I know I told you before that I wasn’t that keen on moving away. The yard might be out in the wop-wops, but it’s always felt like a home to me, especially since I started renting with Bon. But Allie has been so patient, waiting here for me to feel ready all this time. The thing is, I didn’t want to leave Tui. I know she has her mum and Simon, but she needs someone else – someone who can look out for her, who understands her in the right way, you know?
I have watched the two of you scamps growing closer every day, and when the truth all came out last week, and I realised that you weren’t just Tui’s mate, but her sister, it dawned on me that she doesn’t need me as much any more. And that’s a good thing. Tui deserves someone like you in her life, a person who can love her in an uncomplicated way. And I can tell how much you love each other, just as I know that if you give it time, you’ll totally fall head-over-weird-Shire-horse-shoes for Bonnie, too. The three of you are cookies cut from the same dough, so I’m glad you’ve ended up finding each other. And there is no reason why you can’t all be happy now – no reason at all.
As for me, well, I made a promise a long time ago to a girl that I have loved for a lot of years, and now, I guess, it’s time for me to put her first.
Watch out for Griff, won’t you? Now that me and Allie aren’t there, he’ll be after a new drinking buddy. At least, that’s what he’ll tell you to get you out on a date with him.
Oh, and remember what I said about the sun and the shadows. Let misery make its home in the darkness, and seek out your future in the light.
Kit x
Even though I can barely see his words through my tears, I am also smiling. In the few minutes before I read Kit’s note, I hadn’t known for sure what my plans were – if I would stay here in New Zealand or venture home to England. But now, thanks to his note, I do. I guess that really, the truth has been creeping up on me for some time now, and that it simply needed someone else to state what Kit would probably call the ‘bloody obvious’.
It has been so long since I have been able to picture Anna and not see an expression of hurt on her face, but now when I conjure her up in my mind, my beautiful mum looks content. She would have been happy for me – Kit was right. All Anna would ever have wanted for me is happiness, in whatever form that might be. Kit has taught me how to start making sense of her death, while meeting Tui has shown me that there is way more for me to do. Hiding away from the world is no longer an option – I need to be brave for my sister, but more than that, I want to be courageous for myself, too. Because I am allowed a look-in – I am also important, and loved, and wanted by those I care about.
For all these years now, I have resented a mother who gave me up – but what Bonnie really did when she left me behind was provide me with more love. With Anna and David, I had an extra helping, more than Bonnie was capable of offering at the time, and yet that young, scared girl never stopped caring about me. Far from having less than those who I perceived to be ‘normal’ people, I have, in fact, had far more. I’ve just been too blind and self-centred to realise it until now.
It occurs to me then that if Anna had never died, I might not have made it here. I may not ever have met Tui. Even if Bonnie had sought me out when she did, who is to say I would have listened? Would the allure of a half-sister have been enough to tempt me as far away as New Zealand, or did I have to come face-to-face with Tui to really understand how intrinsic she is to my life, and to my future?
Asking myself such questions is as silly as a dog chasing its own tail – because how can I know? It could all be part of life’s grand plan, or it could be nothing more than a series of coincidences. The only thing I know for sure is that I am here now, and at last I have all the facts I need. And the truth, no matter how much like cuddling a cactus it might be, is as good a starting point as anyone can hope to find. From here on in, there will be no more dark spaces around me, and I can make my way forwards with hope in my heart.
I read Kit’s note again, snuffling with laughter at his gentle teasing, and his typically Kit-like turns of phrase. I am going to miss him so much – I already miss him.
My thoughts have strayed often to that evening we spent on the balcony in Oamaru, giddy on a mixture of whisky and close encounters with penguins. The breeze rolling in from across the water had lifted my freshly shorn hair and flattened it across my cheeks, and Kit, his eyes never leaving mine, had reached over to tuck the errant strands behind my ears. Such a small gesture, but one that had triggered a surge of feeling within me. I have told myself up to now that my reaction could be blamed on simple loneliness, or on alcohol taking its toll – but far from fading away, that yearning I experienced has only increased. Even as I got angry with Kit for pushing me to ride, all I really wanted was to fall against him again, just as I had on the pier amongst the seals, so that I might draw comfort from his strength, and find solace in his arms. I knew there was a chance that he would leave, but I have dared to hope that he would stay – not for me, but for himself, because I think Kit cherishes this small and exquisite corner of New Zealand even more than I do.
