One Distant Summer

by Serena Clarke

  “What about the book?” Hannah asked, as if reading her mind. “Are you still going to do that?”

  “Yeah, I have to. I did sign the contract. But it can be my project while I’m away.”

  She wished she hadn’t signed anything now. What honest advice could she give all those aspiring tweens and teens, dreaming of stardom? Be ready to fight off the very people who’re supposed to be looking out for you. Be careful who you trust. Hold onto your love of music, your dream, and your clothes…

  Hannah’s voice broke into her thoughts. “There’s that interview with Lainey Kingsley too, next week. Do you want me to cancel with her, or just postpone it?”

  Jacinda’s heart sank at the reminder. Some music journalists seemed to specialize in being even tougher on women performers than on men, and Lainey Kingsley was Jacinda’s personal nemesis. They’d never met, so this interview was meant to be a chance to bring her around, in person. Pulling out would probably only add fuel to her fire of disdain.

  “Shit, I forgot about that. She’s going to love this.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure she has other musicians to torment,” Hannah said. “I’ll just put her off—she doesn’t need to know you’re not here.” Then she smiled. “I think I can guess where you’re going.”

  Jacinda held up her hands. “In this, I’m the CIA. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

  Hannah laughed. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”

  “I will,” Jacinda promised. “And you too.”

  “I’ll be fine. I have Todd.”

  Jacinda made herself smile too. “Of course you do. Tell him he’d better look after you, or I’ll come back and kick his ass.”

  Behind the joke, she’d been totally serious.

  And now, far away in Sweet Breeze Bay, her escape was complete. Suddenly aware that her butt was numb, she got up from the kitchen floor and stretched. Then she yawned. She felt too lazy to figure out the time difference, but it was probably bedtime in LA, and the jet lag was kicking in. She closed the French doors, and carefully gathered Velvet in her arms.

  “I don’t know about you, but I need a nap.”

  The cat gave a little chir-rup and leaned in, her fur soft against Jacinda’s bare skin. And with that mutual understanding, they headed for bed.

  Chapter Four

  Nana Mac had told her to choose any room as her own, and there was only one she wanted. It was right up under the eaves, a little attic retreat that she’d loved as a kid when they came visiting. It had been her mom Trina’s room, right up until Doug Prescott blew into town with a rally car team and swept her heart away. Jacinda guessed he must have been quite something, to a girl who’d grown up in sleepy Sweet Breeze Bay—the accent, the confidence, and the whole testosterone-fueled rallying thing. He was a mechanic rather than a driver, but the glamour of the whole scene was undeniable.

  She could count her childhood visits ‘home’ to Sweet Breeze Bay on one hand—only three times. One time she couldn’t remember because she was too little, but she’d seen the photos. Once again when she was about eight. And then that one summer she was here as a teenager, without her mom. That summer. Trina had abruptly decided that Jacinda should finish school in New Zealand, so she’d left halfway through her junior year. She’d desperately wished Hannah could come too, but guiltily, secretly, she was relieved to be getting away from her mom’s struggles with her mental health, and the dramas she didn’t really know how to handle. Maybe Jacinda living with Nana Mac meant one less worry for her mom too. The plan was to have a summer Christmas with her grandmother, then start high school in February, in the new southern hemisphere year.

  That had been the idea, anyway.

  Now she shook her head and pushed back the feather duvet. The whole day had passed by while she and Velvet napped. It was still light outside, but through the window she could see that the sky held the softening glow of a coastal evening. Her stomach growled, and Velvet gave her a reproachful look.

  “I know. We both need to eat. And you’re eating for…well, how many are you eating for, I wonder?”

  Downstairs, she gave Velvet the contents of one of the little tins in the cupboard. Whatever it was, it was stinky, but Velvet purred as she gobbled it up.

  Then she got herself ready—a much quicker job now that she was wearing so little makeup. In skinny jeans and a black and white striped tee, finished off with plain ballet flats, she could be any girl in the world. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she put on some lip gloss. Hannah was right—her appearance was so different from just a few days ago, surely no one would recognize her as Cin Scott.

