As the path continues to snake upwards, Kit points out a sign set back amongst the sparse undergrowth.
‘“Queenstown Hill”,’ I read aloud. ‘“This hill was once known as Te Tapu-Nui, a hill which signifies intense sacredness.” That’s good to know.’
Kit chuckles.
‘Your Maori needs a bit of work,’ he says.
‘Hey!’ I exclaim. ‘I’m trying my best here.’
‘I’m so glad you decided to stay,’ he says then, his finger brushing the gentlest stroke along the underside of my arm.
Taken aback by both the change in subject and the jolt that ricocheted through me at his touch, I mumble something incoherent in response.
Kit drops his hand.
‘Say that again.’
‘I’m glad, too,’ I tell him, wanting to add that I stayed partly because of him, because he helped me to be brave, and to accept the things that I could not control. But it feels wrong to crank the dial around to serious when we’re only just settling back into playful.
After a few contemplative minutes, the trail widens and the stony ground gives way to a fine, sandy dust. We have reached the first stage of Queenstown Hill’s summit, and I can see a bowl-shaped sculpture on the edge of the pathway. It has a circular base made from wide, tightly packed slabs of stone, while its basin-like top has been constructed from twisted strips of metal.
This time Kit reads the sign.
‘“The Basket of Dreams”,’ he announces importantly. ‘“The Basket’s spiral of steel follows you inward, to reflect, to draw inspiration from the mountains, lake, and from those who are with you. Outward, to dream, for the future. Time flies, eternity waits.”’
‘Wow,’ I remark. ‘Sounds serious.’
‘It’s pretty bloody beautiful, don’t you think?’ he asks, and I agree that it is. The truth is that the more I stand here and gaze at it, the more I find pleasing about it. The steel is warm to the touch, and the view beyond it nothing short of miraculous. The green mountainside rushes down to greet the vivid blue of the sprawling lake, while in the distance the Remarkables sit huddled together like giant’s teeth – a great, toothy grin smiling up at the heavens.
‘Let’s go right to the top,’ Kit says.
It is tough going, and my thighs burn in protest as we scale the final stretch of path, but the view alone makes the struggle worthwhile. It feels like we are above the sky itself up here, the two of us. Clouds float across the endless puddle of blue sky like bubbles in a bathtub, and the far horizon shimmers with dancing light.
‘Seat?’ offers Kit, tapping the dry earth with his boot.
I ease my bag off my shoulder and sit down. It is a relief to rest my legs for a moment, and I sigh with pleasure as I stretch them out in front of me.
‘So,’ says Kit, who has lowered himself down next to me.
‘So,’ I reply, looking from the view to him. There is so much wisdom in his wide-set eyes, such nobility in the strong line of his jaw, and the smooth expanse of his forehead. His lips are parted, and I can see the tantalising tip of his pink tongue. Reminded of how I longed to kiss him in Oamaru, I glance away guiltily, back towards the view.
‘Thank you for coming up here with me,’ he says. ‘I know you probably had other things you would rather be doing.’
‘Nope,’ I say truthfully. ‘I am very happy to be here, albeit a little bit mystified as to why you invited me.’
Kit deflects me again by asking about my visa. My tourist one expires in March, but Bonnie is already looking into a family application, which will allow me to stay longer. The goal eventually is to become a resident, and my spirits lift up a notch as I explain to Kit just how much of a home New Zealand has already become. David understands and has given me his blessing, as well as promising to visit as much as he can. The benefit of being an author is that you can work from anywhere in the world, and he is planning to take full advantage of that fact.
‘I love this place,’ I say dreamily, gazing out at the shifting clouds. The lake is pitted with tiny bright sails, the only sound the caressing whisper of the wind.
Beside me, Kit moves one of his big legs and dips his free hand into the pocket of his trousers, extracting a small drawstring pouch.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
‘A present for you,’ he says. Then, when I widen my eyes in surprise, he adds in a murmur, ‘Ahakoa he iti he pounamu – although it is small, it is greenstone.’
Fumbling as I untie the tiny knotted string, I turn the velvet sack upside down and tip the contents out into my flat, open palm.
