‘Tui,’ I remark in mock-horror. ‘Where are your shoes and socks?’
‘I don’t know!’ she says, bellowing with laughter.
I should convince her to go back down into the yard and find Kit, in case he’s worried, but a selfish part of me wants to keep her here with me. The moments that I thought I had lost her were some of the worst of my life, and now it’s taking all my powers of self-control not to pull her furiously into my arms and never let her go again.
Tui seems charmingly unfazed by the morning’s misadventure, and is now picking hay seeds out of my hair like a chimpanzee and flicking them into the air. If only I could stay up here with her forever, in a bubble of untroubled happiness.
‘Whose little piggies are those that I spy?’ calls a voice from below.
While I immediately tense up, Tui starts laughing helplessly, wiggling her toes to taunt Bonnie, who I can now see making her way up to join us.
‘I assume these are yours?’ she says, thrusting a pair of grubby, rainbow-striped socks towards us.
Tui nods in delight, pursing her lips together and giggling like Muttley from The Wacky Races. Bonnie, who is almost level with us now, reaches across a hand and tickles Tui’s bare feet, causing her to shriek and fall into me.
‘Help me, Genie!’ she cries. ‘Oh no – Mummy’s trying to get me!’
‘Genie can’t help you,’ Bonnie says warningly, but her expression is all warmth. ‘If I want to eat your bare toes, then nobody can stop me!’
Tui jumps up so fast that she cracks her head on one of the wooden beams, and without thinking, I leap up to see if she’s OK.
‘Silly donkey,’ Bonnie says from Tui’s other side, rubbing her daughter’s head. ‘You know I wouldn’t really eat your feet.’
She catches my eye as she speaks, and this time I find that I can hold her gaze. Now that I’m closer to her, I realise that her features are, in fact, much more like Tui’s than my own, and the resemblance catches me off guard. I had been so ready to judge my real mother, but during these past weeks where I have essentially lived inside her life, I have come to understand and appreciate that she is more than simply a woman who chose to give me away – she is also the person who raised Tui.
The three of us sit back down and Bonnie hands Tui her socks, telling her to get them back on before she steps in some dung.
‘It’s happened before,’ she tells me, rolling her eyes. ‘Quite a few times.’
‘Shit happens,’ I murmur, and Bonnie laughs.
‘You’re not wrong there – and that is exactly what Kit would have said. I can tell you’ve been spending a lot of time with him.’
‘He’s been great,’ I tell her, my voice wobbling.
‘He is one of the good guys,’ Bonnie confirms.
Tui has got her socks back on and is lying on her back in the hay, Beavis held aloft in her outstretched arms.
‘Thank you,’ Bonnie says to me, stroking a hand through her daughter’s wild hair. ‘For finding her. Kit says I have you to thank for saving Beavis, too.’
‘It was no trouble,’ I mumble, but Bonnie quite rightly scoffs in disbelief. To be fair to her, there is no denying the state of me. I am a horror.
‘Did you say thank you to Genie for rescuing you?’ Bonnie asks Tui, who sits up with a great beaming smile on her face.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘You love her, don’t you?’ Bonnie surmises with pleasure, and Tui shakes her head.
‘I think so, yes,’ she replies, appraising me with her big dark eyes.
‘Shall I tell you a secret?’ Bonnie asks, looking not at me but at Tui.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Genie is your sister.’
There is a pause as Tui takes this in, frowning at her mother in confusion. Beavis has padded across on to my lap, and I pat him mindlessly, unsure what to do or say. There is a great torrent of emotion building behind the dam of my senses, and I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, or blink, or even move, then it will erupt.
Tui scratches at a scab on her ankle and hums tunelessly to herself. Then, turning to me, she traces a finger over my forehead and across my cheek.
‘The same eyes as Mum’s,’ she says wonderingly.
‘That’s right,’ Bonnie says. She sounds choked, close to tears herself now, but I can’t muster the courage to look at her. I had been preparing myself for the moment she said she wanted nothing to do with me – but this proves that she must. Now that I am faced with acceptance and genuine welcome, I feel thrown, and I’m not yet sure whether it’s a good or guilty feeling.
