Just Not Mine (Escape to New Zealand)

by Rosalind James

  Because, oh, yeh, she was naked. No naughty bits showing; her position astride the horse, the strategic placement of her arm saw to that. But they’d made sure the glossy waves of long dark hair didn’t obscure anything important, and there was enough swell of bare breast and bottom to allow any man to fill in the blanks. And enough square centimeters of glowing golden skin to ensure that every bloke looking at this would have her in his dreams tonight, with every single luscious bit of her present and accounted for.

  Bang. He hit the bumper of the car in front with a jolt that jerked his head forward, followed a fraction of a second later by a second, harder impact that had it going backwards again. He’d barely had a chance to register what had happened when he felt another jolt, then another, and wondered fuzzily if the driver behind was ramming him on purpose, but the impacts were coming too fast.

  They stopped, finally, and Hugh pressed the switch for his hazard lights. He couldn’t move, jammed between the car in front and the one behind, but he saw the driver ahead staring into his rear-view mirror with a look of panic on his face out of proportion to the severity of the prang. Hugh made a wide gesture toward the side of the road, motioning him to pull over, and the other driver finally got the message and started moving.

  They’d been in the right-hand lane, since Hugh had been in a hurry, and there was a shoulder here. Good thing it hadn’t happened on the bridge, but then, there wouldn’t have been a bloody billboard on the bridge, Hugh thought as he followed the car ahead onto the shoulder and got out, ran forward to where the other driver was exiting his car, the traffic flowing past again now, or maybe inching would have been a better word.

  It was a kid, he saw. Skinny and blond, face white, already starting to stammer.

  Hugh cut him off. “Put your hazard lights on,” he said.

  The kid looked confused, so Hugh reached into the car, found the switch, and put them on himself.

  By that point, they had company. An older man and woman, with a younger fella bringing up the rear. Four cars, then. Hugh sighed. He was definitely going to miss out on collecting Amelia.

  “Hang on a tick,” he told the others, and sent Christine a quick text.

  Sorry held up can you get the girls. Will do 2x next week. He hoped she’d see it. Well, Amelia was twelve, not five, and the girls could walk to the bus stop if they had to, he told his nagging conscience. And he couldn’t have helped this. Well, he could, obviously, but he hadn’t, so that was that.

  And right now, he had something else to see to. The younger fella who’d been in the fourth car along was talking to the kid, and things were getting a bit heated.

  “What the hell were you on, stopping bang in the middle of the roadway?” the new arrival was demanding.

  “Sorry,” the kid said. “It was going so slowly, and I only took my eyes off the road for a second.”

  “Just like you did,” Hugh put in, leveling his best calm-but-intimidating rugby stare at Angry Man. “Or you would’ve been able to stop in time yourself.”

  “Yeh, and what’s your excuse?” The fella wasn’t backing down, not yet.

  “No excuse,” Hugh said, keeping his tone level. They didn’t need a stoush at the side of the road.

  The woman snorted aloud and spoke for the first time. “I think we all know what all of your excuse was, and pretty silly you’re going to look when you’re asked why you weren’t watching the road. I told you to look out,” she reminded the man who had to be her husband, Hugh thought, from the look of exasperation—and a touch of amusement—she was casting his way, a look that said she’d be telling this story at their Golden Anniversary party. “I said, watch the road. What were they thinking, putting up that great thing where every man passing would be bound to gawp at it?”

  “Exactly that, I reckon,” her husband said. “Hard luck it was us, that’s all.”

  “Look,” Hugh cut in. “Let’s just exchange details, wait for the police to get here, and get on with our day. Not much harm done, I shouldn’t think,” he said, casting a glance for the first time at the rear bumper of the kid’s car, the front of his own. “Just cosmetic.”

  “Easy for you to say,” the young fella muttered. He’d lost a little of his bluster, though. “Hundreds of dollars, the panelbeaters charge.”

  “You’ve got insurance, haven’t you?” Hugh asked.

  “Well, yeh,” the other man admitted.

  Hugh shrugged, pulled out his own wallet. “Right, then. Let’s get to it.”

