‘I’ll make us some eggs,’ he decided, hopping down off the stool and crossing the room. ‘How do you like them – fried, poached, scrambled?’
‘David.’
‘I could do us an omelette, if you fancy? I have some posh cheese left over from Christmas. Do you like Stilton?’
‘David, please.’ Bonnie was standing up now, frustrated by the fact that he had begun flapping about the place. She had been consumed by such a tidal wave of anxiety on the journey here that she felt suddenly deflated. All this time she had been holed up in Tracey’s guest bedroom, wasting precious time that she could have spent with her daughter – with both her daughters. She was frustrated with herself, and that in turn made her annoyed with David. It had been almost three decades since she last saw him, since everything had happened, and here he was discussing which cheese to add to her breakfast.
‘I need to go home,’ she told him. ‘Back to New Zealand. As soon as possible.’
‘I understand.’ David lowered the frying pan he was holding in a gesture of defeat. Then, as if the thought had only just occurred to him, he folded his arms and gave her an enquiring look.
‘You haven’t told me everything,’ he stated. ‘You’re hiding something.’
‘Like what?’ Bonnie began packing her stack of paper back into her bag.
‘Like the reason you came here to England,’ he said. ‘You said you only found out about Anna yesterday.’
‘That’s true.’ Bonnie was aware of her heart beginning to beat a little harder. The anxiety had returned, and was smashing its way through her like a bolting pony.
‘So, why now?’ asked David, repeating Bonnie’s earlier question back to her. ‘What made you want to see Genie again after so long?’
Bonnie rested her hands against the worktop, closing her eyes as she steeled herself. She thought about the compassionate green eyes of the doctor, and the family portrait the woman had propped up in a frame on her desk. She had talked about time being the most precious thing, about how life finds a way to show you what you need to do, why it is so important not to let your fear get the better of you.
Bonnie was yet to tell anyone her real reason for coming to England. She didn’t know whether it was the shock of seeing her two daughters together for the first time, or if it was simply the comfort of being in the presence of such a good and trusted friend once again, but suddenly, she didn’t want to lie any more.
Taking a deep breath, she told David everything.
38
I arrive at Koru Stables a little after eleven a.m. to find the yard crowded with riders. There is no sign of Kit or Tui, but I notice that the minibus is parked in its usual spot underneath the big tree. I’m just about to wander into the office when Allie, who has returned after her few days off to pack for Wellington, emerges from the tack room, her cheeks and bare shoulders sunburn pink.
‘Hi,’ I say, then swallow my next remark when she stares right through me as if I’m not there.
Unsure how to react, I follow her over to where two horses are tethered, waiting to be tacked up. Keith wickers with recognition when he sees me, and promptly wipes his velvety nose on my T-shirt.
‘Lovely to see you, too,’ I exclaim, but any amusement withers and dies when I see the look on Allie’s face.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask, and she nods at Keith.
‘Can you tack him up for me?’ she replies, strolling away before I have time to pry further. She doesn’t seem upset so much as distracted. Perhaps the fact that she’s nearing the end of her time here at the stables is making her feel out of sorts. By the time I have tightened Keith’s girth and fastened his noseband and cheek piece, Allie has vanished into the office to deal with payments, so I sneak a mint from my pocket into the chestnut pony’s grateful mouth, laughing as he curls up his lip and flashes his big yellow teeth at me. Heading towards the hay barn a minute later in search of Tui, I spot her in the outdoor school, playing chase with Beavis. With her head thrown back and her arms and legs flailing with carefree abandon as she runs from left to right, she is such a wonderful sight for my sore eyes that instead of calling out to her, I simply stand and drink her in.
My sister.
‘Have you ever seen a human being look so much like a windmill?’
It’s Kit, looking typically handsome, despite being red in the face and reeking of the muck heap.
I sing a few chorus lines of ‘Spinning Around’ by Kylie Minogue back at him, and Kit grins.
‘Don’t go giving up the day job.’
‘Too late,’ I reply, thinking of Mill House Stables. Kit, however, must assume that I’m still in joke mode, because he merely pulls a face.
