it and turned it around, rubbing his thumb to reveal more of the carving on the small round object. “Yes, you’re right. I found a few over the years. Particularly at Belendroit. I reckon there’s enough history there to keep a university going for years.”
“Really? Then why hasn’t it been excavated?”
“In a word—Dad. He had some argument with the Chancellor at the university and refused to give them access.”
“That’s a shame.”
Gabe shrugged. “That’s Dad for you. He loves drama. And if there isn’t any, he’ll make some.”
“You don’t seem like that.”
“I’m nothing like that. I’m more of your ‘sitting around a table, chatting, laughing, and having a sociable drink’ kind of guy. Want to join me?”
She hesitated. She liked Gabe. The past few weeks had made her like him even more—her guilt increasing in equal proportion. And she knew that, despite what she’d said, his interest was more than platonic. It wasn’t in what he said, but what he didn’t say. And it was impossible to ignore. She didn’t want to lead him into thinking there was any future. And yet, wasn’t he the reason she was here? “I was going to go out with Flo.”
“Oh, she’s coming.” He looked around. “In fact, here she is now.”
“Right,” she said, trying hard to hide how relieved she felt. Relieved and excited too, because it meant she could enjoy Gabe’s company without fear.
Once inside the pub, a couple of Gabe’s friends joined them. Conversation flowed as effortlessly as the beer and wine and the hours slipped past.
As Flo and Maddy watched Gabe rise and make his way across the crowded room to the bar, Flo nudged Maddy. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all evening.”
She frowned. “We’ve been talking, yes, but hardly exclusively.”
Flo raised a knowing brow. “If you say so.”
They both looked over to the bar just in time to see Gabe catch Maddy’s eye, grin and turn away.
Flo flicked Maddy’s thigh beneath the table. “See!”
“I don’t see anything except a friend.”
Flo shrugged. “A friend? I wish I had that kind of friend.”
Maddy was curious. “When was the last time you went out with someone?”
Flo suddenly lost her teasing look. “I don’t know. Ages ago.”
Suddenly Maddy was curious. “Who was he?”
Flo mumbled something as she ate a mouthful of crisps.
Maddy leaned in, concentrating as she tried to hear. “Who? What was his name?”
Flo repeated the name just as there was a loud burst of music from a band about to start. Flo rolled her eyes. “Rob!” Unfortunately for Flo, the music stopped as suddenly as it started and everyone turned around to look at Flo who disappeared under a flush of bright red.
“Rob?” asked Gabe, placing the drinks on the table. “Are you talking about our Rob?”
Maddy looked from Gabe to Flo. “Are we?”
Flo nodded, the embarrassed flush not disappearing. “I was telling Maddy about your family.”
Maddy was genuinely confused. “No, you weren’t. You were telling me about the men you—” She paused, suddenly realizing Flo was trying to hide something. “Oh!” She looked at Gabe who frowned.
An awkward silence fell, unrelieved by the band who’d decided to take a break.
“Sorry,” mumbled Maddy. “I got the wrong end of the stick.”
Flo glanced warily at Gabe who sighed. “I do know about you and Rob, Flo.”
Flo blushed. “There’s not a lot to know. Just a few dates…” She waved her arm airily. “I can hardly remember.”
Another silence fell while Flo kept glancing at Gabe who seemed oblivious to her curiosity.
“How do you know?” Flo eventually asked.
“What?” Gabe glanced at Flo, before taking a drink of his beer.
She took a deep breath. “How do you know about Rob and me? Not that there is anything to know. Hardly anything at all.”
“He told me,” said Gabe.
“And what exactly did he tell you?”
Gabe looked at Flo with kind eyes. “Do you really want me to tell you here?”
Flo swallowed. “No.”
“Okay, then, I’ll tell you later. Now, there weren’t any more salt and vinegar chippies so I got plain. Hope that’s okay with everyone. And some chocolate for you, Maddy.” He grinned.
It was like the wind had been knocked out of Flo’s sails, and it wasn’t long before she made her excuses and left the pub alone, but not before Gabe had had a few private words with her.
