In the Shadow of Satellites

by Dick, Amanda

  “Right on cue,” Chris said. “Has it been like that since he arrived, with the noise I mean?”

  “Yeah, off and on. I don’t really notice it much anymore, to be honest.”

  “So he hasn’t been over to introduce himself? Or at least apologise for the incessant racket?”

  “No, but that’s okay. I haven’t exactly beaten a path to his door, either.”

  I don’t imagine that Chris would understand the value of having privacy out here. Where I usually shied away from company, he sought it out. Another thing that he and Ana had in common.

  “Tsk-tsk,” he says, shaking his head. “Bit shabby, if you ask me. Neighbours in close proximity like you guys should be on first name terms. Unless he’s an axe murderer. Shit – do you think he’s an axe murderer?”

  “Relax,” I smile. “If he was an axe murderer, I’d probably already be dead by now.”

  He swaps a look with Ana, and then sculls the last of his beer, standing up.

  “This kind of shit is normal for Wellington – or London, or any other city, to be fair – but not here.”

  He disappears into the cottage, reappearing a moment later with two fresh bottles of beer.

  “You should know your neighbours. You’re both on your own out here, in the middle of nowhere – sort of. It’s a rural thing isn’t it? It’s just being neighbourly, or neighbourhood watch, or whatever the hell it’s called. It makes sense.”

  He’s backing away from us as he’s talking, and I’m starting to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, watching helplessly as Ana stands up and follows him off the deck and down onto the lawn.

  “Come on!” he grins. “Let’s go and offer Thor a beer. It’s about time we got acquainted, don’t you think?”

  Chapter 4

  It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard, but there’s no stopping Chris when he’s on a roll. For once, I wish he’d just… not. I don’t want to meet my neighbour. I like the fact that we’re not on first-name terms, I like the invisible boundary line that separates us. I like the solitude, and I’m sure he feels the same way, or he’d have been over to say hi before now.

  Reluctantly, I follow them across the lawn. I’d forgotten how much these two were like a tag team. Chris was just being Chris, but I expected more from Ana.

  We make our way through the undergrowth and the tall native trees that divide the properties. Chris is whistling the Smurfs theme tune, which gives Ana a fit of the giggles. Both begin to annoy me, and I consider turning back and leaving them to it, but that feels weird too. I’m duty-bound to be civil, and that pisses me off no end. I have neither the patience nor the energy for this.

  “It’ll be fine. Just relax.”

  I hear James’s voice in my ear, and I imagine him walking behind me, calming me down. I try to concentrate on that, rather than the deep-seated desire to turn back to my sanctuary and leave them to it.

  The hammering gets louder, and the trees and ferns give way to the back of the dilapidated cottage, and a view of the lake. His bright orange tent is pitched off to the side, opening out to face the water. For a moment, I imagine what a beautiful view he must have when he wakes up in the morning. Like mine, only closer.

  A dog’s barking stops us in our tracks, and out of nowhere, a large black and tan German Shepherd appears. We all freeze. I had no idea he had a dog, certainly not one this big. It’s practically a wolf, at the very least a small horse.

  “Geezer!”

  The hammering stops, barely noticeable over the incessant barking.

  “Shitballs!” Ana squeals, hiding behind Chris.

  I edge behind her, just in case, as the barking continues. None of us move. No one is taking any chances.

  “Geezer!”

  The call is louder this time, harsher, and the barking stops. The dog sits, but it doesn’t take its eyes off us. I stand stock still, my heart racing, as the voice’s owner appears around the corner of the building.

  “That’s a hell of a guard dog you have there,” Chris says uneasily.

  I hang back behind Ana, watching from a safe distance as he approaches. Chris introduces himself, offering his hand.

  “Yeah, I guess he is,” he smiles, taking it.

  His voice is deep, and he speaks with a slow drawl that reminds me of honey and whisky, for some reason.

  “American,” Ana murmurs, reading my mind.

