Summer Sparks

by Kris Pearson

  “Always pleased to meet a friend of Jace’s.”

  “You can let her go now.”

  Anna turned toward him, eyes agog, and Ath released her, laughing so hard he showed the gaps where his two missing teeth should have been. “You feeling a bit proprietorial?” he wheezed through his merriment.

  “Forget it!”

  Anna fluttered her eyelashes, and said with saccharine sweetness, “Jason, you can’t introduce me to your lovely friends and then not want to share me.”

  He could have sworn she’d bitten the inside of her cheek to stifle her amusement. “Forget it,” he said again, grateful to hear the approaching bass boom of whatever Kieran had pouring out of his car’s speakers. He turned to the sleeping platform and slid the folding windows open to the warm summer air. Where the hell had that reaction had come from? He had her for a week, tops. Get used to it, he snarled to himself, heading outside.

  He watched as Kieran did a flashy U-turn and braked, pushing his door wide open and diving into the back to collect his guitar and banjo. Meifeng tottered across to give Jason a hug before returning for her bongos and the long thin case he knew housed her Chinese erhu.

  “You brought the screamer?” he teased, expecting that would get a reaction. Sure enough, she aimed a mock kick at him before preceding him into the house. He left the door open, knowing Lockie wouldn’t be far behind.

  Anna now sat on his black leather sofa, Ath had pulled a dining chair too close to her, and they were peering together at his guitar.

  Jason schooled his face to show no reaction. “Are we eating soon? You want the plates?

  “Best while it’s hot,” Mei said. “You get it, honey?”

  Kieran set down his instrument cases and returned to the car while Jason went to the kitchen for plates and forks.

  “I put the beer in the fridge,” Ath bellowed.

  “Get it yourself,” Jason yelled back, hoping to separate him from Anna.

  “So - Anna Wynn from Wellington, Meifeng Chan,” he said, returning with plates and forks as Ath rose, grumbling about the lack of service.

  “I know you!” Mei exclaimed. “Two sisters.”

  “Two sisters,” Anna agreed. “Joss and Becca. But I wouldn’t have recognised you.”

  “Not in my overalls now,” Mei said, pulling a face.

  Jason dealt the plates around the table and rested a hand on Anna’s shoulder, thinking that Mei at the fish’n’chip shop in her white smock with the Chan’s Takeaways logo on the pocket, her comfortable flip-flops, and her hair held back out of the steam and grease was a long way from the rock-chick perched on the end of his sofa. This Mei wore long silver boots with sky-high heels, tiny shorts, and a crop-top that barely covered her boobs. And he’d rather she hadn’t remembered Anna.

  “Looking very fine,” Ath said, returning with beers and inspecting the boobs the way he always did. Mei took a deep breath the way she always did. Jason had no idea how she hitched them up so high.

  “And proper make-up when I’m not with the family,” she added to Anna, pushing her cloud of hair back over her shoulders.

  She was painted like a porcelain doll, with flashing silver around her eyes to match the boots, and lips lacquered a dark shiny red. Anything less resembling the girl from the takeaway counter was hard to imagine.

  “You still live here?” Anna asked.

  Mei shook her head. Her hair swayed, and a multitude of sparkly stones glittered up the sides of her ears. “Home for the holidays to help while it’s busy. Work for Air New Zealand now.”

  “Prettiest damn air hostess they have,” Ath said, opening one of the beers from the double handful he’d stood in the middle of the table.

  “Flight attendant,” Mei corrected.

  “It must be a hard time of year to get leave from them?” Anna hazarded.

  She nodded, biting her lip. “My mother is sick. Can’t work in the shop for a while. So I’m helping Dad.”

  Jason glanced across to the door as Keiran returned with Lockie in tow.

  “Nah, the West Indies will be hard to beat,” Kieran said over his shoulder. “Here you go, babe.” He lowered the bags of food and Mei made quick work of setting the containers out and prising off their lids.

  “Lemon chicken, steamed rice, beef with black bean sauce, pork fried rice, vegie chow mien, dim sum,” she rattled off, claiming a beer. “You got the big spoons, Jason?”