As he says, though, Kit made a promise a long time ago, and so he must honour it. He wouldn’t be Kit if he didn’t, and if he wasn’t, I would not love him as much as I do.
Because I do, of course.
I love him.
47
Six weeks later …
February has heralded the arrival of autumn in Glenorchy, and every morning when I reach the yard, the outdoor school is littered with red, gold and amber leaves. One of Tui’s favourite pastimes is to run through them at high speed, before gathering up handfuls to throw in the air for a delighted Beavis to jump up and catch. The little dog has increased both in size and amounts of fluff, and when he curls himself up for an afternoon nap in the corner of Keith’s box, it’s almost impossible to discern which end is head and which is bottom.
Bonnie is out with the midday ride, while I have promised my sister a jumping lesson once the mucking-out is complete. I am also keeping half an eye on the time, because Hayley is due to arrive this afternoon along with her new boyfriend … Billy. My two best friends started dating not long after I flew out here, with Hayley confessing rather cautiously that it had started as a drink to cheer Billy up after I friend-zoned him, then progressed to car-park snogging after he beat her at six consecutive games of pool.
‘I let him win, obviously,’ she had added, and I had laughed.
Hayley was worried that I would feel weird about this development, but that could not be further from the truth. I am genuinely thrilled for them, and even more thrilled at the prospect of winding them up about their new couple status when they get here. David, who bumped into them in the pub recently, told me that they make quite the striking duo. He and I still talk most days, but there’s a lingering uneasiness there and we rarely stray on to the topic of him being my real father. And while I believe things between us will settle down eventually, it is definitely going to take some more time.
Slotting the pitchfork back on its hook and propping my hosed-down wheelbarrow up against the wall, I venture across to the hay barn in search of Tui. I have enjoyed working here every day with Bonnie, getting to know her better, but it is the weekends I relish the most, because that’s when I get to spend quality time with my exuberant half-sibling.
‘Come on, Tu!’ I call up into the rafters. ‘Keith is not going to tack himself up, you know.’
I hear a muffled ‘Jeez’ followed by a screech of laughter, and then Tui’s bare feet come into view.
‘Beavis,’ I say, addressing the dog as he follows his mistress, ‘have you been eating Tui’s socks again?’
Tui starts giggling, bouncing from one bale of hay down to the next on her bottom and hiccupping with amusement.
Spotting her discarded boots, I pick one up and give it a sniff.
‘Ugh!’ I cry, wrinkling up my nose. ‘You didn’t tell me these were made from fish skins, cheese and poo, Tui.’
S
till snickering as she staggers to her feet, Tui swipes the boot from my hands and starts to put it on sans sock, tumbling into me on her unsteady foot.
‘Oh no,’ I tell Beavis, ‘Tui is drunk again.’
Such is Tui’s mirth that she is still laughing when we emerge from Keith’s stable ten minutes later, and I’m forced to make her count calmly to twenty before helping her to mount. Watching how much she is coming on continues to be the unrivalled highlight of my time here in New Zealand. She has spent hours up in the saddle while I instruct from the ground, taking her right back to basics and starting with her seat and leg position, before progressing to sitting trot, rising trot, and finally, a week or so ago, tentative cantering. Keith seems to know that he has a very precious cargo up on his back and behaves accordingly, barely flicking an ear when Tui gets carried away and starts flapping her arms, or her legs, or both consecutively. Today, we are going to tackle jumps again, and this time I want her to ride over them without being led by me – a big step.
‘Very good, Tu!’ I praise, as she pops over a tiny cross bar. ‘But next time, remember to bend over forwards from your middle, as if you’re bowing to the queen.’
‘Okaaay.’
