One Winter Morning

by Isabelle Broom

  I wonder what Bonnie thinks about her head girl quitting. I wonder if she even knows.

  ‘In fact,’ Allie adds, ‘I was going to ask you a favour.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I need a few days to pack and sort stuff out for the move, and I was wondering if you’d help out here. Don’t worry,’ she hastens, seeing the look on my face, ‘you won’t have to take out any rides – just help with the general chores, do a bit of tacking and untacking, maybe teach Tui …’

  It’s the last that persuades me.

  28

  ‘Hang on a minute – you’re working there?’

  Hayley is surprised, as well she might be.

  ‘Not working, just helping out,’ I explain, switching her on to speakerphone so I can finish getting dressed. ‘Lending an extra pair of hands while Allie gets stuff organised.’

  ‘And you’ll be OK?’ she asks. ‘You know, being around the horses all day long?’

  ‘The first time I walked into that yard, I felt as if I was going to have a full-on panic attack,’ I admit. ‘But the more time I’ve spent there, the less strange it feels. And it’s only a bit of mucking out and stuff – gives me something to do, gets me off my butt. I just spent the last two days wandering around on my own, and it’s making me go doolally.’

  ‘Oo-de-lally?’ Hayley laughs.

  ‘That too.’

  ‘Weirdo,’ she proclaims. Then, more seriously, ‘I’m so sorry you ended up spending Christmas by yourself. Nobody should have to do that.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ I say. ‘I had you and then David on Skype, remember? And I saw about four thousand drunk people when I went out into Queenstown.’

  ‘I know, but it’s not the same.’

  ‘I was fine,’ I assure her. ‘I am fine – but I’m also glad to finally have something useful to do.’

  ‘What about riding?’ she asks hesitantly, and I freeze with one leg through my shorts.

  ‘I’m not doing that.’

  Hayley starts to say something, but then thinks better of it.

  ‘What was that?’ I ask, shaking a bottle of sun lotion before squeezing a dollop out on to each thigh.

  ‘I was just wondering if you’d told your dad?’

  ‘I haven’t yet,’ I tell her. ‘I don’t want him to get his hopes up that I’m suddenly cured, so please don’t say anything if you see him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ she replies. ‘But don’t you think you should?’

  ‘Why?’ I counter, sitting down on the bed to put on my boots. The minibus will be arriving to collect the morning riders from town soon, and I need to get a move on if I want to catch a lift back to Koru Stables with Kit.

  ‘I think it would make him happy,’ Hayley says in a small voice. ‘To know that you’re enjoying yourself over there.’

  ‘He knows that,’ I counter lightly, feeling slightly guilty at the lie. I think back to how quiet David had gone when I told him my awful secret. ‘He thinks I’m enjoying myself by sightseeing.’ The last is partly true – he was happy when I told him that I’d made time to visit Milford Sound.

  ‘But I don’t understand why …’ Hayley begins, and I snatch up the phone.

  ‘If I tell him, he’ll be bound to push me to go back to Mill House when I get home,’ I explain. ‘Even more than he already does, and I’m just not sure I can face it. I still need more time. Being around horses again is one thing – being around them in that place … well, I just don’t know if I can do it.’

  Plus, Tui and Kit won’t be there to hold my hands.

  ‘OK, OK.’ Hayley is contrite now. ‘I won’t mention it again, I promise.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, smiling in the hope that she’ll hear it in my voice. ‘Enjoy the rest of your weird “day after Boxing Day” – eat lots of cake for me. I have to go now, or I’ll miss Kit.’

  ‘Ah, the delectable Kit again,’ she teases, suddenly gleeful. ‘Now he really does deserve an oo-de-lally.’

  I’m still on a buoyant post-Hayley high three hours later, as I empty the final wheelbarrow of droppings on to the muck heap and pause to stretch the knots out from my back. It feels good to be working hard again and using my body for something other than walking.