‘Oh, wow,’ I say, taking in the fine gold chain and the jade-stone swirl at its end. ‘It’s so beautiful.’
‘It’s a koru,’ Kit explains, lifting the necklace and holding it up so I can see the symbol. ‘It’s supposed to represent a silver fern unfurling.’
‘It’s the same as the “O” of Koru Stables,’ I say in wonder.
‘That’s true.’ Kit looks almost nervous now. ‘But it also symbolises new life beginning, and peace, and strength, I guess. I wanted to get you something to make up for you losing your mum’s ring in the river that day, but if you don’t like it then—’
‘No!’ I protest, taking it from him and clutching it against my chest. ‘I love it. I really love it!’
‘I did look for your ring,’ he adds, as I lift my hair and fasten the necklace. ‘But I couldn’t find the bloody thing.’
He looks so contrite that I have to laugh.
‘You know, that ring never was my mother’s,’ I say. ‘Well, it was, but not my adoptive mother’s. It was Bonnie’s all along – she gave it to Anna to give to me.’
‘Maybe that’s why you didn’t need it any more,’ he suggests. ‘Because after that day, you had Bonnie herself. You had the real thing.’
‘You know,’ I tell him, still fingering my necklace in delight, ‘I have been thinking a lot about what I really need lately. I was only a child when I found out that I was adopted, and it became so intrinsic to who I was, and who I became as I grew up. I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I was such a victim. I wrote myself into this role as a forgotten, abandoned child, and it warped me. David knew it, and I guess that’s why he created all those Evangeline stories in the first place, in order to show me that a person is only defined by their actions, rather than their situation. Whenever I was acting up or being resentful, he would ask me what Evangeline would do, and I hated it, because I knew that she was better than me, and less bitter than me. But all he was really trying to do was chivvy me out of my self-pity. I should have followed Evangeline’s lead, but instead I retreated into the shadows, and it took coming here, and meeting Tui and Bonnie and –’ I pause – ‘you, actually, to make me realise what I really needed.’
‘And what was that?’ Kit asks, his voice low.
‘Me,’ I say simply. ‘I just needed to be me.’
Kit smiles at that, and for a moment or two, neither of us says anything, content to simply take in the scenery and close our eyes against a re-emerging sun.
‘Thank you so much for this, by the way,’ I say, turning to look at him again, enjoying the sensation of simply seeing him there. I pick the necklace up off my chest, tracing my thumb around the spiral shape of the koru symbol. ‘I can’t think of a better present – there is literally nothing better that you could have given me.’
Kit looks amused.
‘Nothing?’ he says, tilting his head to one side. ‘Nothing at all?’
‘You still haven’t told me,’ I say, talking to mask how thrown I am by the potential meaning behind his words, ‘why you’re here – and why we’re on the top of this hill.’
‘I used to come up here with my pa,’ he says, so wistfully that it douses any vestiges of my imagined flirtation. ‘We would sit here for hours, watching the clouds drift by, and he would tell me all the old Maori stories, trying his best to instil in me all the wisdom that he had learned from his own father.’
; ‘He did a good job,’ I say softly, but Kit shakes his head ruefully.
‘Nah – I mean, I reckon I get by OK, given the fact I’m only strictly half Maori. But next to that man, I’m still only a beginner. I make mistakes all the time.’
‘Everybody does,’ I point out. ‘Look at me! And what about my parents – both sets?’
Kit fixes me with a steady gaze.
‘Bon told me about David,’ he says. ‘About the possibility of him being your dad after all.’
‘Mad, isn’t it?’
He nods. ‘Just a bit. Do you reckon you’ll find out for sure? You know, do a DNA test or something?’
If he had asked me only a day ago, I would not have known how to answer, but for some reason, I realise now that I do. And that probably, I have known ever since David told me the truth about his one night with Bonnie.
‘I don’t need to,’ I reply. ‘If the last few months have taught me anything, it’s that family are the people you choose to have in your life. David is my dad – he has always been my dad, and that is good enough for me. I don’t need a test to confirm or deny what I already know. In fact, as soon as we get down off this hill, I’m going to call and tell him just that.’
Kit is smiling again, this time with what looks an awful lot like pride.