“I feel terrible,” said Maddy, pulling on her jacket as she and Gabe prepared to leave the pub.
“Why?” he asked.
“For bringing up Rob. She was obviously trying to keep it quiet.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He opened the door and they walked out into an empty street and a warm summer night.
“Poor Flo. She was so embarrassed, and it was my fault. I put my foot in it in front of you.”
“Flo will know you didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, I guess. Doesn’t make me feel any better though. Tell me if it’s none of my business, but what exactly did Rob tell you about Flo?”
“He told me that he loved her, but that she didn’t love him.”
“Wow! What did Flo say?”
“Nothing. She walked away pretty quick; she seemed a bit upset.”
“Would Rob mind you telling her that? Come to think of it, why didn’t he tell her that?”
“In answer to your first question, Rob hasn’t been home in years. He’s too busy making money on foreign exchanges, or whatever financial people do. And secondly, he’s the proudest man I know. And the most secretive. He rarely tells anyone anything. I think he only told me because he knew I wouldn’t be that interested and wouldn’t spread it about.” He shrugged. “I guess everyone has to tell someone the things which are important to them. Which leads me to a change of subject.”
He stopped beside a lamppost. A rare bat swooped above them, hungry for insects attracted by the light. She jumped and he reached out to steady her. But he didn’t lift his hand from hers, and somehow she didn’t move away. He caressed her wrist.
How could such a simple gesture stop every function of her brain except that which focused on the trail of his fingers over her skin? She had no idea, but it did. The bloom of awareness spread from his fingertips to every part of her body. It was like spring touching a bulb after a deadly winter. Heat pulsed at her core, awakening her to life.
She placed her hand over his, and he began to draw away, but she gripped it tighter, holding it in place.
“Gabe,” she whispered, half in despair, half in desire. The only thing she knew for sure was that she didn’t want him to move away from her. It seemed he understood with only that one word because he raised his other hand to hers, and turned to face her fully.
“Madeleine.”
She opened her mouth, but only a sigh emerged. A sigh which was cut short by his lips on hers, in the slightest and yet most devastating of kisses.
When he drew back, she pressed her fingers to her lips as if unable to believe what had just happened.
“Um. I knew you’d taste good,” he said. “Sort of a mix of moonlight and chocolate.”
She laughed, relieved to have the atmosphere lightened. “That’s an unusual combination.”
“You’re an unusual g
irl.”
He hooked his finger around the collar of her shirt and brought her to him once more. She should have minded. She really should have minded, but her body betrayed her once more, and all she could think of was how good he smelled and tasted, and how her mouth opened, ready for another kiss.
His lips curved into a brief smile as they recognized the signal and obliged. This time the kiss was anything but brief, and affected all of Maddy’s body, sending shivers of desire coursing through every fiber, every vein, bringing it to life, heating the pit of her stomach and turning her insides liquid. When he pulled away, he had to support her as she melted against him. She felt his groan vibrate against her breasts, further stirring her need.
“Hey! You two, get a room!” There was a peal of laughter as Gabe’s friends walked by.
Gabe made some comment before turning back to Maddy, who’d stepped away as a cold wash of reality drenched her body and extinguished her desire.
“You okay?” Gabe asked.
She shook her head and pulled her hands from his. Her body was still reeling, but her mind was reeling more from the ice-cold effect of his friend’s comment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t feel right, not so soon after…” She paused and gulped down a breath of sweet, salty air. It was time to tell him a little of the truth. “A close friend of mine died a year ago.”
“Oh,” breathed Gabe, as if finally understanding something. “I see. I’m so sorry. That must have been painful.”
She swallowed and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“And how are you doing?” he asked.
“It’s been difficult, but I’m getting there.”
“Good.”
“But, it feels too soon to, you know…”
“Kiss? Date?”
“Both.”
“Right.” He glanced away, bit his lip and nodded, too vigorously, before turning to her with a smile that was ever so slightly forced. “Coffee?”
“Yes.” She exhaled roughly, not having realized she was holding her breath. “Please.”
It was a short walk to Gabe’s house. Maddy followed him through to the kitchen and stood uncertainly as he made coffee.