‘How many days were you hungover after that bottle of whisky we chugged?’ he asks, looking suitably impressed when I admit that it was two.
‘I’m pretty sure I’m still munted now,’ he admits. ‘This is what old age does to a man.’
‘Kit!’
We both wheel around to find Allie about to mount a large skewbald cob.
‘I’m taking the ride out now – we’re doing the longer route, so expect us back in about two hours or so.’
‘Got ya.’
Is it my imagination, or is Kit looking decidedly sheepish? And Allie is definitely a bit on edge today – perhaps they had a row. The two of us watch on in silence as the riders file out of the yard. I can still hear Tui whooping and laughing over in the outdoor school, and it reminds me again why I am here. I want to tell her the truth – and the same goes for Kit.
Maybe it makes more sense to tell him first, but I have no idea how to even begin. I was so gung-ho yesterday, but now that I am faced with him, being open and kind as he always is, I have been rendered mute by trepidation. What if he’s angry – or worse – disgusted?
I follow him across the yard to the barn on the pretext of helping him fill hay nets, trying my best to ignore the fact that my insides are churning.
‘Any big New Year plans for tonight?’ I ask, flushing as I notice the dark flash of his back and stomach that emerges from below his shirt when he pulls down a bale.
‘Nah.’ Kit doesn’t quite meet my eyes. ‘I was gonna hang out at Allie’s, but—’
‘Geeee-nie!’
Tui is calling for me.
‘In a minute, Tui – we’re busy,’ Kit shouts back.
‘Genie!’ she calls again, this time with more urgency.
‘I should go and see if she’s OK,’ I begin, but he stills me with a frown.
‘She’s fine,’ he says. ‘She’s got a surprise for you – that’s all.’
For a fleeting, gut-punching second, it occurs to me that the surprise could be Bonnie, but then Kit adds, ‘But you might want to change first.’
I look down at my shorts and vest top.
‘Why? Don’t tell me you two have rigged up a hot tub in the feed room or something?’
‘Chance would be a very fine thing,’ Kit replies wryly, finishing his first hay net and throwing it to the floor. ‘Nah, it’s more physical than that.’
‘Not more Frisbee golf?’ I groan jokingly. ‘I’m bloody awful at that game.’
‘I wouldn’t put myself through that again – let alone you,’ he says with a laugh. ‘Nah, guess again.’
‘Geee-nie!’
‘She sounds fed up,’ I point out to Kit, who steps from the barn into the yard and yells at Tui to ‘stop crowing like a rooster’.
‘She’s just excited for the surprise,’ he says. He definitely looks shifty.
‘Just tell me!’ I exclaim, still amused but also growing exasperated.
‘Tui wants to go for a ride,’ he explains.
‘Oh. OK …’ I hedge, unsure where he is going with this.
‘With you,’ he continues, forcing a hefty helping of enthusiasm into his voice.
‘She wants me to teach her?’
He shakes his head.
‘Lead her? Out to the river again?’
‘Yo
u’re getting warmer.’
‘Come onnnn, Genie. Jeez!’
Tui is still calling for me. I wish Kit would hurry up and spit it out – he is enjoying toying with me far too much.
‘That’s it.’ I drop my half-finished hay net. ‘I’m going to find Tui – she’ll soon tell me.’
Kit stops me with an outstretched arm so large it could be a drawbridge.
‘She wants you to ride with her, you daft old coot,’ he says, matter-of-factly. ‘On horseback. Allie tacked up Ekara for you before she left.’
‘But I can’t,’ I protest, my high spirits plummeting to Earth faster than a hailstone. ‘I don’t ride any more.’
‘But you can,’ he argues gently. ‘You know how.’
‘So what?’ I snap back tersely, not caring when he recoils at my harsh tone. ‘I’m guessing this was all your idea, right? You wanted to trick me, so you told Tui to pretend that it was her plan.’