  “Hang on,” the kid said. He looked at Hugh’s license, then at his face. “You’re Hugh Latimer.”

  “Yeh. Like it says,” Hugh said.

  “You are, aren’t you?” the older man said. “Can’t believe I didn’t notice, but then, we were all a bit shook up, I’m thinking. There you are, love,” he told his wife. “We’ve just run into an All Black.” He laughed at his own joke, and Hugh smiled a bit painfully.

  “Thought you were meant to have faster reactions than that,” the younger man said, still not having forgiven Hugh for putting him right earlier. “No wonder the Blues were rubbish this season.”

  “Maybe it was your hand,” the kid said, eyeing Hugh’s cast. “That must make it tougher to drive. That could be why you couldn’t stop.”

  “I work the brake with my foot, like most people,” Hugh said impatiently. “My hand had nothing to do with it. Did it make you …” He glanced at the license he held in his hand, “John, smash into me?”

  “Nah,” the other man said, grinning a bit now. “The missus is right, I think we all know what happened here.”

  “My dad’s going to kill me, though,” the kid, Quade, said in some desperation. “I’ve only just got my Learner plates off. He’s going to say I got reckless, and I didn’t. I mean, we all looked, didn’t we?”

  “We did,” John said. “I think we can all agree on that.”

  “So if you could just say it was your hand,” Quade continued earnestly, “that’d make it so much better, don’t you see?”

  Hugh looked at him with some exasperation. “I’m not going to say that. Sorry and all that, but I’m not.” And be disqualified from driving? Yeh, right.

  Thankfully, the police arrived and put an end to the discussion, but Hugh didn’t much relish the dry look the officer gave the four of them as they attempted to explain their moment of inattention, or the amusement on recognizing Hugh that cracked the professional mask entirely.

  It was nearly six before he pulled into his driveway. At least he’d had a text back from Christine saying OK can do, which had been a relief, although he had a feeling that Amelia wasn’t going to be quite so forgiving, and he went into the house with a fair bit of cowardly dread.

  Except that she wasn’t there, and neither was Charlie. He could tell they’d come home, because their backpacks were flung down haphazardly in the back porch, but there was no sign of them, inside or out.

  He wasn’t worried, of course he wasn’t. They’d gone for a swim or something, that was all. They should have left him a note, and he’d remind them about that. He put his own gear away and started to pull out stuff for dinner.

  When they weren’t home by six-thirty, though, his brain started conjuring scenarios in spite of himself, because it had started to rain, and if they’d gone for a swim, they wouldn’t still be there. Where could they have gone that they wouldn’t have come back from by dinnertime? And, what was more worrying, with whom, both of them together like that? He gave up the fight and rang Christine.

  After he’d apologized, he said, as casually as he could manage, “So you dropped Amelia home as usual, did you?”

  “Yes,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “Why?”

  “Did you happen to see her go inside the house?”

  “Yes, like always. I always wait. Why, has something happened?”

  “Nah. She and Charlie’ve gone off somewhere, I guess. You didn’t see Charlie, did you?” he asked as an afterthought. Had he not come h
ome from his aftercare? Could that be where Amelia had gone, to try to find him? He felt the stab of pure fear, then the relief a half-second later. Because backpacks. Charlie had come home too, then. Come and gone.

  “No,” she said. “They’re both gone?”

  “Yeh.”

  “Well, they’ll turn up, I’m sure,” she said. “Gone to visit a friend, most likely, since you weren’t there. Probably better anyway.”

  He could hear the judgment in her voice, that he wasn’t looking after them well enough. He knew it, he didn’t need anybody pointing it out. He rang off, went to the door, looked up and down the street. Nothing, but Josie’s car was in her drive, which was unusual for this hour. Maybe she’d seen them. He dashed through the rain, up her steps, and rang her bell.

  She showed up after a minute, in shorts and T-shirt, feet bare. He didn’t even take a moment to appreciate her, though, or to contrast his cheerful, casual neighbor with the Polynesian vision on the billboard.

  “Have you seen the kids, by any chance?” he asked her, trying to be cool about it. “Because they seem to have gone missing.”