  Nana Mac had left three handwritten pages of instructions on the kitchen counter, covering every possible eventuality, good and bad. There was a contact number for the local plumber, should she have any water-related problems (apparently the plumbing was getting old and unreliable). In her squiggly handwriting, Nana Mac had noted Handsome and single! alongside. The after-hours medical center and pharmacy was on the opposite side of the peninsula, heading back toward the city. The wi-fi password was ‘TomSelleck10’. (Nana Mac had no time for any of those ‘new guys’, as she called them. Forget Tom Hardy or Zac Efron or Scott Eastwood—anyone who came after Tom was unworthy of consideration.) In the event of a tsunami warning, she should go up Mount Clarion, the nearest volcanic cone. However, in the event of a volcanic eruption, she was to get in the old Volkswagen and drive, north or south didn’t matter, just away. Amongst it all were some suggestions for local food. She recommended pizza from Tony and Marie’s—Get the meatball!—but the Chinese takeout was a big NO. It was nice to see that Nana Mac was still a woman of clear opinions.

  But Jacinda knew where she was going tonight. On the list was a café, Clarion Call—apparently an organic eatery featuring comfort food with a twist, and lots of comfortable armchairs. It sounded exactly like the low-key kind of place she wanted. Plus, she was keen to see if it might be somewhere she could hole up with a bottomless coffee and work on her contribution for the book. That damn book. She’d have to get started on it soon, but for tonight—only her first night, after all—she planned to eat and drink without feeling guilty about the possible extra poundage, or any of the things she usually had on her mind. She wondered if they’d have cheesecake.

  It was only a short walk from Tui Street to the little cluster of local shops. Sweet Breeze Bay was no metropolis, but there was enough for day to day. The center sat at a crossroads where Bay Road came over the hill from the other side of the peninsula, and continued to the main beach entrance, with the dilapidated boat club and the ice cream and coffee kiosk. Intersecting that was Fife Street, the main thoroughfare that ran from one end of Sweet Breeze Bay to the other. In the center of the crossroads stood a huge pohutukawa tree, its gnarly branches stretching out toward all four corners of the little settlement. Its roots lifted and buckled the tarmac below, making bumps in the road, but as a protected species, and the country’s most iconic tree, it was safe from any ax or chainsaw. It was nice to see it again, grand and steady.

  She took everything in as she walked down the main street, amazed at how little it had all changed in ten years. Tony and Marie’s was new, as were the twinkly fairy lights strung along the front of every storefront. But she remembered the rest. The corner store, its shelves crammed with everything from candy to clothespins, still open in the evening. The store that only sold fresh fruit and vegetables, spices and nuts. The tiny shop selling magazines, books, lottery tickets, and stamps. The Golden Horse, where you could order fish and chips or Chinese takeout. And the pub, of course. Even on a Sunday night, there was a hum of music and voices from inside—the Kelp and King was obviously still the center of the community’s social life.

  She remembered how much she’d wanted to go in that summer, at only-just-seventeen, and have a drink. Ethan from next door had turned eighteen right before she arrived—the legal drinking age—and sometimes he and his friends would go in for beers, fu
ll of importance, before coming out later to hang with the rest of the bay’s teenagers at the beach.

  She paused on the corner outside the pub, remembering how his brother Liam would get jealous too, that Ethan was a step ahead of him. It was clear to her, and probably to everyone, that whatever Ethan did, Liam wanted to do too. It was more than big brother adulation, though. Everyone wanted to be like Ethan. Or be with Ethan.

  Ethan Ward. She pressed her hand to her stomach, feeling a sickish flutter. How ridiculous, really. All that time ago…

  She looked up to the spreading pohutukawa, and breathed out a sigh. At this time of year the red blossoms made it look like a native Christmas tree, especially with its branches strung with fairy lights, just starting to glow in the fading light. She’d had a quiet Christmas with her mom in Florida—not very festive, just the two of them at home, but it was all Trina had wanted. Maybe she could talk her mom into coming here for Christmas one year. Stepping back in time to this place might make her feel better…if she’d only give it a try.