‘Oh Gee-nie, my sister, what are you sad about?’ demands Tui, pulling me into a fierce, one-armed hug. ‘Don’t cry. There, there.’
I cling to her, to this wonderful girl that I love so much, and I cry for all the years of her life that I have missed, and for all the times that I longed for her before I even knew she existed. Tui only lets me go when my sobs have ceased, and even then, she holds Beavis up to my face so he can lick away what remains of my tears.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble, wrapping myself up even tighter in Kit’s shirt. ‘It’s been a weird day.’
‘You can say that again,’ replies Bonnie, and Tui titters uncertainly.
‘I need to do a poo,’ she announces.
I can’t help it, I start to laugh.
‘Right,’ says Bonnie, feigning seriousness. ‘Well, in that case, you had better scarper.’
‘OK, Mummy.’ Tui gets to her feet. She is about to slither down the hay bales on her bottom, when she stops and turns once again to me.
‘Don’t be sad any more, Genie,’ she instructs. ‘Me and Mummy will look after you now, OK?’
And with that, she is gone, disappearing in a cloud of hay dust and excited giggling, Beavis not far behind. Bonnie and I say nothing at first, both of us listening instead to the sounds of the yard, to horses pawing the concrete with their hooves, to one of the stable hands shouting something about a missing noseband and the distant ringing of the telephone. I remember David down in the office, abandoned. He is no doubt wondering where we are, but is too awkward and polite to venture outside.
‘I’m sorry I ran off like that,’ I say finally, glancing at Bonnie.
‘I think you get that from me,’ she says, lifting an apologetic shoulder.
Another silence blooms.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I admit after a pause. ‘I had it all planned out a few weeks ago, but then you weren’t here when I arrived.’
‘Sorry about that.’ Bonnie grits her teeth. ‘I always did have bloody awful timing.’
‘Did you go to England to see me?’
‘Yes,’ she says, then turns to me. ‘But when I got there, I wimped out. I went to stay with a friend instead, and then I found out about Anna. I am so sorry.’
‘Thanks.’ I try out a smile.
‘You are a lot braver than me,’ Bonnie adds. ‘Coming out here to the yard almost as soon as you’d got off the plane.’
I shake my head. ‘I’m not brave.’
‘Oh, come off it,’ she protests gently. ‘Not only did you come here alone, you also saved Tui. Your dad told me that you haven’t been on a horse since—’ She hesitates.
‘Since Anna died,’ I finish. ‘He’s right. Not until today, anyway. I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it, but in the moment, it didn’t even occur to me that I couldn’t. I was so worried about Tui that I acted before I had time to think it through.’
‘And yet you say you’re not brave?’ she chides softly.
I think about galloping underneath the low branches and leaping into the river.
‘OK,’ I allow. ‘Maybe I am a little bit.’
‘I really am sorry,’ Bonnie says again. ‘About Anna. She was a lovely woman, and what happened is just horrible.’
‘It was,’ I manage. Then, as her words sink in, ‘You knew her?’
‘Enough to know what an amazing mother she must have been.’ Bonnie confirms. ‘She
kind of became like a mother to me for a while.’
‘She did?’ I sit up straighter in surprise.
‘I lived with her and David while I was pregnant with you,’ she explains.
My brain feels like a washing machine that has been set on continuous spin.
‘What?’ I splutter. ‘You lived with them? I know they met you, but not that you lived with them? I don’t …’ I begin, mouthing with confusion. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘There is so much I need to tell you,’ she says. ‘That’s what I’ve been doing all this time in England, I’ve been writing down my story for you.’
I shake my head as I try to take in what she is saying.
‘You wrote it down? For me?’
Bonnie nods.
‘I thought it would help, and make it easier.’ A pause. ‘For both of us. You can read through it all, and then we can talk properly.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, talking over her. I am unable to articulate quite what I’m feeling, which is an odd mixture of fear, relief and bewilderment. ‘I just … I don’t know where to begin with all this.’ I had thought it would be me leading the interrogation, that I would be the one calling the shots of our first conversation, but Bonnie is way ahead of me. I feel like a sprinter who’s been overtaken in the final seconds of a race.