  He removed his hand from Anna’s shoulder. “Anyone rather have wine?”

  “Yes please,” she said, so he came back juggling a bottle and two glasses along with the serving spoons. “Anna - Lockie. Lockie - Anna,” he added belatedly. “Anna sings.”

  She took the glasses so he could set down the spoons. “Maybe not your sort of songs.”

  “Don’t know that we have a ‘sort’,” red-haired Lockie said, helping himself to a beer. “Jace suggested we try some of that stuff from Technicolour Dreamcoat tonight.”

  “Any Dream Will Do,” she murmured. “I always loved that.”

  A minute later a raucous air-horn pierced the tranquillity outside. “Cam,” Jason and Lockie said in unison.

  It became louder and louder and finally fell silent.

  “Still got that noisy damn car,” Ath said, tilting his beer up for a long swig.

  Mei grinned at Anna. “Cameron Mackay,” she said. “Don’t always see him.”

  “Off on a golf course sometimes,” Keiran added. “He designs them, the wanker.” But it was said affectionately.

  Mei tottered off to the kitchen for another plate, and gravel crunched under the newcomer’s feet as he approached the doorway.

  Jason stood, flicking a glance across to Anna.

  His equally tall friend strode in and lowered an extravagantly frosted cake onto the table. “Greetings, Earthlings. Mum’s been baking.”

  “Good timing,” Mei enthused, removing it from among the containers of Chinese food and whisking it out to the kitchen.

  Jason pointed to his empty chair. “Great to see you again. Where’ve you been?”

  “What sort of cake?” Mei called.

  Ath passed him a bottle.

  “Bit of catching up to do,” Cam said, sitting, accepting the beer, and checking out the label. “Carrot,” he said as Mei reappeared.

  “With cream cheese and lemon frosting,” she said, holding up a loaded finger and then licking it.

  “You took a chance,” Jason said. “You could have phoned?”

  Cam produced a harmonica from his pocket and set it on the table. “Third Friday. I’m on my way to Wellington anyway so I was more or less passing.”

  “With a carrot cake?” Mei asked.

  He shrugged. “You know Mum. It’s officially for my birthday tomorrow, but…”

  “We can’t eat your birthday cake ahead of time!” she protested.

  “Oh please. I did the big birthday afternoon tea at home with them. I can’t get through all of that on my own.”

  Jason reached under the sleeping platform and pulled out another folding chair. “Shuffle up,” he said, wedging it next to Anna. “Okay, Cam Mackay, Anna Wynn. And keep your hands off her.”

  Cam’s bright grey eyes flashed. “Spoken for?”

  “For the next few days anyway,” Anna said, so quietly that probably only he heard.

  Jason pressed his leg against hers as they ate and drank, pleased how easily she interacted with this disparate bunch. Ath the one-time car thief, Meifeng the dutiful daughter and flight attendant, sports-mad Kieran, Lockie the dairy farmer (always first to leave because of early morning milking), his long-time friend Cam, and himself. Music had brought them together, and the group had held steady for several years now, with occasional rescheduling for Mei’s shifts and absences from Cam when he was out of the country. “So what are you going to sing for us?” he asked Anna.

  She took another sip of wine. “Nothing for a while yet. I want to hear the rest of you first and see if I dare.”


  *

  She watched and listened with enjoyment. Ath had indeed bought his mandolin, and once dinner had been eaten he dragged his chair away from the dining table, closed his eyes, and gave them a dreamy version of ‘Santa Lucia’. As soon as he’d finished she caught Jason’s eye and smiled. “Your turn? Do you sing?”

  “I play more than I sing.” But he took up his guitar and she soon recognised the intro to ‘Jolene’.

  “Yee-haw - Dolly Parton,” Lockie exclaimed, and in seconds they’d all joined in, Cam’s harmonica wailing like a banshee.

  Mei gave a final flourish on her bongos. “You heard her sing this with Miley Cyrus?” she demanded of the group in general. “Turned it into a whole different song. More than thirteen million views on YouTube last time I watched.”