  She looked surprised. “They’re here.”

  “With you?”

  “Yeh. Come on back. We’re just having some nibbles, because they’d got hungry.”

  The TV was on in the lounge, and the kids were sitting backward on stools at Josie’s kitchen counter to watch it, scoffing hummus and carrots and cubes of feta and apple slices and looking perfectly comfortable.

  Amelia looked at him accusingly. “You missed again,” she told him unnecessarily.

  “Yeh, I know it,” he said. “I didn’t forget. Couldn’t help it this time. Got into a wee accident.”

  “Oh, no,” Josie said. “At the gym? Are you all right?”

  “Not that. With the car. No worries, just minor.”

  “What happened? Did somebody hit you?” Charlie asked, looking anxious. “Was it a drink driver?”

  “No,” Hugh assured his brother, resting a hand on his shoulder for a moment, because he was so relieved that they were here, and safe. “A bit of a prang, that’s all.” He certainly wasn’t going to explain the circumstances. He just hoped nobody else would. How did you tell your neighbor, “I smashed my car because I was looking at you naked?” You didn’t, not if you still wanted to see your neighbor, and Hugh definitely wanted to see his neighbor. They’d been getting on fine, because he’d been keeping it casual. He’d spent all morning with her the Saturday before, had helped her set up her fountain, as best he could with one hand, had even talked her into having lunch with him—and the kids, of course—afterwards, and so far, so bloody good.

  “But,” he went on, “I was worried myself, when I got home and found the two of you missing.”

  “We weren’t missing,” Charlie said. “We were here, visiting Josie.”

  “Why? You can’t just barge in on her anytime. Josie’s a busy person, got things to do. She didn’t sign on to be your babysitter. And why didn’t you leave me a note?” He knew he was snapping, but he had got a bit worried, and knowing they’d been next door in blithe unconcern was making him narky.

  “We were helping her,” Charlie said, looking agitated himself now. “She needed help, and we helped, and then she invited us.”

  “They did, and I did,” Josie said. “They were helping me unload my new pot plants, out on the patio, and helping me put them into the pots, too. They offered very nicely, and I gave them a few nibbles, and we’re all good.”

  “Well, thanks,” he said. “But next time, leave me a note,” he told the kids.

  “If I had a phone,” Amelia said, “you could have texted.”

  “If you had a phone,” Hugh countered, “you’d be texting your friends every few minutes, and I’d be hearing from your teachers that you’d been using it under your desk, and getting one of those shocking thousand-dollar phone bills. No. You’re twelve. A twelve-year-old doesn’t need a phone.”

  “I’m nearly thirteen.”

  “You’re twelve and a …” He calculated. “Half. You’re not nearly thirteen. No phone.”

  “Fine,” she muttered, looking mutinous, and Hugh sighed. He was right, he was almost sure of it, but being right didn’t seem to matter.

  “Well,” Josie said, “you could give me your number, Hugh, and I could text you. I promise to keep it under control. I hardly ever even text my friends under the desk anymore.”

  He laughed in spite of himself. “If you don’t mind giving me yours as well, that’d help. And then we’ll be getting on, leaving you to your evening.”

  They exchanged, and he felt better, though he’d never got a girl’s number quite this way.

  “Josie,” Charlie said suddenly, “it’s you! Why are you on a horse?”

  “Shh.” Amelia flapped a silencing hand at him, reached for the remote and turned the volume up on the telly, and Hugh saw a look he couldn’t interpret on Josie’s face as he turned and looked for himself.

  “UK firm Bain Fantastique’s new ad campaign for its Tropique bodycare line took an unexpected turn today when a new billboard on the Northern Motorway featuring Courtney Place’s own Jocelyn Pae Ata contributed to two multi-vehicle accidents and a serious daylong traffic slowdown,” the voice of the male newsreader was saying.

  He was saying it, but the camera wasn’t on him. It was Josie on that bloody horse on the screen, and if Hugh had wondered how he’d got distracted to the extent he had, well, there was the evidence right in front of him, because he was looking again, and he’d bet TVs all over New Zealand were having their volume turned up just now. He still didn’t understand why she’d be lying naked on a horse, but it was working for him, so he guessed the advertising people knew what they were doing.