‘How about you start at the beginning?’ suggests Bonnie. ‘I think it’s about time you heard the whole story – if you want to, that is?’
I wish that Anna were here, that she could give me a comedy thumbs-up like she always used to and tell me that everything is going to be fine, and that no matter how tough the truth is, I need to hear it. I deserve to hear it. But she isn’t, and that means it is up to me to do the brave thing. This is my story, after all, and nobody but me can make the decision to hear it.
‘You’re right,’ I say, turning to face my mother. ‘It is definitely time.’
41
It is mid-afternoon by the time Bonnie and I emerge from the hay barn. A persistent sun is casting lazy shadows across the yard, and horses doze over the open half-doors of their stables. Tui is up on the mounting block with Beavis, the two of them lost in a make-believe game, while Allie sponges down the ponies that have not long returned from the last ride. She seems to be in better spirits, and gives me a friendly wave as I pass.
Realising that I am still wearing Kit’s discarded shirt, I peel it off as he approaches, holding it out to him like a peace offering.
‘Ta.’ He sniffs it. ‘On second thoughts …’
Immediately consoled by his teasing manner, I glance sheepishly towards Bonnie and then back at him, trying to say with a gesture what I can’t even begin to explain with words.
‘It’s OK,’ he says. ‘I had a good chat with your dad and he filled me in.’
‘Oh.’ I can feel my face burning. I thought Kit would be angry with me for keeping my identity a secret, but on the contrary, he doesn’t seem any different. If anything, he looks rather pleased with the situation. He has unearthed a T-shirt from somewhere, but it is at least two sizes too small.
‘I’ll just go and get that stuff for you,’ Bonnie says to me, heading off in the direction of the minibus, which I now notice has a battered red car parked beside it.
‘So …’ Kit rests his chin in one of his big hands.
‘So …’ I reply, chewing the inside of my cheek.
‘So, this has been quite the day,’ he remarks. ‘I know there are supposed to be fireworks on New Year’s Eve, but usually they start going off towards the end of the day, not at the start.’
‘I think I’ve had as much drama as I can handle for one day,’ I admit. Then, when Kit says nothing, ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t honest with you from the start – I didn’t mean to lie, I just panicked and then I—’
‘Hush up, you silly old coot,’ he chides. ‘I had guessed you were related to Bon, you know.’
‘You had?’
‘Of course.’ He puts his head on one side, examining me with those pale mint eyes of his. ‘You look just like her.’
‘Why didn’t you ask me outright?’ I exclaim. ‘Or call Bonnie and ask her?’
Kit pushes his lips together. ‘None of my business,’ he says simply. ‘I figured you and Bon would sort it out when she got back, and I didn’t want to scare you away by poking my noggin in. The thing is, I kind of like having you around – and Tui loves you,’ he adds quickly, clocking my look of incredulity.
Bonnie is making her way back towards us now, a folded sheaf of papers in one of her hands.
‘I should—’ I begin, and Kit flashes me a smile.
‘Of course. Well, Happy New Year, I guess. You’re certainly seeing this one out in style.’
I dredge up a laugh. ‘And to you – and thanks again for fishing me out of the river.’
‘Anytime,’ he retorts cheerfully, and I find it impossible not to stare at his departing back as it vanishes into the tack room.
‘Here you are.’ Bonnie pushes the papers into my hands. ‘I hope you can read my handwriting – it’s bloody dreadful.’
‘Something else I get from you,’ I say lightly, and register relief in her eyes.
David is still in the office where Bonnie and I left him, reading a battered Penguin paperback and eating a chocolate biscuit that he must have unearthed from the tin behind the desk. Leaping immediately to his feet, he asks if I am OK, which of course I’m not. My emotions are tied into even more knots than my ratty nest of half-dry hair.
Bonnie, who is still maintaining a respectful distance, offers to drive the two of us back into Queenstown, but David insists that she call us a taxi instead, pointing out that Bonnie must also be tired after such a long flight, and that the best thing all of us can do is get some rest.
