My evening's already spoiled, he had told her, offering to take her home. His evening—his life? She studied him, wondering. He had given little away, and she had been too shocked and shaken by Kevin's unexpected attack and Grant's accusations to read beneath the surface.
"What are you thinking?” he asked her, faint amusement in his interrogative glance.
"Do you hate being here?” she asked baldly. “In this house?"
It must be difficult, even painful, for him to be back in the house he had shared with Jean. Surrounded by reminders of her. He was even sleeping in her room. Their room, it must have been once. She wondered if he had chosen it automatically when he moved in to look after the children, or had deliberately left the spare room for his proposed live-in home help.
"Not specially,” he answered carefully. “It sometimes feels strange. There are—reminders of happier times. And less happy ones.” His gaze strayed about the room. “That pottery vase was a wedding present from a mutual friend of Jean's and mine who was killed in a car crash soon afterwards. We both treasured it. The picture up there—” he nodded at a seascape on the wall, “—we chose together. The first thing we bought for our home. We knew it should have been pots and pans, or furniture. But we both fell in love with that."
"You had a lot in common,” Rennie said softly, a painful sensation in her chest.
"We thought so, for a time,” Grant said dismissively. “Obviously not enough, though."
"That's sad."
"Yes.” He took his gaze off the painting and said, “I must get the rest of my stuff out of the flat and bring it over."
"I didn't realise you still had another place."
"I'll have to get rid of it. Just haven't got around to bringing everything over here. In the back of my mind, I suppose I still hoped to find some place I could start again with the children. But it's obvious I can't move them for a while yet."
Silently she agreed.
He said, “Don't you want the TV on?"
Rennie shook her head. “I was going to play some tapes, but—"
Grant looked at her interrogatively. “Go ahead. I don't know if there's anything to your taste here—"
"Some I brought from home,” she explained. “You might not like them."
"Pop music?” He smiled, and when she nodded, he said, “I never listen to it, so I wouldn't know, would I?"
She owned some classical and opera music too, but Grant was well provided with them. She knew he wouldn't mind her listening to his. She stood up and said lightly, “I'll educate you, if you like."
He listened with her for over an hour. “That's good,” he said appreciatively, and reached for the tape's case with the list of songs on it. “I've never heard of this group. But then, I haven't listened to pop much since my teenage years."
"There is life after the Beatles,” Rennie reminded him.
"Actually the Beatles were a bit before my time,” he told her rather coolly.
"Oops! Sorry."
"I belong to the Age of Aquarius."
"Flower power?” She cocked her head. “You in beads and a hairband?"
Grant laughed. “That was the sixties and I was only a kid. But I did have long hair when I was at university. I wore flared jeans and anti-nuclear T-shirts."
"Did you ever go on a protest march?"
"A few times. I still would if I felt it would do any good."
He'd do anything he felt was necessary for what he believed in, Rennie guessed. “So would I,” she said.
Grant stood up and said, “I have some work to do. Thanks for sharing your music."
CHAPTER TEN
When the school holidays commenced, Rennie asked Grant, “What are you doing about Christmas?"
"I hadn't thought about it,” he confessed. “Jean used to invite me over for Christmas lunch. For the children's sake. She provided presents which I paid for, and put them under the tree to be opened when I arrived. It was a bit of a strain for Jean and me, but the children seemed to enjoy it. In the evening I give my mother a meal at a restaurant. And on Boxing Day I usually take the children to see her."
Rennie had never met his mother. He had visited her with the children while Rennie spent some time at home. Ellen had been inclined to cry when told that Rennie wasn't accompanying them, but without the hysterical behaviour she had shown previously, and she had yielded eventually to Grant's patient explanation that Rennie sometimes had other things to do.
"Why don't you all come to us for Christmas Day?” Rennie suggested. And, seeing the dubiousness in his face, she added, “Mum says she'd love to have you. There are always lots of people for Christmas at our place. Stray uncles, people with no family, overseas students—Ethan and Celeste may be coming too."