  After Anna’s accident, I went from strenuous twelve-hour days at the yard to doing absolutely nothing except lying prone on my bed, or on the sofa, staring into space. I thought then that if I got up and did anything, I would somehow shift the weight of my grief, or be distracted from it, and I didn’t feel as if I deserved that. I took on the mantle of suffering and embraced it, never even questioning whether or not it was the right thing to do, because at the time, it felt like my only option. But now that I’m here, sweating and puffing and aching from exertion, all I can think is how wrong I have been. While I may not be able to face going back to Mill House Stables, perhaps I could make peace with working at another riding school when I get back to England? The simple and inescapable fact is, I like being useful. Rotting away in my bedroom was not getting me anywhere.

  It is also nice not to have the burden of responsibility that I had at Mill House, where I was second in command and seemed to spend most of my time chivvying up the younger members of the team. With Allie away, nobody really seems to be in charge here at Koru, but all of us know what we’re doing. When I arrived this morning, I simply grabbed the nearest fork and barrow and got stuck in, only stopping to chat for a while to Tui, whom Simon had dropped off not long after the first ride of the day went out.

  My habitually boisterous half-sister is quieter than usual today, and instead of tearing around the place with Beavis yapping at her heels, I find her curled up on the sofa in the office, her nose in a book.

  ‘What are you reading?’ I ask, only to be struck dumb with surprise when she lifts it up to show me.

  ‘Evangeline And … The Time Machine,’ she reads, her words succinct but laborious. Then, when I simply gawp and say nothing, she adds, ‘Can you read it to me, please, Gee-nie?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure if I—’ I stop myself before the lie comes out. Of course I’m not too busy to read my new favourite person a story, even if it happens to be one starring a character based on me.

  ‘Budge up, then, Beavis,’ I say, and Tui chuckles affectionately as she lifts the little dog on to the floor. Then, almost as soon as I’ve sat down, she snuggles herself against me and pops a thumb into her mouth, the fingers of her other hand already searching for strands of my long hair to play with. It takes some effort, but I manage to push my voice far enough past the emotion that has gathered like a lump in my throat to begin the story. It is the first Evangeline And … book that David ever wrote, and it’s also my favourite.

  ‘Once upon a time, on a day soaked by rain, something very peculiar happened on a train.

  A baby was born, right there on the floor, as if she’d appeared through a secret trapdoor.

  Her hair was dark and her eyes were blue, but she wasn’t like me and she wasn’t like you.

  This child was special, a wish come true, and boy did she have some things to do …’

  ‘Eyes like yours,’ Tui says, removing her thumb from her mouth as she gazes up at me. ‘Blue eyes.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I croak.

  ‘And like the sea,’ she adds, almost as an afterthought, but instead of replying, I continue to read.

  ‘With a whoosh from the engine and a squeal from the brakes, the great chugging train gave a groan and a shake.

  Passengers hopped off and scurried away, everyone in a hurry, no time to delay.

  The station fell quiet, and darkness arrived, when suddenly the silence was shattered by cries.

  “What’s that?” cooed a pigeon, who had stopped to eat crumbs.

  But nobody answered, no dads and no mums.’

  Tui starts laughing again, hiccupping over her words as she points out, quite rightly, that pigeons cannot talk.

  ‘What do you think they would say if they could?’ I ask, and s
he screws up her eyes as she thinks it through.

  ‘Give me food?’ she suggests, and I have to laugh because she looks suddenly so serious.

  ‘Shall I read more?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Poppet saw the story on the news: a baby had been found and there was no time to lose.

  They rushed to the shops to buy toys and games, made a list on paper of possible names.

  Evangeline was chosen and it suited her just fine – its meaning is good news, so they took that as a sign.

  But even though the Poppets raised her as their own, Evangeline was destined to strike out all alone.’

  If Tui remembers that my full name is Evangeline, she doesn’t say so. Every now and again, while I have been reading, she has reached out and stroked the illustrated face of my literary twin, as if she genuinely cherishes her.

  ‘Six years went by, two more made eight. By now Evangeline had learned how to skate.

  She whizzed along pavements, and skidded around trees; more often than not, she had scrapes on her knees.