‘And bring your hands up along Keith’s mane, as if you’re going to tickle his ears.’
‘OK, Gee-nie.’
After she has successfully cleared a row of small jumps, I prop the poles up a fraction higher, flicking the lunge whip through the air to encourage Keith forwards. There is a dicey moment when Tui loses a stirrup after the first fence, but she manages not to fall, and even slots her foot back into place without any assistance from me.
‘You’re doing so well,’ I tell her. ‘You’ll be winning the Grand National in no time.’
‘What?’ she bellows, looking down at the pony’s outside foreleg to make sure she’s rising to the trot at the right time.
I am just about to explain what the Grand National is when Tui interrupts me with an excited shriek – one that is loud enough to send an alarmed Keith veering off course and cantering skittishly towards the gate. Assuming that he will stop when he reaches it, I don’t bother to give chase, but the next second the determined pony has taken an almighty gazelle-style hop into the air and cleared it by inches. Tui, to my total astonishment, not only manages to stay in the saddle, but remembers to fold forwards, too.
‘Bloody hell!’ I shout, throwing down my whip and hurling myself across the muddy ground. If Keith has decided to bolt, he could be halfway across the yard by now. What will Bonnie say if Tui goes missing again – and on my watch?
Fumbling with the bolt on the gate and swearing in earnest as I round the corner at speed, I skid across the concrete of the yard and almost collide with the errant Keith’s toffee-coloured back end, which has thankfully come to an abrupt stop not far from the tack room.
Panting with relief, I lean against his warm rump for a moment to catch my breath, my hand already reaching up to reassure Tui, then step out into view and almost fall right over in shock. Because standing there, holding Keith’s reins and looking at me with both endearment and bemusement on his face, is Kit.
‘Lost something?’ he asks.
‘Wh—’ I begin.
Tui is scrambling to get down so she can give Kit a hug, and seeing her flail, my body immediately moves into action, but my mind is spinning more than a gymnast’s ribbon. Kit told Bonnie that he wouldn’t be back for a visit until Easter at the earliest, so what is he doing here now? And why didn’t anyone warn me, so I could at least have put on some make-up? I am horribly aware of the smears of dirt on my cream jodhpurs, the Mickey Mouse on my T-shirt, and the unflattering grey hairband pushing my unwashed locks off my face.
Kit, by contrast, looks good enough to eat off toast. He is wearing snugly fitting black trousers and a moss-coloured shirt that sets off his pale mint eyes. I want to tell him how good it is to see him, and how glad I am that he is here, but I can’t seem to dredge up any words at all.
‘Kit!’ Tui is now on the ground and has thrown herself heavily into his arms – so heavily that he staggers back a few paces, laughing as he rights himself. Beavis, who had been dozing in one of the open stables, hurtles across to join them, his little body writhing with pleasure as he leaps up and licks Kit on the chin.
‘Now this is what I call a welcome,’ he jokes, glancing at me. Still unable to move or speak, I stare back, wondering how I have got through the past six weeks without him. I have missed Kit every single moment, and now that he’s here, I want to fling myself against him just as Tui has done, and beg him never to leave again. But I don’t. I can’t.
‘I’ll just …’ I say hesitantly, forcing myself to move. ‘Just see to Keith. I’ll, er, be back in a minute.’
Once in Keith’s box, I shut and bolt the half-door behind me and lean against the wall, giving in to a smile so broad that I can feel it pulling my skin taut across my jaw.
This is a good thing. I am happy to see him. So, why am I hiding in here like a fairy-tale ogre?
By the time I have untacked and rubbed down Keith, Bonnie has returned from her ride and the yard is full of tourists needing assistance. I am only too happy to help them, but despite ferrying tack and returning borrowed hats, I make sure that I know where Kit is at all times. Tui is still dangling off him like a spider monkey, gazing at him with all the awe and adoration that I feel, yet am unable to show. Bonnie, too, looks happy to see her old friend, but I also clock her exclamation of surprise as she greets him. Clearly, my mother did not know that Kit was going to turn up today either.