I can tell that my adoptive dad is nervous, because he prattles on about all manner of nonsense throughout the entire journey back, starting in on the driver when he fails to elicit more than a murmur from me. I listen with only half an ear as they discuss the local sights, and David points out of the window as the mighty Lake Wakatipu comes into view.
I have been in New Zealand for weeks now, but that is still not enough time to feel blasé about its beauty. The far-flung mountains still enthral me, just as the lakes and verdant hillsides draw me in. The air flooding in through the open car windows is as clean and rejuvenating as it was on that first day, while the sun still beats down as adamantly. I am so far from home, yet home is where I am. The thought is enough to make me smile in spite of it all and, closing my eyes, I whisper a thank you to whatever it was that brought me here.
I think of Kit in his too-tight T-shirt, and the image is so substantial that I can almost smell the earthy scent of him. He has become as much a home to me as New Zealand, and Tui, and even the horses – all of them have played their part in piecing me back together again. I was broken when I arrived, but now I feel more whole than I ever have before – even without Anna. Losing her left me with a wound that I feared would never heal, but now I see why it has been gaping open for so long. Because I allowed myself to fill it with bitterness, fear and self-loathing, when what I should have tried to do was knit it back together with love.
There is something I must do before I read Bonnie’s story, something that I should have done a long time ago. I wait until the taxi has dropped us back at the apartment, then prevaricate by sending a quick text message to Hayley while David carries in his case from the boot. He is famished, he tells me, pointing out that I must surely be too. He wants us to eat together, and then he says we can talk. Properly talk.
Scribbling down a rudimentary map on the back of a flyer advertising ziplining, I pack him off in the direction of Fergburger, feeling slightly guilty because I know the queue will keep him occupied for at least an hour. I need some time, though – I don’t want him to be here while I do this.
The shower rejuvenates me, and once dry, I dress quickly in leggings and the biggest, comfiest hoodie I have, then take
Anna’s memory book and a cup of tea to the sofa. I can already feel the jitters of cowardice starting to build, so before I can talk myself out of it, I flip open the book to the page bearing my mum’s final entry and begin reading.
42
Anna
Saturday, 23 December 2017
It’s almost Christmas Eve again – how did that happen? I swear the older I get, the faster time passes. It felt like I blinked and Genie went from a newborn to a five-year-old, then a teenager, and now she’s a beautiful young woman. Not that she believes me when I tell her so – according to Genie, nobody’s bottom has ever been bigger, or chin more shaped like a canoe. I wish she could see what I see – that she is practically perfect in every way, just like Mary Poppins.
We had the silliest row earlier. In true Genie fashion, she has left all her shopping till the last minute. Honestly, she and Davey are like one of a kind – he has been known to buy my present on Christmas Day before! So, she now has to spend tomorrow shopping instead of exercising Suki, a job which has now become mine. I don’t mind, of course – I love that dear little horse – but poor Genie got herself in such a snarl about it.
She does this when she feels guilty about something – lashes out at me and Dave – but I know she’ll feel really crap about it by tomorrow, the nitwit. I must admit, I did snap back at her, something about her being so far beyond my tether that I would need a telescope to see her. She hates it when I get smart with her, and she really lost her temper after that, said all sorts of nasty things that I know she didn’t really mean. Honestly, it was very hard to keep a straight face. I had to pretend to be all stern and disappointed, when really I was caterwauling with laughter inside. I’ll tell her when I get back from the stables tomorrow, and we’ll have a good old giggle about it. And a ride will be lovely. I’m going to sneak Suki a whole packet of Polos to make up for not being Mummy.
Maybe I will pick out another gift for Genie, too – a necklace to match her ring. It’s sweet that she never takes it off, and Davey was right, it doesn’t matter a bit that it once belonged to Bonnie. I thought it would upset me, but actually, I like seeing it there on Genie’s finger – it makes me feel as if Bonnie is still here with us in some way. I think of her often, and the sacrifice she made. Perhaps I need to stop being selfish and tell Genie more about her. I should have more faith in her. Yes, I will talk to Davey about it tomorrow.
One Winter Morning Page 24