  “Wonder how many this one’s had?” Kieran said, lifting his banjo from its case and plunking out the distinctive first few notes of the theme from ‘Deliverance’.

  “Like that, is it?” Jason said, narrow-eyed. “Warning you, I’ve been practising.” He repeated the phrase on his guitar. They duelled back and forth, echoing each other’s challenge until fingers were flying.

  The others began clapping along, and Mei beat out a steady accompaniment on her bongos. The pace grew ever faster until Kieran’s speedy fingers finally won the battle.

  “You’re very good,” Anna said, squeezing Jason’s arm.

  He grinned and inclined his head. “A bit of fun. I think it’s your turn now. Anything in mind?”

  She took another sip of wine for courage and glanced around at the others. “Well, this is something my choral group has been working on, although we do all sorts of harmonies of course. It’s an old poem you’ll probably know. By Ben Jonson, who dates from Shakespeare’s time.”

  His friends sat waiting, and she raised her glass, holding Jason’s dark gaze before starting to sing in her clear alto:

  “Drink to me only with thine eyes and I will pledge with mine.

  Or leave a kiss but in the cup, and I’ll not ask for wine….”

  “You’re good, too,” Jason said, lifting his glass in return as she paused.

  “Very beautiful, but let’s try something!” Mei interrupted, reaching for her erhu. “Won’t sound traditional but might be good together.” She set the small instrument on her lap and readied the bow between the two strings. “Sing again, but slow,” she told Anna - fierce despite her diminutive size.

  Anna sang again, slowly as instructed, glancing across to Jason as she did. Mei provided a plaintive accompaniment, sliding her fingers up and down the long neck of the erhu, vibrating them in place to make the distinctive throbbing sound.

  “Magic,” Jason said when they’d finished the last verse. “What a combination.”

  “Who’d have thought?” Kieran said. “Nice going, babe.”

  Mei tossed her hair back. “Haven’t tried that before.”

  “How do you get all those notes off just two strings?” Anna asked, peering more closely at the erhu. “And how do you know where to put your fingers? There are no frets like the guitars have.”

  “Practice,” Kieran said.

  “Sometimes you say too much practice,” Mei admonished. “I never say too much practice with your banjo, and it’s loud.”

  They all laughed at that, and Jason asked if anyone was ready for coffee. He took Anna’s hand and led her out to the kitchen while the others continued chatting. ‘Greensleeves’ floated through to them. “Lockie on flute,” Jason said, listening intently. “Ath on guitar.”

  Anna peeped around the corner for a moment. “How could you tell it wasn’t Kieran?”

  “Ath plays with more soul,” Jason said slowly. “He’s led a tougher life.”

  “Tattoos from prison?” Anna asked. “They looked pretty rough ones.”

  “And teeth lost. Not in recent years. He found a woman with a couple of young kids and he turned his life around for her. Or maybe she did the turning. Ath and Cath.”

  Anna grinned. “Who planned that? A happy ending anyway. Good on her.”

  Jason kissed her behind the ear. “He’s a nice guy once you get past his tatts and teeth.”

  She said hesitantly, “I don’t… often… get the chance to meet people like him. All the design staff at work have tertiary qualifications. My choral ladies are hardly tearaways. My family is pretty well connected.”

  He drew back far enough to focus on her face. “You don’t get out in the real world much, Frosty?”

  “No, I do!” she snapped. “Of course I do. But the people I associate most with haven’t been to prison, haven’t had hard lives. It’s just the way things are.”

  “No products of broken marriages with boozy fathers?” Jason suggested, and she heard the bitterness, loud and strong.

  CHAPTER 12 – CONFESSIONS

  “I smelled the beer this morning,” she agreed.

  “Shit,” he said, stroking his hands down her arms and back up again. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. He’s still good at what he does.”

  She managed a sad smile. “You don’t get on with him, and yet you defend him?”

  Jason’s shoulders rose and fell. “I hate him. I owe him nothing. But he’s all the family I have.”

  Her smile faded. “All you know about, anyway. Are you still in touch with your mother?”