  He’s tall, much taller than Ana and I, and even taller than Chris, who’s at least six foot. Not only does he have the accent and the height, but he’s tanned to boot. He’s like some kind of movie star, and I struggle to place him in this environment. His short, slightly scruffy, mid-brown hair is tinged gold at the tips, bleached from the sun. He’s wearing a dark grey t-shirt with ‘Owls’ written in white, beneath a picture of an owl perched on what looks like a baseball bat. His cargo shorts are khaki and end just above his knees. He’d be the textbook definition of a California surfer if it wasn’t for his beard. It’s not like Chris’s, which is dark and slightly raggedy-looking. His is almost golden, like the tips of his hair, and well groomed, swallowing up much of his face. It’s his beard that makes his eyes stand out so clearly. Light blue, or maybe even green, they’re almost the same colour as the lake behind him. For a moment, I forget what we’re doing here.

  “Luke Lancaster,” he says to Chris, releasing his hand and settling his gaze on Ana.

  I almost laugh. He even has a Hollywood name. Could he be any more of a cliché?

  Ana comes out from behind Chris, leaving me standing back there by myself as she offers him her hand eagerly.

  “Hi, I’m Anatia. Nice to meet you, finally.”

  She’s practically slobbering over him. Mind you, I can’t blame her. He’s pretty hot, and she’s very single.

  Smiling, he takes her hand.

  “Hi… Anatia? Did I say that right?” he says, wrapping his foreign tongue around the unfamiliar name.

  “You said that perfectly,” she swoons, and I almost roll my eyes. “And you can call me Ana if you like. Most people do.”

  “Okay then,” he says, still smiling.

  Then it’s my turn, and the moment that those blue-green eyes zero in on me, I almost forget my own name. Suddenly, I feel completely out of my depth. Anxiety rushes in, and I want to turn tail and run, but I can’t.

  I summon up a smile from somewhere as I feel the additional weight of Chris and Ana’s gaze on me. Stepping forward, I shove my hand at him, desperate to act like the twenty-seven-year-old I am, even though I feel much more like a fifteen-year-old at this very moment.

  “Hi, I’m Sian Bennett, your actual neighbour. These two are just hangers-on, here for the weekend.”

  He smiles, and his eyes crinkle a little in the corners.

  “Hi Sian,” he says, swallowing my hand in his. “I’m Luke.”

  My name sounds strange coming from his lips. Grander, somehow. I think I understand now how Ana felt just a moment ago. He makes quite an impression, that’s for sure.

  His hand is slightly sweaty and calloused, his grip just the right mixture of firm yet respectful. He looks me in the eye, and it sends a strange buzz running through me. It feels like he’s flirting, but it’s been so long since anyone flirted with me, I can’t be sure. In that brief heartbeat, I feel dirty, like I’m cheating. I pull my hand out of his, and he wipes his hand on his shorts, taking a step back.

  “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m not used to having company.”

  “Thirsty work, by the look of it,” Chris says, indicating the building with his head. He hands him one of the beers he brought with him. “Thought we’d bring you over a cold beer, as a kind of ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ thing. Looks like you could use one.”

  Luke’s beard breaks into a smile, and I catch a glimpse of perfect white teeth as he accepts the beer.

  “Thanks, don’t mind if I do,” he says, indicating the tent. “I’m a little ou
t of practice, but please, come and have a seat.”

  His voice is deep, and he speaks much more slowly than we do. I’m suddenly aware of my own accent, bland by comparison. Flattened vowels, high-pitched, fast. I’m almost disgusted by it, really. At least Chris has a slightly more continental flavour after having spent the past two years overseas.

  “Thanks,” Ana says, pushing past Chris to take the lead, grinning up at Luke as she does so.

  He waits as we all file past him and round the corner of the building to the lake front. A wet tongue licks my fingertips, and I look down to find the monster German Shepherd walking beside me.

  “Don’t worry,” Luke says from behind me. “He won’t bite. In fact, I think he likes you.”

  I glance back at him, smiling awkwardly.

  “As long as he doesn’t try to eat me, I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

  It feels like I’m talking too fast, and I fight the urge to enunciate properly.

  “He’s all bark and no bite,” he chuckles. “Aren’t ya boy?”