‘You know what?’ he says. ‘I reckon my pa would have really liked you.’
‘And my mum, Anna, would have loved you,’ I say, unable to stop a wobble sneaking in amongst the words. Kit puts one of his big hands over mine.
‘Still hurts, huh?’
I can only nod.
‘I broke up with Allie,’ he says then, so casually that at first I think I must have misheard.
‘What did you s—’ I begin, only to yelp in alarm as my bag slithers away over the steep edge of the hill.
‘Shit!’ yells Kit, diving over sideways just as I do the same, both of us making a furious grab for the strap. With a resounding thud, our heads collide and we reel upwards, the mischievous bag held up in the air between us.
‘Ouch,’ laughs Kit, as I rub my brow. ‘You really know how to ruin a bloke’s big moment, don’t you?’
‘Me?’ I exclaim, still rubbing.
‘You,’ he concurs, wiping dust off his trousers.
‘Well, I’m very sorry,’ I retort.
‘Be quiet,’ he chides. ‘I’m trying to do my big speech over here and you’re making it impossible.’
‘Sorry,’ I reply, feeling all of a sudden ridiculously giddy. If I were Tui, I would be bouncing up and down on my bottom by now.
‘You wanted to know why I came back?’ he prompts, to which I nod, unable now not to beam at him. For once, the staggering landscape has lost its captive audience, because all I want to stare at is Kit.
‘When I got to Wellington, I tried really hard not to think about home,’ he says, chewing at the corner of his thumbnail. ‘Allie had found us a place in a nice part of town, and everyone was really friendly and all that – but it just felt, I dunno, empty somehow, you know? Like there was a space around me that nothing and nobody there could fill.’
I swallow, the hairs on my arms standing up with recognition.
‘Me and Al, we’d been together so long that it had become a habit, and once we took away everything else that we knew – all our friends and family, our jobs – we found out pretty quickly that we didn’t have all that much in common any more. I mean, I love the girl, and she loves me, but neither of us loved each other in the right way, you know.’
My mind flickers to Billy, to how much affection and respect I have for him, and how much I wanted to love him in the other way, but could never quite get there.
‘I am a stubborn old mule,’ Kit goes on, pushing his foot through the dust. ‘Because I’d said I would go to Wellington, I did, even though I knew deep down that it wasn’t what I wanted. So, I gave it a whirl, but it was never going to work.’
‘Is Allie OK?’ I ask.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Kit nods in earnest. ‘Better than OK, in fact. Once we’d had the chat, she told me she felt relieved. We had been arguing so much – even before we left here we’d been doing that. It was sad to be ending something, but we both knew by doing so, we would be opening ourselves up to something even better. She’s happy in Welly. Like, really happy. I would never have left her by herself up there if I didn’t believe that.’
‘I know you wouldn’t have,’ I agree. ‘You’re just too … well, you, to do that.’
‘When I wrote you that note, I didn’t tell you the whole truth,’ Kit says then.
‘Oh?’
‘I told you that I was feeling sketchy about going because I was worried about Tui, but that was only half the reason. Fact is, I didn’t want to leave you either.’
My heart is fluttering so fast now that I am afraid it might carry me right off the top of this hill.
‘As it turns out,’ he says, picking up both my hands, ‘Tui is not the only girl that I can’t live without. And I’m not just saying this because I’m not with Allie any more. I’m not on the rebound; I know how I feel. It slinked up on me, but it was only when I got to Welly and I couldn’t see you every day that I realised just how much I wanted to see you – how much I needed to be around you.’
He is gabbling now, but I feel powerless to stop him. All I can think is that I love this man. I have never been in love before now, but I love Kit. I know I do, because suddenly it feels as if the sun has been put there just for us, the sway of the trees is actually the world sighing with contentment, and even the darkest corners of my heart have all at once been bathed in wonderful light.
‘I guess what I’m trying to say, in the great big idiot way that only I can, is that I came back here for you, Genie. I gave you that necklace because I want to be part of your new start, and because I know how much you have been hurt and are still hurting, and I want to be here to help you through it. Because there are going to be some tough times ahead, and days where you want to tear down the world because Anna is not in it, but on those days I will be here. If you let me, if you want me to be?’