‘It was all her idea,’ Kit replies, his total cool making my stroppy reaction seem even more unreasonable. ‘I’m serious.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ I exclaim, flouncing away out of his reach. ‘Why are you so obsessed with getting me back on a horse? I told you, I don’t do that any more.’
‘You did tell me,’ Kit allows, his folded arms the only sign that he’s feeling defensive. ‘But you never gave me a good reason why.’
‘I don’t because I can’t,’ I tell him, my voice rising. ‘Because I don’t deserve to.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t deserve to?’ Kit looks baffled. ‘Of course you deserve to – if riding makes you happy, then you should do it. Jesus, Genie, you should know better than most how short life is. Why are you punishing yourself for no reason?’
I open my mouth to reply, but the words tangle up with a frustrated sob. When Kit comes towards me to offer comfort, however, I step hurriedly away.
‘Please don’t.’
He looks so crestfallen to have been rejected that I cannot bear to look at him, so instead I turn and flee, running across the yard and slamming the tack-room door shut behind me. How can I explain to him that riding is what I want to do, more than anything, but that is exactly the reason I choose not to? I caused Anna’s death because I was too lazy and disorganised to exercise my own horse. My poor darling Suki, whose life was also lost because of her mistress. My punishment for not riding on the one day I should have is never riding again, no matter how much it pains me to stay away.
‘Genie.’ Kit is hammering on the door.
‘Just give me a second,’ I plead.
‘Is Tui in there with you?’ he asks, and I realise that he no longer sounds concerned or even cross, but scared. I slide the bolt back across, his expression when he rushes into the tack room sending an awful coldness through me.
‘Shit,’ he says, scanning the corners of the room. ‘When did you last see her?’
‘I didn’t,’ I say, beginning to feel frantic myself now. ‘I only heard her – and that was a good ten minutes ago.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Kit touches a hand to my shoulder. ‘Search the yard. I’ll check the paddocks.’
We split up and head off in different directions, both of us calling Tui’s name as we run from feed room to indoor school to office and back again. I start to yell for Beavis, too, hoping that wherever the little dog is, his mistress won’t be far behind, but there is no sign of either of them. Ekara is tethered to a wooden rail in the centre of the yard, and on my fifth fraught circuit, I pause for a moment and press my forehead against her dark brown neck.
‘Any sign?’ Kit emerges from the outdoor school looking harassed.
‘Nothing,’ I say, biting my lip. ‘Where else would she go?’
‘I don’t know.’ Kit runs an agitated hand through his hair. ‘She knows not to run off without someone with her, but if she was annoyed … Oh, shit.’ He looks suddenly frantic.
‘Keith is missing,’ he says. ‘He was right here tacked up for Tui, but he’s gone. Oh, bloody hell! You don’t think she would have –’
‘She must have ridden out in the direction of the river,’ I interrupt, more with hope than conviction. The alternative is the highway, and I can’t let myself entertain that idea.
‘Let’s go then,’ says Kit, starting to move, but I stop him.
‘We’ll never catch up with her on foot.’ I turn towards Ekara. ‘I’ll have to go on horseback.’
‘But what about –’ he stutters, but I’m already yanking down the stirrups.
‘I’ll go on ahead,’ I say. ‘You check the road, then follow us.’
There is no time to look for a hat. Snatching up the reins and turning once more to throw Kit a look that I hope conveys far more confidence than I feel, I take a deep breath and vault quickly up on to Ekara’s back.
‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ Kit grabs my hand. He looks so terrified that I almost bend down to give him a reassuring kiss. Someone I love is out there, alone and in danger, and this time I am here to help. This time I can do something.
I wrap my fingers around his and squeeze.
‘I will be,’ I say. ‘But only if my sister is.’
Then, before Kit has time to reply, I am kicking Ekara into life, and the two of us are thundering out of the yard without a backward glance.
39
The gate at the far end of the drive is fastened, but instead of slowing down to open it, I dig my heels determinedly into Ekara’s sides and she leaps fearlessly into the air, clearing it by a foot. Gathering up the reins into one hand, I drop the other to the brave mare’s gleaming neck and give her a pat of thanks. Pausing for only a moment to check my bearings, I veer right and gallop up the hill towards the tree-lined path that leads down to the Dart River.