  The dog ignores him in favour of licking my fingers again.

  “I love what you’ve done with the place,” Chris quips, indicating the old cottage, barely held together by the original joists and timber frame.

  It’s clear to see what Luke has been doing these past couple of months. Up close, the cottage has been stripped back to bare bones, and there’s a pile of rotting wooden lengths to one side, a pile of new ones stacked neatly off the ground on the other.

  Luke chuckles again, standing beside me as we survey his project, our backs to the lake. The dog sits in front of him, as if doing the same. It’s funny, I’ve never even heard so much as a bark coming from this direction before. Maybe the hammering drowned him out.

  “It’s sure gonna be keeping me busy for a while longer,” Luke says. “And I’d like to apologise for all the noise. I’m ripping down all the rotten timber and replacing it with new stuff. It’s a dirty job, but it’s gotta be done.”

  “I’m sure the noise isn’t a problem, is it?” Chris asks me, putting me on the spot.

  “Honestly, I barely notice it from over there anyway.”

  It’s the truth, but it also feels like the polite thing to say and I’m proud of myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper conversation with a complete stranger. So far, so good.

  “Are you working on it by yourself? Seems like a hell of a big job for one person,” Chris says, walking forward to inspect the timber structure with a keen interest.

  “Yeah, unfortunately. It’ll take a while, but I’m not in any hurry. It’ll be worth it in the end. This spot was just too good to pass up – ruins and all.”

  He walks over to join Chris, and the two of them start discussing his plans, while Ana and I hang back, watching them.

  “Holy shit,” she mumbles out of the corner of her mouth. “He’s a looker isn’t he?”

  “Duh.”

  She flashes me a grin, and I keep one eye on the guys as she folds her arms across her chest thoughtfully.

  “And to think he’s been over here for a couple of months and we didn’t come over before now. How tall do you reckon he is? Six-three, six-four? Look at those bloody biceps, girl. Phwoar.”

  I dig my elbow into her ribs – hard.

  “What?” she hisses.

  “He’s right there!” I hiss back.

  She looks over at Luke and Chris, now picking their way through the rotten floorboards in the cottage, lost in conversation.

  “He can’t hear me. Jesus, he’s like a movie star or something, isn’t he? And that accent is fucking hot.”

  I can already tell she’s going to make a play for him, and I can’t blame her. He’s here, alone, and he’s obviously not from around here. I can see her angle from a mile away.

  “He’s gonna need a tour guide,” she says. “Someone to show him the sights. Who better than a local? I’ll take him to Whakarewarewa, show him the bubbling mud – tourists love that stuff. Then maybe the Government Gardens – picnic on the lawn would be good, or maybe the café by the museum. The Polynesian Spa is a must-see – private pool, obviously. Mmmm…”

  “What?”

  “Just thinking of him in the spa. Do you think he’s a trunks or speedos kinda guy?”

  “Something tells me you’ll find out soon enough,” I smile.

  She winks at me, grinning.

  “Leave it to me, babe. He’s putty in my hands.”

  I almost feel sorry for him.

  ***

  Watching Ana flirt mercilessly with Luke takes me back about fifteen years. At school, she was always the confident one. I was the weird, shy one. In many ways, we were complete opposites. I have no idea what she got out of our friendship, but being around her gave me strength. Lately, it also gave me hope. It scares me sometimes, how much I rely her. She’s a reminder of the past that’s been ripped away from me, but she also ties me to the present. Right now, I need both. My sanity depends on it. If I somehow manage to slip the unseen ropes that bind me to either, I know all will be lost.

  I watch her work her magic on Luke as we sit on the front lawn of his cottage, on a pile of new timber he and Chris have hastily fashioned into a semi-circular bench especially for our benefit. She’s coy, funny and attentive. Chris knows what’s going on as clearly as I do. He shoots me a raised eyebrow once or twice, and I can sense his bemusement even beneath the cover of his beard. As for Luke, he seems to be oblivious. Either that or he’s deliberately keeping her at a distance. I can’t figure out which, but I can see her frustration building. It was a rare male who could resist Ana’s charms, especially when she put her heart and soul into it like she was currently.