  Anyway! She hadn’t come halfway across the world to stand around on the street being morose. Plus, she was hungry. She mentally hitched up her pants, and carried on down the street to Clarion Call.

  * * *

  “I recognize you.” The waitress stood with hands on hips, tapping her pencil against her chin. “I’m sure I do.”

  Jacinda looked up from the menu, her heart sinking. Maybe she didn’t look as different as she thought, if her cover was already blown.

  “You’re Jacinda, right?” the girl said. “Nana Mac’s granddaughter.”

  Or maybe not blown.

  “I am,” she replied cautiously.

  “I knew it!” She slipped onto the bench opposite, and leaned her elbows on the table. “She told us you were coming, and that we should look after you. Do you remember me? We used to hang out that summer. I looked kind of different then. Glasses and braces and the rest, you know.” She rolled her eyes, as though her younger self was too embarrassing for words.

  Jacinda remembered her then. She’d been a perky-plump, guileless kid, one foot still in childhood, and thus a lot more fun than some of the others, who’d crossed into self-consciously cool territory. “Riley Dawson.”

  She grinned. “You got it. Pretty different, right?”

  “Yeah, but you were always cute.”

  Riley blushed, tickled by the compliment, but rolled her eyes again in denial. “I don’t know about that…but thanks. Okay, now I’d better do what I’m here for. We’re supposed to be looking after you, not making you wait for dinner.” She stood back up and assumed an efficient waitress pose, notepad in hand. “What would you like?”

  Jacinda ordered the vegetarian lasagna (pasta! to hell with all that no carbs BS) and salad, with a glass of organic lemonade, and Riley bustled off, full of purpose.

  Normally she would have used the waiting time to check her email or Facebook messages, or return a phone call, but she’d turned her old phone off on the tarmac in LA, and left it in the nightstand in her attic room. And the prepaid phone she’d bought at the airport was in the drawer with it. As promised, she’d messaged her mom, and Hannah—who signed off with a New Zealand flag and a wink, having correctly guessed her location—and Nana Mac too, living it up on the Spanish leg of her trip. But right now, being unplugged felt really good.

  Pretty soon Riley brought her food, and offered her a magazine from an old oak sideboard that was also home to a collection of cool art deco lamps. But she had no desire to look at the fashion tips, movie star breakups, and celebrity gossip. No, thank you. She guessed there was a small chance she might see herself in one of them, but it wasn’t just about that. It was pleasantly surreal to be sitting here, miles from LA—like, six or seven thousand miles away—alone in a café, detached from her real (unreal) life, completely unrecognized as her alter ego. She might not be stratospheric, but after Hourglass Reverb, Cin Scott couldn’t walk down the street in LA on a summer evening and eat lasagna in peace.

  Maybe she could get used to this.

  When Riley came to clear her plate, Jacinda complimented her on the lasagna. “That was so good.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. Caro and I came up with all the recipes for the cafe. Caro’s my cousin,” she explained. “She’s kind of pedantic about everything, but the end result is worth it.”

  “Is this your place, then? It’s really nice. I like the artsy vintage thing you’ve got going on.”

  Riley sat down again. “Thanks. Everything in here came from the peninsula. We trawled the garage sales for like a year. Some of the things came from the other side, but they were too good to pass up.”

  She scrunched up her nose, and Jacinda remembered the ongoing rivalry between the communities on opposite sides of the peninsula. They were united in preserving the green peaks that separated them, but beyond that there was a healthy competition that could sometimes get a little un-healthy. The Sweet Breeze Bay side looked out toward Rangitoto and the South Pacific beyond, and was so removed from the nearby city that it could be on its own island. The inhabitants were arty, often slightly rumpled, frequently eccentric, and determinedly parochial. The Other Side—Lancet Bay—looked over the water to the high-rises and wharves of the city. Even though they shared the same jutting finger of land, the perspectives of each side were literally and philosophically opposite.

  “It’s all great stuff,” Jacinda offered, her tone suggesting that it was great despite coming from the wrong side of the hill. “I love the lamps, especially that tall one.”