"Leaving their idyllic island?"
"Didn't you know they're back for a while? Celeste sells lots of stuff just before Christmas. She's been working on new things to restock the shop."
"I haven't seen them since they left Auckland after their honeymoon."
"Neither have I. But Mum's been keeping in touch."
"Well, thank Marian for the invitation. It may be a good idea. If we stay here for the day the children are bound to miss their mother. Could I ask you to buy some presents for them? I'm afraid I've no idea what they'd like."
"I'll drop some hints and find out. Maybe even take them window-shopping."
"Where?” Grant queried sharply.
Not, of course, to the department store where their mother had been taken ill. “A mall,” Rennie suggested. “It's all right. I've taken Ellen to shops before.” Ellen had clung, but lately they had safely managed a couple of trips to the local shopping centre. Her panic reaction to going out was definitely fading.
Grant firmly sent Rennie home on Christmas Eve, keeping Ellen happy with the promise that next day they would be joining her.
When they arrived the children presented her with a large gift-wrapped parcel that proved to contain a heart-shaped pink quilted satin night-dress case, heavily beribboned and lace-edged, which they had chosen themselves. Ignoring Grant's rueful glance over their heads, she thanked them extravagantly and promised to use it every day. Unobtrusively, he handed her a smaller parcel and said, “Open it later."
Ellen was wearing the black, lemon and hot-pink striped socks and clutching the big orange-haired, freckle-faced rag doll that Rennie had bought for her on Grant's behalf, and Toby proudly showed her his calculator with a games facility. She admired it obligingly as though she had never seen it before and had not spent ages agonising over which make and model he would prefer.
For a little while Ellen seemed overawed by the number of people they were introduced to, but she was soon glowing as everyone admired the doll and some even mentioned the socks. Taking Rennie quietly aside, Grant said, “Did you have to buy her those striped abominations?"
"You said, whatever they wanted within the sum of money you gave me. She loved them."
"Yes. I couldn't persuade her not to wear them."
Rennie laughed. “Did you try to persuade her not to wear that blue dress and red sandals with them?"
"I'd already had an argument over the dress. I thought it looked nicer to go visiting in than the overalls she wanted to wear, too small for her and covered in paint splashes. And the sandals were a present from Sally's family."
"Well, I think she looks terrific,” Rennie said firmly. “You shouldn't try to smother her fashion sense. In fact she probably has better taste than you do."
"Is that so?” His eyes gleamed. “Then you'll be glad to know that she's named that monstrosity of a doll ‘Rennie'."
Rennie choked. “I'm ... I'm flattered."
Grant laughed unkindly.
"I have some presents of my own for the children,” she told him. “I'll fetch them."
She had bought an easy board game for them to share, and small separate presents as well. After they had opened them and thanked her, she handed Grant a little parcel. “And this
is yours."
"I didn't expect—"
He was interrupted by Marian, who was coming into the room. “Ethan and Celeste have arrived. Now we're all here."
Grant slipped the parcel into his pocket as Ethan and Celeste walked in behind Marian. Celeste came straight over to hold out her hands to him, accepting his kiss on her cheek.
"You look well,” he said, still holding her hands and smiling down at her.
"Ethan!” Rennie hugged Celeste's husband enthusiastically. “How nice to see you! And Celeste,” she added, turning to smile at the other woman as Grant released her. “That's a terrific dress. One of your own designs?” It was painted silk, in muted peacock colours.
"Yes. I'm glad you like it.” Turning to Grant again, Celeste said, “How are you, Grant? Things must have been difficult since Jean—"
"We're getting used to it, now. Come and say hello to the children. I told them you'd be here."
As they turned away, Ethan smiled affectionately down at Rennie. “And how are you, young Rennie?"
"Fine. Terrific."
"And the studies? This time next year you'll be a fully-fledged lawyer, won't you?"