  “So, what part of the States are you from?” Chris asks, keeping the conversation flowing.

  “Forest City, North Carolina.”

  “Sounds pretty,” Ana smiles.

  “It really is.”

  He smiles back, but it looks more like a courtesy smile.

  “Is that on the coast, or inland?” Chris asks.

  “Inland, but only a few hours from the coast. Do you know North Carolina at all?”

  “Nope, I’m sad to say. I’ve just come back from two years in the UK and Europe. I was supposed to go to the States, just for a couple of months, but I didn’t quite get there.”

  A shiver runs down my spine and I can’t look at him. He doesn’t say as much, but it’s probably because he came back home for James and Kieran’s funeral instead. I stare at the grass in front of me, trying to slow my racing heart.

  “What about you, Sian?”

  I tuck my emotions back into a little heart-shaped box inside my chest and look over at him, sitting opposite me on the makeshift bench.

  “Me? No. I’ve never been outside New Zealand.”

  He nods slowly, and I feel like he’s assessing me, judging me even. I squirm a little under his direct gaze.

  “It’s beautiful,” he says, his attention still on me.

  Then he smiles, almost tentatively, as though testing the water.

  “I grew up near where they filmed ‘Dirty Dancing’. Long, hot summers at a lake that looks a lot like this one, hunting, fishing, baseball – the whole deal.”

  His eyes are mesmerising, and suddenly I go from fidgety to frozen. It’s unnerving, like he’s drawing me closer, even though neither of us has moved. I want to lean backwards, to get away from him, but I can’t. Finally, his gaze wavers, and I’m free again.

  “I loved that movie! ‘Nobody puts Baby in the corner’ – gah!” Ana grabs her chest with her hand and closes her eyes, sighing. “I must’ve seen it a thousand times. An absolute classic.”

  “Absolute bloody chick flick,” Chris says, taking a sip of his beer. “But sounds like a cool childhood. What kind of hunting are we talking about?”

  “Deer, mostly.”

  “We do a bit of that here as well. I know zero about baseball, but I’m guessing that’s your team?” Chr
is points to Luke’s t-shirt.

  Luke looks down then looks up again, smiling.

  “You guessed right. Forest City Owls. I haven’t seen much baseball since I’ve been over here – lots of rugby though. I did wonder if y’all played any other sports here, for a while.”

  “Yeah,” Chris grins. “We get that a lot. Rugby is number one. Gotta say, I missed that when I was away.”

  “So where are y’all from anyway?”

  Chris launches into his pedigree – from his Auckland upbringing, his wealthy, somewhat demanding, parents, to Wellington, then London and his recent travels around Europe. Ana quickly follows, with tales of her Maori-English-Irish ancestry, followed by a quirky anecdote about her absentee father, currently in prison for, as she calls it, ‘chronic stupidity’. I notice she doesn’t mention her mother. Although she’s geographically close – she lives and works not far from her – they’re not close, emotionally.

  When it’s my turn, I draw a blank. I don’t want to talk about how Mum abandoned me, how I have no idea who my father is, or how Nanna and Grandad raised me. I don’t want to talk about James or Kieran, or the life I used to have. I don’t have much to say about the limbo I currently find myself in, either. As I frantically explore my options, Chris is the one who saves me this time.

  “Sian and Ana went to school together.”

  Luke nods, and I’m suddenly in the spotlight again, those piercing blue-green eyes lingering on me. “So you’re local, too?”

  “Originally,” I say, finding my voice. “I spent a while in Wellington. I moved back here about a year ago.”

  “Must be nice to be back home again.”

  My heart breaks just a little bit more. He has no idea. I smile weakly, nodding.

  “Speaking of which,” Chris says, “you’re a long way from home. How long have you been in New Zealand?”

  Luke’s attention turns away from me, and I feel like doubling over. The pain in my heart is so fierce, as if a fire has been lit inside my chest and it’s licking away at my organs, searing the delicate membrane that holds me together.