My phone beeps with a message. It’s Hayley, informing me that she and Billy were delayed in Dubai, and as a result, they have missed their connecting flight out of Melbourne, causing them a day’s delay. Flicking my eyes in Kit’s direction yet again, I am ashamed of how relieved I feel to unexpectedly have the evening free.
I’m just tapping out a quick sympathetic reply when Bonnie joins me. She is sporting flattened hat hair from her recent ride, but looks aglow with happiness.
‘I can put that away for you,’ she says, removing Merlin’s saddle from my arm. ‘You’re taking the rest of the afternoon off.’
‘What?’ I ask, puzzled. ‘Why? I told you I didn’t need any time off yet – and anyway, my friends aren’t coming until tomorrow now.’ I hold up my phone.
Bonnie fixes me with one of what I have learned are her ‘Mum knows best’ stares.
‘Even more reason to take advantage, then,’ she says, and this time I see the hint of a glint in her bright blue eyes.
‘But …’ I protest, as she turns to go, ‘I don’t have any plans. I don’t even know what I’d do.’
Bonnie’s expression is loaded with undeniable suggestion, and she looks first towards Kit, then back at me.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she says, her tone light and teasing, ‘I’m sure between the two of you, you’ll think of something.’
48
‘Where are we going?’ I ask Kit, fastening my seatbelt as he puts the jeep into gear.
‘You remember that other big hill I once told you about?’ he says.
‘Queenstown Hill?’ I recall, and he gives me a one-handed thumbs-up.
‘That’s the fella. I thought we could climb it.’
‘Any particular reason why?’
‘That’s for me to know.’ He gives me a sidelong look.
‘And me to find out?’ I counter hopefully.
‘All in good time, you little lamp dweller.’
‘Well, that’s a new one.’
‘Really? Have you never heard your name before?’
It’s nice to have fallen back into an easy exchange of banter with Kit, and the back-and-forth asides continue in light-hearted earnest as he drives us along the highway towards town. I tease him about the photo he sent to Bonnie while she was still in England, of me and Tui beside the penguin statue in Oamaru, telling him that really, he is the reason I was outed. When I ask after Al
lie, he tells me that she is well and loving life in the city, but doesn’t elaborate further than a vague ‘I had a few days off’ when I ask what prompted this visit.
‘Do you love city life, too?’ I ask, turning my head towards the window to take in the blue sweep of Lake Wakatipu. No matter how many times I see it, I am always moved by its quiet beauty. When Kit doesn’t reply straight away, I glance back at him, noticing again how smartly he is dressed, and how neatly he’s brushed back his tight black curls.
‘It certainly looks good on you,’ I tell him, gratified when he grins across at me.
‘I don’t think that’s Wellington,’ he says. ‘I reckon it’s being back here again.’
‘I’m glad it’s working for one of us,’ I joke, plucking unenthusiastically at the material of my scruffy T-shirt. ‘If you’d agreed to pass by my brand-new flat, I could have run in and got changed.’
‘There was no need.’ Kit slows down to allow two elderly ladies clutching walking sticks to cross the road. ‘You look fine as you are.’
Unsure whether he is winding me up again, I say nothing, but it’s impossible not to feel cheered just by hanging out with him again. I had forgotten how easy he is to be around, and how alive he makes me feel.
The trail up to the top of Queenstown Hill begins on the immediate outskirts of the town centre, not far from where the pair of us ventured the first time we went out on an afternoon alone. The weeks spent working daily at the stables have strengthened my muscles and improved my fitness, and this time I don’t find the first part of the climb as arduous as I did before. Similarly to the Tiki Trail, the path here is also shaded by vast Douglas firs, but there are fewer roots to trip over this time, and we see fewer people on our way up.
Kit continues to natter away to me as we walk, pointing out curious stacks of flat stones, a tiny doorway that someone has carved into the stump of a felled tree, and all the birds that flit and fly from bush to branch above us, singing to one another almost as sweetly as Tui does to Beavis.
One Winter Morning Page 27