  One day in the springtime, while zooming through town, Evangeline heard thunder, and rain poured down.

  The ground was slip-slippery, she needed to hide, so when a train pulled up, she climbed right inside …’

  ‘That silly old train again!’ giggles Tui, and I nod, thinking how much like this Evangeline my half-sister actually is. If anyone spends their time whizzing and skidding around, then it’s Tui. I think today is the first time I have seen her sitting down for more than a few minutes, aside from the long coach trip out to Milford Sound. She seems so at home, nestled in beside me, and the closeness is comforting. It has been a very long time since I was cuddled by anyone, and Tui has made me realise how much I needed to be.

  ‘With a beep and a whistle the doors slid shut; Evangeline got a funny feeling in the depths of her gut.

  She looked on in horror as the city sped by, biting her lip so she wouldn’t start to cry.

  The next stop, she thought, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll hop off this train before you can say “choo, choo”.

  A tunnel then brought darkness and a flash of bright light, but what happened next was the really big fright …’

  Just as I’m getting into my reading-aloud stride, Beavis decides that I have monopolised his mistress for long enough and promptly snatches the book right out of my hands, before trotting out into the yard with it in his teeth. Tui bellows with laughter.

  ‘B-B-Beeeea!’ she calls, haring off after him and almost crashing into Kit, who is coming the other way.

  ‘Watch out, you little scamp,’ he says, swerving to the side so fast that he collides with the doorframe. ‘Ow, you absolute tos—’ he swears, then, seeing me, ‘toad.’

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ I say with a grin. ‘I’m sure I’ve heard worse.’

  ‘What, than “toad”? Surely not?’

  I pull a face.

  ‘What you up to?’ he asks, heading behind the desk and yanking open a series of drawers in turn. ‘Skiving?’

  ‘Er, no!’ I exclaim, getting up from the sofa. ‘I’ll have you know, I was actually reading Tui a story.’

  ‘Good one, was it?’ Kit is enjoying this. ‘I don’t suppose it was about a guy who’d lost his mobile phone and couldn’t remember for the life of him where he’d left the bloody thing?’

  ‘No,’ I confess. ‘But I did see a blue phone in the tack room earlier.’

  ‘You did?’ Kit stops rifling. ‘Oh, you beauty!’

  Before I am aware of what is happening, Kit has stepped around the desk, placed his big hands on either side of my face, and planted a kiss right on my lips.

  Laughing with shock, I stumble backwards and almost end up on my bottom, but Kit reaches out and catches me, letting go only when he’s sure that I’m upright again.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he says, looking mildly surprised, as if someone other than him had boldly decided to kiss me. ‘You know what it’s like when you lose your bloody phone,’ he adds.

  I have barely looked at my phone over the past year – and didn’t use it much even before then – but I agree with him regardless, keen to follow his lead and gloss over what just happened. I’m glad he hasn’t said anything else about me riding, or let the slightly heated discussion we had about it a few days ago interfere with our friendship. I haven’t mentioned to Kit that I know about his decision to move to Wellington after all, and I certainly haven’t mentioned it to Tui. I think if she was aware that her favourite man was leaving, then she would be gutted, and it’s certainly not down to me to be the one to break it to her. Then again, aren’t I planning on doing the exact same thing? Haven’t I allowed myself to get close to Tui knowing that I will soon be gone from her life again? The realisation upsets me enough for Kit to notice.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, raising a hand towards me, ‘less of the long face, yeah? We’ve got enough of those around here as it is.’

  ‘Funny,’ I deadpan, but, as always, he has managed to cheer me up.

  Changing the subject, he asks what I made of the Christmas present he got for Tui, and I have to admit that she hasn’t even mentioned it to me.

  ‘That’s gratitude for you,’ he laughs. ‘I’m taking her up to a place called Oamaru in a few days’ time, to visit the blue penguin colony.’

  ‘Oh, wow – that does sound like an amazing present.’

  ‘She’s wanted to go there forever, but Bon never has the time and, well, I reckon Tui deserves a treat, you know, what with having to do Christmas without her mum.’