  But just now, he had other things to think about, because a police spokesman was on screen now. Must have been a slow news day, and Hugh was sweating a bit. “We’ve had damage to seven vehicles reported, and the sign’s caused a serious bottleneck,” he said. “We’ve also had a number of complaints from the public, which the relevant departments are looking into now, as to whether this is an appropriate image for a public motorway.”

  “Two multivehicle accidents,” the female newsreader said dryly when the cameras were on the news desk again. “Would those drivers have happened to be male?”

  “What was the advert for again?” her colleague laughed. “Can’t remember.”

  “Our weather isn’t quite so exciting,” the woman said, looking at the camera again. “What do you have for us, Sharon?”

  “A fine day tomorrow for most of the North Island,” the woman standing beside the giant weather map began.

  “You can turn it off,” Josie said quietly, and Amelia pressed the button on the remote, and the TV went dark, and Hugh breathed a sigh of relief. He was out of the woods.

  “Why did they take a picture of you without any clothes on riding a horse, Josie?” Charlie asked. “That doesn’t make sense. People don’t ride horses with no clothes on.”

  “It was just for the advert,” she said. “It’s meant to look … natural. There are some others too, in magazines and such. It’s all about being on the beach, in the rainforest, like that, because it’s for skin care, you see? So they show … skin,” she finished, and she didn’t look entirely at ease herself.

  “They always show pretty girls in adverts,” Amelia explained to her brother. “They picked Josie because she’s so pretty. And the horse was pretty too, so that’s why they did it.”

  “You did look pretty, Josie,” Charlie assured her. “I just never saw anybody riding a horse with no clothes on, that’s all. Or lying down on it either. Was it very comfortable? Weren’t you worried you would fall off?”

  “It wasn’t comfortable at all,” Josie said. “It was dead scratchy, and stinky as well. I don’t know what they were feeding him, the horse I mean, but a couple times, I’d be lying there and they’d be shooting, and suddenly …” She waved a hand in front
of her face, a comical expression twisting her mouth, her eyes wide. “Phew. And I’d be trying to look like I was enjoying myself. Least they didn’t have me lying on a cow. Horse poo isn’t so bad. Cow, poo, though …” She made another face. “Or pigs. Now, if I’d been on a pig, that would really have been an acting job, because pigs smell.”

  Charlie giggled. “You would’ve looked so silly, lying on a pig.”

  “They wouldn’t have had her lie on a pig,” Amelia said impatiently. “A pig isn’t big enough.”

  “Mmm, I don’t know about that,” Josie said. “Pigs can get pretty big. I could probably fit. Think anybody’d pay for a picture of me lying on top of a pig, Hugh?”

  She was teasing him, he realized. And flirting. She had never flirted before, but she was flirting now.

  “I think they’d pay for a picture of you lying on top of anything,” he said, and he smiled into her brown eyes, saw them widen a bit at what she was seeing in his. But if she was going to flirt, he was going to flirt back. Partner be damned. If that Derek fella couldn’t be bothered to look after the woman of any man’s dreams, he’d better start looking for an Aussie girl instead, because Hugh wasn’t going to let a little thing like a partner stand in his way.

  Amelia was talking again, though, and Hugh did his best to listen. “Of course they wouldn’t have her lie on a pig. Or a cow. A cow would just be stupid, unless it was meant to be funny. They did a horse because horses are sexy.”

  “What do you know about what’s sexy?” Hugh protested.

  She shot him a pitying look. “I’m practically a teenager, Hugh. Women know these things.”

  “They do, eh.” Amelia knew what was sexy? Already? Geez. Another thing he was going to have to worry about. Aunt Cora couldn’t come home too soon for him.

  “Girls like horses, and boys like dogs,” Amelia explained. “Everybody knows that. Because dogs are friendly, and horses are mysterious and powerful and sexy, and girls can ride them and be powerful too. That’s why there are so many books about girls and horses.”