Before I can say anything, Kit has moved his hands up to my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears as they begin to fall, his voice telling me not to be upset, and that everything is going to be all right. What he doesn’t realise is that, for once, I am not weeping because I am sad, but because I am happy.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, my voice strangled by sheer, unadulterated happiness. ‘I’m not upset.’
Taking an enormous breath to steady myself, I rub furiously at the mess that my face has become and rest my head against his shoulder, drawing him in and relishing the wonderful, solid Kit-ness of him.
I hear him start to say something, but unable to make out exactly what, I lift my chin to face him, my lips colliding with his.
‘That’s better,’ he says, leaning forwards a fraction more until his nose is touching the tip of mine. ‘Now I have you right where I want you.’
I could ask him what he means by that, or I could tell him that I have never felt more at peace than I do now, on this spot and in his arms. I could say that if the Basket of Dreams below us really is spinning outward for eternity, then there is only one man that I would want to be with for the ride.
But I don’t say any of those things, because Kit is already kissing me. On and on we kiss, dissolving into each other until my limbs begin to buckle and my heart pounds with joy, only breaking off when we have to in order to breathe, and to look at each other in bewilderment, searching for and finding the love reflected right back.
Kit runs a tentative hand through my hair, allowing himself a small sigh as he whispers some more beautiful and mysterious words into my ear.
‘That’s another Maori saying, isn’t it?’ I murmur.
He pulls me closer.
‘It’s what my pa said to me right after he told me that he was sick. And he said it right here, right on this spot. Now, I want to pass it on to you.’
&nbs
p; He falls silent, and as I wait for him to continue, I remember how small I felt when I arrived here, how insignificant in a country overflowing with so much life and vitality. But rather than diminish here, I have flourished. I have grown and I have blossomed; I have forgiven and I have fallen in love – with my family, with Kit, and with myself.
‘Come on, then,’ I say. ‘Tell me what it means.’
‘It means,’ he says, bending his head to kiss me, ‘that life is not forever, but love is.’
Acknowledgements
Heartfelt thanks to you, my dear reader. Thank you for choosing this book when there are so many out there in the world, and thank you for choosing to keep on reading, too. Us writers would be nothing without our readers, and it is to you that we all owe the greatest debt of gratitude. If you would like to chat to me about anything I have written/am writing, please come and find me on Twitter and Instagram @isabelle_broom, or on Facebook under Isabelle Broom Author.
Of course, it takes more than one person to bring a novel out into the world, and this time I have an entire Hobbit hole full of people to lavish my love on. To my agent, Hannah Ferguson and the team at Hardman & Swainson, thank you for all your support and for continuing to believe in me. To my chanting monk (ha!) of an editor, Tilda McDonald, you know this story would be a shadow of its completed self without your wisdom, patience and brilliance – you are INCREDIBLE. Thanks also to Laura Nicol, Helena Fouracre, Jess Hart, Sarah Kennedy and Sarah Bance, plus the rest of the awesome team at Penguin Michael Joseph. You are all heroes.
I used to list all my writer colleagues and old-school friends separately, but with publishing folk being as amazing as they are, the two groups now just crowd happily together under the same big umbrella. I could not possibly list everyone here, but I would like to especially thank Sadie, Ian, Tamsin, Ranjit, Gemma, Sarah, Colette, Carrie, Katie, Vicky Z, Graeme, Kimberley Atkins, Cesca, Cressida, Katy, Rachael, Jo, Roxie Cooper, Cathy, Nina, Kirsty G, Fanny, Tammy, Sara-Jade, Louise C, Claire Frost, Hannah R, Basia M, Sophie Ransom, Whittlesticks, Ali Land, Giovanna and Tom Fletcher, Jade Beer, Rosie W, Adele P, Tasmina, Karen, Lisa Howells, Kay Ribeiro, Corrie ‘MOFN’ Heale, my Queenstown crew Ross Greer, Josh, Griffin, Aman and Emily Durber, and Mr Edward Wears – aka the greatest tea maker of all time. All the colour, laughter, emotion and wisdom in this book comes from you lot.
One Winter Morning Page 28