"Not quite. I'll have completed my fourth year but I have to work for a legal firm for several months and then take professional exams before I can call myself a barrister. And of course I'll still have a lot to learn."
"Aren't you a bit young still?"
"Most people are a year or so older before they qualify,” Rennie admitted. “Comes of being born at the beginning of the school year, the right time for a fast track through the education system, you see."
"Mm. That and brains. I can't imagine you in a wig and gown, young Rennie. But I suppose I'm feeling my age."
Rennie smiled. “Rot."
Ethan shook his head nostalgically. “Seems only yesterday you were a carroty-haired kid swinging upside down from the old tree out there."
"Don't you start!” Rennie sighed. She hoped he wouldn't compare notes with Grant.
"What are doing with the holidays?” asked Ethan. “Got a job?"
"Yes, looking after Grant's two children."
Ethan looked over to where Celeste was talking to them. “Really?” He turned a thoughtful look on her. “Bit of a change. I thought you needed to find something in a legal office?"
"I've already done most of my field hours."
Marian looked over at her and raised her eyebrows, and Rennie said, “Excuse me, I've got to help Mum serve the food."
Lunch was set out buffet style on a long table. The guests helped themselves to cold chicken, turkey and ham, a variety of salads, hot new potatoes dripping with butter, steaming, golden-fleshed kumara, fresh beans and sweet minted peas. For afters there were plum puddings with cream or ice cream, fresh strawberries and fruit salad. Frank poured wine for those who wanted it, and soft drinks for the half-dozen children and those adults who preferred them. Toby held out his glass for wine and amid laughter was told firmly by his father that he was to have a soft drink instead.
After helping with the clearing and washing up everyone sat around while Shane and another young man cracked nuts, and the children handed them to the adults. Ellen, on Rennie's knee, almost went to sleep, and Rennie whispered in her ear, “Would you like to lie down on my bed for a little while?"
Ellen nodded, her eyes drooping, and Rennie picked her up and made for the door.
Grant came to her side as she reached it. “Let me take her,” he said. “She's too heavy for you."
"No, we're fine,” Rennie assured him, but he followed her into the bedroom, and watched as she put Ellen gently down and removed the red sandals, then pulled the light cover over her.
"She's asleep already,” he commented. “They were awake before six. Bouncing all over my bed."
"I remember doing that to my parents on Christmas morning,” Rennie said, taking her eyes away from the sleeping child. “Don't you?"
"It was too long ago,” he said, turning away.
"Didn't you have Christmas stockings?"
"Yes, of course."
"And your father played Santa Claus?"
"He wasn't into that sort of thing. My mother used to fill the stockings, I think, and leave them by the fireplace."
"Were you and your brother close? Is he older or younger?"
"Older. There're eight years between us."
"That's a big age gap."
"He left home before I ever got to know him."
"When did your father die?” Rennie asked.
"I was twenty-one. Old enough to cope."
"What about your brother? Was he here, then, in New Zealand?"
"No, he'd gone to live in Australia when he got married. They came over for the funeral, of course."
"So you looked after your mother?"
Grant shrugged. “I lived with her until I married. She's quite independent, but with her heart—"
"It was bad, even then?"
"We knew she had a problem, yes."
It must have been a responsibility, at twenty-one. “I thought you'd have been the eldest. I'd always imagined you being like Toby as a child,” she said.
Grant looked quizzical. “With his tendency to bossiness, I imagine,” he said dryly. “Believe me, I never got the chance."
"Did your brother bully you?"
He shook his head. “Nobody bullied anybody. We were—too civilised for that. Never a raised voice in the house."
"Never?” Rennie queried disbelievingly.
"I don't believe my parents ever had a row in their lives."
"They were that close?"