  “A couple of birthday cards with ‘love from Mum’ on them, fifteen years ago. No news about her life, no questions about mine.” He raised his chin and stared straight ahead. “Then Dad sold the house and moved, and if there were any more, I didn’t get them.”

  Anna laid her face against his chest again, trying not to think of her own lost child, but failing horribly. “You might have younger sisters or brothers. Your mother may be really sad she’s lost touch with you.”

  His hands clutched her close against him, and that desperate grip was almost painful.

  “She could have looked us up any time she wanted.” The coldness in his tone told Anna he’d longed for that contact. “I have a website so I’m searchable. Even Trev has a basic one so he can chase jobs. We’re not hard to find. She knows our names.”

  Anna looked up, watching as he made a visible effort to soften his expression before changing the subject. Her child didn’t know her name. There was no way he or she could search for her and find her, if they even wanted to.

  “What about the others?” she asked. “Mei and Kieran seem like a couple?”

  “Yep - although her parents are dead against it. They want a Chinese son-in-law.”

  “Hard…”

  “Lockie has a little daughter, and a son on the way.” He cleared his throat. “Cam and I…” He shrugged.

  “Aren’t ready to settle down,” Anna supplied.

  He bent and nuzzled the side of her neck, teasing her with open-mouthed kisses that ran down to the edge of her T-shirt and back up again, making her shiver with pleasure. “Not yet,” he said. “Things to finish.”

  She nodded slowly, considering them. Jason was as solitary a man as she’d ever met, driven by bitterness as much as ambition. What she’d gained from Cam’s breezy comments about himself put him forever on the move with multiple women on the menu, none of whom really mattered. Two restless souls - and was she really any better? Working hard, even here, when she should be on holiday. Forever trying to make up for something that could never be fixed. No prospect yet of a special person or any shared future. No expectation of finding one, if she was honest.

  Jason stroked her hair. “I loved your singing,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “What else will you do?”

  She sighed. “Something folksy, maybe. Then everyone could join in.” She tried to keep her voice steady because his distress had affected her more than she wanted him to know. Or perhaps it was her own memories? “I could get really ambitious and try one of Adele’s? I wish I could sing anywhere near as powerfully as she does. The way her voice soars in the middle of ‘
Hello’ is incredible.” She kissed his chest and breathed in the scent of his skin.

  ‘Greensleeves’ came to an end. “What are you two up to out there?” Ath demanded. “I’m not hearing any coffee noises yet.”

  “That’s because we’re working out what to sing next,” Anna called back.

  Jason laughed. The smallest puff of mirth, and she felt it more than heard it.

  “Suppose we’d better make some,” she agreed, licking his nipple before leaning away.

  “Bring the cake,” Mei yelled.

  *

  The little owl hooted his haunting ‘roo-roo’ call as the last of the cars moved off. Jason ran his hand up and down Anna’s arm, loving the feel of her skin beneath his fingers.

  “Is he always there?” she asked.

  “He’s probably not as close as you think. Their calls carry a long, long way.”

  The glow of Ath’s tail lights disappeared as the car coasted around the bend in the driveway. The throb of the motor and the crunch of wheels on gravel faded, leaving only the soft swish of the sea and the sighing of the salty breeze through the trees. The morepork called again.

  “Why did the early settlers name it Morepork?” Anna asked. “They should have stuck with the Maori name of Ruru.”

  Jason dropped a kiss on her hair. “Lots of people think that, and maybe the tide is turning back to it now. It’s a night hunter - for big insects and mice. And it swoops down on smaller birds while they’re roosting.”

  Anna shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “So it’s a cannibal bird?”

  He let her arm go and took a step away. “No more than a hawk or an eagle or lots of others.”

  “I suppose,” she agreed after a moment’s thought. “Do you have any photos of it?”

  “Yep. I’ll show you when we go up to the computer. I’ve been…” He hesitated.

  “What?” she asked, after he’d been quiet for a while.

  “Ahh… invited to exhibit some. At Sven Jacobsen’s new gallery in Wellington. Cuba Street. A guy I did some work for a while ago.” He kicked at one of the larger stones on the parking area and sent it skidding under the van.