  I know only too well how awful that is.

  ‘Sounds like fun,’ I tell him, but Kit is looking thoughtful now, his index finger rubbing at the groove in his stubbly chin.

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you come with us?’

  I open my mouth, but Kit immediately starts to talk over me.

  ‘Before you make up some lame excuse, it would really help me out. Tui loves spending time with you, and it would mean I have someone to drink with in the evening, after she’s gone to bed. And you need to see more of this bloody beautiful country,’ he adds. ‘I owe you a Chrissy present anyway, and how often do you get an invite that includes penguins?’

  I have to agree that it’s not very often.

  ‘Go on, then – come with us. We’ll have a hoot, I’m telling ya.’

  I can’t help but think back to my conversation with Hayley that morning, and how she keeps joking that Kit sounds ‘delectable’. God only knows how she’ll react when I tell her this.

  ‘OK,’ I agree, my smile of acceptance mirroring his own of victory. ‘But only if Tui agrees.’

  ‘Oh, she will.’ Kit is already on his way back into the yard to ask her, and calls out the rest of his sentence over his shoulder.

  ‘Tui bloody loves you.’

  29

  Bonnie

  Moving from the hostel into the professor’s house had been a revelation for Bonnie. She no longer had to shower in a communal bathroom, or queue up to use a microwave, and her new landlord didn’t mind if she stuck up her photos on the walls, or put a load of washing through the machine. And then there was the television – something Bonnie had missed since the beginning of her trip, although she would have been loath to admit as much to anyone other than the professor himself. Bohemian backpacker types are not supposed to care about what’s happening on Neighbours, but Bonnie was only too aware of the fact that she was not, in any way, cool. Quite the opposite, in fact. What she was, she had quickly discovered, was a big fan of home comforts, and now that she lived with the professor in his charming little terraced house in north London, she had those in abundance.

  Seth was not quite as happy about the new arrangement, however, and while he never asked her outright to look for somewhere else to live, he did refuse to stay over, or even to visit. It would feel weird, he said, because the professor was his teacher, someone with whom he shared a mutual respect, and so Bonnie continued to
spend at least three nights each week at her boyfriend’s overcrowded shared house instead, which had grubby plates piled in the sink, overflowing ashtrays on every surface and a collection of bras pinned up like streamers in the lounge – trophies from his flatmates’ various sexual conquests.

  As she wrote all of this down for the daughter she had not seen since birth, Bonnie couldn’t help but reflect on how much the world had changed. She was glad that Tui was far more interested in reading books than staring at her phone all day, and hoped that her first daughter would turn out to be the same. Given Evangeline’s adoptive father’s profession, there was no way she wouldn’t have been encouraged to read a lot as a youngster, but Bonnie had always wondered if the pressure of having such a famous character based on her would have affected the girl negatively.

  The popularity and success of David Nash’s Evangeline And … books was so widespread that it was impossible even for Bonnie, sheltered as she was from the wider world out in Glenorchy, not to have become aware of them. She had bought the first few for Tui, who she hoped would meet the real Evangeline someday. If Bonnie could just get this next bit right, then perhaps her elder daughter would consider a visit. The idea of her two girls being together in the same room or, even better, becoming something close to friends, made Bonnie’s heart leap. But that was all a long way off. First, she had to face Evangeline and explain not only why she left her behind, but why she had chosen now to come back. There was a very real chance that her daughter would refuse to listen, that she might be too screwed up by resentment to even hear Bonnie out. It was a terrifying prospect, but Bonnie knew that she must at least try – if not for herself, then for Tui. Because the future was uncharted territory, its waters dark and choppy, and she knew that everything could change in a single moment.

  Bonnie shifted her position on Tracey’s sofa. Like many of the furnishings in her old friend’s home, it was the faded pink of marshmallows and easily as squishy. Continuing this theme, the Christmas tree, which was standing proud in the front bay window, was also decorated solely in pink tinsel and baubles. The overall effect should have been garish, but actually, Bonnie found it to be oddly soothing.