He laughed rather harshly. “Actually, I'm not sure they even liked each other very much. I never saw them deliberately touch. I wasn't even sure they liked me, but my father was at least proud of my brother. They were alike in looks and temperament. One son was enough for my father. I was an afterthought, probably a mistake.” He gave a wry, self-mocking smile. “I used to fantasise that my father—wasn't, really. But I can't imagine my mother having an illicit affair. And her grief when he died surprised me. So maybe I got it all wrong. She's never spoken of her feelings for him. But in spite of that, I believe she's been happier since he died. I'd hoped—"
He stopped abruptly, and Rennie said, “What did you hope?"
"That I'd do better in my own marriage, I suppose. Better by my children."
"You are doing that,” she assured him, “for the children.” She dared not comment on his marriage. But his love for Toby and Ellen was patent.
"You haven't opened your present,” she reminded him.
He smiled. “No, I haven't. You didn't need to buy me anything."
"I know I didn't need to. I wanted to."
He took it from his pocket and carefully stripped off the paper, revealing an audiotape in its plastic case and a long, narrow box. He glanced up at Rennie, opened the box and took out the silver ballpoint pen.
"How did you know I needed one?"
"I remembered you hunting one day for a pen, and mentioning that you'd had a silver one but lost it somewhere recently."
"It's very kind of you, Rennie.” He replaced it in its box and put it back in his pocket. Then he turned over the tape in his hand and looked up into her slightly anxious eyes.
"You said you liked the album I played for you. This is their latest."
He smiled. “Well, thank you!"
"You weren't just being polite? Be honest!"
"No I wasn't. Cross my heart,” he promised. “I'll look forward to listening to it.” He tossed it lightly in his hand. “Have you opened your present?"
"No. Stay here, I'll fetch it."
She slipped into the kitchen where she had left it when the dishes were done, catching a glimpse of Toby and another boy making their way toward the tree hut, each with something hugged to his chest.
"Toby's made a friend,” she reported to Grant as she returned to the bedroom. “I think they're smuggling some giant-size bottles of pop out
to the tree hut."
"I hope he doesn't make himself sick,” Grant commented as she began peeling tape off the parcel. “What was it? Orange?"
"I couldn't see. Don't worry, they can't drink a whole 2 litre bottle each. Their eyes are bigger than their tummies. Oh, Grant, this is lovely!"
The bracelet was silver and enamel, subtly coloured in greens and golds. She had to look closely to see that the pattern was made up of tiny butterflies and flowers.
"Put it on,” he said. “I hope it fits."
"It will.” She slipped it over her hand and held up her slim wrist for him to see. “It's beautiful, thank you!"
She turned to him just as his eyes moved from her wrist to her face. He was quite close, and it seemed natural to put her hands on his shoulders and kiss him lightly.
His hands clamped on her waist as her lips left his. For a second they stood like that, her head tipped back, her eyes widening as she read the sudden blaze in his. Then he pulled her roughly against him and covered her parted lips with his mouth.
Rennie's arms slipped about his neck and she kissed him back, her body curving into his, her blood singing. One of his arms was about her waist, while the other hand roved over her back, shaped her hip, slid up her spine and finally buried itself in her hair, holding her as he coaxed her mouth wider and insistently explored it. There were stars wheeling behind her closed eyes, points of light dancing through her entire body. She went on her toes, arching herself closer still, and felt him bend over her, wanting the same thing...
She could hardly bear it when he suddenly relinquished her mouth and moved away from her, only keeping a steadying hand on her waist.
His face was flushed, as she knew hers was, but while she watched him with dazed eyes, he paled. “I'm sorry, Rennie,” he said, and wiped his hand over his mouth as though he was embarrassed. “And I don't even have the excuse of mistletoe."
"Why be sorry?” she demanded. “I didn't mind. You must have noticed."
"Yes, but I have no right—I should—"
Rennie impatiently put her fingers over his mouth. “Don't say that,” she ordered. “And don't be sorry. It's Christmas. I won't let you say anything to spoil it. We needn't talk about it now."
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