  “Oh, me too!” They both looked at the floor lamp with its carved stand and woven flax shade. It was Pacific retro at its cheesiest, but it was perfect in here. “I got that from Mrs. Ward when she came back from Australia one time. My mum told her we were setting up here and looking for cool lights, and she said we could have it.”

  At the mention of the Ward name, Jacinda’s heart did a little skip.

  Riley’s voice lowered, and she leaned in. “Wasn’t that so awful? That poor family.”

  A tightness began to spread in her chest. What was Riley talking about? It couldn’t have anything to do with her—according to Nana Mac, she and Mrs. Ward had agreed never to talk about the events of that summer with anyone else in the bay.

  Seeing her face, Riley gasped. “Oh God, I’m sorry! I just remembered you had a…thing with Ethan, right? That summer?”

  A thing. You could say that. “We…yeah.”

  Riley looked sympathetic. “So hard. So awful.”

  There was a moment’s silence while she waited for Jacinda to say something, and Jacinda tried to figure out whether she was talking about her, or something else. Just as she decided to come right out and ask Riley what she meant, there was a ding-ding-ding-ding from the kitchen, and she sprang to her feet.

  “She’s so violent with that bell!” She sighed. “I’d better go. See you soon though, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And no charge for tonight—this one’s on us,” she added over her shoulder, as Caro pounded on the bell again. “I’m coming!”

  “Thank you,” Jacinda said, but she was already on her way to another table with two big bowls of spaghetti, the bell dinging behind her again. The dinner rush had begun.

  She’d come back tomorrow, when it was quieter, Jacinda decided as she went back out into the street, the evening air fragrant around her. And she’d ask Riley what exactly it was that had been so awful.

  Chapter Five

  Beach time, finally. Jacinda threw sun lotion and a book into her bag, then paused in front of the old mahogany dresser with its beveled glass mirror, and pulled her hair into a high ponytail. It still felt weird to see herself as a brunette, after so many years as an ever-lightening blonde.

  Standing in her mom’s old bedroom, she suddenly realized that while this version of herself was closer to the teenage Jacinda who’d been here so long ago, it was also closer to her mom. Clean-faced and without ado
rnment, she looked a lot like that 1980s girl in the family photos on Nana Mac’s mantelpiece. The shy, beautiful Sweet Breeze Bay girl who fell for a visiting American loaded with charisma and promises, and went around the world for him…only to find that the dark side of charisma is ego, and that promises easily made are easily broken. From him, Jacinda had learned the same lessons, but she was tougher than her mom. Well, she was now, anyway. She smoothed the flyaway strands around her hairline, wondering if a young Trina had looked into the same mirror, into eyes the same shade of blue, and tied her own hair into a ponytail as she daydreamed about her tall, dark, and handsome American. What was the saying? Handsome is as handsome does. Doug Prescott knew exactly what to do with his handsome. He just didn’t know what to do with her mother’s beauty once he had it.

  She shook aside the rising memories of her father’s unfounded jealousy and unpredictable anger, which had scarred her childhood with fear and drama. He didn’t have any power over her, not anymore—unlike her mom, whose own memories and scars still held so much power. Maybe she’d phone her again today.

  But not yet. She’d slept in, and now there was a hungry, furry, expectant mother winding around her ankles, her own stomach was grumbling, the sun was shining, and the beach was calling. It was time to get started on the relaxing she’d come here for.

  * * *

  Liam Ward was unimpressed. Since he’d been woken by the unexpected arrival next door, his routine had gone out the window. In fact, he couldn’t even think about his routine—all he could think about was Jacinda Prescott. And considering he’d spent the last decade specifically not thinking about her, that pissed him off.

  Admittedly, his routine was completely screwed anyway, compared to most people. But he operated best that way. And the internet was a 24/7 deal, with half the world online when everyone in this time zone was asleep, so it made sense to get his work done then. He’d forgotten when it was that he’d finally given in and flipped day into night. It was just easier—easier than spending his nights fighting, and losing, the battle to sleep like a regular person.