I am aware of the sound of Ekara’s hooves as they pound against the dry ground; I can feel brambles tearing at my bare legs and arms and the wind whipping through my hair, twisting and turning and flattening it against my head. My senses are reeling, my body slotting effortlessly back into the position that it knows so well, but all I can think is that I must find Tui. She is out here somewhere, most likely scared and upset because Kit and I both disregarded her cries for attention. The thought of anything bad happening to her is enough to make me urge Ekara on even faster, my lower legs pressing hard against her heaving sides.
As we crash our way through a partially concealed gap in the undergrowth, I only just spot the low-hanging branch in time, ducking my unshielded head until my face is pressed into the horse’s flying mane. I can only hope that Keith, the pony Tui’s presumably riding, is not going at this speed. Every time I turn a corner, I expect to see her sprawled out unconscious on the ground, the thought making me whimper with fear.
We reach the Dart River and I slow Ekara only long enough to canter her around in a circle, scanning the area for any sign of Tui as I go. Frustrated, I throw out the reins yet again, giving Ekara her mouth and urging her into the running water with my heels. There’s an almighty splash as the mare gallops in right up to her belly, throwing up her head so fast that my nose collides with her neck. Blinking away river water, I reach up to wipe my face and encounter blood.
‘Shit!’ I swear, standing up in my stirrups and leaning forwards to squint into the distance. There is nothing, just river and mountains and trees and that never-ending sky. For the first time since landing in New Zealand, I curse the landscape for its size and sparsity. I hate the lack of fences and the endless parkland, I hate how easy it is to get lost, and to lose someone.
‘Please,’ I say aloud, gritting my teeth. ‘I can’t lose her – not Tui. Do you hear me? Not her.’
I am properly crying now, and Ekara, with her sweet, kind wisdom, seems to sense my distress. Slowing to a tidy trot, she heaves herself up the riverbank on to dry land, then stops to shake off the excess water, her nostrils bright red from exertion. The pause is enough to help me regain some control, and as I glance up ahead to where the trees seem to converge toge
ther, I see a small gap that could lead to another pathway.
‘Come on,’ I say, turning Ekara with one hand while I attempt to stem the flow of blood from my bashed-up nose with the other. Encouraged into a canter, she reaches the opening in less than a minute, and this time when we burst through to the other side of the treeline, I let out a yell of relief, because standing there, looking a bit lost and forlorn but still in one piece, is Tui.
‘Gee-nie!’ she calls, waving frantically with the hand that isn’t clutching Keith’s bridle. While she is clearly pleased to see me, I can tell that something is wrong, and trot quickly up to the edge of the river to join her.
‘We didn’t know where you’d got to,’ I say breathlessly, sliding quickly off Ekara and pulling Tui against my chest for a hug. My arms, hands and legs are shaking, but it feels so good to have her back, to have her right here next to me.
‘I came to find that silly boy Beavis, that’s all,’ she says, looking at me with her doleful dark eyes. I am still so overwhelmed with relief that at first her words don’t register and, frustrated, she says them again.
‘Beavis?’ I repeat, looking around for the little brown dog. ‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tui says, and then she bursts into tears.
‘Hey,’ I say, cradling her head against my chest. Her hair is flattened and hot from wearing a riding hat, and I send up a whisper of thanks that she had the foresight to put one on.
‘It’s OK,’ I soothe. ‘Don’t cry – we’ll find him.’
‘But what if he drowned in the river?’ she wails, quite distraught now.
‘Dogs are very good swimmers,’ I assure her, hoping I’m right where Beavis is concerned. The water is moving alarmingly fast, and it would be very deep for a little mutt like him.
‘He chased a rabbit,’ Tui tells me, tears all over her cheeks.
‘So you followed him?’ I guess, and she nods.
‘I thought he would get lost, that’s all.’
‘And then you got lost?’ I ask, and she shakes her head.
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